Same God, Other god

Interreligious Studies in Theory and Practice

Series Editors: Aimee Light, Jennifer Peace, Or Rose,
Madhuri Yadlapati, and Homayra Ziad

Palgrave’s new series, Interreligious Studies in Theory and Practice, seeks to capture the
best of the diverse contributions to the rapidly expanding field of interreligious and
interfaith studies. While the series includes a diverse set of titles, they are all united by
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Dialogue for Interreligious Understanding: Strategies for the Transformation of

Culture-Shaping Institutions
Leonard Swidler
The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism: Wisdom, Spirituality, Identity
Alon Goshen-Gottstein
Same God, Other god: Judaism, Hinduism, and the Problem of Idolatry
Alon Goshen-Gottstein
Same God, Other god
Judaism, Hinduism, and the
Problem of Idolatry

Alon Goshen-Gottstein
SAME GOD, OTHER GOD
Copyright © Alon Goshen-Gottstein 2016

Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2016 978-1-137-55820-6

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First published 2016 by
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Goshen-Gottstein, Alon, author.
Same God, other God : Judaism, Hinduism, and the problem of idolatry /
Alon Goshen-Gottstein.
pages cm—(Interreligious studies in theory and practice)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Idolatry. 2. Judaism—Doctrines. 3. Rabbinical literature—History
and criticism. 4. Judaism—Relations—Hinduism. 5. Hinduism—
Relations—Judaism. I. Title.
BM729.I36G67 2015
296.3⬘9945—dc23 2015020352
A catalogue record for the book is available from the British Library.
 Dedicated to all the teachers and friends
who live Hinduism and embody its ideals
and who have become part of my life and its quest
Cover image: Statue of the Hindu goddess Durga, ceremonially drowned at the
conclusion of a festival dedicated to her. As highlighted in the book, the statue is
a temporary home of the Divine spirit, to be destroyed once that spirit departs
from it.
 Contents

Preface ix

Part I Presentations
1 Book Presentation 3
2 Author Presentation 11
3 Model Case Presentation: The Sheitel Crisis 17

Part II Introducing Avoda Zara

4 Avoda Zara: Introducing the Category 27
5 Avoda Zara: Mental Attitudes 33

Part III The Other god: Defining Avoda Zara

6 Understanding Avoda Zara: The Maimonidean Model 47
7 Avoda Zara between Jews and Gentiles: Nachmanides’ Model 59
8 Shituf: Applying a Construct of Christianity to Hinduism 81
9 Shituf: Critical and Constructive Reflections 93
10 Thinking of Hinduism in Light of Meiri 107

Part IV The Same God: Rethinking Hinduism

11 Do Jews and Hindus Worship the Same God? 131
12 From Hindu God to Hindu gods: Confronting the Particularity
of Hindu Deities 147
13 Revisiting the Worship of Images: Glimpses of a Future Dialogue 173
viii CONTENTS

Part V When Is a Religion Avoda Zara?

14 Beyond a Global Approach to Hinduism 185
Concluding Reflection 205

Notes 207
Bibliography 253
Index 259
 Preface

T he present volume shares much with its complement volume, The Jewish
Encounter with Hinduism, both having once been part of one larger project.
Expressions of gratitude are therefore identical, except for the possibility it offers
to dedicate the volume to living friends, who have been part of the journey. They
are too numerous to mention by name, but many of their names appear at dif-
ferent points in the two volumes. The beautiful possibility I have of dedicating
this volume to a group of living friends is directly related to the present project
being a product of a lifelong journey in which all these individuals have played
an important role.
In terms of the more narrowly focused academic project, gratitude is due to
friends who have been pointers along the way. Both books are the serendipitous
outcome of another project, much more humble in its origins. Without Eugene
Korn’s insistence that Jewish Theology and World Religions, which we jointly
edited, be published, the present project would have never come under consider-
ation. I benefited from the wisdom and ongoing work of several colleagues who
read my work and shared their own with me. These include Alan Brill, Daniel
Sperber, Richard Marks, and Paul Fenton. My work is all the richer for their con-
tributions. I shared the manuscript with several Hindu friends. I am grateful in
particular for the detailed responses of Swami Agamananda (Martha Doherty),
who engaged my argument in a considered and detailed way.
I am very proud of this work launching a new series of publications in inter-
religious studies at Palgrave Macmillan. Starting with Or Rose, the series’ editors
showed faith and enthusiasm for the project from the start and their appreciation
has sustained me through multiple revisions. I believe that this is the kind of
work, with its particular balance of perspectives—descriptive, analytical, sympa-
thetic, and engaged—for which they have launched this series and I am grateful
to them for that. I am particularly grateful to Madhuri Yadlapati. Her keen mind,
broad understanding, and deft editorial skills have made working with her a true
pleasure.
Two editors at Palgrave Macmillan have made the otherwise grueling task of
turning a manuscript into a book so much more pleasant. Jenn McCall made sure
the book found a secure home and Phil Getz ensured it was a comfortable home,
bringing to it his wonderful and gentle human skills, along with his professional
dedication.
x PREFACE

On a more personal note, because this book reflects so much personal engage-
ment, its creation is also something of a family affair. My sons, Elisha and Neriya,
have journeyed to India and engaged the subject matter of the book both first-
hand and in continuing dialogue with me. Neriya’s continuing interest in the
subject matter of Avoda Zara and the unfolding of the book have helped sharpen
the argument at many points.
Therese, my wife, has been my partner on the journey, engaging me along the
way in all matters of substance and supporting me in all matters of procedure.
She is very present in the white spaces between the black letters.
 Part I

Presentations

Overview

Part I consists of three introductions, presenting the project as a whole. The

first introduction is the “classical” book introduction. The book’s problemat-
ics and key strategy are spelled out. The book seeks to engage two interrelated
questions—the status of Hinduism as idolatry, Avoda Zara in Hebrew, and a
conceptual revisiting of the very category of Avoda Zara, with Hinduism as its
test case or, if you will, its dialogue partner. The four parts of the book and the
unfolding of the thesis are also presented, without entering into the details of the
argument.
The second introduction offers some pointers concerning the author’s back-
ground and experiences. A scholar of Jewish studies, the author has had a deep
personal interest in Hinduism for decades and has cultivated numerous relation-
ships with Hindu religious leaders and teachers. The author’s voice is accordingly
that of a thinker and educator, as well as a dialogue partner, who draws on his
personal experiences and encounters as foundations for the present project. The
author does not shy away from complementing the theoretical analyses of this
book with his own first-person voice.
The third introduction leads us into the subject matter by profiling a par-
ticular event, which can serve as a test case or a model for the entire project.
The event that occurred in 2004 concerns a rabbinical ruling on the status of
wigs worn by ultra-Orthodox Jewish women. These wigs were made of natural
human hair, whose provenance is in Hindu temples, where the hair is shorn as
part of a vow or offering to the deity. Leading rabbis made a pronouncement
on these wigs, based on their view of Hinduism as being idolatrous. The sight
of public wig-burning made international headline news. After presenting this
model case, a series of questions is posed concerning appropriate procedures for
studying another religion—in our case, Hinduism. How do we go about under-
standing ritual? What is the relationship between ritual and religious practice
and theological and philosophical understandings of the religion? Who holds
the keys to interpreting the religion correctly? Who speaks for Hinduism? In
short, what can be learned from this incident in terms of how to not go about
2 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

studying another religion and how might a different methodology have yielded
better understanding and consequently a different ruling concerning Hinduism’s
status as Avoda Zara.
While this book does not seek to present a systematic view of Hinduism that
is an alternative or complement to how rabbinical authorities went about issuing
their ruling, it assumes such an understanding and refers to it throughout. Based
on a more philosophical view of Hinduism, on encounters with leading Hindu
figures, and on an appreciation of Hindu spiritual life, it seeks to problematize
the ruling of these rabbis, even as it problematizes the very application of the cat-
egory of Avoda Zara. The book is not an argument for Hinduism not being Avoda
Zara. Rather, it is an argument for applying a richer and more nuanced method
and for rethinking the very category of Avoda Zara. In the process it provides the
building blocks from which an argument for Hinduism not being Avoda Zara
could be made.
 1

Book Presentation

T his book grows out of a classical Jewish perspective and seeks not only to
address a question that arises out of that perspective but also to revise that
very perspective. The perspective is that of viewing other religions through the
lens of idolatry, foreign worship, Avoda Zara. It is a deep-seated perspective that
is thousands of years old, continuing biblical and rabbinic attitudes down to
the present day. The question that arises out of this perspective concerns a par-
ticular religion, Hinduism, and its status as Avoda Zara. In the crudest way: Is
Hinduism Avoda Zara? Rather than offer a “yes” or “no” answer, this book seeks
to revisit the very perspective of how other religions are viewed, leading us to
rethink the very category of Avoda Zara, even as it tries to work through the very
complex reality of Hindu religious reality, in light of that category. Whether at
the end of the day a “yes,” “no,” a question mark, or some combination of these
elements of the terse formulation of the question emerge as the book’s conclu-
sion may itself depend on the reader and what she takes away from what is more
an exercise in thought than a guide to action.1
Hinduism provides a wonderful opportunity to reengage the subject of Avoda
Zara and examine how we apply it. Judaism’s encounter with Hinduism is rela-
tively new,2 not encumbered by attitudes that are thousands of years old and by
the painful history that did much to reinforce such attitudes. This allows us to
make the encounter with Hinduism not only an occasion to assess that religion
but also a context for thinking through in fresh ways the very categories that
have furnished our attitudes to other religions and that are consequently applied,
at times carelessly, to a Jewish view of Hinduism. Accordingly, in what follows
I shall not only consider the various angles from which Hinduism may be con-
sidered in terms of the classical Jewish concern for Avoda Zara, but also explore
how we apply that category. Posing the question of how we apply the category
of Avoda Zara is not driven by an interest in reaching one position or another
in relation to Hinduism. It grows, rather, from my own assessment of what is
required from a contemporary Jewish theology of religions and is informed as
much by my contact with Hinduism as it is by my contact with other religions,
primarily Christianity. Therefore it is not an argument for Hinduism not being
Avoda Zara. Rather, it is an exercise in how to think about Avoda Zara and,
relatedly, how to view Hinduism through this lens. While it provides building
4 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

blocks for a position that exonerates Hinduism from the charges of Avoda Zara,
it leaves the final verdict to the reader. Better yet, it makes the determination of
Hinduism’s status as Avoda Zara a function of so many variables that at the end
of the day the reader must reflect and decide, rather than rely on a facile answer
provided by me or anyone else.
The novelty of the encounter with Hinduism and how partial our knowledge
of it still is lead to the inevitable recognition that all issues that are raised in the
present work must be considered as work in progress, items requiring further
thought and deliberation. In fact, one of my main contentions is that it is too early
for us to conclude with any finality anything with regard to Hinduism. Its reality
is simply too complex and our knowledge of it too recent to be able to resolve the
complicated issues involved in addressing idolatry in relation to Hinduism. The
issues raised in this book require more than one or two high-level meetings of
religious leaders, the reading of a handful of books, or even the studied reflection
of one or more specialists devoting time to exploring these issues. The questions
raised require time, process, and a degree of comfort and familiarity that we may
not be able to attain even within the scope of a generation. Perhaps it is awareness
that, no matter what, we are only taking first steps and there is a long journey
ahead that emboldens me to publish the present volume, despite my feelings of
inadequacy where insider knowledge of Hinduism is concerned.
To see Hinduism through the lens of Avoda Zara is probably the central gov-
erning perspective through which most halachic Jews (those following the body
of Jewish law) would approach an examination of Hinduism. Let me illustrate
how much of a knee-jerk response to Hinduism this emphasis on idol worship has
become for common Jews by sharing an email exchange I had, prior to one of my
trips to India, with my uncle Gershon. I had written him, excusing myself for not
having enough time to engage some of his ideas, as I would have liked, saying: “I’m
off to India for nearly a month on Sunday and under lots of pressure.” His response
was telling: “Good luck in India, where the avodah zarah must be fascinating.”
Avoda Zara is the primary halachic category through which Jews consider the per-
missibility and legitimacy of other religions. It literally means “foreign worship,”
connoting both the worship of foreign gods and foreign means of worshipping God.
It is considered the gravest of sins and a clear identity marker. Avoda Zara is what
Jews fear most about their association with other religions. The worship of images
has been the major expression of Avoda Zara throughout the generations, and the
means by which Jews recognize, intuitively even more than by means of study and
reason, the problems associated with another religion. When my uncle therefore
refers to India in terms of Avoda Zara, he is conjuring up a range of attitudes and
perceptions that governs Jewish views of other religions. To say they are Avoda Zara
is to claim they are off limits for Jews, problematic in and of themselves, and likely
devoid of spiritual value. None of this is stated or worked out, nor is the balance of
positive and problematic dimensions of another religion considered in a manner
particular to that religion. The mere appeal to Avoda Zara simply conjures up all
these associations, effectively defining a religion as beyond the pale and hence not
an appropriate subject of association. What is interesting, however, in this brief and
brilliant summary of an entire Jewish mind-set is that Indian religion is not simply
 BOOK PRESENTATION 5

categorized as Avoda Zara, but that it is described as fascinating. Fascination is

coupled with suspicion and rejection, by the very appeal to Avoda Zara. An entire
complex worldview and cultural attitude are summed up in this pithy comment.
Almost every contemporary Jewish writer on Hinduism acknowledges the
challenge of Avoda Zara.3 None, however, has attempted to deal with the subject
extensively, in a way that is commensurate with the place it occupies in the Jewish
psyche and with how Jews conceptualize their relations with other religions.
My decision to devote a monograph-length study to this subject stems from my
appreciation of its centrality to any normative Jewish view of Hinduism and the
complexity of the challenge involved. More than solutions, I seek to lay out the
issues and to bring to light the unexamined assumptions we carry, the problem-
atics of how we approach other religions, and the challenge of what it means to
understand another religion on its own terms and how that might impact our
view of another religion as Avoda Zara.
The instinctive response of my uncle became public policy ten years ago
when the subject of Hinduism as Avoda Zara made headline news. The event
that occurred in 2004 concerns a rabbinical ruling on the status of wigs worn by
ultra-Orthodox Jewish women, made of natural human hair, whose provenance
is in Hindu temples, where the hair is shorn as part of a vow or offering to the
deity. Leading rabbis made a pronouncement on these wigs, based on their view
of Hinduism as being idolatrous. The sight of public wig-burning made inter-
national headline news. After presenting this model case, a series of questions
is posed concerning appropriate procedures for studying another religion—in
our case, Hinduism. How do we go about understating ritual? What is the rela-
tionship between ritual and religious practice and theological and philosophical
understandings of the religion? Who holds the keys to interpreting the religion
correctly? Who speaks for Hinduism? I bring this case as an introduction to the
book because it raises so many cardinal questions. We will have recourse to these
questions throughout the book.
Let me now offer an overview of the book’s structure. The book is divided
into five parts of unequal length. The book’s flow is best captured by identifying
the key question that is addressed in each part. The methodology of this work
is largely one of framing and reframing the leading question concerning Avoda
Zara. Introducing the leading question of each of the book’s parts is therefore a
helpful way of following its argument. I will not enter now into a more detailed
presentation of the breakdown of each part and the unfolding of the argument in
each section of the book. This has been done at the beginning of each part, where
an overview of the following chapters, their key arguments, and contributions
are offered. Let us at this point appreciate the project by zooming out and follow-
ing its unfolding, by means of its leading questions.
The first part answers the question of what is this book, what is this project.
It serves as the book’s introduction. It comprises several introductions. One is
the present chapter, introducing the book. The second is a brief introduction of
myself, my experiences, and the resources I bring to this project. The third is a
detailed presentation of the just-mentioned wig-burning incident, which takes us
to the heart of the concerns of this book.
6 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

The second part answers the question: What is Avoda Zara? It offers two
introductions to the category. The first is conceptual-historical and addresses
the historical evolution of the category, explaining what is at stake. Avoda Zara
is a central category through which Jewish law and Jewish thought evaluate
other religions, their adequacy, and their legitimacy. It has multiple dimensions
of meaning and the discussion explores these, as well as the meaning of their
being subsumed under one category. The second introduction speaks of the psy-
chological, emotional, and attitudinal implications of the charge of Avoda Zara.
The pronouncement of another religion as Avoda Zara is not only a statement of
permissibility of worship or legitimacy of a spiritual path; it also conjures up a
range of attitudes that includes, or can include, scorn, contempt, exclusion, dele-
gitimation, and invalidation. There are inevitable psychological and attitudinal
implications to the determination that another religion is Avoda Zara, unless
these are kept at bay through educational strategies, or through some of the ways
of viewing Avoda Zara that will be discussed in the third part.
The third part of the book is the longest and in many ways the hardest part of
the book, certainly for the reader who is not familiar with rabbinic discourse and
reasoning. This part answers the question of what makes a religion Avoda Zara. If
the second part introduced the very category, the third part poses the question of
what it is that leads to the determination that another religion is Avoda Zara. Here
we draw on the work of medieval Jewish authorities and present multiple under-
standings of what constitutes Avoda Zara. The different views, many of which
were formed in response to Christianity, provide different, at times conflicting,
perspectives on what it is that makes a religion Avoda Zara. With reference to
each of these we ask how this criterion, how the view of this particular authority,
could be made to address the case of Hinduism. We need to follow this procedure
because Judaism has had next to no contact with Hinduism. Consequently, until
recent years there has never been a serious evaluation of Hinduism as a religion,
and certainly no well-informed and considered rabbinic discussion of its status
as Avoda Zara. Individual travelers did encounter Hinduism and brought to their
personal encounter the attitudes by which they had been shaped either in their
Christian milieu or through exposure to Judaism’s fundamental Scriptures.4 But
there is almost no meaningful rabbinic, halachic discussion of Hinduism’s status
until the twenty-first century. In this state of affairs we lack one of the funda-
mental tools for holding a rabbinic discussion—precedent. We therefore have to
rely on other precedents and to transpose their findings to the case of Hinduism.
The precedent that comes most readily to mind and concerning which we do
have ample literature is that of Christianity. While both Hindus and Christians
may be unhappy about being placed in the same halachic boat, from a Jewish
perspective the case is quite similar, allowing us to draw lessons from one to
the other. Both are religions that profess faith in one God in some meaning-
ful way. Both also exhibit a faith in God that does not conform to the simple
affirmation of divine unity as taught in Judaism. Both use images in worship,
and both have incarnational understandings of the most important personalities
in the respective religious system. While there are meaningful theological dif-
ferences between them, one could argue that what they have in common, from
 BOOK PRESENTATION 7

a Jewish perspective, outweighs their differences. And whatever differences the

Jewish observer may note, making Hinduism appear stranger, less familiar, more
idolatrous etc., could in theory be discounted as expressions of the novelty of the
encounter and lack of familiarity with Hindu reality, rather than fundamental
differences that distinguish one religion from the other. Therefore, if we require
precedents to advance in our evaluation and lack such precedents in relation to
Hinduism, we can draw on precedents from Judaism’s view of Christianity as a
foundation for the present discussion.
In seeking precedents we do not seek to simply transfer a ruling from one
domain to another. Rather, we seek models for how other religions are viewed,
different answers to the question of what makes another religion Avoda Zara.
References to Christianity, whether they affirm Christianity’s status as Avoda
Zara or absolve it from the charge, will tell us what it is that makes another reli-
gion Avoda Zara. In seeking an answer to this question we shall turn not only
to explicit references to Christianity but also to medieval authors, specifically
Maimonides and Nachmanides, who offer their own theories of the formation
and evolution of Avoda Zara, thereby allowing us to get a handle on what it is that
makes another religion Avoda Zara.
With reference to all the authors and precedents brought in Part III, we shall
attempt to make those voices speak to the case of Hinduism. The application
of these principles to Hinduism is not necessarily straightforward and I shall
attempt to bring to light what is at stake in a given application, what is possible,
and what are the implications of applying a given position or precedent to the
case of Hinduism. The third part of this work will give us much food for thought,
multiple perspectives, and also some important voices and approaches that lead
to the view that Hinduism should not be considered Avoda Zara.
Part IV reframes the leading question as a way of moving the discussion for-
ward. In Part III we asked what it is that makes another religion Avoda Zara, with
special reference to Hinduism. In Part IV we revisit the same sources but now
with another question framing the discussion. Here we move from the “other
god” question to the “same god” question. The discussion in Part IV assumes that
the criteria by which we declare Avoda Zara and the criteria by means of which
we affirm that the same God is worshipped in two religions are not the same. It is
possible that even authorities who declare a given religion to be Avoda Zara might
still be able to affirm that it is the same God that is worshipped in both religions.
This recognition has huge implications. Affirmation of a common God changes
the tone and attitude toward another religion, neutralizing one important com-
ponent of the myriad of positions and attitudes that are involved in the view of
another religion as Avoda Zara. It would also make us consider more readily
whether we wish to affirm the declaration of another religion as Avoda Zara or
whether we might be more inclined to alternative views and criteria for what
constitutes Avoda Zara, once the same God has been recognized through both
religions. Furthermore, if we are able to affirm that the same God is worshipped
in two religions, this creates a space for a better hearing of that religion, including
those parts of it that are particularly strange, even offensive. If we do recognize
that the same God is worshipped in Judaism and Hinduism, this recognition
8 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

makes room for thoughtful interrogation of practices that would have otherwise
simply been dismissed as Avoda Zara. These include the approach toward Hindu
deities and the worship of idols. Once we recognize deep commonalities, there
is more room to listen to how what seems strange at first, and even tenth, sight,
can itself provide testimony to a form of spiritual life that must be recognized as
valid, as it ultimately turns to the same God.
Part V concludes the discussion by returning to the question of Avoda Zara.
With lessons learnt from the rich history of approaches to other religions,
Christianity in particular, and with a new openness provided by reframing the
question in terms of the “same God,” we can now return to the category of Avoda
Zara. The question changes once again. Now we are in a position to ask not what
is Avoda Zara, but rather when is a religion Avoda Zara. This question grows
out of the application of the criteria discussed in the earlier parts and from the
growing recognition that Avoda Zara is not only a view of other religions; it is
also an internal category that describes aspects or qualities of the religious life.
Our religions are complex entities. They all have higher and lower aspects. And
they are all informed by multiple factors, the multiple factors that in the hands
of various authors provide each in turn a definition of what is Avoda Zara. In
Part V we move toward a broader synthetic understanding of Avoda Zara, taking
into account the multiple factors that can define Avoda Zara. These, it is argued,
operate in tandem, rather than in isolation. There is a calculus where the differ-
ent factors converge, leading to the pronouncement that another religion is or is
not Avoda Zara. The discussion seeks to make this calculus explicit and to make
it address Hinduism. But here Hinduism is no longer viewed in a global way.
Rather, corresponding to the greater nuance brought to Avoda Zara by the appli-
cation of a calculus of multiple factors (turning to another god, image worship,
morality, spirituality, overall quality of spiritual life, and more) is the application
of this calculus to different expressions of Hinduism and for different purposes.
The calculus will be applied differently if we seek to legitimate doing business
with Hindus or if we seek to share spiritual wisdom with them. And it will be
applied differently to different configurations of Hinduism, in light of the differ-
ent principles represented in the calculus. Thus, what begins as a straightforward
“yes or no” question concludes with a more nuanced approach, best summed up
under the question of when, rather than the question of if. Answering this ques-
tion is often a question of spiritual discernment, rather than of halachic ruling.
Significantly, this very same question and this very process can now be applied
internally to Judaism as well as to another religion.
Our project is therefore one of mapping complexity and getting a handle on
multiple criteria by means of which an inherently complex reality is addressed.
It is imperfect because of the complexity of the subject we are studying, the dif-
ficult application of internal Jewish principles, and the novelty of the effort. It
is an exercise in thought, a study in method of how to approach a complicated
subject. For this reason, the process is in many ways more important than the
outcome. The outcome is above all the realization that the process must con-
tinue. We require more study, more thought of how we go about discerning, and
more careful weighing of the options available for the guidance of the varying
 BOOK PRESENTATION 9

circumstances and situations in which Jews are faced with the challenge of
Hinduism as Avoda Zara. If this study has provided building blocks, a method
and precedent for how to go about thinking of Hinduism in particular and Avoda
Zara in general, such as would allow future students to improve upon the founda-
tions it lays, my efforts are well worth it.
Having spelled out what this project is, I would like to say a few words about
what it is not. It is neither an introduction to Hinduism, to Judaism or, to the his-
tory of their encounter. The encounter is the subject of another book, published
simultaneously with the present one, titled The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
I believe the present book has benefited from the suggestion of the publisher to
make it a stand-alone volume, and not, as it was originally, part of the presenta-
tion of the Jewish-Hindu encounter. This has allowed the questions of method
and the manner in which we go about studying Avoda Zara to come to the fore,
using Hinduism as the test case, but offering a thesis that is of broader signifi-
cance than a Jewish view of Hinduism. Because this book was initially part of a
larger project, the writing assumes some of the subject matter that is now in the
complement volume. While the argument stands on its own, it is better appreci-
ated when both books are read in tandem.
This book does not present either Judaism or Hinduism. It takes for granted a
certain knowledge of both traditions. I do realize, however, that most readers will
come to this book with knowledge of one or the other of the traditions; few will
have a command of or even decent exposure to both. I see no way of addressing
this situation other than recommending more reading. My own assumptions and
understanding of both religions are made apparent in the course of the discus-
sion, but they are not the subject of systematic exposition. While I hope this book
will be read by both Hindus and Jews, as well as others, I recognize that most
of the potential future readership is Jewish. In view of the fact that the discus-
sion makes repeated assumptions concerning a Hindu view that is different from
what appears to eye-witnesses, such as observed Hindu hair offering, I would
like to make some brief points toward a sketch of what that other Hinduism (true
Hinduism?), or an alternative view of Hinduism, consists of.5 There are several
keywords that I would like to employ in order to draw this sketch. They are as
follows:

God—Hinduism recognizes ultimately one God. I shall deal momentarily with

the relationship between this recognition and the apparent counterevidence. For
devout and dedicated Hindu practitioners, God is a total reality, to which all of
life is dedicated. Within Hinduism we find model lives of total dedication, offer-
ing, renouncement, and a living that is completely God-focused.
Spirituality—The approach toward God conditions an attitude, a spirituality.
Hindu spirituality highlights God’s readily available presence and makes the
quest for the Divine a conscious and ever-present aspect of the spiritual life. In
this, it has become a model for seekers from other faiths, Jews included.
Wisdom—There is a strong component of wisdom in the tradition. There are
two foci to this wisdom, corresponding to the two points above: a metaphysical
10 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

understanding of the Divine and a detailed understanding of human conscious-

ness and spiritual processes.
Morality—Hinduism teaches an ordered moral life. This will be the subject of
discussion in chapter 10 of the present work.

Taken together these elements form religious types that are often models for
emulation and inspiration. If one adds devotion as a further characteristic, Hindu
life, as it is expressed in the lives of great masters and ordinary practitioners, can
be, and has been, inspiring to members of other faiths.
These are all commendable aspects of a religion. In one way the argument of
the present book is that if these aspects are taken as characteristic of the religion,
rather than the worship of multiple gods and their images, a different view of
Hinduism will emerge. How then does one reconcile such an ideal view with the
seemingly incongruous patterns of worship that Hindus follow?
In the briefest way, Hindus affirm not only that there is one God, but that the
one God manifests in everything. Therefore, everything is an expression of the
Divine and is potentially worthy of worship. This includes forces of nature, holy
individuals (even unholy individuals), and, in short, all of existence as it is seen
(in the physical world) and imagined (in the celestial realm). There are various
ways of stating this. All these are seen as manifestations of God or, as some would
say, God manifests or comes as all these things. In other words, it is not a hier-
archical view of nature, of creatures being distinct from God, occupying a lower
position on a metaphysical scale, but a view of God manifesting, and therefore as
approachable, through these various beings. When God is approached through
these manifestations, it is God, ultimately God the absolute, that is approached,
rather than these other beings. Put in more philosophical terms, God’s being
pervades all, making all of life divine.
I do not intend to debate these views or to consider what they might mean to
a Jewish dialogue with Hinduism.6 I have provided this brief sketch mainly so
that Jewish readers who are completely unfamiliar with Hinduism would have
some starting point from which to enter the conversation. I hope the discussion
itself will provide more nuance and evidence for this brief sketch. As a conclud-
ing thought exercise, if the rabbinic emissary who was sent to India to deter-
mine whether wigs may be worn or must be burned had had significant personal
exposure to the factors of which the above sketch is made up, would his report
have looked differently? To some extent, the present book tries to work out this
hypothetical question.
 2

Author Presentation

W riting this book requires multiple skills, some of which I possess only in
part. I think it is appropriate to introduce not only the book and the sub-
ject matter, but also the author. For all its objectivity, this is a book that requires
great personal investment. As the reader will see, the book draws on my encoun-
ters and experiences, but even more fundamentally on my capacity to discern
and to make sense of spiritual phenomena. It is therefore appropriate to provide
some information regarding myself, as relevant for this particular project.
Viewing another religion as Avoda Zara and calling into question how that cat-
egory is constructed requires familiarity with halachic literature. Years of forma-
tion in rabbinical academies, leading to eventual rabbinic ordination, allow me to
work through this literature from within, understanding its logic, its nuances, as
well as its limitations. Engaging the broader implications of this subject requires
working with the world of ideas and thinking in light of the formative conceptual
categories of Judaism, as well as internalizing its ethos. As a scholar of rabbinic
thought and Jewish thought I believe I come adequately equipped to the task. In
recent years I have increasingly found myself “thinking on behalf of Judaism,”
so to speak, in various interreligous think tank and academic and theological
collaborative projects, many of which I myself organized under the auspices of
the Elijah Interfaith Institute that I founded. I think it fair to say that working
across religious lines and speaking for a tradition in this way has allowed me
to synthesize the different bodies of knowledge, methodologies, and the various
approaches that previously existed in a less integrated way, when I was working
purely within the Jewish academic or religious setting. As my friend Peter Ochs
once commented, it has allowed me to find my voice.
Jewish scholarship(s) is not all that this project requires. It requires knowledge
and understanding of Hinduism. It also requires some “storehouse” of experi-
ences, encounters, and opportunities; in short, it requires circumstances that
spur on the kind of thinking that this book gives expression to, not to mention the
inclination and the capacity to think constructively about and between religious
traditions. I don’t believe this project can be undertaken in the comfort of one’s
study or library, simply based upon readings, no matter how good or authorita-
tive they are. The project of evaluating Hinduism in light of our most significant
category requires experience, exposure, and engagement, which in turn lead to
12 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

critical and constructive thinking. It is likely that someone who embarks on this
project without any engagement will reach different conclusions than the ones
I do, and I do not believe his or her vantage point, based on lack of meaning-
ful exposure, provides any significant objectivity. It is simply a lack of firsthand
knowledge and experience. So, in addition to some degree of authoritative knowl-
edge of Judaism, this project also requires an understanding of Hinduism, both
in its theoretical aspects and through some lived engagement with it, representa-
tive and extensive enough to allow this project to come to fruition.
I would like to say a little more about the impact of experience and how it
feeds into such a project. I think I am only able to undertake the present exercise
because I feel I have attained a degree of comfort and of feeling at home in the
Indian religious reality. This is more a matter of psychology than of philosophy,
but I consider it significant for purposes of the present undertaking. In many
ways, I no longer feel that sense of strangeness toward Hindu religious reality
that the outsider does. Clearly, I remain an outsider, continually learning and
in many ways repeatedly surprised by the wealth of Hindu religious life. But my
learning now takes place in the context of a basic comfort with Hindu religious
reality. It is different, but it is no longer strange. I consider the breaking down
of psychological barriers an essential aspect of deep interreligious engagement.
It is as true of Hindu-Jewish relations as it is of any relationship between differ-
ent religions and their practitioners. As long as we are governed by our sense
of strangeness and otherness, especially as this sense of strangeness feeds the
sense of distance and even revulsion that has characterized the history of our
tradition in relation to another, we have not yet reached the level playing ground
from which our engagement with another religion should take place. If we seek
to genuinely understand and work our way through an issue as fundamental as
idolatry, we cannot bring with us a psychological attitude that is governed by the
sense of strangeness of the other. One must come to the discussion from a place
of psychological or mental comfort and of acceptance of the other’s religious real-
ity as something “normal,” at least not shocking, bizarre, or off-putting. How can
we seriously study another religion if our sense of its strangeness and our feeling
of being put off by it dictate what we see and how we interpret it?
How do I know I have crossed a threshold of comfort that allows me to under-
take the present project? Because I no longer feel surprised, outraged, or shocked.
I am able to move into a certain kind of mentality that characterizes those Hindus
with whom I spend time (it is likely there are many other Hindus with other
states of mind who would no doubt continue to surprise me or to make me feel
like the extreme stranger, unable to build bridges of understanding). I can begin
to see things their way, rather than just being told this is how they see it, without
it necessarily becoming my viewpoint. To a large degree I can anticipate and pre-
dict, from within so to speak, how my Hindu friends would respond and react,
how they would see religious reality, and how this could make sense, given their
premises, and particular vantage point. This, I submit, is an appropriate point
from which to conduct the kind of reflection that this book undertakes.
Having shared something of where I am, let me backtrack and share something
of the story of how I got here, and in a more basic way about my credentials for
 AUTHOR PRESENTATION 13

writing about Hinduism. I must state up-front that my knowledge of Hinduism

is far inferior to my knowledge of Judaism. I am at best a learned amateur, with
very keen senses, sharp intuition, a capacity to pose questions, and an ability
to see the larger whole, where some others only see details. But none of these
can substitute for the erudition I wish I had. Whether my lack of knowledge of
Sanskrit and other Indian languages, or whether various other kinds of limits of
my knowledge have led to false conclusions, only someone with a fuller knowl-
edge of the religious literature of both religions can tell. I am comforted, how-
ever, by the fact that many Hindu friends, scholars, and religious leaders have
read the manuscript and expressed approval of how Hinduism is presented in it.
Having so many Hindu friends who are scholars and leaders is in itself a part of
the journey that led me to write this manuscript, and I would like to share some
pointers from this journey. This journey makes up in small part for some of the
knowledge I wish I had.
I hope I am not wrong in stating that I do bring to this project a unique per-
sonal story of continuing interest, exploration, study, engagement, and dialogue
with Hinduism. I am not familiar with another author who would possess the
Jewish halachic and philosophical tools to engage in this study, who has enjoyed
the kind of extensive engagement with Hinduism that I have.1 If I am an author-
ity on anything, it is on my own process, my own story. And this story consists
of thousands of small questions, asked over decades, that amount to larger ques-
tions, through which I seek to get a grasp over religiously complex realities and
their possible relations. If I have what to contribute to others, be they spiritual
seekers, halachically minded authorities, or theologians seeking to reflect upon
another religion, it lies in formulating the questions, conceptualizing the issues,
and tentatively offering my own responses, based on my personal experiences
and understanding.
I have had an interest in Hinduism in some form or another since my teen-
age years. Interest in things Indian prompted me to practice Transcendental
Meditation in my late teens and to delve into the philosophical tenets of the sys-
tem, as expounded by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. This form of practice was com-
plemented by academic studies. Beginning in the mid-70s, and over several years,
I took quite a number of courses in Hinduism with David Shulman at the Hebrew
University of Jerusalem. My own personal spiritual quest continued with many
years of training with a teacher, who was herself ordained by a great Indian sage,
Swami Sivananda. Understanding Hinduism remained a staple of my spiritual
and intellectual diet.
Interest in and engagement with Hinduism entered a new phase with the
foundation of the Elijah Interfaith Institute, in 1996 in Jerusalem, as the Elijah
School for the Study of Wisdom in World Religions. The original name of the
school provides the rationale for including Hinduism in interreligious dialogue
in Jerusalem, despite the fact that there is no significant Hindu community in
Israel. The vision of the school sought to make the wisdom of all religious tradi-
tions the subject of academic study as well as of interfaith dialogue. Our annual
summer school gathered a community of scholar-practitioners from different
faith traditions. Scholars of Hinduism were regularly invited to Jerusalem as part
14 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

of the Elijah summer school program. This provided me with the opportunity to
learn from, and to dialogue with, some of the leading Hindu figures in the field
of religious studies in the United States. The annual meetings of the American
Academy of Religion and of the Society for Hindu-Christian Studies also pro-
vided more than a decade’s worth of contact and engagement with a broad range
of scholars working on theological issues from within Hinduism, or in dialogue
with it.
As Elijah grew, so did my relationship with Hinduism deepen. With the forma-
tion of the Elijah Interfaith Academy in 2002, working on collaborative thought
projects with Hindu scholars became an ongoing reality. And beginning in
2003, with the founding of the Elijah Board of World Religious Leaders, I gained
access to some important Hindu leaders, some of whom have become friends
and whose thought-prints are to be found in this book. The mix of leaders repre-
sented at Elijah has allowed me to cultivate relationships with leaders and schol-
ars representing different streams of Hinduism. While Advaita Vedanta probably
has the most representative voice in this work, as well as in Hinduism’s public
face in the West (and possibly in India as well), I have appreciated the oppor-
tunity to have continuing exchanges with disciples of Madhavacharya (Swami
Sugunendra Theerta of the Udipi Math) and Chaitanya (Shrivatsa Goswami),
as well as scholars who identify themselves as disciples of Ramanuja (Vasudha
Narayanan). While I am sure I have not yet adequately integrated the fine points
that distinguish one school from the other, I do think that working across so
many schools in collaborative settings, where scholars and leaders are called to
speak for “Hinduism”, even as they speak for their own subtradition, has allowed
me to internalize a perspective in light of which I too dare address “Hinduism,”
even as I recognize the existence of nuances and variations and even as I am
aware of the possibility that some generalities I make might in fact be the projec-
tion of one particular school.
It was Sri Sri Ravi Shankar who invited me to India in 2003, paving the way
to a series of extended visits to India, on an annual basis, since then. These visits
focused on religious communities and centers of learning and worship. They pro-
vided me with the opportunity to think through the issues of this book through
ongoing dialogue with some outstanding personalities, as well as through a process
of continuing observation, listening, and reflection. I have spent months in some
of the leading ashrams. I should mention in particular the Sivananda Ashram in
Rishikesh and the Sadhana Kendra Ashram near Dehradun. Both ashrams have
become home, in different ways. In both I gained immensely from the wisdom
and spiritual perspective of the resident sages. Swami Yogaswaroopananda, of the
former ashram, has spent dozens, well over a hundred I imagine, of hours with
me, discussing issues that are seminal to a Jewish understanding of Hinduism,
particularly issues related to the worship of idols and how these are viewed in
Hinduism. Personal friendships and relationships have played an important role
in allowing me to enter the mind space, understanding, and feeling of Hindus,
how they live their spiritual life, and how they approach God. Of the many impor-
tant friendships with which I was blessed over the years of my travels to India,
the one that was formed with Swami Atmapriyananda is particularly significant
 AUTHOR PRESENTATION 15

in the context of the present work. This senior monk of the Ramakrishna Order,
who has become an active partner in the work of the Elijah Institute, opened for
me the gates of understanding through a unique combination of mind, heart,
and spirit that provides continuing inspiration to me as a person, as well as to the
present project. Through him, I have come to appreciate the Ramakrishna Order,
its vision, and above all the spiritual testimony of its founder. Many other sages,
ashrams, and temples, in different parts of India, north and south, form part of
the story, and it is a story that is far from having reached its final chapter.
Because this book grows so much out of my own personal intellectual and spir-
itual journey, I have decided to not mask these components, but rather to expose
them. I know what I think I know because of experiences, encounters, dialogues
I have had, and a process that has been personal, even while based upon academic
foundations. There is no point converting the discussion to a completely aca-
demic, philosophical, or halachic mode of discourse. It seems to me much truer
to the process and to its potential import for future readers to feature the first-
person voice as well as the impressions of dialogues and exchanges. The reader
will not only hear my voice, but also those of some of above-mentioned swamis,
all of whom have shaped my thinking. Accordingly, I have tried to incorporate
personal experience and reflection into the more neutral and objective discourse
one might expect of such a work.
 3

Model Case Presentation:

The Sheitel Crisis

A voda Zara has never been a purely theoretical issue; nor is the view of
Hinduism as Avoda Zara a purely hypothetical matter. In fact, one of the
most public and well-publicized instances of Jewish response to Hinduism
revolves around Hinduism’s status as Avoda Zara. And the case we discuss in
this chapter is only a decade old, a product of the early twenty-first century. The
impact of the case was global, making headlines in international news, appear-
ing in the New York Times, not to mention in a multitude of Jewish media. This
became a defining moment that illustrates just how much present-day engage-
ment with Hinduism is a contemporary reality that cannot be sidestepped. It
also illustrates the problematics associated with learning about another religion
and how to, or how not to, go about doing it. It raises the question of who is
responsible for the interpretation of a religion in a powerful way. In short, it
touches upon some of the key issues that a discussion of Avoda Zara involves
and, as such, serves as a model case by means of which to introduce us to the
topic, its urgency and vitality.
So here is the story. Orthodox Jewish women cover their hair after marriage.
Some do so by wearing a kerchief or a hat. Others by wearing a wig, known as a
sheitel in Yiddish. Sheitels can be made of synthetic or human hair. Clearly the
latter is aesthetically preferable, but the wig-manufacturing industry requires a
steady source of human hair to keep up with the demand. While there are different
sources for natural human hair, apparently the most convenient and largest source
is Hindu temples. In South Indian temples there is often a custom among devo-
tees, both men and women, to shave their heads as an offering to the deity. This
is undertaken as a vow, either in order to fulfill a particular request or as an act of
pure devotion. South Indian temples are thus a major source of human hair for the
international wig industry. Particularly prominent is the temple of Venkateshwara,
Balaji, in Tirupati (actually Tirumala). Thousands of men and women offer their
hair at this temple, and temple trustees gather it, sort it according to grade, treat it,
package it, and then sell it on the international market. This is one of the sources of
Tirupati’s great wealth, considered by its devotees to be second only to that of the
Vatican, and taken by them as an indication of the great power of the local deity.1
18 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Jewish tradition dictates that one is not allowed to derive any benefit or plea-
sure from Avoda Zara. This comes into potential conflict with the use of hair
offered to the deity in Hindu temples. That the wigs of ultra-Orthodox women
had their provenance in Hindu temples had been known for a long time. It was
addressed in a responsum by Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, the protagonist of the
present story, over 30 years ago. At the time, Rabbi Elyashiv ruled that shaving
of the head does not constitute an offering proper, and therefore use of that hair
is not forbidden.2 It is not clear what led to the change of ruling. Ultra-Orthodox
media claimed that a change had taken place in Hindu practices, necessitating
a change in halachic ruling, but this is just one more indication of how poor
the effort was to understand Hindus on their own terms. Jews would construct
imaginary rituals and transformations in those rituals only to make sense of the
internal problem of a major rabbinic figure changing his ruling.
In any event, the question came up again in 2004. Was the offering of hair
by Hindu devotees an offering of Avoda Zara that should be forbidden to Jewish
women? The natural thing would be to study the matter firsthand. And so, a prom-
inent London rabbi was sent as an emissary of Rabbi Elyashiv, by now the leading
figure of ultra-Orthodox Jewry and its halachic figurehead, to Tirupati to study
the matter personally. Of course, the emissary, Rabbi Donner, did not go to the
SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies) of London University for a course
on Hinduism.3 He made his way to Tirupati, and was able to return home after
48 hours, mission accomplished. He was able to provide the needed information,
based upon which Rabbi Elyashiv ruled that wigs that originated in Hindu temples
could not be worn by Jewish Orthodox women. What Rabbi Donner did, accord-
ing to reports that followed the visit, was to engage locals in an enquiry as to the
nature of the act involved in devotees shaving their head. When they responded
that they were offering their hair to the deity, he was able to reach his conclusion
that this was an offering to an idol, and hence should be forbdden for use.4
The upshot of the story was that Rabbi Elyashiv issued a ruling that wigs should
be burned. Idolatrous offerings may not be enjoyed in any shape and the only way
to dispose of them is through burning. This reflects the Torah’s strong concern
with idolatry and how it seeks to avoid it at any cost. This cardinal value found
one of its most recent expressions in relation to the devotional practices of young
Hindu women, with whom the prospective Jewish wig bearers would never have
any contact. The burning of the wigs made headline news, as Jews in Israel and
New York were pictured burning wigs on street corners.5 It also deeply offended
the Hindu community in ways that the rabbis never imagined, and perhaps to date
have not realized. It further reflected badly on hassidic and ultra-Orthodox Jews
in general. I recall how appalled the local hassidic rabbi in Anchorage, Alaska, was
when I happened to visit him during that period. His wife and he, emissaries of
the Lubavitcher Rebbe and sole representatives of Orthodox Judaism for a great
state, found themselves having to apologize and explain something they did not
believe in. It was, to them, a hillul hashem, a desecration of the Holy Name, a term
used to designate problematic and negative portrayal of Jews in the public eye.
As an aside, it is worth considering how Jews of this very same branch of the
hassidic movement dealt with the issue of wigs. It is perhaps worth noting that
 CASE PRESENTATION: THE SHEITEL CRISIS 19

the response to the wig issue divided along the lines of whether the proponents of
the individual rabbinic position were generally in favor of Jewish women wear-
ing wigs or not. Observers have noted that the battle was driven by factions in the
ultra-Orthodox world that oppose all forms of wig wearing as an inappropriate
solution to the need to cover women’s hair. Lubavitch Hassidim have long upheld
wigs not only as an acceptable but as the preferred way to cover their women’s
hair. One Lubavitch rabbi, Rabbi Shalom Dov Wolpe, composed a book devoted
to legitimating the practice of wig wearing, including the continued use of wigs
that had their source in Hindu temples.6 While most of his book is devoted to a
halachic consideration I shall shortly share, his introductory remarks are par-
ticularly interesting from a broader religious perspective. Rabbi Wolpe noted
that it seems a priori inconceivable that Indian wigs should constitute a problem.
His reasoning is as follows. The late Lubavitcher Rebbe was known to be a man
gifted with great supernatural, perhaps prophetic like, knowledge. His minis-
try was unique on the scene of Jewish leadership and included traditional learn-
ing, community organization, and supernatural knowledge of facts, individuals,
etc., in ways unparalleled in the present generation and known only from the
descriptions of former generations. The Lubavitcher Rebbe would stand for
hours every Sunday, receiving thousands of devotees—men and women— and
handing each a dollar, to give in his name to charity (rather: to keep as a blessing,
and to give another dollar in its stead as charity). Now, had there been anything
spiritually wrong with these wigs, it is inconceivable, argues Rabbi Wolpe, that
the Lubavitcher Rebbe would have not “smelled” it. If it did not affect him, that
means there is no problem. Having established this on spiritual grounds, he then
proceeds to argue the matter halachically, that is, on the same battleground used
by those who forbade the wearing of these wigs.
How were these wigs deemed permissible for use? Rabbi Wolpe, along with a
long list of respectable contemporary rabbinic authorities,7 argued that the act of
cutting the hair in Hindu temples did not constitute an “offering” in the technical
sense. That is, it is not sufficient to associate the word “offering” as used by indi-
viduals with the formal act of “offering,” as defined by halacha. For various rea-
sons, the act of hair offering was deemed too removed from the deity, the center of
offering, to be considered a forbidden offering. Hence the wigs were deemed per-
missible. There was a lot of common sense in this position, as it was supported by
some key facts on the ground, such as the distance between where the hair cutting
took place and the deity’s abode and the fact that the cut hair is considered impure
and hence cannot be brought into the presence of the deity, making it an unlikely
offering. So, one could argue that ultimately common sense and healthy intuition,
supported by a certain amount of knowledge, were able to balance the radicaliza-
tion of ruling, as practiced in Rabbi Elyashiv’s court. However, this would be to
ignore the deeper faults in procedure, common to both sides, and representative of
how Jews have gone about viewing Hinduism and Avoda Zara more generally.
Let us begin by noting the unexamined assumption of the entire process. No
one ever stopped to ask the question of whether this worship was indeed Avoda
Zara, or considered what the status of Hinduism in this respect is, and whether
the worship in the major temple under examination, Tirupati, conforms or does
20 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

not with a broader view of Judaism, if such a view does indeed exist, on Hinduism
as a religion.8 There did not seem to be a need, even for those who sought to per-
mit the wigs, to enter into that most fundamental question. At the time, I read
dozens of responsa on this issue. I was struck by the fact that not a single halachic
decisor felt the need to raise the question of whether Hinduism, or the worship
in Hindu temples, should be considered Avoda Zara.9 There seems to me only
one possible explanation for this. The power of images and their worship is so
great, and their impact upon Jewish memory and imagination so complete, that
it leaves no room for querying this fundamental assumption of the discussion.
It is possible, of course, that halachic rulings were influenced by some rabbinic
precedents of great decisors of previous generations, who, in similar vein, ruled
or assumed that Hinduism is Avoda Zara.10 But that would only be pushing the
matter backward in time. The dynamics that would have led two or three hundred
years ago to such a position would have been the same as those described above.
The power of the immediate vision is so great as to determine unequivocally
that the specific form of Hindu worship under discussion ought to be consid-
ered as Avoda Zara. But applying the same procedure today is actually far more
problematic. Centuries ago there was no contact with India, and decisors had to
rely on the current state of knowledge. In today’s world knowledge is more read-
ily available and the stakes for intercommunal living are much greater. In fact,
the financial stakes of the whole story are of staggering proportions. It has been
estimated that the wig industry is worth a billion dollars a year. Thus, despite the
huge responsibility of making a billion dollar decision, nothing more was needed
than a 48-hour eyewitness report and the application of a series of principles,
whose end result was that wigs are forbidden and should be burned.
The story of Tirupati and the sheitels serves as an introduction to the pres-
ent work because so many questions converge around this one incident. First
and foremost, it raises the question of what is Avoda Zara. What do we mean
by Avoda Zara and who does it refer to? Is it still something to contend with?
Specifically, should Hinduism be considered Avoda Zara? The present work
assumes that answers to these questions involve more than a simple “yes” or
“no.” The question is not simply whether Hinduism is or is not Avoda Zara, but
more significantly, what do we mean by Avoda Zara and how do we define it.
Hinduism therefore serves in the present discussion in two capacities. It is the
object of a specific inquiry, in terms of Avoda Zara, but it is also the catalyst for a
more theoretical discussion that seeks, a propos of and in relation to Hinduism,
to revisit the conceptual foundations of Avoda Zara.
A rabbinic report on the sheitel crisis sums up the interest in the story. It is
the occasion to engage in theoretical halachic speculations that one rarely has the
possibility of engaging.11 Avoda Zara is, for those engaged in taking a stance on
the sheitel issue, not a matter of relations with the other, but some esoteric and
out-of-the-way domain for halachic speculation. I take just the opposite view.
Avoda Zara is a fundamental instrument in defining relationships, and it is pre-
cisely for this reason that the import of the sheitel crisis does not lie in the pros
and cons of one position or another but in providing an opportunity to think
through seriously and systematically what Avoda Zara means, as a concept, as a
 CASE PRESENTATION: THE SHEITEL CRISIS 21

worldview, and as a pronouncement and judgement placed upon Hinduism, as

well as other religions.12
The sheitel story opens a window to many questions. The reason Rabbi Donner
could be so sure of Hinduism’s status as Avoda Zara is because he not only spoke
to some devotees, but also saw images with his own eyes, or spent time in an
environment that takes image worship for granted. This leads us to one of the key
issues that we shall tackle—the power of the image, the icon, or the idol as deter-
mining what is Avoda Zara. One must be aware of the deep Jewish biases against
Avoda Zara and of how easily these resort to the power of the visual as a first step
in applying a more critical methodology to the Jewish study of Hinduism. Can
we make the immediate and facile leap from image worship to the declaration of
another religion as Avoda Zara or should the leap from foreign worship to for-
eign god be examined?13 Of course, if we do not recognize the image of the god
and the stories told of him or her, or if we encounter the worship of elements of
nature that have been prohibited for millennia, it would seem there is little to dis-
cuss. Still, the religion of India confronts us precisely with the challenge of sepa-
rating ritual from philosophy and theology. This could allow us to reframe the
question. Rather than asking how do we determine the otherness of the god that
is worshipped (answer: by means of ritual), we would be asking how we could
determine, by means other than ritual, that the God worshipped by two religions
is the same God.14 The contribution of the present work lies in shifting perspec-
tive from a ritual-only means of discernment to a broader view of the religion15
and from framing the question in terms of confirming otherness to seeking to
establish means of affirming God as one and the same in two religions.16
The alternative means of establishing the identity of God, recognizing him as
the same God, are philosophy and religious understanding.17 It is these that pro-
vide meaning to the rituals, to the modes of worship, and to the entire religious
life. To relate to ritual only without the superstructure of meaning could be akin
to how the proverbial Martian or, for that matter, the Hindu off the street might
understand Judaism when he first encounters it. Would the gestures of individu-
als make sense in and of themselves, or do they require an interpretive framework
and a class of interpreters to make sense of them? What does it mean to carry the
Torah scroll around, to kiss it, and to show it respect?18 In whose mind is this
distinguished as fundamentally different from similar gestures practiced toward
objects of adoration in other religions? I once met someone who left a synagogue,
quite upset, at the sight of the lions that were sewn onto the synagogue parochet, a
cloth cover of the ark, where the Torah scrolls are kept. Now, I am not suggesting
that Jewish use of images is identical to Hindu use. But I do consider it important
to ask whether there is really a neutral descriptive view of religious and ritual
realities and whether any description does not beg an interpretive framework.
Once we are in the realm of interpretation, we are forced to recognize the author-
ity of the interpreter and opening ourselves up to authoritative voices of another
religion could block the facile move from foreign worship to foreign god.19
The exclusive appeal to worship, while ignoring philosophical understandings
of what a religion means, is the root problem in the sheitel story. It points to a
weakness in the classical Jewish approach. It also reminds us of how difficult it
22 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

is to come to a balanced understanding of Hindu religious life, because it raises

the questions of what is considered knowledge of the other and who represents it.
This is both an internal and an external problem. Internally, on the Jewish end,
can such knowledge be gained in 48 hours? By several years of travel? Who is
qualified to report to rabbis what the religion means? But even more serious than
this is the external problem, which can be briefly summed up by the question:
“Who speaks for Hinduism?”20 Let us consider the options in the case of Tirupati.
If we ask the people standing in line to have the darshan of Balaji, they may not be
able to articulate a coherent theology in light of which Balaji is to be appreciated,
which could provide enough of a counterpoint to the worship of images to legiti-
mately open the question of Avoda Zara for discussion. Some may; many won’t.
The question I continue to struggle with is what would the majority think. I have,
as a matter of fact, repeatedly engaged local worshippers at Hindu temples on the
question of whether they ultimately worship one God or a multiplicity of gods.21
I have also posed this question repeatedly to swamis and spiritual teachers. There
is strong evidence that the public at large is indeed aware of one God and of a
higher teaching. Many would claim that broader popular consciousness is not
so far from the recognition of one God or divine life beyond, behind, or through
the multiplicity of deities and images. But on second thoughts, does the majority
really matter? Maybe what a religion means is not determined by majority under-
standing. Perhaps in this case we should ask the priests, who receive gifts for the
deity. Are they the voice of the temple? Or perhaps the heads of various spiritual
schools and dynasties, who honor the site and frequent it on regular pilgrimage.22
If so, the meaning of it all might be found outside the temple, among a narrow
section of its users.
There is still one further possibility that is relevant. The temple at Tirupati
was dedicated, actually rededicated, by one of India’s greatest philosophers, the
eleventh-century philosopher Ramanuja. The present-day rituals were instated
by him. In a situation in which the meaning of an action is unclear, it would make
sense to turn to the founder of the institution and learn of his intentions. Now,
Ramanuja was a proponent of a school of philosophy called modified nondual-
ism, Vishishtadvaita.23 What is at stake in the differences between the different
philosophical schools is just how extreme the monistic vision of reality is and how
real one considers the relationship of deity and devotee, as well as of this world, to
be. This school is not identical with Advaita Vedanta, the brand of Vedanta that
has increasingly come to represent Hinduism, associated with the eighth-century
teacher Sankara. According to Advaita Vedanta all is ultimately one, and the
unity of the supreme divinity, Brahman, is affirmed beyond as well as through
various deities, nature, and all of being. But even if we do not hold to ideas of
extreme monism, Ramanuja’s brand of philosophy also recognizes the ultimate
unity of the Godhead or supreme being. In other words, it is a sophisticated phil-
osophical school that represents anything but a simplistic view of gods, images,
and worship. This school still enjoys great prominence and remains one of the
major philosophical and religious schools in India. Thus, in turning to Ramanuja
we are not simply turning to a founding figure of old. Rather, we are turning to
a figure whose teachings continue to have broad, if not universal, impact and
 CASE PRESENTATION: THE SHEITEL CRISIS 23

whose legacy is mediated through this specific temple as well. If so, it would seem
appropriate to consider how Ramanuja himself would have viewed the worship
of idols and to what extent his own practice, seen in the light of his own religious
teaching, could provide a frame of reference for assessing the religious meaning
of what goes on in Tirupati today.
But then, assuming we have provided a response for one institution or one
school, can that answer hold true for all of Hinduism? Hinduism is a federation
of faiths and practices, exhibiting enormous diversity. Beyond the diversity of
schools there is also diversity of Hinduism as practiced in different localities. In
my travels I have come across different forms of Hinduism in different locali-
ties.24 Nepalese Hinduism is one context in which I had great trouble identifying
traces of the recognitions of the higher spiritual teachings with which I was so
familiar from Indian ashrams.25 If the case is, as Swami Yogaswaroopananda
maintained when we discussed this, that in Nepal too there are pundits who
know the teachings of the Upanishads and Vedanta, then this provides us with
a contextualized instance of the broader question under discussion: Who holds
the key to interpreting the religion? If only a handful of people are aware of the
“true” meaning of their religion, do we look to those handful or to the masses?
And should we look to the authorities wherever they may be, regardless of local
reality? And perhaps the meaning of the religion should be found in the writings
of great figures of the past, regardless of the current state of understanding.
At the end of the day, the diversity of perspectives might force us to move away
from a global response to the question of Hinduism and Avoda Zara. Perhaps
we need to relate to schools, movements, and spiritual centers, rather than to
“Hinduism” as a whole.26 In the extreme, we would be forced to answer on a
person-by-person basis. In that case, one person’s idolatry would be another’s
true religion—identical actions, radically different understandings. This seems
rather paradoxical and highlights the difficult choices we are forced to make
as we undertake an understanding of Hindu faith and worship from a Jewish
perspective.
Facing a complex reality can lead to one of two reactions. The first is to attempt
to simplify it and to make a pronouncement on that simplified reality. Those who
simply dismiss Hinduism as idolatry do just that. At the other extreme, those
who celebrate statements, declarations, or other materials that allow us to once
and for all table core questions are similarly engaged in simplification of complex
realities.27 If we do not wish to err on the side of simplification, there seems to
be only one appropriate response: recognition of the complexity of the phenom-
enon at hand. Such recognition need not be paralyzing. Even if some practical
course or another must be charted in an attempt to address practical concerns,
awareness of the complexity of a phenomenon amounts to an invitation to stay
open—to further study, future reconsideration, new insights. The response to
complexity is thus educational, the need to learn more. If there is any conclusion
to be drawn from the present study, it is that more work, more study, and more
reflection are required. There seems to me nothing wrong with the possibility
that a process of learning, involving traditions that for thousands of years have
not had extensive contact between them, might take a generation or more. Rather
24 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

than the facile pronouncements that characterized the sheitel incident, I envi-
sion a lengthy, laborious, and complex process whose results may be much less
unequivocal, but much truer to the complex problem at hand. At the end of the
day, my own views on Hinduism as Avoda Zara may be so nuanced as to not be
useful to those decisors. But they will surely be useful on other fronts. They will
be useful for those who seek relationships and understanding, and not simply
permission to wear wigs of human hair. They will be useful for those who want
to enter into deep dialogue with Hinduism, and not merely have commercial
relations. And they will be useful for those who recognize that what Judaism
needs today is a thorough thinking through, maybe even a revision, of its views
on other religions, and not simply a mechanical application of well-established
principles. For me, getting to the root of things and recognizing their complexity,
even at the cost of our ability to make final pronouncements on some matters,
seems preferable. It is preferable because it paves the way to a fuller understand-
ing that will emerge tomorrow, when conditions have ripened and understand-
ing has deepened. The alternative leads nowhere.28
 Part II

Introducing Avoda Zara

Overview

Part II introduces the category of Avoda Zara. Chapter 4 makes some historical
and conceptual observations regarding the category. The category was formu-
lated in the rabbinic period and is absent in biblical literature. The Bible is con-
cerned with following other gods and faithfulness to the covenant. Continuity
with these concerns is maintained through the rabbinic category of Avoda Zara
and it is this category that informs Judaism’s attitude to other religions till the
present day. Whereas the biblical focus on other gods is clear and requires no
unpacking, Avoda Zara is a concept that is both rich and elusive. It describe both
the otherness of another god and the foreignness of alternative means of worship.
It refers to the domain of worship proper, but its application includes broader
processes of othering and identity building, in relation to non-Jews and members
of other religious communities. The broader uses make it harder to get at the core
of the concept and to define what it is exactly that is wrong or problematic with
Avoda Zara. There is next to no discussion of this in rabbinic literature, making
Avoda Zara a matter of self-evidence, intuition, or a consequence of intergroup
relations, rather than of a reasoned or focused argument in relation to other
religions. It is only in the Middle Ages, living in Muslim or Christian societies,
that theories and explanations emerge as to what constitutes Avoda Zara and its
applicability to contemporary religions.
Chapter 5 argues that Avoda Zara is not only a legal category but also the
foundation for a mental attitude and approach to the other. Scorn, mockery, and
contempt are the attitudinal by-products of the declaration of another religion as
Avoda Zara, following biblical precedents of how idol making is viewed. These
procedures are phenomenologically similar to Hindu rituals that are practiced
till this very day. Avoda Zara functions as a category of exclusion and delegitima-
tion. The chapter poses the question of whether identity formation requires such
strategies or if it can be upheld without such extreme tactics. The question is all
the more poignant in today’s world, which witnesses a redefinition of relations
between religions, with attitudes of respect gradually replacing stereotypes of
contempt and mistrust.
26 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

While the classical associations of Avoda Zara do operate as described, we also

witness the beginnings of a new paradigm emerging in relation to Hinduism.
This is found in the attitude of religiously observant Israelis who are willing to
give Hinduism a respectful hearing, seeking its spiritual riches, without neces-
sarily foregoing the halachic concern for Avoda Zara. Such new openness may be
possible because of the novelty of the Jewish-Hindu encounter and the fact that
it does not carry the bitter historical memories associated with other religions,
especially Christianity, previously considered as Avoda Zara. The emergence of
this new attitude also provides an opening for reframing the question that might
be posed with regard to Hinduism.1
 4

Avoda Zara: Introducing the

Category

T he Jewish view of other religions as Avoda Zara was not formed as a response
to Hinduism. Contemporary Jewish approaches to Hinduism that make
this issue the primary lens through which Hinduism is appreciated are carrying
over attitudes that are thousands of years old and that were formed in relation
to other religions, focusing on religious difference and opposition to other gods
as well as to the worship of idols. Since the time of the Second Temple, Jews
have imagined the battle against idolatry as a defining feature of the work and
message of the founder of the Jewish people, or of the Jewish religion, namely
Abraham.1
The term Avoda Zara is not a biblical term, and thus it does not represent
the most fundamental foundation of Jewish thought and practice. In the Bible
we find the prohibition of worshipping other gods and of making images, pre-
sumably for purposes of worship. Thus, the ten commandments move from the
prohibition of having another god (Ex. 20, 2) to the prohibition of making and
worshipping images (Ex. 20, 3–4). Presumably, the images are images of other
gods, though it is possible to consider images of the covenanting God of Israel
as equally problematic. What we have then is an insistence on full fidelity to the
God who redeems Israel from Egypt and the ensuing avoidance of alien forms
of worship. The framework is one of covenant making, that is, the formation
of an exclusive relationship between God and His people. This exclusive rela-
tionship leaves no room for other gods. In the framework of covenantal fidelity,
other gods are considered real alternatives to God, hence avoiding them and their
forms of worship is of supreme importance. In what is essentially a polytheistic,
or henotheistic, worldview, covenantal insistence on absolute loyalty makes per-
fect sense. While one could offer an alternative reading, it makes most sense to
assume that foreign worship through images is derivative of the identity of other
gods, who are worshipped through images. The identity of the worshipped god
as an other is primary, and the inappropriate method of worship is derivative of
it.2 The foreignness of worship is closely related to the otherness of the other god,
a notion that is coherent within the biblical worldview.
28 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

The term Avoda Zara was born during the rabbinic period. It is a useful term
inasmuch as it captures both dimensions, mentioned in the ten commandments,
that lie at the heart of Jewish concern with other religions—the strangeness of
foreign worship and the otherness of the foreign god. Strange, foreign, and other
are all nuances of the Hebrew zar, or of the feminine zara. To these one may add
wrong, abhorrent, and repulsive, as additional nuances of the term. Avoda Zara
thus takes on an entire range of meanings and associations. That all these mean-
ings converge within one term adds to the theoretical and emotional complex-
ity of the term and consequently of working with it in a contemporary context.3
Therefore, alongside the conceptual unpacking that is the backbone of the present
work, one must also consider unpacking the term emotionally. As I shall suggest
here, one may own some of the emotional associations of the term, while avoiding
others. Greater clarity on both the conceptual and the emotional plane is called
for as part of a contemporary engagement with the meaning of Avoda Zara.
As useful as Avoda Zara is in expressing a complex relating to otherness with
regard to other religions, it is equally unhelpful in ascertaining where the heart
of the problem lies and understanding what is actually wrong with it. If one poses
the question of what is actually wrong with Avoda Zara, one realizes that the
answer is presumed more often than it is articulated.4 The ambiguity begins,
as is already evident, in the collapsing of the strangeness of other gods and of
other methods of worship into one term. The breadth and complexity of such
usage invite lack of precision and perhaps as a result also facile application of
the category. To this should be added the fact that with the possible exception
of a sentence or two in rabbinic literature, we do not have a discussion in that
literature of what is actually wrong with Avoda Zara. But the question may be
superfluous. The religions that would constitute Avoda Zara, the others of the
rabbinical world, are indeed other gods, distinct from the God of Israel.5 In this
sense the rabbis stand in a continuum with the Bible.6 Avoda Zara would then be
a continuation of the prohibition of the worship of other gods, by the methods
typical of their worship. Unlike the biblical worldview, however, the henotheistic
option seems to no longer be an option. There is no room, no legitimacy, for any
god besides the one God, known and worshipped by Israel.
Otherness is not only the key to understanding how Avoda Zara relates to
other gods, but also to how concern with Avoda Zara defines attitudes to the
other, that is, to other members of society, the non-Jews, amid whom the rabbis
live. One of the striking features of the rabbinic tractate Avoda Zara is that it
deals almost exclusively with Jewish-Gentile relations, and not with the theologi-
cal or practical issues relating to other gods and their worship. These are indeed
assumed as part of the complex of otherness, in light of which Jewish-Gentile
relations are viewed.7 But it is precisely how closely these two sets of issues are
interwoven that suggests that for the rabbis otherness and, hence, identity are
the actual foci of religious concern, rather than preoccupation with theological
precision or appropriateness of worship due to God. One may assume fidelity
as the basis for separating from others and their gods. However, it is notewor-
thy that the covenant, the conceptual category that called for such separation
and fidelity in the Bible, has all but disappeared from the rabbinic worldview.
 AVODA ZARA: INTRODUCING THE CATEGORY 29

Thus, even if a sense of covenantal fidelity endures, the need to separate from the
nations and their gods is no longer articulated in terms of the covenant and its
demands. Otherness, identity, and the need to separate in faith from all that is
not us thus emerge as characteristics of the rabbinic world view and, in a sense,
also as the rationale that informs the laws and practices formulated by the rabbis
in relation to Avoda Zara. Objection to foreign worship helps establish Jewish
identity in relation to the various gods of surrounding cultures, and for the past
two millennia has played a similar role in relation to the surrounding cultures of
Christianity, and even of Islam. Extending this logic would lead to the position
that everything that is within the realm of the other is ipso facto Avoda Zara.8
The concern for identity is not strictly speaking a halachic concern. Halachic
discussions during the course of the evolution of rabbinic literature almost
never make preservation of identity an out-and-out factor in their reasoning.9
Nevertheless, I think it is fair to argue that this concern informs much of hala-
chic decision making and the broader Jewish concern with other religions. The
attitude to other religions is always informed by the concern that we might learn
from them or become like them, thereby losing our particularity, our true voca-
tion, and our faithfulness to what makes us unique in our relationship with God.
The battle against Avoda Zara is thus a fundamental feature of Jewish identity
and an important safeguard for its protection. Using a metaphor appropriate for
a discussion of India, it may well be the elephant in the room.
Recognition of the centrality of the concern for upholding identity and the
discourse of otherness as constitutive of rabbinic views and rulings is significant
for our discussion. It points to the roots of the emotional attitudes associated with
Avoda Zara. The authorities that instructed that wigs made from Tirupati hair
must be burned draw legal precedent and emotional orientation from talmudic
sources and their later iterations in halachic literature. Both the halachic content
and the emotional tone resonate up to present day and continue to inform Jewish
attitudes to other religions, including Hinduism.
Alongside recognition of the major role that otherness and the distance taken
in relation to it play, we must also note what is absent from the rabbinic world-
view and what changes take place in later generations. As mentioned, there is no
philosophical discussion of what Avoda Zara means and what is wrong with it.
Related to this is the lack of any meaningful attempt to relate the Jewish God to
the understanding of divinity expounded by other religions.10 What this suggests
is that attitudes to other religions, and in particular the possible view of other
religions as Avoda Zara, are not always a function of close and careful analysis
of the faith content of other religions. Because Avoda Zara came into being as a
formative category with so little discussion of what it means, why it is religiously
problematic, and how it should or should not condition our attitudes to others, it
has continued to flourish and to play a major role, both in halachic and non-hala-
chic discourse, despite diversity and lack of clarity in the possible understandings
of Avoda Zara. From talmudic to contemporary times, the declaration of Avoda
Zara and the practical consequences of such a declaration were often viewed as
self-evident, requiring little further reflection and explication, either in terms of
Judaism’s own concerns or in terms of an optimal grasp of the other religion. In
30 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

important ways, understanding other religions can be bypassed in the process of

pronouncing them Avoda Zara.
The attempt to unpack what Avoda Zara is, why it might be problematic, and
how contemporary religions are or are not Avoda Zara takes place more than
a thousand years after the category came into vogue. The rise of Christianity
and Islam placed Judaism before a challenge that is fundamentally different from
what confronted it in either the biblical or in the rabbinic period. The religions
that Judaism had to deal with no longer proclaim another God. They claim to pro-
claim and worship the same God, even if, in the case of Christianity, such claims
involve a different understanding of divinity than that espoused by Judaism and
Islam. This new challenge should have perhaps occasioned far more reflection on
the nature of Avoda Zara than it did. But it did lead to the articulation of some
novel and important views of those religions, and these provide us with theoreti-
cal resources through which we can explore possible Jewish views of Hinduism.
The Middle Ages are characterized not only by the new external theological
challenges but also by novel developments within the Jewish intellectual tradi-
tion. One of the characteristics of medieval thought and creativity in all fields—
halacha, philosophy, kabbalah and interpretation—is the advancement of method
and an increase in the systematic approach to discussions. It is therefore no sur-
prise that the first systematic attempts to articulate what Avoda Zara is, either in
a theoretical sense or with an eye to resolving contemporary challenges, come
from the Middle Ages. These theories were formulated when Avoda Zara already
operated as a powerful formative category, shaping Jewish practice and the atti-
tudes of Jews to non-Jews. It is therefore understandable that these theories have
only a partial impact upon how Avoda Zara actually operates as a category and
in practice. If the praxis of Avoda Zara precedes its theoretical discussions and
if the attitudes concerning Avoda Zara and otherness have been formed long
before such systematic theoretical discussions are articulated, we need not be
surprised if any theory will have only limited value in shaping the views and
practices of practitioners in relation to other religions. Practice has the power to
endure beyond the varieties of theory. Still, theory is crucial for the continuing
application of Avoda Zara as a theoretical and practical category and is obvi-
ously of significance in the exploration of novel challenges. Thus, even though
no single theory or understanding of Avoda Zara has had the power to shape the
minds and practices of believers in a universal way, some views or theories have
gained great popularity, while others continue to vie for recognition.
The present challenge is complex. Judaism encounters religions it had never
encountered previously, and it must articulate its views of those religions. The
process inadvertently entails some kind of dialogue with all levels of previous
tradition. Significantly, the paradigms developed through the encounter with
other religions, primarily Christianity, must be tested in relation to new reli-
gions.11 But beyond that, the new opportunities also invite us to continue the
process of reflection on the core question of what Avoda Zara is, why it is prob-
lematic, and what it ultimately means for Judaism. Once we recognize how late
in the day and how partial the reflection on Avoda Zara has been, we realize
that every new encounter is also an opportunity for fresh consideration of what
 AVODA ZARA: INTRODUCING THE CATEGORY 31

Avoda Zara means. If we are to advance beyond propagation and repetition of

age-old habits and attitudes, we must continue the process of examination and
reflection of the fundamentals of Avoda Zara and wherein Judaism’s objections
to it lie. Novel situations allow us to engage in advancing reflection on these
issues precisely because they might present us with challenges, in the form of
theological and religious realities, not addressed by previous religious encounters
or earlier reflections. This leads then to the question of whether we are actually
adequately equipped, theologically and halachically, to deal with the challenge of
encounter with new religions—in our case, Hinduism. It is conceivable that the
theoretical tools at our disposal, developed late in the day, in a very partial way
and in response to other religious realities, may not do justice to the challenges of
Judaism’s encounter with Hinduism. Therefore as we apply different understand-
ings of Avoda Zara to the case of Hinduism, we need to be mindful both of how
those understandings may be applied and of the very suitability, or lack thereof,
of the categories and explanations previously provided for addressing the novel
challenge.
 5

Avoda Zara: Mental Attitudes

B efore delving deeper into an exploration of Hinduism in terms of Avoda

Zara, I would like to offer some reflections on the broader mental attitude
associated with identification of another religion as Avoda Zara. The sheitel
crisis brought to light some of the elements that govern attitudes to other reli-
gions and that both feed and are fed by the perception of the other religion as
Avoda Zara. Affirmation of another religion as Avoda Zara is, in fact, a tactic of
exclusion and delegitimation. Each has a different emphasis. Exclusion points to
how one views oneself in relation to the other. It is an important component of
Jewish identity politics. Separateness and the uniqueness of Jewish identity are
enforced through affirmation of the total lack of value of the other religion and
its declaration as Avoda Zara. Following such a declaration one removes oneself,
in a variety of practical ways, from contact with the other. Not wearing “offered
in India” wigs is but one expression of a broader tendency to avoid all contact
with Avoda Zara, and consequently with its practitioners and eventually with
all forms of otherness.
Delegitimation takes the politics of exclusion one step further. It is not simply
that one is erecting boundaries in relation to the other. Delegitimation also makes
a claim about the other, and in our case the lack of validity and value of another
religion, because it is classified as Avoda Zara. If someone were asked to classify
the religions of the world according to their relative value, from the perspective
of ultra-Orthodox Judaism, one would be hard-pressed to offer a response. If all,
or almost all, religions are classified as Avoda Zara, there is little left to compare
or rank. Classification as Avoda Zara sends all religions to the divine recycle bin.
Pronouncement of another religion as Avoda Zara is a means of delegitimating
that religion. The upshot is that there is nothing of value to be learned or received
from that religion.
It is important to recognize that in principle exclusion and the protection of
group identity can be achieved without delegitimation. While psychologically
and sociologically there is a strong link between the two strategies, conceptu-
ally it is possible to maintain boundaries without delegitimating the value of the
other. The other may have value, even if limited. The other has value in and of
itself, and the other’s values may be upheld as appropriate for the other, even if
34 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

not for oneself.1 Recognition of value without delegitimation could open the door
to receptivity and openness to learning from the other, provided such receptiv-
ity does not infringe on the rules that guide behavior appropriate for the Jew.
Clearly, the nature of exclusion is different when it is coupled with delegitima-
tion. The more closely bound exclusion and delegitimation are, the more rigid
the boundaries are that constitute identity.
Classical attitudes to other religions were formed in the biblical and rabbinic
periods. What characterizes both periods is that exclusion is coupled with dele-
gitimation, leading to minimizing contact with the other and limiting mutual
influence and inspiration. Both biblical and rabbinic literature develop an ethos
of mockery of other religions, and idols are the very subject of that mockery.2
Prophetic critique of idolatry resorts to the rhetoric of mockery:

I foretold, and you are My witnesses. Is there any god, then, but Me?
“There is no other rock; I know none!”
The makers of idols all work to no purpose;
And the things they treasure can do no good,
As they themselves can testify.
They neither look nor think, and so they shall be shamed.
Who would fashion a god or cast a statue that can do no good?
Lo, all its adherents shall be shamed; they are craftsmen, are merely human.
Let them all assemble and stand up! They shall be cowed, and they shall be shamed.
The craftsman in iron, with his tools, works it over charcoal and fashions it by
hammering,
working with the strength of his arm.
Should he go hungry, his strength would ebb; should he drink no water, he would
grow faint.
The craftsman in wood measures with a line and marks out a shape with a stylus;
he forms it with scraping tools, marking it out with a compass.
He gives it a human form, the beauty of a man, to dwell in a shrine.
For his use he cuts down cedars; he chooses plane trees and oaks.
He sets aside trees of the forest; or plants firs, and the rain makes them grow.
All this serves man for fuel: he takes some to warm himself, and he builds a fire and
bakes bread.
He also makes a god of it and worships it, fashions an idol and bows down to it!
Part of it he burns in a fire: on that part he roasts meat, he eats the roast and is sated;
He also warms himself and cries, “Ah, I am warm! I can feel the heat!”
Of the rest he makes a god—his own carving! he bows down to it, worships it;
He prays to it and cries, “Save me, for you are my god!”
They have no wit or judgment: their eyes are besmeared, and they see not;
Their minds, and they cannot think.
They do not give thought, they lack the wit and judgment to say:
“Part of it I burned in a fire; I also baked bread on the coals, I roasted meat and
ate it—
Should I make the rest an abhorrence? Should I bow to a block of wood?”
He pursues ashes! A deluded mind has led him astray, and he cannot save himself;
He never says to himself, “The thing in my hand is a fraud!”
Remember these things, O Jacob for you, O Israel, are My servant:
I fashioned you, you are My servant—O Israel, never forget Me.3
 AVODA ZARA: MENTAL ATTITUDES 35

It seems quite likely that the prophets, indeed the Hebrew Bible itself, did not
really understand idolatry and were already at some remove from it.4 But what is
important is that idols serve as the spearhead of a strategy of separation, realized
through the tactics of mockery. To a large extent, much of the Jewish attitude to
the use of images in worship perpetuates this prophetic attitude.5 Studies of the
religions, mocked by the prophet, reveal that behind the worship of idols lay a
sophisticated religious system.6 Significantly, Hindu worship of idols is in many
ways similar to ancient Mesopotamian practices. The similar understanding of
the use of the idol as dwelling place for the deity and hence the temporary nature
of such dwelling is striking.7 This makes the challenge poignant. The prophets
could only engage in their polemic by either misunderstanding or ignoring the
self-understanding of idol worshippers and by presenting them in a way that made
their actions seem stupid and senseless. Either way, we must ask whether we can
continue upholding this attitude and whether we are willing to bear its billion dol-
lar consequences. If the prophet did not understand, and we have become aware of
this lack of understanding, is it religiously upright to maintain the same mocking
attitudes, based on misunderstanding and caricature, if there exists the possibil-
ity for a fuller understanding as an alternative?8 In fact, our attitude to mockery
and caricature of the other should be fed by the experiences of centuries and mil-
lennia of having been misunderstood and mocked by others. We have the choice
of either propagating and reciprocating such attitudes, within the confines of our
comfortable separateness, or of reconsidering the entire strategy, in view of how it
has shaped our own historical experience. One thing seems clear: the double-faced
game of protesting a false representation of ourselves while propagating a false rep-
resentation of the other is not tenable in intellectual, religious, or broader social
terms. If we desire not to be mocked, and we seek true respect from others, we must
consider how that should affect our own efforts at granting similar understanding
to others. In certain circles, this requires a fundamental shift in mentality.
The alternative explanation, in theory, for how prophetic critique functions
is that the prophets did not simply misunderstand but that they intentionally
misrepresented a religion they understood only too well.9 The dangers of such
a strategy are the same as those noted above, except more so. To intentionally
misrepresent the other is far graver than to simply misunderstand. Both require
us to reflect on how problematic mockery, rejection, and delegitimation are as
strategies for dealing with other religions. Further thought is required to account
for why they should be avoided on internal Jewish grounds. At the very least, the
lessons of history, just mentioned, should provide an incentive to desist from
mockery. From a different perspective, our awareness today is global and no lon-
ger supports the limited insularity (as separate from distinct identity) that was
typical of former ages. There are few people around who would continue to jus-
tify a narrow insularity, founded on rejection, mockery, and delegitimation of
the other. Global coexistence requires a different mode of religious communities
living together. If we take this seriously, it also requires rethinking what Avoda
Zara means and how it conditions our attitude to the other. Openness to under-
standing the other on his own terms may be a prerequisite for a new paradigm
that would replace partial understanding, misrepresentation, and mockery.
36 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Representing the other in a way that is true to the other’s self-understanding,

rather than in light of our own canons, which lead to the mockery of the other,
might itself be of religious value. Much thought is still required concerning how
a fair representation of the other might constitute a religious value beyond the
imperative of contemporary global culture and its needs for peaceful coexis-
tence.10 Some initial thoughts in this direction might include an expanded under-
standing of the third of the ten commandments, of not bearing false witness to
another.11 Perhaps the quest for truth ought to itself be sufficient as a driving
force for seeking to understand and represent the other in a faithful manner.
Other ideals may be invoked, including love, the golden rule, and even the notion
of judging the other favorably. Obviously, application of any internal religious
principle to another religion is a constructive act that requires the will to apply
it and the recognition of its importance. As someone who has that will, I would
seek to develop a religiously based mandate to represent other religions faith-
fully. If that is so, we must apply Avoda Zara wisely. I am not suggesting that the
category is not relevant. However, we must give thought to how we apply it. The
sheitel crisis seems to encapsulate all that is wrong in an age-old attitude and how
that attitude can no longer be upheld. One cannot judge the other purely on one’s
own terms, without careful consideration of the other, on his terms.12 One cannot
follow the visual as the sole yardstick for appreciating another religion. And the
upshot of the declaration of another religion as Avoda Zara itself must be con-
sidered. Even if another religion is defined as Avoda Zara, does this mean that it
is of no value, that it has nothing to teach, or that it cannot be respected? Avoda
Zara need not spell complete lack of value, any more than the designation of food
as non-kosher would lead to viewing such food as lacking any nutritional value.
That Jews may not be able to derive nourishment from these foods should not
impede our ability to recognize that these foods are nourishing; nor should the
fact that we are prohibited from eating these foods lead to a denial of their sec-
ondary and tertiary benefits (such as through commerce, medicine, and more).13
We perhaps ought to conceive of laws governing the view of other religions and
their worship in a similar manner.
Tracing the attitudes to the worship of idols to biblical sources forces us to
confront the roots of our attitudes to other religions. These indeed go back to our
foundational texts, biblical revelations, and prophecies. Tackling Avoda Zara as
a fundamental religious attitude thus touches the deepest religious questions: the
enduring meaning of prophecy,14 the price of exclusivity of religious faith, and
the truth and message of Judaism. While rejection of Avoda Zara has remained a
constant in Judaism for thousands of years, the scope of what constitutes Avoda
Zara and how it is to be treated have changed in a variety of ways. Living in the
midst of other religious communities has yielded, as we shall shortly see, posi-
tions that accommodate and produce a respectful attitude to those religions. We
are today heirs to two kinds of attitudes, two emotional orientations toward the
religious other, the one rejecting the other accommodating, perhaps even accept-
ing. One may draw various distinctions in order to account for why at times one
attitude prevailed and at times another. Economic, sociological, philosophical,
and theological factors all came together in order to form, particularly in relation
 AVODA ZARA: MENTAL ATTITUDES 37

to Christianity, an attitude that is either continuous or discontinuous with bibli-

cal and rabbinic rejection of idolatry.15 Ways have thus been found of adopting
attitudes that are emotionally different from the rejectionist paradigm. Hinduism
presents us with a unique challenge that has been addressed thus far only in the
most minimal way. In dealing with a religion that was never part of the Jewish
horizon of other religions, what will be the emotional attitude that governs the
view of the worship of idols?
Several factors come together in considering the emotional attitude to Hindu
worship of idols. All previous instances of dealing with the religion of the other,
and the consequent proclamation of that religion as Avoda Zara, have been the
result of common living or of cultures that have come into close contact and
have a common history. Hinduism, as well as other Eastern religions, are dif-
ferent in that they have not been part of the historical Jewish encounter with
other religions. Dealing with these religions and their worship takes place when
new paradigms for relations between religions have emerged. On the one hand,
interfaith relations are founded on respect and acceptance of the other, by virtue
of the very fact of the other’s existence and by the common understanding that
the world’s religions must move from conflict to collaboration. At the same time,
the academic study of religion brings to our awareness more nuanced under-
standings of the other religion than those that prevailed under the competitive
paradigm, under which mockery and rejection flourished. The recognition that
Mesopotamian idol worship, the very practice mocked by the prophets, was
indeed more sophisticated and therefore less worthy of scorn, is but one example
of new understandings that we must integrate into our theological view of other
religions.
That the attitude toward Hindu Avoda Zara is already different from classical
Jewish attitudes to Avoda Zara can be seen from the testimonies of contempo-
rary Jewish religious travelers to India. In reading some of these testimonies, as
compiled in a collection of essays titled From India Till Here, one is struck by how
other paradigms and other foci become more central in conditioning the attitude
to the newly encountered religious culture. Avoda Zara is recognized, but it is not
the exclusive factor conditioning the attitude of these travelers. Spirituality, wis-
dom, vitality, and inspiration are all recognized alongside the worship of idols,
leading to the challenge of how they might be reconciled. While no answer has
emerged as yet, the very willingness to explore the validity of a tradition that is
recognized as Avoda Zara is in many ways a novum. It suggests that emotional
attitudes do not necessarily derive from the halachic proclamation of a religion
as Avoda Zara, but in fact precede it. Under the conditions of cultural openness,
receptivity, and dialogue that characterize much of the present Jewish encounter
with Hinduism,16 Avoda Zara does not seem to hold the exclusive sway it did for
many former generations. This suggests that attitudes are at least as much a func-
tion of times and circumstances as they are an outcome of holding specific hala-
chic views concerning the status of another religion. The Jewish seekers of today
who roam around India in search of spiritual meaning, even when they come out
of the Orthodox Jewish tradition and uphold its laws, do not seem to share the
mental conditioning and the psychological attitudes that characterized earlier
38 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

generations. Perhaps this is because Hinduism is distant and not an immedi-

ate neighbor; or because the world of contemporary interreligious relations is
less confrontative; or it could be that some later attitudes to Christianity have
softened Jewish attitudes to other religions, replacing scornful rejection with
respectful boundary construction; or perhaps the sociology of different forms of
Orthodox Judaism—modern/ultra, diaspora/Israel—holds the key. Whatever the
reason, we can detect an attitude shift that accompanies the exposure to Indian
reality.
The encounter with Hinduism thus brings to a head and provides an oppor-
tunity to reflect upon and to consider two fundamentally different attitudes to
other religions. The Hindu sheitel crisis carries forth into the twenty-first century
attitudes that are thousands of years old. These are based on scorn, rejection, and
delegitimation. This mind-set leaves no room for learning, for understanding, or
for dialogue. It focuses on exterior appearances, having little time or patience for
the self-understanding of the other and for the complexities and nuances of the
other’s worldview. The message of Judaism is read in stark opposition to the fal-
sity of idols and what they represent. In this black-and-white view, the encounter
can only go one way—ultimately, in the messianic future, all will come to know
the truth of Judaism and all forms of false representation of God, Hinduism
included, will disappear. Till such time, we continue to practice our spiritual
lives. To this view one should perhaps add the hope that while waiting for such
messianic fulfillment, others should not view us with the same polarized view
and scornful misrepresentation as we grant them.
The other attitude that has emerged likely does not reject the halachic status
of Hinduism as a form of worship that is forbidden to Jews. However, it does
not project the entire scornful and rejecting outlook upon Hinduism as a conse-
quence of this halachic declaration. It is characterized by a willingness to listen
and to understand. It deems that there is something to understand, even if the
other’s worship is defined as Avoda Zara. And understanding may even hold the
key to the realization that what seemed at first sight as Avoda Zara turns out to
be more nuanced, possibly not Avoda Zara at all, once a deeper understanding
has been gained. Those halachic attitudes that developed a more respectful view
of Christianity, even if defined as Avoda Zara, provide this approach with prec-
edent for substituting scorn with respect. Indeed, this view illustrates how much
the attitude to another religion is not simply an outcome of the judgment passed
on that religion, but a consequence of broader historical factors.
The emerging attitude is not simply to ignore idol worship, while emphasizing
spirituality, wisdom, and the likes. Rather, it allows a more open dialogue with the
very phenomenon of Avoda Zara, without assuming that definition of Hinduism
as Avoda Zara is necessarily the end of potential involvement with it. Instead, the
recognition that Hinduism is, or may be, Avoda Zara becomes a way of defining
the challenge. The challenge is one of understanding, learning, and appreciation
of both self and other. Avoda Zara reveals something about ourselves and chal-
lenges us to a deeper understanding of what is the real difference between the
various spiritual choices, rather than assuming the answer is self-evident by the
very nature of different means of worshipping the Divine.17 I believe that deeper
 AVODA ZARA: MENTAL ATTITUDES 39

self-understanding could arise concerning the Jewish preference for the auditory
rather than the visual, or concerning the nature of representation, or in short,
concerning what is particular about the Jewish approach to the Divine. But such
deeper self-understanding can only grow out of respectful consideration of dif-
ferences that is not based on the age-old almost automatic response of rejecting
all that is different and other. Later on in this book I will venture some sugges-
tions regarding what could be an enriching dialogue with the Hindu perspective,
and what it could teach us also about ourselves and our own particularity.
One of the important contributions of the present book to a discussion of
Hinduism and of Avoda Zara in general is the reframing of the question with
regard to another religion. Rather than ask whether Hinduism is Avoda Zara, we
could enquire as to whether it is the same God that is known and approached in
both religions. Reframing the question in this way has far-reaching emotional
consequences. In theory, as shall be suggested in a later chapter, it is possible for
Hinduism to be Avoda Zara, even though it is the same God that is worshipped.
Once we admit the possibility of the same God being worshipped in both reli-
gions, the attitudinal ground shifts dramatically. Even if various strictures,
boundaries, and identity-maintenance strategies remain in force, the scorn and
delegitimation associated with the proclamation of another religion as Avoda
Zara would disappear. Specific prohibitions and boundaries, expressing some
meaningful difference in worldview, would be accounted for by the practical
dimension of the application of the category of Avoda Zara. At the same time,
the harmful negative attitudinal consequences of such a declaration would be
neutralized by balancing that declaration with a revised view of Hinduism, based
on the “same God” perspective.
 Part III

The Other god: Defining

Avoda Zara

Overview

As suggested already, some of the alternatives to the biblical-rabbinic paradigm

of scorn and rejection emerged within the matrix of Jewish attempts to develop a
positive appreciation of Christianity and Islam. These attempts provide us with
approaches to another religion that are different in tone and attitude from the
biblical-rabbinic paradigm. The same historical period also saw the rise of the
first systematic treatments of Avoda Zara and the earliest attempts to identify
what is wrong with it and to define its scope. It is therefore appropriate at this
point in our discussion to revisit some of the classical articulations of Jewish
views of Avoda Zara in general and of Christianity in particular, and to con-
sider how they might, and in certain cases how they have, served as resources for
developing a Jewish view of Hinduism. In relating these resources to the case of
Hinduism we are called not simply to assess if and how they may be applied to
Hinduism, but also to use the case of Hinduism as an occasion for considering
the adequacy of these resources, approaches, and constructs to Judaism’s present-
day encounter with other religions.
This part of the book is its core, in terms of providing the building blocks for
a view of another religion, as these may be culled from rabbinic (late rabbinic,
i.e., medieval up to contemporary) literature. It is important to state that in most
of what follows we do not come across specific views of rabbinical authorities
concerning Hinduism. For the most part, our task is to extract models, theoreti-
cal possibilities, that could inform our view of Hinduism. This is why this part
is the densest and most demanding part of the book. If we are to suggest models
or approaches that could be applied to Hinduism, we must engage the sources
thoroughly, understanding their concerns, their limits, and how we might legiti-
mately work with them. Making these sources speak to our situation requires
close reading of some fundamental texts, so that our application of their approach
is responsible. Because of the detailed nature of the argument in this part of the
book, I assume that some readers who are less familiar with rabbinic reasoning
may have a hard time working through some of the details of the argument. Let
42 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

me, therefore, provide a brief summary of key points that emerge from each of
the chapters in this part of the book.
Chapter 6 presents the view of Maimonides on Avoda Zara. Maimonides’
work is possibly the most influential on the subject. It consists of specific rulings
concerning Christianity (which he considers to be Avoda Zara) but also theo-
retical discussions of the historical formation of Avoda Zara as well as its core
legal definition. In terms of precedent, Maimonides’ ruling on Christianity, if
extended to Hinduism, would lead to the conclusion that Hinduism too is Avoda
Zara. For many, this has been a default position and it readily accounts for the
ease with which the category was applied to Hinduism in cases such as the shei-
tel crisis. But Maimonides does provide additional resources, which leave pause
for thought regarding how they might be applied to Hinduism. He offers the
core legal definition of Avoda Zara—the worship of any being besides God. This
definition opens up a space for inquiry into the intentions and the theological
understanding of practitioners of other religions. Could it be that what seems to
us the worship of another God is really the worship of God?
Of great interest is also Maimonides’ historical presentation of the coming of
Avoda Zara into human history. Following Maimonides’ track of thought sug-
gests a very particular view of how Avoda Zara is understood. Another being
is worshipped in order to please God, in a mistaken understanding of His
will. This ultimately leads to forgetting God and to the widespread growth of
superstition. Contrasting this description of the evolution of Avoda Zara with
the self-understanding of Hinduism suggests there are significant gaps. Hindu
thinkers would not recognize the nature of their worship of deities as conform-
ing to this model, or for that matter to the broader medieval understanding of
Avoda Zara as a consequence of approaching intermediaries. A close reading of
Maimonides suggests there are gaps in his presentation, specifically the worship
of God Himself through wrong means, such as images. The gaps in Maimonides’
presentation are precisely where an engagement with Hinduism becomes par-
ticularly interesting. It may be that what was taken for granted, or left unex-
plored, by Maimonides’ presentation is exactly the position that Hindu thinkers
might choose to identify with. If so, what bearing could that have on our view
of Hinduism as Avoda Zara? Beyond that, thinking of Hinduism in light of
Maimonides’ presentation raises the question of whether we can import theoreti-
cal and theological criteria from one religious system to another, which thinks in
entirely different ways.
Chapter 7 presents the views of Nachmanides, an equally prominent voice
in medieval rabbinic Judaism. Unlike Maimonides’ work, which is incorporated
in a legal corpus, Nachmanides’ work is encountered in his commentary on the
Torah. This is likely the reason why his views have had little impact on the his-
tory of halachic thinking concerning other religions. The present analysis seeks
to integrate his views into the broader context of views of other religions, by mak-
ing them address a novel situation that neither Nachmanides nor any of the other
figures discussed in this part of the book had ever encountered or engaged.
Two principles are fundamental to Nachmanides’ understanding of Avoda
Zara. The first is that the core definition of Avoda Zara concerns the making
 THE OTHER GOD: DEFINING AVODA ZARA 43

of a bond of faith and commitment, through which a relationship to a being as

one’s “God” is affirmed. Matters of ritual, including the use of images, would be
secondary to this core definition. The second principle of his presentation is that
the prohibition of Avoda Zara is relevant to the Jewish people in ways it is not rel-
evant to the rest of humanity. As part of the special covenant that exists between
God and Israel, Israel is committed to give divine allegiance to no other being
save God. The rest of humanity is not under such a commitment, even though
some dimension of Avoda Zara applies to them as well. Unlike Maimonides,
who applies identical criteria for Jews and non-Jews, Nachmanides distinguishes
between them. This would lead us at every juncture, then, to pose the question of
whether what is being spoken of as Avoda Zara is meant for Jews or for non-Jews
as well. This is one of the most fundamental questions that a discussion of another
religion as Avoda Zara must consider and it is one that is often overlooked.
Nachmanides recognizes various forms of worship or allegiance to other
beings, which are appropriate for other nations. These are couched in a cos-
mic, angelological framework and are based on a cosmic structure, which when
understood based on correct knowledge reveals the celestial, astrological, and
even demonic powers that are the lot of each nation. Nachmanides’ structure
even includes the possibility of worship of humans, within this broader cosmic
view. All these are considered by Nachmanides to be legitimate and appropriate
under certain circumstances.
The conditions under which worship of other beings may be condoned is first
and foremost that it does not eclipse knowledge of God who, by this cosmic view,
is at the head of the cosmic hierarchy. Nachmanides does not require that God be
worshipped, but knowledge of Him must not be forgotten due to worship given to
other beings. The second condition implied in Nachmanides’ presentation is that
such worship conform to the divinely ordained cosmic structure, in other words
that the nations worship powers that really are associated with them.
On the face of it, Nachmanides’ discussion is neither relevant to the
Christianity that he knew, nor to the Hinduism he had no idea of. A strict reading
of his commentary in context would confine his views to powers and practices
that are not the ones under discussion. My analysis, however, examines what
might be extracted from Nachmanides’ views as resources for the present discus-
sion of Hinduism. It assumes that his view provides us with a model that can be
applied under different circumstances. The “scientific” dimension of his view of
permissible worship of other beings may find a correspondence in other kinds
of “scientific” approaches, characteristic of Hinduism. In any event, his discus-
sion is certainly relevant to revising our thought on Avoda Zara. What we might
have been certain would be Avoda Zara, based on the common Maimonidean
perspective, turns out to be permissible and part of a divinely given cosmic order.
This certainly suggests there is more than one possible approach to Avoda Zara.
It invites us to continue in our search for precedents and in further interrogating
the category of Avoda Zara.
Despite significant substantive differences that have bearing on a possible
Jewish position on Hinduism as Avoda Zara, both Maimonides and Nachmanides
rely on a similar understanding of Avoda Zara, in metaphysical and theoretical
44 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

terms. This understanding will be contrasted with common understandings of

Hinduism. The question at hand is to what extent the basic understanding of
Avoda Zara, developed during the Middle Ages, coheres with the self-under-
standing of major schools of Hindu thought and what, if anything, would be the
significance of the differences between these understandings.
Chapter 8 introduces a position and a concept that has played a major role in
a Jewish view of Christianity as (non) Avoda Zara. This position, in many ways
the opposite of that of Maimonides, shares with Nachmanides the view that dif-
ferent criteria apply to Jews and non-Jews when it comes to Avoda Zara. Non-
Jews may worship another being alongside God. This position is referred to as
Shituf, the association of another being alongside God. The position that Shituf
is permissible to non-Jews is more demanding than the view of Nachmanides.
For Nachmanides, all that was required was that knowledge or awareness of
God’s existence not be lost. For proponents of the permissibility of Shituf, the
requirement is that God be worshipped, with the realization that the worship of
another being at the same time does not constitute Avoda Zara. This position
has evolved from an ad-hoc solution to certain practical problems to a principled
view of other religions, primarily Christianity. It has come to inform a Jewish
ethos of tolerance. Different paths and different standards apply to Jews and non-
Jews. The practices of non-Jews can therefore be condoned, while the integrity of
Jewish practice and identity is maintained by insistence on the special demands
made of Jews, as part of their special relationship with God.
The position affirming permissibility of Shituf has been one of the main
resources available to contemporary Jewish authors, as they sought to think of
Hinduism. Hinduism, it was suggested, could be seen in much the same way that
Christianity was, a religion valid for its practitioners but off limits for Jews. This
assumed Hindus worship God, in some sense familiar to us Jews, but at the same
time they also worshipped various forces of nature, gods, and holy men, while
never forgetting God completely. The discussion presents in detail the position
of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, an important contemporary rabbinic voice, who applies
this strategy also to Hinduism, as part of a broader effort at establishing a Jewish
theology of religions, under the concept of tolerance.
Chapter 9 continues the discussion of Shituf. Whereas Chapter 8 presented
the category and its possible applicability to Hinduism, Chapter 9 queries the
category from various angles, critical and constructive. On the critical side, it
poses the question of whether the category has theological value and veracity,
beyond the value it obviously possesses in terms of historical precedents. A closer
scrutiny of the category suggests it is ill-suited to describe Christian faith. In a
similar vein, it may not describe Hindu faith in a way that conforms to Hindu
self-understanding. We are faced, then, with the challenge of applying a category
that can be helpful in terms of relations, as well as in terms of internal rabbinic
processes and precedents, while recognizing its theological shortcomings.
On the constructive side, the discussion in Chapter 9 takes the notion of per-
missibility of Shituf and asks what kind of a broader religious understanding
can be constructed out of what began as a legal construct for solving day-to-day
issues. Can we develop a theology of Shituf? The discussion offers suggestions
 THE OTHER GOD: DEFINING AVODA ZARA 45

for how one could account theologically for the permissibility of Shituf. This
is understood here in terms of collapsing the end and means into one totality,
which points Godward. This discussion takes place primarily in relation to holy
people, following the classical application of the category to Jesus. This precedent
is extended to attitudes to gurus and holy men and women in Hinduism and their
view as divine. If we are to take Shituf as a serious theological possibility, then
two parallel theological models must be set up, one for Jews and one for non-
Jews. And if we see in this an ideal teaching of the Torah, then these two views
must be able to speak to each other in a valid theological dialogue representing
two views on Shituf. In such a dialogue the Jewish refusal of Shituf must be heard
as a testimony to one understanding of the spiritual life, while at the same time
Judaism could develop a finer appreciation of the spiritual possibilities entailed
in the permission for non-Jews to worship through Shituf.
Chapter 10 introduces us to the thought and legal position of Rabbi Menachem
Meiri, a fourteenth-century rabbinic authority. Meiri is principled in his view
of both Christianity and Islam, and for that matter probably all religions of his
time, as not being under the charge of Avoda Zara. Like Maimonides, Meiri does
not distinguish between Jew and non-Jew, applying the same criteria to both.
His criteria, however, are unlike those of Maimonides or of the proponents of
permissibility of Shituf. Meiri uses moral living and the religious ordering of a
moral society as the primary criteria for recognizing the validity of a contempo-
rary religion. While morality does not replace theology, it does serve as a pointer
and indicator to the quality of the religious life, and therefore to the God who is
behind the religion. A religion that shows moral living, grounded in some under-
standing of God, is legitimate. Meiri is willing to overlook theological error, as
well as all that relates to the domain of worship. In many ways, it is the most
promising classical approach available, if we seek to develop a positive apprecia-
tion of Hinduism.
Upon further consideration, we discover that Meiri does not simply apply the
criterion of morality to absolve a religion of the charge of Avoda Zara, but actu-
ally operates with a robust notion of what a “religion” is. This notion is informed
by the ultimate teleology of the religion, witnessed by the moral living and based
upon some minimal theological premises required to uphold the entire structure.
Once a religion is recognized as being a “religion,” it is valid, free of charges of
Avoda Zara, and ultimately on a par with Judaism, as far as serving mankind on
the ultimate journey and providing meaning for life are concerned.
Meiri’s work provides a very promising basis for a view of other religions,
Hinduism included. It provides criteria that are readily met and recognized,
without forcing on another religion theological understanding that distorts its
own self-understanding. By focusing on what matters most to him and putting
aside concern for worship and the concrete forms of the religious life, Meiri pro-
vides us with a position that could readily apply to a Jewish view of Hinduism,
without requiring much theological acrobatics.
Meiri’s work has been outside the rabbinic mainstream for certain histori-
cal reasons and has only in past decades received broader attention. Because of
this, many authorities feel uneasy adopting his position, rather than those that
46 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

have been part of rabbinic discourse for centuries. However, in terms of doing
the required theological and halachic work in a clean way, based on a thor-
ough and systematic view of religion, without doing injustice to the other’s
self-understanding, Meiri could serve as a guide to contemporary Jewish views of
other religions. Some contemporary rabbis have indeed applied Meiri’s position
to Hinduism, thereby taking it beyond the charge of Avoda Zara.
 6

Understanding Avoda Zara:

The Maimonidean Model

T he first chapter of Maimonides’ Laws of Avoda Zara is likely the most influ-
ential discussion of what constitutes Avoda Zara. Probably no other single
text has been as influential in providing a theory of what Avoda Zara is. Its
echoes reverberate not only in relation to other religions, but also in relation
to internal Jewish concerns, such as the appropriateness or inappropriateness
of prayer to angels, the legitimacy of kabbalistic understandings of God, and
more. Maimonides offers what has become the default understanding of idola-
try for many later Jewish thinkers. Let us, then, examine the first chapter of
Maimonides’ Laws of Avoda Zara:

In the days of Enosh, the people fell into gross error, and the counsel of the wise
men of the generation became foolish. Enosh himself was among those who erred.
Their error was as follows: Since God, they said, created these stars and spheres
to guide the world, set them on high and allotted them honor, and since they are
ministers who minister before Him, they deserve to be praised and glorified, and
honor should be rendered them; and it is the will of God, blessed be He, that men
should aggrandize and honor those whom He aggrandized and honored, just as a
king desires that respect should be shown to the officers who stand before him, and
thus honor is shown to the king. When this idea arose in their minds, they began
to erect temples to the stars, offered up sacrifices to them, praised and glorified
them in speech, and prostrated themselves before them—their purpose, according
to their perverse notions, being to attain the Creator’s will (or: favor). This was
the root of idolatry, and this is what the idolaters, who knew its fundamentals,
said. They did not however maintain that there was no God except the particular
star (which was the object of their worship). Thus Jeremiah said “Who would not
revere You, O King of the nations? for that is Your due, since among all the wise of
the nations and among all their royalty there is none like You. But they are both
dull and foolish; [Their] doctrine is but delusion” (Jer. 10,7–8). This means that all
know that Thou alone art God; their error and folly consists in imagining that this
vain worship is Your will. (Laws of Avoda Zara 1,1)

Maimonides constructs a narrative accounting for how Avoda Zara came to

be and in the process also offers us his definition of what constitutes Avoda Zara.
48 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

The starting point is true and proper faith, a faith lost and corrupted. Idolatry
is founded in a certain understanding of the cosmic order and in a concomi-
tant error concerning the divine will. Idolatry is founded upon the fact that God
orders the universe in particular ways and that stars and astral bodies govern
the world. This is a fact, in itself a value-free fact. Idolatry is born of a confu-
sion growing from this fact. The position of governance afforded to stars and
astral bodies is wrongly interpreted in terms of the divine will. The mistaken
understanding of divine will is that God wishes to give honor and praise to these
astral bodies and that they are worthy of praise. While the initial intention is to
please God, it takes the inappropriate form of worshipping His servants. Ritual,
another religion, is born of the misdirected quest to fulfill God’s will and to grant
Him honor. Thus, Avoda Zara is a mistaken approach to divine will, regardless
of good intention.1
Two further points should be noted here. In the first stage, there is no denial
of God or confusion of the divine identity with the identity of the ministering
angels. The cosmic hierarchy remains clear. The error touches upon relation-
ships within a correctly perceived cosmic hierarchy and involves a mistaken
understanding of God’s will as it applies to celestial beings. One also notes that
Avoda Zara translates itself from mistaken theory to wrong action. Following
the mistaken view of God’s will, specific actions are undertaken, all of which
involve worship in concrete physical terms—construction of temples, sacrifices,
praise, and prostrations. At this first stage God is also worshipped in some sense.
While the objects of worship are the celestial bodies, as clearly distinct from God
Himself, there is some dimension in which God is worshipped, as it is His will,
mistakenly perceived, that motivates the birth of these novel forms of the reli-
gious life. However, Maimonides never states that the attempt to fulfill the divine
will is actually a form of service of God. As service seems to be defined in terms
of worship offered to other beings, it is considered that it is they who are wor-
shipped, even if underlying this worship is the quest to fulfill the divine will.
Maimonides teaches us in this opening paragraph what is wrong with idolatry.
It is an error. We note the repetition of the notion of error in this passage. The
opening statement of the Laws of Avoda Zara refers to a great error, a loss of the
counsel of the wise. The concluding statement of this opening paragraph repeats
the notions of error and folly. What is wrong with Avoda Zara is that it is plainly
wrong, a mistaken view of the divine will, an error in relation to how things ought
to be. In theory, had God willed that His angels be worshipped, there would have
been nothing wrong with such worship. The worship does not seem to be inherently
wrong. What makes it wrong is that it is not in accord with God’s true will, even if
it is born of a genuine religious attempt to act in accordance with it. Intention mat-
ters little when it comes to idolatry. What count are the actions and the degree to
which they conform to divine will. One either gets the divine will right or wrong.
Avoda Zara is born of an erroneous understanding of the divine will.
The model of religious life is one of fulfilling the divine will and adhering to it.
Religion, by this recounting, is about getting the divine will right and conform-
ing to it. This is a conceptualization of the religious life that is very character-
istic of prophetic religion, where the commanding presence of God determines
 AVODA ZARA: THE MAIMONIDEAN MODEL 49

the forms, both appropriate and inappropriate, of the religious life. How deeply
indebted Maimonides’ entire thought structure is to prophetic paradigms
becomes evident in the next stage in the [d]evolution of idolatry:

In the course of time, there arose among men false prophets who asserted that God
had commanded them and expressly told them, “Worship that particular star, or
worship all the stars. Offer to it such and such sacrifices. Pour out to it such and
such libations. Erect a temple to it. Make a figure of it, to which all the people—
the women, children, and the rest of the folk, shall bow down.” The false prophet
pointed out to them the figure which he had invented out of his own mind and
asserted that it was the figure of that particular star which had been shown to him
in his prophetic vision. And then they began to make figures in temples, under the
trees, on the mountaintops and the hills. There they would assemble, bow down to
the figures, and tell all the people that this particular figure conferred benefits and
inflicted injuries and that it was proper to worship and fear it. Their priests would
say to them, “Through this worship, shall you increase and prosper. Do this and do
not do that.” (ibid. 1,2)

Prophecy comes to the fore in the second stage. Here we recognize a move
from mistaken sages to false prophets. False prophecy is characterized not simply
as getting God’s will wrong, but as speaking falsely in God’s name and ascribing
to His will that which He in fact does not will. The notion of command is fun-
damental to the prophetic view, as is the implied recognition that the command
ideally expresses the will of God. False prophecy generates an entire religious
system, initially attributed to divine will. That its adherents are convinced they
are following God’s will matters little. False prophecy finds expression in images,
as well as in an inappropriate or misdirected system of worship. While the com-
ponents of the worship system are recognizable, being identical to the worship
revealed in the Torah and truly expressive of God’s will, the worship is misdirected
to false objects, thereby making it idolatrous. Wrong commandment, resulting in
the creation of idols and false worship, also leads to superstition or the ascription
to images of powers that they do not possess in reality. Worship of idols is utili-
tarian. The benefits of idol worship are immediate and it seems that the promised
prosperity takes over as the ultimate motive of religion. Thus, what starts out as
motivation based on the desire to fulfill the divine commandment degenerates
into self-serving interests, where worship is supposed to achieve certain benefits
of well-being, associated with the idolatrous image. Thus, complementing the
move to inappropriate object of worship we also find a lower religious motivation
driving the people to the worship of these new religious forms.
The gradual degeneration of religious life undergoes still a further step:

Other impostors then sprang up, who declared that the star, celestial sphere or
angel, had communed with them, and said to them “Worship me in such and such
a fashion,” had taught them a definite ritual and said to them “do this and do not
do that.” So gradually the custom spread throughout the world of worshipping
figures with various modes of worship, such as offering up sacrifices to them, and
bowing down to them.
50 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Here we see again the prophetic pattern of religion, downgraded one step fur-
ther. Worse than the false prophets who prophecy in God’s name are the impos-
tors who speak in the name of the stars or angels. Everything about the religion
is false. One no longer pretends to do God’s will or act in His name. The star
is the source of authority and command, and the entire religious structure, the
worship, the sacrifice, as well as the dos and don’ts of the religion are all attribut-
able to the celestial power that has replaced God. This replacement leads to the
eradication of God’s memory and to the complete takeover of either the celestial
beings or their crude representations in stone and wood:

As time gradually passed, the honored and revered name of God was forgotten by
mankind (literally: all the world), vanished from their lips and hearts (literally:
from their mouths and minds) and was no longer known to them. All the common
people and the women and children knew only the figure of wood and stone and
the temple of stone in which they had, from their childhood, been trained to pros-
trate themselves to the figure, worship it, and swear by its name. Even their wise
men, such as priests and men of similar standing, also fancied that there was no
other god but the stars and spheres, for whose sake and in whose similitude these
figures had been made. But the Creator (literally: the Rock) of the Universe was
known to none, and recognized by none save a few solitary individuals . . . until that
pillar of the world, the patriarch Abraham, was born. (ibid.)

Idolatry is problematic because it replaces God with something else. God is

completely forgotten. The distinction between the wise men and simple folk is
that the former know there is something beyond the images of stone and wood,
while the latter consider these images to be the sum total of the religious life. In
either case, something other than God is worshipped, be it the celestial reality or
its physical representation. What started out as a way of pleasing God and doing
His will, wrongly construed, led to the total forgetting of the divine name and to
the full substitution of God by other beings.
Maimonides presents us with several ways of stating what is wrong with Avoda
Zara. On the one hand, Avoda Zara is about the object of worship, the worship
of a being other than God, particularly as it comes at the expense of God, who is
thereby forgotten. At the same time, Maimonides’ presentation also highlights
worship and the forms it takes as fundamental aspects of Avoda Zara. Avoda Zara
is the totality of the mistaken and falsified religious life. Grounded in a mistaken
view of God’s will, it leads initially to a wrong way of worshipping God and even-
tually to the worship of stars, as well as idols of stones and wood. Furthermore, it
includes wrong forms of worship: sacrifices, images, and the entire series of dos
and don’ts attributed to the commanding voice of the false gods. Maimonides
includes in the Laws of Avoda Zara 51 commandments, some of which extend
significantly beyond worship as practiced toward images or mistaken perceptions
of God. The broad scope of Avoda Zara is best understood in view of Maimonides’
description of an entire religious system evolving out of a primary error, leading to
the evolution of a false religious path that replaces God with an other. On account
of this substitution, all that derives from it, including the customs and instruc-
tions, both positive and negative, are part of the broader complex of Avoda Zara.
 AVODA ZARA: THE MAIMONIDEAN MODEL 51

The twofold emphasis that we find in the description of Avoda Zara frames the
corrective path, spelled out in the following passage. In what follows, Maimonides
describes Abraham’s discovery of the one God, in opposition to the theological
conventions of society around him. Significantly, Abraham comes to this knowl-
edge by the power of reason, not of prophecy. This fact is particularly striking in
light of the Muslim view of Abraham as a prophet, a view that Maimonides could
have adopted, based on biblical usage.2 Abraham’s reasoning leads to the shatter-
ing of idols and removal of idol worship. Worship is due to God alone, though
Abraham does not innovate a method of worship. Presumably, the same method
of worship previously practiced continues to apply, except that it is addressed to
the proper recipient. Abraham’s greatest contribution seems to lie in the smash-
ing of the idols and in the recovery of the knowledge of the one God. The two are
completely incompatible, and Abraham is the teacher who makes people aware
of this incompatibility.
Following the exile to Egypt, most of Israel falls back into the worship of idols.
The Egyptians become a corrupting influence. No effort is made to justify the
relapse on grounds of ideology or principles as in the original lapse from true
monotheistic faith. Maimonides concludes this narrative of the origins of Avoda
Zara and of the Jewish faith with the following description:

When the Israelites had stayed a long while in Egypt, they relapsed, learned the
practices of their neighbors, and, like them, worshipped idols, with the exception
of the tribe of Levi, that steadfastly kept the charge of the patriarch. This tribe of
Levi never practiced idolatry. The doctrine (Ikkar) implanted would, in a very short
time, have been uprooted (Ne’ekar), and Jacob’s descendants would have lapsed
into the error and perversities universally prevalent. But because of God’s love
for us and because He kept the oath made to our ancestor Abraham, He brought
forth Moses, our teacher, the teacher of all the prophets, and charged him with his
mission. After Moses had begun to prophesy and Israel had been chosen by the
Almighty as His Heritage, He crowned them with commandments, and showed
them the way to worship Him and how to deal with idolatry and with those who
go astray after it. (ibid. 1,3)

As mentioned, Abraham is not described as a prophet, but as someone who

operates by power of reason. Abraham’s teaching is not powerful enough to with-
stand the temptations of the neighboring cultures. More is required, prophecy
is needed. Thus, Moses is sent as a prophet to advance the mission of Abraham,
the philosopher. It appears that what Moses offers, which Abraham could not,
is the spiritual path, the commandments. Abraham can only redirect existing
patterns of worship to the true God. Moses provides the complete religious path
that only a prophet can provide. It is this religious path that makes for the full-
ness of worship, and it is only in this fullness of the prophetic path that truth can
be upheld. Thus, the twofold emphasis upon the identity of who is worshipped
and the proper path of worship is mirrored in the two figures of Abraham and
Moses. The former teaches whom to worship, the latter teaches how to wor-
ship. It is interesting that even when setting straight the errors of Egypt, Moses
is not described as offering a teaching on God. Rather, the teaching cannot be
52 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

maintained without the fullness of a spiritual path, which depends on specific

prophetic revelation.3
Chapter 1 of the Laws of Avoda Zara is narrative. It is one of the few narratives
introduced by Maimonides into his great legal code. Chapter 2 opens the halachic
discussion. This discussion opens with the statement:

The essential principal (Ikar) in the precepts concerning Avoda Zara is that we
are not to worship any creature, not an angel nor a heavenly sphere, and not
a star nor one of the four elements nor any one of the creatures composed of
them. And even though the worshipping person knows that the Lord is God
and he worships the created being in a manner similar to that of Enosh and his
generation initially, this is a worshiper of Avoda Zara . It is against this that the
Torah warns us when it says “And when you look up to the sky and behold the
sun and the moon and the stars, the whole heavenly host, you must not be lured
into bowing down to them or serving them. These the Lord your God allotted
to other peoples everywhere under heaven”(Deut. 4,19). This means that when
your mind roams around and you observe that the world is guided by these
spheres and that God allotted them to all peoples, since they lie and endure
permanently, and they do not disintegrate, like all other things in the world
tend to, lest you say that it is proper to bow down to these spheres and worship
them, concerning this God commanded and said “Take heed lest your heart be
deceived” (Deut. 11,16), that is to say, do not be led astray by the fancies of your
mind, to worship these beings as intermediaries between yourselves and the
Creator. (Laws of Avoda Zara 2,1)

The essential definition of Avoda Zara is the worship of any being other than
God. Compared with the lengthy description of the introduction of idols of stone
and wood in Chapter 1, it is interesting to note that the physical form of the object
of worship does not figure in the core definition. What defines Avoda Zara, once
Maimonides comes to the core halachic definition, is the worship of a being other
than God, rather than the form that worship takes. Worship of another being is
forbidden even if one has not lost sight of God. Thus, even the first stage in the
history of Avoda Zara, prior to the false prophets and the false commandments,
is also considered Avoda Zara. That the intention was to do God’s will matters
little as something other than God has been worshipped.
In Chapter 2 we encounter a new nuance—the worship of intermediaries. The
notion was absent in Chapter 1. The worship of stars was not instrumental to the
worship of God, thereby leaving important gaps in the understanding of Avoda
Zara. If, as described there, stars were worshipped due to a mistaken view of
God’s will, what if instead the stars were worshipped rather as intermediaries
who would facilitate God’s favors? Had the worship of stars been approached as a
worship of intermediaries, in the process of obtaining God’s favor, the end result
of Maimonides’ narrative could not have been attained. A situation where God’s
name is forgotten is not possible when God is approached via an intermediary. As
much as an intermediary comes between the worshipper and God, it also keeps
alive the awareness that God is the ultimate source of power and therefore the
ultimate object of worship. If Chapter 1 might have kept open the possibility that
 AVODA ZARA: THE MAIMONIDEAN MODEL 53

the worship of intermediaries does not constitute Avoda Zara, in Chapter 2 we

learn that this too is considered Avoda Zara. Strict definition that focuses on the
object of worship leads to a more comprehensive view of Avoda Zara.
Maimonides’ description of the birth of religious images is that they are the
images of stars and astral bodies. Here too we encounter a serious gap. What if
someone worshipped an image as the image of God, not as the image of another
lower being? It seems Maimonides never entertained such a possibility.4 As God
was incorporeal, one could simply not make an image of Him. Still, if some-
one entertained an imperfect sense of God and considered Him to possess a
form,5 would worshipping God in such a form constitute Avoda Zara? Even if
our instincts tell us that surely Maimonides would have ruled that way, the fact
remains that his narrative construction as well as his legal definition leave this
possibility unexplored.
There is one other fundamental understanding of Avoda Zara that is com-
pletely ignored in Maimonides’ presentation. The plain sense of the biblical text
refers to other gods that we must not worship. This assumes there are indeed
other gods and that the term has some meaning. For Maimonides there are other
beings, but there do not seem to be any other gods. In all likelihood, Maimonides
could not account for what an other god is within his metaphysical worldview,
and therefore simply substituted other beings for other gods. But this omission
points us back to the gaps in Maimonides’ presentation. If we do not speak of
other gods, then we must consider when we might be talking of the same God.
And if we were able to establish that the recipient of worship is indeed the same
God, how would that alter the view of another religion, even if its patterns of
worship are different from our own? Maimonides’ consistent reference to beings,
rather than gods, and his insistence that they are worshipped in their distinct
separateness, even if it is in some way related to God, either by appeal to divine
will or through the notion of intermediaries, raises issues regarding how apt this
entire structure is to describe some of the religious phenomena that Judaism
encounters. We now return to Hinduism.
It is conceivable that Maimonides would consider Hinduism as Avoda Zara.
It is likely the case. However, even if we were to reach that conclusion, we ought
not do so without noting the gaps between Maimonides’ understanding of Avoda
Zara and Hindu self-understanding and without considering how those gaps
would be bridged by a view that would consider Hinduism to be Avoda Zara. An
alternative perspective might highlight these gaps and consider to what extent
Maimonides’ description really provides an adequate basis for considering
Hinduism to be Avoda Zara. For most latter-day authors who take for granted
that Hinduism is Avoda Zara, what counts most is the worship of images of dei-
ties as practiced in Hinduism. Maimonides certainly has much to say about the
worship of images, but he understands these images as images of other beings,
not as expressions or manifestations of God. The core definition of Avoda Zara
offered in Chapter 2 completely sidesteps the issue of images and concentrates
exclusively on the identity of who is worshipped. Worshipping another being is
what constitutes Avoda Zara. The possible gap between these perspectives is of
great significance when we consider Hinduism.
54 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

We have already acknowledged the complexity of Hindu self-understanding

and the problem of who speaks for Hinduism. Interestingly, Maimonides’ presen-
tation of different levels of Avoda Zara, distinguishing between the masses and
the wise and the priests, is of consequence for our discussion. As Maimonides
presents it, both the wise and the masses forgot God. The difference between
them was only whether they were aware of a reality beyond the wood and stone.
But in any event, both groups forgot God. Had the wise men, unlike the masses,
maintained an awareness of God beyond the images, and moreover had God
Himself been the object of worship through images, would Maimonides’ nar-
rative have made sense? And how does Maimonides’ definition of the worship
of another being hold up to a religious system in which both deities and their
images are understood as expressions or manifestations of the absolute, that is
beyond of God in the highest? The religious reality of Hinduism fills the very
gaps left open by Maimonides’ narrative and halachic constructions.
Within Hinduism is a serious option that sees the gods as manifestations of
the one supreme being. When these manifestations are worshipped, whom is
one worshipping—the supreme God or the temporary manifestation? Of course,
one may claim that one is in fact worshipping another being, or its representa-
tion in the form of an idol, and therefore one is guilty of Avoda Zara. It is likely
Maimonides would hold such a view. However, this is a fundamental interpretive
choice. It does not grow out of the situation, but is read into it. The choice of how
to understand another’s worship of a form as God is as much conditioned by
prevailing attitudes to otherness, idolatry, and identity as it is by the pure applica-
tion of classical criteria in interpreting a given situation. If we take seriously the
intention of the worshipper, rather than outward appearances, we may come to
the conclusion that what is being worshipped is none other than God.6
Maimonides’ narrative suggests that there is more to Avoda Zara than a wrong
determination of the divine will. Ultimately, what is at stake in Avoda Zara is the
forgetting of God. If Maimonides’ structure is to make sense, we have to not only
insist on a coherent definition of what constitutes Avoda Zara but also consider
it in light of its ultimate goal—maintaining the remembrance of God, protect-
ing it from the forgetfulness that Avoda Zara generates. The case of Hinduism is
very interesting in this regard.7 Within Hindu culture is great awareness of God,
alongside a flourishing of forms of worship that Jews readily declare to be Avoda
Zara. Of course, those who make such declarations may not recognize that God’s
memory is upheld and they may see the religious drive and the memory it evokes
as further expressions of Avoda Zara. However, it is significant that God, rather
than this or that manifestation, let alone this or that image, is at the forefront of
the teachings of so many of the thinkers and spokespersons of the religion. Their
goal is God and the worship of His manifestations and their physical representa-
tions is a means of reaching God or an expression of devotion to God in a more
ultimate sense. Now, this might sound like “classical” worship of intermediaries,
but it is not. How the beings that are worshipped are presented in relation to
God beyond is particularly Hindu, appealing to notions of manifestation, tak-
ing on form, and of psychological and spiritual instrumentality, rather than the
metaphysical agency usually ascribed to worship by proxy. In other words, the
 AVODA ZARA: THE MAIMONIDEAN MODEL 55

very categories and conceptualization that inform the typical Jewish discussion,
indebted as it is to Maimonides, are radically different from the categories with
which the Hindu religious mind operates.
The question at hand is thus not simply whether or not the specific case of
Hinduism is or is not covered either by the narrative presentation of Avoda Zara
(Chapter 1) or by its core legal definition (Chapter 2). The question is really to
what extent we can import criteria from one religious system to another system
that thinks in entirely different ways. Let us note the centrality of prophecy in the
Maimonidean description of the evolution of Avoda Zara. Prophecy is the ideal
religious archetype and doing the will of God is the primary religious motivation.
What goes wrong in the generation of Enosh starts with a mistaken understand-
ing of the will of God and continues with misapplication of prophetic principles.
The entire unfolding of Avoda Zara takes place within such a prophetic-religious
matrix. Now, it may not matter much that Hinduism is on the other side of the
spectrum, in terms of a phenomenology of religions. Some typologies consider it
a religion of mysticism, rather than a religion of prophecy.8 Whatever the most
useful typology may be, Hindu scriptures are not prophetic, nor is the primary
religious drive the fulfillment of the divine will and the divinely ordained way
of life. These ideals may be identified within a Hindu worldview, but they are
conceptualized in other ways, more cosmic, more mystical, more automatic,
and above all entailing less of a sense of the personal God, particularly the com-
manding personal God, in the application and maintenance of these religious
principles.
The application of a Maimonidean worldview to a Hindu context runs the risk
of gross injustice to the actual theological workings of the Hindu system. None
of the claims made by Maimonides, and used by us as the basis for judgment,
necessarily makes sense in a Hindu context. One does not necessarily worship
to fulfill the will or the command of God. One does not necessarily worship
something other than God. Significantly, one may not even recognize the very
notion of otherness, affirming instead the divinity of all.9 If all is God, true idola-
try is not possible. And if we insist on distinguishing between God and non-
God, that forces us into a much more nuanced understanding of difference and
error of another faith. More fundamentally, it forces us to consider what is God
and what our metaphysics really are. We readily apply Maimonidean principles
on idolatry without necessarily sharing his metaphysical worldview. For those
forms of Judaism that have adopted an alternative, pantheistic or panentheis-
tic, metaphysic, it becomes almost impossible to condemn prevalent forms of
Hinduism as Avoda Zara, except using the most superficial of external criteria.
In short, one of our most fundamental discussions of Avoda Zara, one that has
defined the field for generations, is either found lacking or raises serious issues
that require much further reflection when it comes to the application of its prin-
ciples to Hinduism.
Maimonides is a resource not only because he furnishes fundamental under-
standings and categories through which to consider Avoda Zara. Maimonides is
also outspoken in relation to the one religion that poses challenges that in some
sense resemble the challenges posed by Hinduism—Christianity. Maimonides is
56 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

explicit in his ruling that Christianity is Avoda Zara.10 Maimonides’ enormous

prestige may account for this position appearing often as the default Jewish posi-
tion. An examination of contemporary rabbinic writings reveals how common is
the Maimonidean view of Christianity as Avoda Zara, usually with little atten-
tion going into the matter, beyond the evocation of the Maimonidean position as
self-evident.11 On the face of it, it would seem that if Christianity is to be viewed
as Avoda Zara, all the more so would be Hinduism, with its divinities and idols.
To the extent that the Maimonidean perspective does function for many com-
munities as the default position, we can understand how readily rabbinic authors
were willing to consider Hinduism as Avoda Zara during the sheitel crisis. If
Christianity, officially monotheistic and culturally familiar, is considered Avoda
Zara, how much more so the many gods of the distant religion of India and their
strange worship. However, such a conclusion makes many assumptions, some
of which must be challenged, either in relation to Christianity or in relation to
Hinduism.
Maimonides himself sees no need to account for his ruling, thus considering
it as self-evident as later authorities considered his own ruling. In accounting for
Maimonides’ position, some authors have appealed to his philosophical world-
view.12 For Maimonides, “getting it right” theologically was of the utmost impor-
tance. Proper theological formulation was, for him, a condition for entry into
the world to come. Hence the Maimonidean opposition to a range of theological
misconceptions, assessed from the absolute vantage point of his philosophical
worldview. According to these authors, the Trinity is the theological error on
account of which Maimonides proclaims Christianity to be Avoda Zara. This
same worldview would be damning to many forms of Judaism, especially the
kabbalistic tradition.13 But more to the point, nowhere does Maimonides account
for his ruling on Christianity as Avoda Zara by appeal to the Trinity. We may
thus consider other grounds for this ruling.
Several other possibilities present themselves based on allusions or references
in Maimonides’ writings. The worship of images of stone and wood could hardly
be a self-standing reason,14 if we consider the core definition to be worship of
another being. If anything, such images point to beings other than the absolute
God. Thus, the more likely reason is that another being is worshipped.15 If so, the
worship of Jesus is considered as worship of another being. By analogy, the wor-
ship of any Hindu manifestation of God would be equally deemed to be Avoda
Zara. However, in both cases, we would be judging not based on the worshipper’s
intentions, but based on our own criteria and how we view reality. I have already
suggested that this is not problem-free with reference to Christianity as well as
to Hinduism.
Given that Maimonides does not actually explain why Christianity is Avoda
Zara, perhaps we should not seek one single reason, which in turn could
be applied to other religions. If Christianity’s status as Avoda Zara is so self-
evident that it does not require justification, this self-evidence may be based
on more than a single factor. While the factors noted above—Trinity, images,
and the worship of Jesus—certainly qualify as possible reasons for considering
Christianity as Avoda Zara, Maimonides’ self-evident position may rely on other
 AVODA ZARA: THE MAIMONIDEAN MODEL 57

considerations that may in fact precede these factors. Cultural distance,16 reli-
ance on tradition, and an intuitive sense of otherness may have all played a far
more important role in his ruling than either theology or an analysis of foreign
patterns of worship. Given how natural this ruling is to him, and how little he
discusses it, Maimonides may simply be propagating earlier views.17 We are hard-
pressed to state just how differences in theology, differences in worship, and a
sense of otherness converge with a view received from earlier tradition, making
Maimonides’ ruling on Christianity something that is more self-evident than
something argued. If so, the precedent from his ruling on Christianity can aid
us in approaching Hinduism only if we are willing to rule based on the kind of
self-evidence that was made manifest during the sheitel crisis. Short of that, the
ruling on Christianity does not advance the kind of discussion we seek to hold,
pointing us instead to the Laws of Avoda Zara, which constitute a much more
pliable resource for our discussion.
One final thought on Christianity and Hinduism from a Maimonidean
viewpoint: in some ways a vedantic worldview may be easier to reconcile with a
Maimonidean understanding than a Christian worldview. The tension posited
between the absolute and the relative, the unmanifest and the manifest, means
(for those who remain aware of it) that one is always cognizant of the beyond and
its various manifestations, all transitory and part of the impermanent order of the
relative. Because the unmanifest manifests itself in various forms, the worship of
those forms may be transparent to the unmanifest, as all forms are relative. This
is all the more so when we consider that idols are understood as temporary dwell-
ing places for something beyond. If so what is worshipped is not the image, but
what dwells in it.18 A strong presence-based understanding of images actually
points beyond them. While Christianity’s weaker sense of images, seeing in them
symbols, makes the charge of worshipping wood and stone ludicrous,19 it does
lack the tension that relativizes all concrete expressions in relation to the beyond.
This is also true for different understandings of the incarnation in Christianity
and Hinduism.20 What it means for the Divine to take form may be different in
both traditions.21 These contrasts are suggestive of how one must think afresh
with regard to novel encounters with religions. One cannot simply carry over
attitudes developed in relation to one religion to another. In some ways theologi-
cal understanding found in Hinduism may be more readily reconciled with the
theological premises that inform a Maimonidean discussion, even though it is
likely that these distinctions might not have been significant for Maimonides
himself. Thinking of religions today, from a Maimonidean platform, requires
at the very least an examination of those religions from Maimonides’ theoreti-
cal foundations, rather than from actual positions taken by Maimonides, condi-
tioned as they were by his time, place, and understanding of the other.
 7

Avoda Zara between Jews and

Gentiles: Nachmanides’ Model

A n important and very much underutilized resource for thinking of Avoda

Zara is found in the works of Nachmanides.1 Nachmanides’ thoughts
on Avoda Zara are expressed through a third literary genre, neither hala-
chic nor narrative—through exegesis, in his celebrated commentary on the
Torah. Nachmanides’ discussion of the prohibition of worshipping other gods,
in his commentary on the ten commandments, is an important resource for
our own discussion. In terms of the basic worldview and the conceptual tools
through which Avoda Zara is understood, Nachmanides is strikingly similar
in his views to Maimonides. Both approach Avoda Zara through a hierarchical
worldview, grounded in the cosmic order. Both pose the question of the legiti-
macy of the worship of beings who are lower than God, within this particular
cosmic-hierarchical worldview. And both operate from a conceptual matrix
involving a cosmology and an understanding of ensuing Avoda Zara that may
be significantly different from the premises of a Hindu worldview. Juxtaposing
Nachmanides and Maimonides thus shows us how pervasive is the particular
worldview that has framed most discussions and understandings of other reli-
gions as Avoda Zara and that continues to inform Jewish thinking till today. It
is this worldview that is echoed time and again in hundreds of homiletical and
exegetical contexts, providing the basic tools through which Jews think of other
religions.
But juxtaposing Nachmanides and Maimonides also serves another purpose.
For Maimonides, the history of Avoda Zara is a history of humanity, and while
it is the family and disciples of Abraham, later known as the people of Israel,
who are the fortunate ones who have broken beyond prevailing ignorance of God
and the worship of Avoda Zara, the concerns remain universal. Thus, there is no
difference, for Maimonides, between Jew and non-Jew.2 Both are equally impli-
cated in Avoda Zara and the rules and guidelines that concern Avoda Zara apply
equally to both.3 Avoda Zara is considered one of the seven noachide command-
ments, in other words an obligation that is incumbent upon all humanity, prior to
and independently of the specific covenant made with the Jewish people. While
it is universally recognized by all Jewish authorities, based on talmudic sources,4
60 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

that Avoda Zara is one of the noachide commandments, it is not clear that what
Avoda Zara means for non-Jews is necessarily the same as what it means for Jews.
Here we come to a major difference between Maimonides and Nachmanides.
Maimonides clearly states that whatever is forbidden to a Jew, as an expression
of Avoda Zara, is equally forbidden to a non-Jew.5 Nachmanides, by contrast,
suggests there is a major distinction between Jews and non-Jews in this regard.6
The criteria and demands for a proper approach to God are different for Jews and
non-Jews.7 An examination of Nachmanides can thus be useful both for affirm-
ing how pervasive, central, and possibly inadequate, a particular cosmic-religious
metaphysical worldview of Avoda Zara is and for broadening the possibilities of
recognizing other religions as suitable for their worshippers, given the different
criteria of Avoda Zara that apply for Jews and non-Jews.
The distinction between Israel and other nations emerges initially from a
comment Nachmanides makes on the expression in Ex. 20,4: “For I am a jeal-
ous God.” Nachmanides first quotes Maimonides who claims “that in the entire
Torah and in all the books of the Prophets, you will not find the term burn-
ing anger, wrath or jealousy applied to God, except with reference to idolatry.”
Nachmanides notes that this is not the case in relation to all expressions noted
by Maimonides:

However as far as the term “jealousy” is concerned, [Maimonides] is correct [in

maintaining that it is not applied to God except in reference to idolatry]. And so
did the Rabbis say in the Mekhilta: “I zealously exact punishment for idolatry, but
in other matters I am gracious and merciful.”
In my opinion, jealousy is mentioned only with reference to idolatry in Israel. The
reason for the jealousy is that Israel is the treasured possession of the Glorious
Name, which He has separated for Himself . . . Now if His people, His servants, turn
to other gods, God is jealous of them even as a man is jealous of his wife when she
goes to other men, and of a servant who makes another master for himself. But
Scripture uses no such term of jealousy with reference to other peoples to whom He
has allotted the hosts of heaven.8

The scriptural observation regarding the limited use of jealousy in biblical

language leads to an understanding of idolatry. Idolatry is a relational issue and
is therefore specific to those with whom God has a particular relationship. The
problem with Avoda Zara is relational. Avoda Zara infringes on the exclusivity
of God’s relationship with Israel. Nachmanides returns to the most fundamental
biblical notion of the covenant and its exclusive demands.9 Israel is demanded to
have an exclusive relationship with God and not to compromise that relationship
by approaching any other being in faith or in worship as God.
If the issue is indeed relational, then the core of Avoda Zara would have to
do with the forging of alternative relationships. This would clearly privilege the
act of approach and recognition of another god, over the problematics associ-
ated with alternative forms of worship, and in particular the worship of images.
Indeed, I wish to claim that Nachmanides reaffirms the centrality of Avoda Zara
as something relational, establishing a relationship of believer and god with a
being other than God, rather than as a form of inappropriate ritual, directed at
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 61

objects of wood and stone. Thus, contrary to what might be an instinctive identi-
fication of worship of images as the defining feature of Avoda Zara, Nachmanides
defines the act of faith or the formation of relationship as its constitutive feature.
This emerges already from a difference of opinion that Nachmanides expresses
in relation to Rashi’s commentary. Rashi, following the rabbinic Midrash, under-
stands the prohibition in Ex. 20,3 “thou shalt have no other gods before My face”
as a prohibition against keeping an idol in one’s possession. As other verses teach
that idol making is prohibited, this verse, following rabbinic hermeneutical pro-
cedures, remains available for the additional teaching that even keeping an idol in
one’s possession is prohibited. Nachmanides wonders about the exegetical logic
of making this the primary meaning of this verse in the ten commandments and
offers instead a different understanding:

The correct interpretation even according to the literal meaning of Scripture is

that the usage of the language of the verse here is similar to the expressions “and
the eternal shall be my God” (Gen. 28,21), “to be your God”(Lev. 11,45). The verse
here thus states that excepting the Eternal only, we are not to have others as gods,
neither from all the angels above nor from all the hosts of heaven who are called
elohim (gods) . . . It is thus a prohibition against believing in any of these beings,
accepting them as gods, or saying to them, thou art my god. 10

So, contrary to Rashi, the prohibition of not having other gods does not focus
on the images of these idols, which at least symbolically would represent what
the core problem with Avoda Zara might be and what would define Avoda Zara.
Instead, “other gods” designates relationships alternative to the exclusive relation-
ship that should exist with the one God, “present, eternal, from whom all came
about, through will and power, who is alone their God” worthy of their worship.11
Focusing the initial and key verse of Avoda Zara on relationship teaches us where
the problem with Avoda Zara lies. Avoda Zara compromises the exclusive rela-
tionship due to God alone.
This is a very different understanding than the error-based view of Avoda
Zara that informs Maimonides’ presentation. For Maimonides, the history of
Avoda Zara is a history of error. God never willed the stars and planets to receive
homage, and all that followed is a tragic chain of errors. For Nachmanides, error
is not the key factor. In fact, his own presentation of the various stages of Avoda
Zara amounts to an alternative typology of Avoda Zara. One characteristic of this
alternative typology is that rather than being based on error, falsity, and decep-
tion, it is based on a valid approach to reality and recognizes the spiritual validity
of the powers being worshipped. Nachmanides notes that the angels and hosts
of heaven are called, in biblical usage, elohim, gods. Israel is demanded exclusive
allegiance to the one God, creator of all. The various forms of Avoda Zara, which
are prohibited to Israel, are all based on an understanding of their metaphysical
realism. It is in light of such understanding of reality that the demand for exclu-
sive allegiance is made of Israel.
Let us return to the first quote from Nachmanides’ commentary. After limit-
ing God’s jealousy to Israel, Nachmanides clarifies that in relation to other peo-
ples no such term of jealousy is used, for to those peoples God has allotted the
62 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

hosts of heaven. The reference to allotting the hosts of heaven is an allusion to

Deut. 4,19. The plain sense of that verse is that indeed God made the planets or
angels legitimate objects of religious worship, and possibly also sources of care
and provision, for nations other than Israel. The distinction between Israel and
the nations would thus not rely exclusively on the observation that jealousy is
unique to God’s relationship with Israel. The legitimacy of other nations wor-
shipping stars and planets seems to have explicit scriptural support.12 We already
encountered this verse in Maimonides’ presentation. Maimonides, realizing fully
well that this verse legitimates the worship of stars, thereby upsetting his scheme
of how Avoda Zara came to be, offers an alternative interpretation. Maimonides
paraphrases “all peoples,” meaning for the biblical text all peoples other than
Israel, as “the whole world.”13 Thus, Israel and the nations are in the same situ-
ation in relation to the heavenly bodies. They had been placed in a position of
permanence in relation to the world, but neither Israel nor the nations may wor-
ship them. That would amount to an error in relation to the divine will. Error
and issues of truth and falsehood are universal, hence they apply equally to Israel
and the nations. Hence, the universal prohibition on Avoda Zara according to
Maimonides. Nachmanides returns to the original sense of the verse, as well
as of the biblical intention in prohibiting Avoda Zara. Because the demands of
relationship are exclusive, the standards that apply to Avoda Zara are specific to
Israel and do not apply to the nations.14 These may, as the plain sense of Deut.
4,19 suggests, worship other beings.
Following this fundamental distinction, Nachmanides proceeds to unpack
three different levels of what constitutes Avoda Zara. That these three levels fol-
low immediately after the limitation of jealousy to Israel suggests that while what
follows may describe the worship of other peoples, the reference to these habits
of worship using the category of Avoda Zara is made from Israel’s perspective.
In other words, even though Nachmanides is about to describe various forms of
Avoda Zara, as these emerged in the religious history of humanity, it is not neces-
sary to view these forms of religious worship and understanding as Avoda Zara
for their practitioners.15 In what follows then we have a typology of different types
of Avoda Zara. This typology can function as a parallel text to Maimonides’ his-
tory of Avoda Zara. While Maimonides presents a history of humanity, relevant
in its problematics to all humanity without exception, Nachmanides presents a
typology that is designed to offer us a better understanding of Avoda Zara and
how it works. Concomitantly, while Maimonides presented us with a history of
the growing falsity of Avoda Zara and how it is removed from truth, stage by stage,
Nachmanides presents us with a typology that moves through the various stages
of the cosmos, suggesting how Avoda Zara might apply in relation to each stage.
Instead of historical downgrading we get cosmic downgrading. And because the
issue for Nachmanides is not one of falsehood, the various cosmic levels are char-
acterized by the conformity to reality that each cosmic level of Avoda Zara enables.
Thus, Avoda Zara is actually grounded in reality. This makes it real, potent, and,
in its own way, valid under certain contexts and premises. The spiritual reality
and validity of Avoda Zara grounds the permissibility of worship of these beings
by non-Jews. It also makes the challenge of Avoda Zara and the nature of what it
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 63

is that is forbidden to Jews much more focused, a consequence of the structure of

the cosmos and of the possible religious responses to it. Let us then move on to a
presentation of Nachmanides’ typology of Avoda Zara. Nachmanides continues:

At this point, I make mention of what Scripture teaches concerning Avoda Zara,
for there were three kinds. The earliest16 began to worship the angels, who are the
Separate Intelligences, for they knew the authority and jurisdiction that some of
them had over the nations, as it is written, “The prince of the kingdom of Greece”
(Dan. 10,20), “The prince of the kingdom of Persia” (Daniel 10, 13), and they
thought that [these angels] have in them the ability to be beneficial or harmful,
and so each people started worshipping its own minister, for the earliest [genera-
tions] knew them. Now these are referred to in the Torah and in all the Scriptures
as other gods, the gods of the peoples, for the angels are called gods (elohim) . . . [they
worshipped the angels] even though they recognized that supreme strength and
infinite power belonged only to God, the Most High.17

Let us contrast this first stage in the history of Avoda Zara with the first stage
described by Maimonides. For Maimonides, the first stage involves the worship
of stars and astral bodies. For Nachmanides, the first stage involves the worship
of Separate Intelligences. These are clearly not the stars and astral bodies. As will
be clear from the next category, the stars are the physical bodies of these angelic
beings. Nachmanides thus identifies the root of foreign worship in a higher meta-
physical sphere. This has ramifications for the question of veracity and error. For
Maimonides, Avoda Zara is nothing but an error. It grows out of a mistaken notion
of fulfilling the divine will: astral bodies are given honor they do not deserve.
Thus, there is a twofold error. God does not will such honor and the planetary
bodies seem, in any event, to be devoid of any real power that might occasion wor-
ship.18 By contrast, the higher angelic beings that are the historical root of Avoda
Zara, according to Nachmanides, are indeed empowered. In fact, Avoda Zara does
not grow out of a mistaken idea of the divine will but out of a proper recognition
of the workings of the universe and the empowerment of angelic beings to rule
over individual nations. Nachmanides takes seriously the designation of foreign
gods as elohim acherim and the use of the name elohim, common to God and to
these angelic beings. It suggests the spiritual level of these angels and the fact that
they belong to a high spiritual realm and are divinely empowered in relation to the
continuing management of the world. The earlier generations possessed a knowl-
edge that has since been lost, the knowledge of their respective governing spiritual
powers. Avoda Zara is thus based on a correct understanding of reality. It is not
a complete error. This recognition is crucial in determining whether or not the
designation of these forms of worship as Avoda Zara is intended purely from the
viewpoint of Israel, which is commanded not to engage in Avoda Zara, or whether
the practices of the earlier generations also constitute Avoda Zara for those early
peoples. Nachmanides then moves on to the second category:

The second type of Avoda Zara appeared when people turned to worshipping the
visible hosts of heaven, some worshipping the sun or the moon, and others wor-
shipping one of the planetary signs. Each of the nations knew the power of the
64 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

astrological sign, according to how it governed their land. And they thought that
by worshipping them, the astrological signs would be empowered, which would
be beneficial to them. . . . As it is said in the Torah with reference to the prohibition
of Avoda Zara “And lest you lift up your eyes unto heaven, and when you see the
sun and the moon and the stars, even all the host of heaven, you be drawn away
and worship them and serve them, which the Lord your God has allotted unto all
the peoples under the whole heaven” (Deut. 4,19). That is to say, since God allotted
them to all the peoples and gave each people a star or astrological sign, you should
not let yourself be allured to worshipping them.19

Once again, Nachmanides appeals to Deut. 4,19. The worship of planetary bod-
ies is based on a divine allotment that establishes the natural order. This order is
an extension of the knowledge of the ministering angels. People knew their min-
istering angels as well as their ruling planets. And the two are closely related, inas-
much as the planets are the physical bodies of the ministering angels, the Separate
Intelligences.20 While chronologically later, the second kind describes a meta-
physical descent, rather than a historical degradation, as we find in Maimonides’
presentation. The transition from the first to the second type of Avoda Zara is not
a move into greater error, but to greater manifestation or corporeality. In terms of
the metaphysical foundation of the worship, hence in terms of its truth content,
both stages seem to be equally founded. Both may be viewed as complementary
dimensions of Avoda Zara, equally valid or invalid, distinguished by the meta-
physical level to which intentionality and practice are directed.
The second stage in the formation of Avoda Zara is characterized by a move
toward physical concretization and manifestation of spiritual powers. These are
channeled through the astrological signs. The powers of the stars and the attempt
to capture and to harness them for beneficial purposes account for the various
forms of ritual and worship that later emerge:

Now, these are the people who began making the many forms of graven images,
asheirim and sun images. They would make the forms of the astrological signs in
the hours of their strength, according to their rank, and they would empower the
people, so they understood, with force and success. . . . Closely related to this kind
of Avoda Zara was the worship of human beings. When people of a country saw
that a certain individual, such as Nebuchadnezar—had great power and that his
star was very much in the ascendancy, they thought that by accepting his worship
upon themselves and directing their intentionality towards him, their sign would
rise with his.21

An astrological understanding thus provides the basis for various forms of

Avoda Zara, as practiced by its followers. Their acts are coherent and rely on a
valid view of the power of astrological signs and on correct observation of the
impact of the planetary powers on groups and individuals. The move from wor-
shipping the angelic Separate Intelligences to worshipping forms and peoples is
related to the attempt to capture the astrological energy for one’s own purposes.
This astrological theory accounts for the worship of graven images as well as
of people. While worship already characterized the first stage of Avoda Zara,
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 65

images, as well as attempts to capture the power and to harness it to one’s own
benefit, characterize the second stage.
Nachmanides’ astrological theory assumes a correct observation of the gov-
ernance of nations and individuals. However, the legitimacy of such worship can
be disputed. In relation to the first category, Nachmanides affirms that the wor-
shippers did not forget the God on high, who is source of all power. He makes
no similar assertion in relation to the second category, thereby suggesting that it
may involve forgetting the full cosmic view, where God is the ultimate source of
all power. This accords with his description, later in this passage, of Sennacherib
and Pharaoh, who are worshipped as gods in light of this astrological under-
standing, as “wicked, but not absolute fools.” It would seem that the claim for
their divinity, while based on correct astrological foundations is nevertheless an
expression of wickedness, since appropriating the title “god” leads to a forgetful-
ness of the one true God. One imagines that had such worship not led to their
claims of divinity and had it been undertaken with awareness of the ultimate
power of God, they might not have been wicked. It is noteworthy that in refer-
encing the worship of stars, Nachmanides quotes Deut. 4,19, suggesting worship
of these stars is appropriate. The tone changes in relation to the capturing of the
astral energies in embodied forms. But the change may be the result of reference
to the particular application of these principles in the cases of individuals whose
claims to divinity eclipsed recognition of God. The principle itself might be justi-
fied, if one did not to lose sight of God. In other words, the second type of Avoda
Zara itself consists of two stages: the worship of astral bodies and of their various
embodiments. It is not fully clear whether the boundaries of possible legitimacy
of such worship correspond to the two stages, or whether in either case it is the
broader maintaining of awareness of God that determines whether such worship
is permissible or not for those nations that God has placed under the control of
the astral bodies, following Deut. 4,19.22
Nachmanides goes on to describe the third category of those who engage in
Avoda Zara:

The third kind of idolatry appeared afterwards when people began worshipping
the demons, which are spirits . . . Some of them too are appointed over the peoples
to be masters in their lands and to harm their enemies and those who stumble
among them, as is known of their activity through the art of necromancy, as well
as through the words of our Rabbis. It is with reference to this [third type] that
Scripture says “They sacrificed unto demons, non-gods . . . ”(Deut. 32,17). Scripture
ridicules the [Israelites], saying they sacrifice also to the demons who are no gods at
all. That is to say, they are not like the angels, who are called elohim. Instead, they
are “gods that they knew not,” meaning that they found in them no trace of might
or power of rulership.23

The third kind of Avoda Zara is both chronologically later and metaphysi-
cally inferior. Again, it is based on a valid knowledge of some dimension of real-
ity. The demons do have some powers associated with their particular territory.
However, they are at the very opposite end of the power-scale, compared with the
first group. Those were elohim, gods. These are non-gods. This suggests their lower
66 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

metaphysical rank. They have power, but it is not divine power. Perhaps the fact
that their power is exclusively destructive and harmful accounts for the difference
between the power recognized as divine and the power recognized as non-divine.
Though theoretically one might still entertain approaching these beings while
maintaining an awareness of the broader theological perspective wherein God is
the master of all, such reconciling seems improbable in view of their designation
as non-gods. Indeed, the sources by Nachmanides and by his followers that admit
the possibility of worshipping other beings within a broader theological framework
that maintains awareness of God only speak of the worship of astral powers. This
may simply be a matter of what was highlighted, though there does seem to be
greater incompatibility between this type of worship and the worship of God. This
point will be useful to us further along when we attempt to construct a composite
sense of what Avoda Zara means and how it might apply to other religions today.
Having concluded his presentation of the three types of Avoda Zara, descend-
ing in historical and metaphysical order, Nachmanides sums up what it is that is
forbidden in their worship with reference to the ten commandments, the literary
context in which this analysis has been carried out:24

Thus, in this second commandment, the Torah forbade all [forms of] worship,
except for that directed to God alone.25 It is for this reason that He first admon-
ished “Thou shalt have no other gods before My face,” which is a reference to the
first kind . . . He then further admonished against graven images as well as likeness,
which alludes to something spiritual that is imagined . . . And so the Rabbis said:
“That is in the heaven, this includes the sun, moon, stars and astrological signs.
Above, this includes the ministering angels . . . And that is in the water under the
earth, this includes the demons”26 . . . of all of them He said “Thou shalt not bow
down unto them, nor serve them” in any manner of worship whatsoever, even if
the worshipper’s intent is not to remove himself from the domain (or: authority) of
the Holy One, blessed be He. Thus He has ordered that all manners of worship be
directed exclusively to the Special Name, blessed be He.27

The concluding statement sums up the preceding discussion in relation to the

verses of the ten commandments. The ten commandments refer to all three types
of Avoda Zara, all of which are forbidden to Israel. The conclusion of this passage
makes clear the basis for the prohibition. Worshipping any other being, whether
angelic or demonic, compromises the exclusivity of the relationship with God.
Nachmanides is aware of the fact that exclusivity is as much a matter of intention as
it is of practice. However, he is not willing to allow for any compromise of absolute
dedication of all forms of worship to the one God, even if the intention of the wor-
shipper does not involve rebellion or break of authority otherwise associated with
removing oneself from God’s domain. The ten commandments are thus a teaching
in exclusive allegiance, in the framework of a broad and hierarchical metaphysical
worldview. Hierarchy might have allowed us to consider permissible worship of
other beings, provided an awareness of the fullness of the hierarchical structure is
maintained. The message of the ten commandments is that this is not so.
The religious understanding that informs the ten commandments is that of
covenantal exclusivity. Approaching any other power or being is tantamount to
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 67

compromising the exclusive relationship Israel is to have with God. However,

what of other nations? Precisely the fact that Nachmanides grounds his view of
Avoda Zara in a covenantal relationship, rather than in the problem of meta-
physical error, raises the question of whether the description of Avoda Zara
applies equally to Jews and non-Jews. As we have seen, Nachmanides mentions
the special demands of Avoda Zara upon Israel, due to their exclusive covenantal
relationship. At several points in Nachmanides’ discussion it seems like different
rules apply to non-Jews: they are allowed to approach their ministering angels,
perhaps also their stars and maybe even the other forms of worship that he men-
tions, provided they do not lose sight of the fullness of the theological picture,
that is, provided they maintain due awareness of the one God above it all. This
possible understanding is borne out by some other passages in Nachmanides’
commentary, as well as by the testimony of his followers:

He is Thy Praise and He is Thy God. The meaning thereof is that He should be your
[sole object of] praise, that you are to devote all your praise to Him, praising Him
always, and not to give His glory to another, neither His praise to graven images (Isa.
42,8), nor to the gods and lords mentioned. Or he may be stating: He is thy praise,
for through Him you are praised above all peoples . . . for He has especially addressed
His name to you, that you be unto Himself for a people and that He may be unto thee
a God (Deut. 29,12), unlike the rest of the peoples to whom He is the God of gods,
that he allotted to them (Deut. 4,19), as I have explained, because He has done for
you the great and tremendous things from which you can recognize that you are His
portion and His inheritance, and His eyes are always upon you for good.28

The biblical verse refers specifically to Israel’s relationship with God.

Nachmanides understands this relationship in contrast with those of other
nations. Appealing once again to Deut. 4,19, Nachmanides understands that
other nations have been allotted other gods. Their relationship to God is as the
God of gods.29 Only Israel had witnessed the special miracles that are a sign of its
particular relationship with God. Israel is God’s lot and share, and God always
watches over it. In exchange, exclusive allegiance is demanded. Such exclusive
covenantal allegiance is understood not in terms of equally potent gods, among
which one chooses to whom one has to make allegiance, but within a clearly
defined hierarchical worldview. Only Israel is demanded to focus its devotion
and commitment to the top of the metaphysical hierarchy. Others may form alle-
giances to the lower beings in the hierarchy, the gods, while maintaining aware-
ness of God’s position as the God of gods.30
The metaphysical organization, according to which angels of divine status,
elohim, are appointed over other nations, but not over Israel, is again affirmed in
Nachmanides’ commentary on Deut. 29,25:

The correct interpretation is “gods that they knew not” as gods, that is to say [they
worshipped gods] whom they knew not as having acted with any Divine power
inherent to their essence. And the Eternal, the God of their fathers, did not allot
them [these gods] to them, meaning that He did not designate them as lords over
Israel as He placed them over the nations. I have already explained this.31
68 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

God has arranged the world in such a way that different ministers are
appointed over different peoples. Israel has God as its share, while others have
appointed ministers. We note here an interesting metaphysical understanding of
divinity. Divinity is present in the angelic ministers as an extension of God’s own
power. They do not have divinity in them on their own account, but by extension.
God, we assume, by contrast is divine by His very own nature. This metaphysical
distinction could be significant as we seek to apply Nachmanides’ insights to a
Jewish view of Hinduism. Israel are commanded to only worship God directly,
encountering the divinity in its primary and originary state, in God Himself. By
contrast, other nations have been appointed ministers to oversee their affairs.
Israel does not recognize them as elohim on their own right, but only by exten-
sion. A distinction thus emerges between first-order and second-order divinity.
This distinction is of twofold significance. The very recognition that divinity
may be encountered second order is itself of great importance for a consideration
of other religions. Secondly, it offers a clear formulation of what distinguishes
Israel’s spiritual life from that of other people. While noting this major divide,
we also note how respectful the approach to other religions, practiced by the
nations, is. To speak of second-order divinity is a far cry from what might other-
wise be imagined as derogatory expressions of ridicule, annulment, and depreca-
tion aimed at other religions and their gods. According to Nachmanides, there is
a way in which other religions and their gods might be validated as appropriate
for their worshippers. The two guiding principles of this way of thinking are the
uncompromising distinction between Israel and the nations and the correspond-
ing cosmic hierarchical gradation that provides the basis for both recognition of
other gods and the distinction between them and God, Israel’s share and lot.
Allotting gods to the nations would make little sense if they were forbidden to
worship them. To say that the sole purpose of these angels is to provide and care
for the people, while in Israel’s case it is God who directly and personally cares
for Israel, makes for bad theology. If the nations receive divine provision and
supervision from certain divine beings, why would they be forbidden to worship
them? Israel is supposed to worship God because of the special favors shown
to it. The nations have not received such favors. It would make little sense to
demand exclusive allegiance to a God who only cares for the nations by proxy.
Why should the nations not worship their own divinely appointed gods, and how
can one demand of them allegiance to the God who does not show them direct
care? Unless one adopts a theology of perdition, one cannot make sense of such a
worldview.32 The only way to therefore make sense of Nachmanides is to assume
that if these ministers were appointed over the nations as elohim, they may also
be worshipped by them.
This understanding is made explicit by Nachmanides’ disciple, the Rashba,
Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham Adret. The following passage appears in one of the
Rashba’s responsa:33

What happened to us, in relation to the rest of the nations, may be likened to what
happened to a people who serve a great king. That king appointed for the manage-
ment of the city a minister, and commanded him to govern the state34 and to judge
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 69

all the people who are found in it in justice. He also permitted the entire people to
follow that minister, if they will, for all their needs. For he will lead them, follow-
ing the king’s command, in whatever they require, provided they remain cogni-
zant that he is appointed by the king and he as well as them are slaves to the king.
Indeed, [the king] commanded the minister that he should have no jurisdiction
over one of the members of his palace, for he has separated them35 unto himself
and he will lead them and judge among them and will provide for all their needs.
Similarly he commanded and ordained the members of his palace and the servants
who stand before him to never follow the minister, but only [follow] the king. And
whosoever among them follows the minister, this will be considered for him as a
rebellion and as transferring the rulership from him (i.e. the king) and handing it
over to that minister.
This is precisely what happened to us in relation to the other nations, concern-
ing the laws of faith and providence (or: the surrender of our actions).36 For God
divided the lands to the astrological signs, and gave them rulership over the land,
so that a given planet governs a given place. This is why they are divided in their
countries and localities in faith, this worships one image while another worships
another. And whoever worships the particular star that guides a particular place is
not like someone who engages in Avoda Zara, provided he knows and recognizes
that the power of the star and its rulership are only due to God, who made it a ruler
in that particular land. As it says concerning the Samaritans, they feared God and
served their gods.37 But concerning us, He set us apart as His heritage unto Him.
And our land He also set apart unto Himself, for His Temple to be there. And He
commanded us not to worship a sign or a star at all, and that we should not direct
our actions to them in any way whatsoever, but rather we shall serve before Him
and He will answer us, whenever we call out to Him. And whosoever among us
worships anyone besides Him, it will be considered for him a great fault, as some-
one who rebels against His kingdom and as someone who worships Avoda Zara,
God forbid.
For this reason you will not find in all Scriptures accusations of Avoda Zara except
in relation to Israel alone, and He called our land the land of life, and He testified
that His providence is in it, and He always seeks it. And the prophets spoke of this
explicitly. It says in the Torah, when warning us regarding this matter, “And when
you look up to the sky and behold the sun and the moon and the stars, the whole
heavenly host, you must not be lured into bowing down to them or serving them.
These the Lord your God allotted to other peoples everywhere under heaven. But
you the Lord took and brought out of Egypt, that iron blast furnace, to be His very
own people.”38 When referring to the iron blast furnace39 this teaches us, a true
sign, that He did not leave us under the rulership of the astrological signs and the
celestial princes. For now He has taken us out of the iron furnace, a reference to the
strength of the astrological sign, according to which it would have been impossible
to come out of [Egypt], had our fate been determined by the laws of the stars.

The continuity between the Rashba and his teacher, Nachmanides, is unmis-
takable. We encounter the same theology with the same key prooftext, Deut. 4,19.
Had we entertained any doubt concerning the status of non-Jews and their wor-
ship of beings other than God, the Rashba is quite explicit that such worship is not
considered Avoda Zara, provided one has not lost sight of God who is the ultimate
source of power and governance of the individual planet or astrological sign. We
70 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

also note that the Rashba speaks of astrological signs and their representation in
images and statues. This corresponds to the second type of Avoda Zara, presented
in Nachmanides’ commentary on Exodus. We previously entertained the question
of whether Nachmanides condones only worship of the first type of Avoda Zara
for non-Jews, or whether any form of worship, of any of the three types of Avoda
Zara listed by him, would not be Avoda Zara, provided the worshipper remained
aware of God as the supreme power. The Rashba has certainly taken our discus-
sion an important step forward by including not only the first stage, those beings
explicitly called elohim, in permissibility of worship, but also those of the second
stage, planets and their representation in images. The logic could be extended to
the third type, the worship of demons, provided one remained aware of God as the
ultimate power. On the other hand, perhaps their being called explicitly non-gods
and their harmful nature make their worship undesirable. Either way, what really
matters is the worship of planetary signs and their representation, as the Rashba
seems to consider this as the prevailing mode of worship by non-Jews. Non-Jewish
worship of other beings is thus cosmically grounded, part of the natural order,
ordained by God. It would seem pointless to oppose or criticize something that is
part of how God arranges the cosmos. The only thing that is of real concern is that
Israel, which has been taken out of the angelic and astral realms and entrusted to
God’s exclusive providential care, should devote its worship exclusively to the one
God who established with it a special relationship. The relational dimension and
its grounding in Jewish history, particularly in the Exodus, provide continuity not
only with Nachmanides’ thinking, but also with the foundational biblical theo-
logical notion of the covenant. One does note in Rashba’s discussion one dimen-
sion that we did not see in Nachmanides. This is the territorial dimension. It is not
only that nations knew who their governing ministers were,40 but that there is a
full correspondence between angelic forces, astral forces, people, and land. This
territorial dimension is also derived from Nachmanides’ thought, as expressed
in other passages. For present purposes, the nuances that distinguish a territo-
rial from a nonterritorial perspective are not central to our discussion, and I will
therefore not engage them.41
Let us now consider the possible implications of Nachmanides’ view of Avoda
Zara to a contemporary Jewish view of Hinduism.42 This is one of the major theo-
logical formulations of the Middle Ages and one of the most elaborate statements
on Avoda Zara. It should therefore be taken into account as we grapple for the
conceptual tools with which to think through contemporary challenges. Over
and against Maimonides’ view, it gives us a theory that distinguishes between
Israel and the nations and what accounts for this distinction. The possibility of
making such a distinction is one of the fundamental steps that can be taken in any
attempt to legitimate other religions. Later in our discussion, we shall study the
halachic trajectory that makes this very distinction by appealing to the notion of
Shituf, association, the worship of another being alongside God. Nachmanides’
discussion does not refer to the notion of Shituf, nor does that of the Rashba. The
trajectory that elevated Shituf to the level of a theological principle of tolerance
is both chronologically later and geographically different. We find this move-
ment primarily in Ashkenazi literature from the seventeenth century onward,
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 71

not in Sephardi literature of the thirteenth century. But the logic seems to be the
same. In fact, the proponents of Shituf, whom we shall study below, do not really
provide an adequate theory that would justify why non-Jews may worship other
beings alongside God. Nachmanides provides precisely such a logic, accounting
for why Shituf may be permissible for non-Jews. Accordingly, it is only a matter
of time until Nachmanides’ thought provides the rationale for the permissibility
of Shituf for non-Jews, as these two trajectories come together.43
There is a possible distinction between the position affirming the permissibil-
ity of Shituf and Nachmanides’ view of Avoda Zara. This distinction has implica-
tions to the potential relevance of Nachmanides’ discussion to a consideration of
Hinduism. Nachmanides describes the various forms of Avoda Zara as based on
some correct knowledge of spiritual reality. The first kind is based on the knowl-
edge of the heavenly ministers, appointed over every nation. The second is based
on knowledge of their respective astrological signs and the third upon knowledge
of the demonic powers that reside in a given territory. In all cases, Avoda Zara is
real inasmuch as it is a response to how reality has been divinely organized. What
determines Avoda Zara would accordingly be how encompassing and total the
religious worldview of the believer is. For Nachmanides, non-Jews may worship
the appointed ministers, possibly other levels within the cosmic hierarchy as well,
provided they recognize their relationship to God and their ultimate dependence
on Him. The difference between Jews and non-Jews is not in their respective view
of reality. Both would recognize the supreme rulership of God and the fact that
He has appointed various beings, at various rungs of reality, to govern and man-
age the world. The difference is one of religious focus and orientation. Jews are
demanded to have exclusive allegiance to the supreme power only, while non-Jews
may strike a balance between their religious knowledge and their worship. So long
as their knowledge maintains an awareness of the fuller metaphysical structures
of the universe, worship may be directed at other beings as well. Only Israel is obli-
gated to a full correspondence of knowledge and worship in relation to God.44
When considering the potential relevance of Nachmanides’ views to our dis-
cussion of Hinduism, we must ask how crucial is the correct knowledge of the
appointed ministers to his overall scheme. There are two possible ways to apply
Nachmanides. The first is to insist that any worship of another being be based
on divine allotment. After all, Deut. 4,19 provides the scriptural basis for the
position. Accordingly, only those beings who have been allotted to other nations
may be considered in this discussion. This would make Nachmanides completely
irrelevant to any contemporary discussion. Cast as it is in terms of the astrologi-
cal science of the Middle Ages,45 the discussion would refer to no known religion,
either ancient or contemporary. It would thus be a completely theoretical con-
struct, whose sole contribution would be the organization and clarification of the
various biblical references that are integrated into his presentation.
The alternative position would be that Nachmanides presents us with a
thought structure, through which the basic criteria of what constitutes Avoda
Zara emerge, or perhaps it is better to say what makes something not Avoda Zara,
that is for non-Jewish believers. Recognition of the one supreme God protects and
excludes the worshippers of other beings from the specter of Avoda Zara. If so, it
72 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

matters little whether the being really was appointed by God over a people or not.
What matters is that alongside faith in and worship of that being, one remains
cognizant of the one supreme God. Is the primary condition for not being Avoda
Zara the recognition of God or the following of those ministers and planetary
powers appointed by God as the objects of possible legitimate worship? The latter
possibility would lead us back to a definition of Avoda Zara that is related to the
divine will. Unlike Maimonides, Nachmanides recognizes that the divine will
could include the worship of beings other than God. The former position would
highlight knowledge and recognition as the primary criterion. As long as some
degree of awareness of God is maintained, the worship of other beings is not
tantamount to Avoda Zara. Significantly, Nachmanides does not highlight will
at all in his presentation.46 This might make the former option more plausible. It
is only according to such a reading that Nachmanides’ presentation would have
any relevance to a contemporary discussion of other religions.
If we are willing to consider the structure of Nachmanides’ thought, inde-
pendently of the correctness of the identity of the gods worshipped and their
allotment by God as part of an astrologically informed scheme of governance,
we could paraphrase his message as follows, allowing his teaching to address
the present concern of the encounter with Hinduism. Whoever worships a deity,
or some manifestation of the Divine, is not like someone who engages in Avoda
Zara, provided he knows and recognizes that God, the supreme source of all, is
the power behind the particular deity that is worshipped. Nachmanides, thus
restated, offers us a framework for approaching Hinduism.
If we take Hinduism as approaching God through the dual dimensions of the
absolute-unmanifest dimension of the Divine and the relative-manifest dimen-
sion, knowledge, rather than worship, is more crucial for bridging this divide.
Worship is addressed to various gods, who are seen as manifestations of the abso-
lute, which is in itself the source of all being, the source of creation.47 Indeed,
worship is not offered to the absolute, to Brahman.48 Brahman remains instead
the conceptual focus of the religious system, its ultimate goal. The absolute is
recognized primarily through knowledge while the gods are approached through
ritual. This situation corresponds to Nachmanides’ structure.
Working with the model developed by Nachmanides is particularly important
if we seek to develop positive categories by means of which to address Hindu
reality. Many of the major religious figures, the gurus, one encounters nowadays
are models, at times outstanding models, of wisdom, spirituality, and life lived in
God. The high degree of spiritual life achieved by them makes dismissing them
as mere idolaters a luxury that only those who are willing to lock themselves
within narrow confines and continue to judge the world irrespective of what they
see (or can’t see) in it can afford. Any serious and genuine person who seeks to
assess Hindu religious life must acknowledge that Hinduism has produced great
spiritual giants who not only know something about God, but who may also have
important lessons to teach us. At the same time, these same personalities often
engage in the worship of gods as well as of their idols. Indeed, the term “idol-
worship,” which for Jews is usually derogatory, is for them purely descriptive and
value free.49
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 73

Let me make the paradox even more extreme, by appealing to the example
of one major Hindu religious figure—Shirdi Sai Baba. This nineteenth-century
saint is the object of veneration throughout India. His cult is fast becoming one
of India’s most popular. Following Hindu patterns of worship, his image is vener-
ated in hundreds of temples throughout India. From a superficial, visual-based
perspective, this is one further expression of Avoda Zara. On a visit to one of his
temples, I was struck by the following sign, which captures the essence of his
teaching:

He, the infinite and absolute,

Incarnates Himself
and descends to earth
From time to time
To vanquish the evil
Reestablish the divinity
and uphold the cosmic principles.
He has made Himself perceptible
As Lord Krishna, Gautam Buddha
Jesus Christ, Hazrat Mohammad,
Guru Nanak and many more
Divine masters
and eventually, various religions
have also come into being.
To merge all these religions
into one
He then manifested Himself
as SAI
and evinced
the ultimate truth—
We are one
God is One

From a Jewish perspective, how are we to reconcile image worship with recog-
nition of the unity of God? Nachmanides would offer us one way of accounting
for what from a classical Jewish perspective might be considered a paradox. The
worship of other beings is clearly balanced by the knowledge of the ultimate God.
This balance is permissible for non-Jews and might hold the key to their spiritual
success. They seek to reach God in the absolute, while approaching Him through
various divine beings, who aid them in their path.
We may be able to apply Nachmanides to present concerns in ways other than
abstracting core principles from his teachings. Jews must not worship any being
other than God and non-Jews may worship other beings, provided they do not
lose sight or awareness of God. Nachmanides speaks of each nation having its
own god, appointed by God. This statement of metaphysics can be psychologized
in fruitful ways. Each religion imagines its gods in particular ways. The gods of
China are not as the gods of India, or of Africa. Now, the gods of Hinduism are
indeed the gods of a people, as that people has thought, reflected, and, above
74 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

all, imagined the divine realm. Gods, with their representations and myths, are
above all an expression of the realm of the imagination. This imaginative realm
is often interpreted in philosophical or metaphysical terms. A more philosophi-
cal understanding tends to abstraction, such that it may be carried over from
one religious tradition to another in search of a common understanding. By con-
trast, the pictorial and representational dimensions, those that translate into the
problematic realm of Avoda Zara as expressed in worship, are the particularities
of the psyche of a given people and its religious imagination. Accordingly, we
might consider the specific representations of deities in Hinduism as part of what
God has allotted this people, not through astral governance, but through the
expression of their religious imagination.50 Such a psychologizing restatement
of Nachmanides would leave room for a rich mythical, imaginative, and artistic
life, which is particular to any given religious tradition, while balancing it with a
more abstract, philosophical, if we will, “pure” understanding of God. Thus, we
could learn much more from Nachmanides and apply it directly to Hinduism,
if we were willing to substitute the national faculties of imagination, themselves
God given, for the nationally appointed divine ministers.
There might be yet another way of reconfiguring Nachmanides, so that his
thought structure remains helpful, despite the fact that it is articulated based on
a scientific theory that is no longer current. In doing so, we explore other dimen-
sions of what “scientific” might mean in a religious context. Nachmanides bases
his description on a proper understanding of reality. In that sense, underlying
his reconstruction of the birth and typology of Avoda Zara is a certain scientific
worldview. Now, many Hindu practitioners conceive of their own religion and
its practices in scientific terms. This is actually one of the distinguishing fea-
tures of modern Hindu thought, and one of the dimensions that makes it distinct
from the thought of Abrahamic religions, Judaism included. I do not wish to buy
into facile stereotypes that represent Judaism (or Christinaity) as a faith-based
religion, while Hinduism is something else. Religions are complex entities and
have varying doses of orthodoxy, orthopraxy, and various other ingredients in
all of them, distinguishing one version of a given religion as well as one religion
from another. As part of the recognition of different nuances that characterize
religions, and without drawing a firm typology, it is worth noting that many
contemporary Hindu authors have developed a self-understanding of their reli-
gion as scientific. In many ways, Hinduism as well as Buddhism have fared much
better in the science-religion exchanges than have the more literal scripturally
oriented Abrahamic faiths. For them, science and religion often come together in
creative synergies, rather than through polar dichotomies, as we often encounter
in Abrahamic religions. Such synergies occur not only in relation to theories of
creation and the cosmos, but also in relation to internal psychological and spiri-
tual processes.
Several of the Hindu traditions, particularly the Yoga and Vedanta traditions,
approach the spiritual life as though it were a science, a science of consciousness
and spiritual development. The goal is to attain spiritual liberation, or union with
the absolute. The various religious practices and the complex forms of the reli-
gious life are then understood as a means for such attainment. The systematic,
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 75

practice-oriented nature of religious ritual and discipline then invites comparison

with the systematic and repeatable nature of the scientific experiment, leading to
the conclusion that the practice of religion is itself a kind of scientific practice.
I think it is fair to say that some of the contemporary draw to Hinduism can be
accounted for as a result of this scientific emphasis. Many Westerners are drawn
to a scientific approach that is result oriented, at least in theory, compared with a
faith-based approach, whose results are not marketed in the same way, even if in
fact they may be close or even identical. Now, within this scientific understand-
ing, deities and their worship are often approached as instruments in an internal
spiritual and psychological process. The ultimate goal of the process is beyond,
leading to and uniting with God in the absolute. The gods who are worshipped
are instruments in attaining this goal. They provide focus, orientation, opening
of the heart, protection, and grace. They are real,51 but they ultimately serve as
aids to self-transcendence in a process that is understood scientifically. Thus,
there exist various influential and popular constructions of Hinduism wherein
the deities worshipped correspond to a particular psychological state (as well as a
cosmic state, according to Hindu cosmology) and where the goal of the spiritual
life, including the worship of these deities, is to go beyond these manifestations,
to reach God in the absolute.
Now, this is in some ways similar to what Nachmanides considers as the foun-
dation for non-Jewish worship; in fact it seems spiritually more potent and much
more in keeping with the overall goals of Jewish teaching. If we are willing to sub-
stitute the scientific approach to cosmology with a scientific approach to psychol-
ogy and the spiritual process, many Hindu forms of worship will do much more
than simply recognize the one supreme God while worshipping other beings. For
these Hindu practitioners, the worship of the deities, their forms, and the various
rituals and exercises associated with them are actually instrumental in attaining
conscious knowledge and presence of the supreme God. Thus, the supreme God
is not some distant idea that non-Jews dimly recognize, but the active and con-
scious focus of a personal transformative spiritual process. Conscious focus and
the quest for entry into the conscious presence of the highest God frame much of
Hinduism, as practiced in philosophical schools such as Yoga and Vedanta. More
broadly speaking, the overall emphasis on God and coming close to Him are
present in Hindu religious life in ways that impress the outsider and that often
leave the Jewish observer envious. We have recognized this to be a strong part of
the contemporary Jewish draw to Hinduism.52 If Nachmanides posits that only
Jews have an exclusive relationship with the one God, while others may worship
His ministers, Hinduism may both affirm this view and challenge it simultane-
ously. It may affirm it, if we consider that the structure of worshipping other
gods, while recognizing, indeed striving toward the higher God is characteristic
of the spiritual path of non-Jews. It challenges it inasmuch as it allows us to con-
sider the spiritual life of different faiths and their respective strengths and weak-
nesses. Jews enjoy the strengths of protection from the pitfalls of worship of other
beings and their representation, which could lead them away from the memory
of and exclusive allegiance to the one God. Hinduism, however, goes beyond the
portrayal of the nations, as found in Nachmanides. Hinduism, or some of its
76 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

schools, does not offer a second-order divinity or a second-rate approach to God.

For the spiritual seekers to whom it is home, it offers a first-order approach to
God, through the second-order gods, aiming for God in the highest. As it aims
for God in the highest, it often keeps Him much more in the center of its aware-
ness than Judaism, which is often content to declare God’s unity, while focus-
ing its religious energies on goals other than coming to know Him and reaching
union with Him.53
There is one further point to be made with reference to Nachmanides and to
how his thought may be relevant to Hinduism. Nachmanides’ theory offers a sci-
entific, or reality-based, view that justifies the worship of beings other than God
as part of a cosmic structure. It is based on the knowledge of the inner workings
of the universe and the appropriate sense of belonging of each nation, on the
three levels discussed by him. One thing is missing in his presentation—a view of
the worship of other gods as intermediaries and intercessors in approaching God,
the highest. It is common to find in Jewish sources a view of Avoda Zara as based
on the worship of intermediary powers.54 According to such an understanding,
Jews would have an unmediated approach to God, while non-Jews, if their wor-
ship is recognized, would approach God through the mediation of their spiritual
forces, powers, angels, etc. It is noteworthy that Nachmanides says nothing of
the sort. The nations worship their gods because they contain some dimension
of divinity, they are elohim, not because they help one gain access to God. In fact,
God is kept, in this system, as the exclusive lot of Israel. The nations know Him,
but they do not even try to approach Him via their governing angels.55 We have
already noted that Maimonides too does not present the fall into idolatry as a
consequence of a quest for intermediaries, who would facilitate one’s approach
to God, even though he does seem to appeal to such a notion when offering his
core legal definition of Avoda Zara, in the Laws of Avoda Zara 2,1. Thus, media-
tion and the worship of intermediaries do not figure prominently in these two
fundamental presentations of Avoda Zara.
Nevertheless, given how prominent the problem of intermediaries has become
in later Jewish presentations of Avoda Zara, it is worth noting that the notion of
intermediaries is not the optimal category through which to grasp the role of
gods in Hindu thought. Obviously, there is some sense of instrumentality, hence,
of their being intermediaries, as just mentioned. However, this is more an instru-
mentality of spiritual process, aiding the individual along the way, rather than
the classical understanding of the intermediary as a being that is more powerful,
who can therefore achieve, on behalf of the believer, what the believer herself
could not, obtaining for her favors from the higher God. While various Hindu
myths may be read in such a light, it is not the common understanding of the
function of divinities in the Hindu pantheon. The major deities, those that are
objects of worship in most forms of Hinduism, are rarely if ever understood as
intermediaries to the supreme God.56 They are not thought of as lower beings
on a cosmic rank whose job is to aid the believer in obtaining favors from the
higher rank. Rather, the prevailing notion, and herein lies one of the singulari-
ties of Hindu religious thought, is that God, the absolute, takes the form of these
beings, or put differently: comes as these beings. Nachmanides, Maimonides, and
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 77

most of Jewish tradition, approach the issue of other gods from within a clearly
structured and highly hierarchical worldview, even if they do not appeal to a
notion of intermediaries. The absolute God has no form, and all forms that are
worshipped belong to lower rungs on the metaphysical chain. Hindu thought
often defies such hierarchical thinking. Phenomenologically, it approaches real-
ity and its forms as something fluid. Forms change and beings can take up one
form or another.57 God can therefore take up form. Incarnations are common.
They may be the incarnation of one specific aspect of God, particularly Vishnu,
who comes time and again through his many manifestations, his avataras. But
often religious thought simply thinks of God as coming.
The fluidity of form and how reality can morph correspond to another meta-
physical principle, the all-pervasiveness of God. It is not simply that God is
everywhere, but that everything is pervaded by divine being, thereby making it
on some level divine. Thus, God can be recognized in anything. Stories of saints
report how their spiritual illumination took place when they were able to perceive
God in the form of something particular. This is a mode of encounter with God,
within a culture that has so made God the focus of its quest that it seeks to find
Him in all forms and appearances. Let me cite here a prayer composed by Swami
Sivananda. It is called “universal prayer” and is recited daily in his ashram. Let us
take note of how God is described in this prayer.

O Adorable Lord of Mercy and Love !

Salutations and prostrations unto Thee.
Thou art Omnipresent, Omnipotent and Omniscient.
Thou art Sat-Chid-Ananda.
Thou art Existence, Knowledge and Bliss Absolute.
Thou art the Indweller of all beings.
Grant us an understanding heart,
Equal vision, balanced mind,
Faith, devotion and wisdom.
Grant us inner spiritual strength
To resist temptation and to control the mind.
Free us from egoism, lust, anger, greed, hatred and jealousy.
Fill our hearts with Divine virtues.
Let us behold Thee in all these names and forms.
Let us serve Thee in all these names and forms.
Let us ever remember Thee.
Let us ever sing Thy glories.
Let Thy Name be ever on our lips.
Let us abide in Thee for ever and ever.

The prayer opens by affirming the various great statements concerning God,
one might say both those typical of Christianity and those typical of Hinduism.
Thus, God is Lord of love, and is characterized by the attributes often associ-
ated with Him—omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence. It also refers to God
in terms of the classical vedantic threefold description of what may be said of
God the absolute—existence, consciousness, and bliss. Following this initial
78 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

description comes a series of petitions concerning the spiritual life of the indi-
vidual. A non-Hindu would have little difficulty identifying with these requests,
which are foundational to all spiritual life. Indeed, the prayer may be called uni-
versal inasmuch as its basic view of God and the requests associated with the
spiritual life are universal to all, and can therefore be recited by believers of any
religion.58 As the prayer draws to a close we find the striking statement of behold-
ing and serving God in all these names and forms. The point is that the one God
absolute is known in all forms and therefore can be approached and worshipped
through them. This is precisely where the unique Hindu viewpoint is articulated
most forcefully. The conclusion expressing the desire to abide in God forever
expresses a universal religious sentiment. Judging by the thematic unfolding of
the prayer, one could argue that the means to constantly dwelling in God is pre-
cisely through recognizing Him in all things, leading in turn to God’s constant
memory and praise. Even if such recognition is not a prerequisite for the desire to
permanently abide in God or its fulfillment, it seems that the religious sensibility
captured in this prayer provides a bridge between the absolute God, truth, con-
sciousness, and bliss, and the ability to cultivate a permanent relationship with
Him, through the recognition of the multiple manifestations of God in all names
and forms. Herein lies the unique Hindu perspective.
This is but one typical example of a fundamental mode of thinking wherein
God is known through myriad manifestations, “all these names and forms.” This
approach is so different from the classical Jewish view that it calls into question
the very usefulness of our attempt to interpret it through the categories and prece-
dents developed by authors such as Nachmanides and Maimonides, as well as later
notions of the worship of intermediaries.59 On one level, Nachmanides provides
us with conceptual tools that make it easier for us to account for alternative reli-
gious phenomena. On another level, he does so within a distinct framework that
is so different from prevailing modes of Hindu thought as to make us wonder how
appropriate the categories are to an appreciation of the Hindu religious mind.
Having come this far we may be called to examine an entirely new way of
thinking of Avoda Zara. Perhaps the very drive to see God in everything and to
identify God with all is itself at great odds with a Jewish view of divinity and what
gives rise to Avoda Zara. Perhaps the issue that Jews should be concerned about is
indeed not the failure to worship God, substituting instead the worship of other
beings, but how pervasive the worship of God has become, so as to lead one astray
from Him, into the worship of other beings, thereby cheapening God’s name and
causing us to lose sight of it. The question might accordingly be framed whether
the intensification of approach to God, by recognizing Him in all things, might
not itself be the foundation of Avoda Zara. If this is the theoretical justification
for the worship of divinities and their forms, perhaps it is this very conceptual
foundation that is at odds with a Jewish view. Perhaps.
We come now to a much more subtle point in our discussion. The philosophical
differences just spelled out do not only distinguish “Judaism” from “Hinduism,”
they distinguish some schools of Judaism from others. One may debate whether
a more intensive view of God, such that sees Him and finds Him in everything, is
a religiously higher or lower view. If one does espouse such a view, one would be
 AVODA ZARA: NACHMANIDES’ MODEL 79

reluctant to make this very view the basis for defining Avoda Zara in theory. Too
many noted Jewish thinkers, especially over the past 200 years, have espoused
this view. From the founder of Lubavitch Hassidism, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of
Lyday, to the twentieth century’s greatest spiritual luminary, the first Chief Rabbi
of the Holy Land, Rabbi A.I. Kook, pantheistic and panentheistic theologies have
flourished and have become normative in Judaism.60 Rather than make exclusion
of such beliefs the cornerstone of what defines Avoda Zara, we might actually
be inspired to find in Hinduism, or several of its philosophical schools, paths
that apply and practice a spirituality geared at implementing the very pantheistic
or panentheistic worldview, held in common by Jewish and Hindu thinkers. If
so, the common worldview would provide the platform against which the dif-
ferences in ritual and practice would emerge. Accounting for these differences
might bring us back to Nachmanides, and his attempt to justify the worship of
other beings for non-Jews, or to the notion of Shituf, to be explored shortly, that
legitimates worship of other beings within a broader common theological under-
standing. Either way, these strategies could then be understood from within a
common conceptual platform wherein Judaism and Hinduism come remarkably
close to one another.
There is one final point, already raised in our discussion, to which we must
return as we conclude this assessment of Nachmanides’ work and its relevance
to a view of Hinduism. The preceding discussion focused on issues of faith,
allegiance, and relationship to God, exploring the parameters of allegiance and
recognition of God. In all this, we have followed Nachmanides in highlighting
the centrality of attachment to God, knowledge of Him, and the formation of a
committed faith relation with Him as the primary criterion for defining Avoda
Zara. As noted in our discussion above, this criterion excludes another criterion,
one that some Jewish observers of Hinduism implicitly appealed to and under-
standably identified as the immediate and most applicable criterion, namely the
worship of forms and images. What is noteworthy in Nachmanides’ presentation
is that image worship does not serve as the criterion for defining Avoda Zara.
We already saw that the core commandment of the ten commandments, under-
stood by Rashi in terms of images, is understood by Nachmanides in terms of
relationship. Thus, even though image worship is understood as an extension
of approaching a wrong God by both Maimonides and Nachmanides, for both
the image itself does not define Avoda Zara. Image worship for both authors is
secondary to the relationship formation. It is therefore subject to whatever theo-
logical understanding informs the worship of images. Furthermore, one notes
that while Nachmanides focuses on the identity of the god worshipped, his dis-
cussion of image worship appears exclusively in relation to other gods.61 Like
Maimonides, Nachmanides never seems to consider the possibility of making
an image of God Himself. Image making is associated with the worship of the
various levels of Avoda Zara, as these emerged historically, and as these emerge
from his typology. Thus, the hypothetical possibility of making an image of God
Himself is never considered. As noted already in relation to Maimonides, it is
this very possibility that must be included in our reflections, when we consider
Hindu religious thought’s self-understanding. When Hindus make an image to
80 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

be worshipped, it is not necessarily approached as the image of some being of

an inferior position on the metaphysical ladder. Rather, the religious sentiment
is that God Himself is being worshipped through that form. The intention is to
worship God, through the image, not some other being. This is a possibility not
accounted for by the discussions of the giants of the Jewish Middle Ages.
The issue of image worship may be of further significance for Nachmanides.
Nachmanides’ discussion, as well as that of the Rashba, focuses upon the appro-
priateness and the possibilities of entering into a relationship of follower-deity
with beings other than God. Their focus is upon the recognition and worship of
those beings and not upon the concrete forms that such adherence takes. One of
the implicit assumptions of their discussion is that the worship of other deities also
involves the use of forms and the various accoutrements of foreign worship.62 These,
however, do not emerge as foci of their discussion. It would seem then that once the
permissibility of worship of other beings is established,63 the expression of worship
through images is not problematic.64 So, not only can Avoda Zara not be deter-
mined by appeal to the worship of images, according to Nachmanides. It would
seem that once we make the distinction between Jews and non-Jews, the sole issue
that must be borne in mind in establishing whether non-Jews engage in Avoda Zara
is theological. Once the determination has been made on the theological plane,
the practical consequences in terms of worship are a natural, and unproblematic,
extension of the theological permissibility of the worship of other beings.
In important ways, Nachmanides’ construct is similar to another construct
that developed in the Middle Ages, and to which I have already alluded, that of
Shituf. This construct has furnished discussions of Jewish attitudes to other reli-
gions more readily than Nachmanides’ discussion, because it appears in another
literary genre—halachic, legal, rulings concerning other religions, primarily
Christianity. Because of the context in which it was born, it has defined a large
section of Jewish attitudes to Christianity and other religions. Before contrasting
the two constructs, let us take a closer look at the Shituf construct.
 8

Shituf: Applying a Construct of

Christianity to Hinduism

I have already spoken of the dual heritage of biblical-rabbinic attitudes com-

pared to attitudes that were later formulated with reference to Christianity.
During the formative rabbinic period, when the key concepts defining Avoda
Zara were developed, Christianity was not yet one of the other religions, the
validity of which Judaism had to assess.1 The consideration of Christianity
in these rabbinic terms was primarily the work of halachic authorities of the
Middle Ages.2 The decision as to whether Christianity should or should not be
considered Avoda Zara would have far-reaching ramifications on the daily life
of Jews in Christian society. If Christianity would be considered Avoda Zara, the
strict application of talmudic law concerning commerce with idolaters would
effectively preclude any possibility of commerce, hence of making a livelihood,
in a Christian milieu. The definition of Christianity in this context was thus not
a purely theological matter, but also a matter of developing strategies for Jewish
survival. It is worth considering this fact as we ponder the application of prec-
edents developed in relation to Christianity to Hinduism. The realization that
halachic categories and attitudes to other religions do not exist in a vacuum, but
interplay with a variety of contemporary considerations, is crucial. Indeed, what
is driving the present inquiry is the sense that circumstances of the time require
fresh reflection, with regard to both Christianity and Hinduism.
The question of the halachic status of Christianity, in terms of Avoda Zara,
is twofold. Strictly speaking, what is under discussion is whether a trinitarian
understanding of God constitutes the kind of theological error that would lead to
considering Christianity as Avoda Zara.3 In addition, Christian use of images in
worship plays significantly into the question, informing both attitudes and posi-
tions to Christianity. The outward resemblance of forms of Christian worship
and forms of worship typical of biblical and rabbinic idolatry enhances the per-
ception of Christianity as Avoda Zara.4 Given our earlier discussion, we realize
that these are the same forces that play into the view of Hinduism as Avoda Zara.
Accordingly, the changing emphases that characterize discussions of Christianity
could well be carried over into a consideration of Hinduism.
82 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

There is no accepted and unequivocal position regarding Judaism’s view of

Christianity in terms of Avoda Zara. A range of possibilities was formulated
throughout Judaism’s rich history of contact with Christianity. This range is
reflected in the diversity of halachic approaches to Christianity down to present
times. Clearly, the establishment of the state of Israel and the need to determine
fundamental issues pertaining to other religions should have been the occasion
for a systematic formulation of Judaism’s attitude to other religions, including
Christianity.5 Such a challenge has not been met in more than 65 years of renewed
Jewish life in Israel.6 One notes with regret that rabbinic discourse limits itself on
the whole to citation of the authorities of the Middle Ages and to siding with one
authority or another. A fresh examination of Christianity and its theology, espe-
cially its formulations since formative rabbinic responses to Christianity were
articulated, is almost never part of rabbinic discourse.7 A systematic reexamina-
tion of the topic, in light of a range of considerations—historical, sociological and
theological—seems overdue.8
One position with regard to Christianity that continues to impact much
of present-day halachic thinking is that of Maimonides, discussed earlier. An
alternative position was formed initially as a response to practical needs, aris-
ing out of the financial needs of Jews living in Christian countries. Over time it
evolved into a principled position with regard to Christianity. The position was
articulated in talmudic commentaries known as Tosafot and is associated with
the twelfth-century figures of Rabbenu Tam or his nephew R. Isaac.9 It consid-
ers the Christian God in terms of the rabbinic category of Shituf, association.
One must not worship another being alongside God. The origins of this con-
cept, though not the fully developed concept itself, are found in a rabbinic pro-
hibition of sharing God’s name with the name of another. The original sense
of the prohibition refers to the propriety of speaking of God in the same breath
as another being, rather than to the worship of both, let alone incorporating
another being into one’s notion of the Divine.10 However, as used by the Tosafot
it is applied in the framework of worship. Here the point is made that the pro-
hibition against Shituf, the worship of another being alongside God, applies
only to Jews. Non-Jews are not prohibited from such worship. Therefore, the
worship of another being, Jesus,11 alongside God, does not violate the norms by
which non-Jews are expected to act. The upshot of this position is that restric-
tions that would apply had Christianity been considered Avoda Zara do not
apply.
By the eighteenth century, the position that non-Jews are not prohibited from
worshipping God in association with other beings had become a principled accep-
tance of Christianity as a valid religion.12 What started out as a mechanism for
solving a specific legal problem involving financial transactions with Christians
became a principled recognition of the legitimacy of Christianity. Christianity
was religiously legitimate and was not considered as Avoda Zara because Judaism
could not fault the Christian understanding of God as valid for Christian believ-
ers. The move was a brilliant one. This position recognized the legitimacy of
Christianity for non-Jews. For Jews, however, it was considered invalid, as they
were prohibited from worshipping another being alongside God. Tolerance of
 SHITUF: CHRISTIANITY TO HINDUISM 83

the other and protection of one’s own from the lure or threat of Christianity were
thus achieved through the same theological move.
The Shituf position considers that a lesser level of theological stringency and
correctness is required of non-Jews. Instead of the black-and-white relations
that characterize the Maimonidean position, namely that one either worships
God properly or falls into the category of Avoda Zara, this view offers a more
graded perspective on how God is understood, approached, and worshipped. The
dual perspective of true and false is replaced by a graded approach to truth that
accommodates the possibility that not all people will have a perfect understand-
ing of God. One could add, though this is not part of the halachic discourse itself,
that such proper understanding remains part of Judaism’s messianic vision, or
perhaps part of its ongoing mission. In any event, Jews, who have a special rela-
tionship with God and who have received God’s Torah, must worship God with
perfect understanding and may therefore not worship another being alongside
Him. Non-Jews, however, may worship other beings, provided they also worship
the one true God. Accordingly, the details of the given theology of any religion
are less significant than the concern that the religion references the true God in
some meaningful way through its worship and teaching. As long as the true God
is known through a religion, even in part, this partial knowledge proffers legiti-
macy upon the religion, taking it out of the realm of Avoda Zara.
Shituf is the category used by those very few halachic authorities who have
attempted to consider the halachic status of Hinduism as Avoda Zara. The earli-
est application of this strategy of acceptance to Hinduism was made by Israel’s
first Chief Rabbi, Rabbi Isaac Herzog. Rabbi Herzog struggled with a broad range
of questions relating to how a state would be run according to halachic consid-
erations. One of the issues that he addressed was the status of other religions in
the soon-to-be-built state. Most of his attention was devoted to Christianity and
to dealing with the problems that might result from the declaration that it is
Avoda Zara. Rabbi Herzog makes clear how Christianity is to be understood as
a case of Shituf. When Christians worship the trinitarian God, they are, in fact,
worshipping a human being who had been elevated through religious imagina-
tion to the status of the Divine, alongside the true God, known through Judaism.
Seen in this way, God was worshipped alongside another being, a human being.
However, for non-Jews such worship is permissible, following the evolution of
the halachic tradition of the Middle Ages that permits non-Jews to worship God
through Shituf.
Toward the end of his discussion, Rabbi Herzog goes beyond Christianity and
Islam and poses the question of the status of other religions. While acknowledg-
ing his own limited knowledge of Hinduism, he raises the possibility that Hindu
worship too can be considered a kind of Shituf. Herzog does not enter into a
detailed discussion of the substance of Hindu faith. However, when we review
his understanding of Shituf and how he applied it to Christianity, his sugges-
tion seems possible. If Hinduism recognizes a formless God, source of creation,
beyond the myriad manifestations of divinity worshipped in a variety of ways,
then we may apply to Hinduism the same logic that was applied to Christianity.
Of course, the actual relationship between the absolute Brahman and the various
84 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

manifestations of God is understood differently than the relationship of the three

persons of the Trinity. One might consider whether worship applies properly to
Brahman and whether the Shituf construct does justice to the various theolog-
ical views of Hinduism. But even if this is not an appropriate appreciation of
Hinduism on its own terms, it does provide a mechanism for viewing the reli-
gion, considered broadly as a single entity, in a way that takes it out of the bounds
of Avoda Zara for its non-Jewish practitioners.
Even more explicit than Rabbi Herzog is a present-day authority who is, in fact,
the only rabbinic author to have discussed Hinduism with some degree of famil-
iarity with its doctrines. While the discussion is not extensive, it at least is based
on an attempt to portray Hinduism in its own terms. The following passages by
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, a leading Talmud scholar, show us how a contemporary
halachic perspective on world religions could be constructed. We are able to fol-
low the moves made by Rabbi Steinsaltz and to see how each in turn addresses
the fundamental considerations that have informed our discussion up to this
point. The sum total of his discussion is, as a respondent to his piece correctly
observed, extraordinary, if not absolutely exceptional.13 As the respondent contin-
ues, while making no concessions to modern liberalism or even ecumenism, and
while characteristically identifying his position with that of the Talmud, Rabbi
Steinsaltz reassesses current world religions, including the various forms of Hindu
and Buddhist religions, as adequately monotheist, adequately nonidolatrous, and
at least adequately ethical to qualify as compliant with the noachide laws. Rabbi
Steinsaltz’s article represents an approach so open-minded that it would not be
followed by more than a few orthodox rabbis currently. With these words of intro-
duction, let us consider the teachings of Rabbi Steinsaltz, and how they relate to
the present discussion of Avoda Zara, Shituf, and a Jewish view of Hinduism.14
Steinsaltz begins by acknowledging the changed nature of contemporary real-
ity; interactions that are presently possible between Jews and non-Jews are fun-
damentally different from those of any previous era in Jewish history. This poses
the challenge of religious tolerance, a term that Steinsaltz is not enamored with.
His charge is to find a way of accommodating other religions from a Jewish per-
spective. Significantly, he speaks of “recognizing” other religions. The choice of
language is worthy of note. It implicitly appeals to the language of diplomacy and
to ways in which states recognize each other’s legitimacy. Can Judaism recognize
other religions, and how does that relate to its monotheistic faith and its atten-
dant truth claims? Steinsaltz seeks to create a model that would allow Judaism
to recognize other world religions. In order to appreciate Rabbi Steinsaltz’s sug-
gestion we should recall that the standard view of Judaism’s message to the world
are the seven noachide commandments.15 Now, Steinsaltz’s presentation takes as
its departure point the existence of two tracks to spiritual reality, to heaven—the
Jewish one, which is the more stringent one, consisting of 613 commandments,
and the one meant for the rest of the world, known as the noachide path. The
noachide path serves as the yardstick for assessing world religions and for deter-
mining what is demanded of them. This includes the expected standard of God-
knowledge and how it coheres with the demands on purity of approach to God,
as these are made of Jews.
 SHITUF: CHRISTIANITY TO HINDUISM 85

Steinsaltz bases his argument on the broader recognition that law is not a uni-
versal phenomenon, and that it applies to different groups in the community in
different measures:

The idea that certain laws of Judaism do not apply to all is an essential feature of
the halakhah. Special standards of religious practice apply to men, while women
are exempted from all commandments that must be practiced at a fixed time.
The people of Israel are not bound by the special obligations incumbent upon the
priesthood: kohanim, the descendants of Aaron, must keep from contact with
the dead outside their immediate families in order to preserve the ritual purity of
the priesthood. And the priesthood is not bound by the same rules of purity that
must be observed by the high priest, who cannot attend the funeral of even his own
parents and children. The high priest would not think to censure his fellow priests
for attending their parents’ funerals; a common priest, a kohen, would not think
to censure an ordinary Jew for attending the funeral of a friend, teacher, or cousin
(indeed an ordinary Jew might be censured for not attending). Different standards
apply to different groups even within the Jewish community. The Noahide laws
operate on the same principle: differing standards apply to different groups.16

To this must be added a deeper philosophical understanding that respects the

multiplicity of religions. In addition to the appeal to the different paths for Jews
and non-Jews, Steinsaltz makes a more radical claim that touches upon Judaism’s
future vision and ultimate hope. Judaism’s ultimate vision does not, according to
Steinsaltz, consist of all of humanity adopting Judaism:

Judaism, despite the absolute and exclusionary quality of its monotheism, has a
side that tends toward openness and toleration. This side of Judaism has also an
expression in the Jewish abstention from proselytizing. Even ultimately, Judaism
does not view itself as the religion of all people. It is the religion of the Jews alone
and is, for almost all its practitioners, inherited. The assumption that Judaism is
the religion of one people (and a few unsought converts) is emphatically a norma-
tive principle and is important to our discussion because it suggests that within
Jewish doctrine there is room for the religious beliefs of others.
This principle applies not only to the world as it is today, but also to the messianic
projections that Judaism makes for the future. Although the messianic era repre-
sents an ultimate vindication of truth as Judaism understands it—a time when the
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will assert his dominion over all the world—at
that time the peoples of the world will not embrace Judaism and will not come to
observe Jewish law. In the closing chapters of his monumental Code of Jewish Law,
Maimonides gives an account of the end of days. In his portrayal, the messianic
realm is one of peace, but not uniformity of faith. According to Maimonides, when
Isaiah saw the wolf and the lamb lying down together, what he envisioned was not
a change in the nature of creation. Wolves will still be wolves, and lambs will be
lambs; what will change is the relationship between them. At the end of days, the
different peoples of the world will not become less different. And because they will
not embrace a single faith, the prohibition against gentiles undertaking distinc-
tively Jewish practices will continue. However, each religion will come to share
with all the others a small set of fundamental truths, and people everywhere will
abandon violence, theft, and oppression.17
86 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

This is a stunning statement. Abstention from proselytizing is not seen as a

consequence of political circumstances but as a fundamental characteristic of
Judaism, which is supported by its messianic vision. As Maimonides’ description
of the messianic era does not include a description of Judaism prevailing, Steinsaltz
concludes that all religions will remain in the messianic era and that their relation-
ships will be harmonious and characterized by mutual exchange and enrichment,
or at least the sharing of a common core of moral and spiritual truths.18
With these foundations in place, Steinsaltz moves on to develop the notion of
different approaches to God that characterize the Jewish track and the noachide
track:

“Toleration” would not be an accurate name for this doctrine, and certainly the
doctrine is not one of religious equivalence. However, the approach that Judaism
takes toward righteous gentiles offers a partial solution to the problem of intol-
erance in monotheist religions. By establishing different sets of expectations for
different groups, Judaism makes room for adherents of other faiths to perform
their own religious obligations in a way that entitles them to salvation by the God
of Israel. While Jews are enjoined to follow 613 commandments of the Torah, the
demands that normative Judaism makes of gentiles comprise only seven laws.
These six prohibitions and one positive commandment are together known as the
Noahide laws because (according to chapter seven of Sanhedrin) they were the
series of laws given to Noah after the flood (though they differ little from the basic
laws given to Adam). The Noahide laws set a universal standard for gentile reli-
gions and embody the truths that, according to Maimonides, the peoples of the
world will come to recognize and share at the end of days. Thus, the Noahide laws
delineate the boundaries of Jewish religious toleration: failure to observe these laws
would bar a person or a people from entering their own gate into heaven.
One of the highest principles of the Noahide laws is belief in the one God. Both
Islam and Christianity (though trinitarian doctrine presents a complication) sat-
isfy this key demand and clear the way for Jewish recognition of these religions.
It is an entirely normative principle in Judaism that the monotheism expected of
gentiles by the Noahide laws is of a less absolute kind than that expected of Jews. In
the Middle Ages, many authorities indeed recognized Christian doctrine (even the
doctrine of the Trinity) as basically monotheistic belief. One can readily understand
how the doctrine of a triune Godhead could contaminate Christianity’s claim to be
monotheistic. However, Christianity was generally not considered polytheistic or
idolatrous, though Maimonides—who did not live in Christendom—dissented from
the widespread rabbinic agreement on this point. The concept of the Trinity was
represented in the church as a mystery or paradox because it apparently contradicted
a central component of their faith in the one God. Thus the Trinity, even though it is
an essential feature of Christian theology and not merely one of folk religion, could
be taken by Jewish scholars as a supplement to, rather than a replacement for, the
idea of God as one. By Jewish standards as applied to Jews, trinitarianism is not
monotheism. But by the standards of the Noahide laws, the doctrine of the Trinity is
not an idolatrous belief to which Judaism can express an objection.19

Steinsaltz first establishes the rule that expectations differ for Jews and non-
Jews. Not only is the number of commandments different, but what is actually
 SHITUF: CHRISTIANITY TO HINDUISM 87

expected of Jewish believers is different from what is expected of non-Jewish

believers, even in relation to the very same commandment. Thus, the demand
to worship one God alone may be interpreted and applied differently to Jews and
to non-Jews. I believe this statement is unique. It grows out of a lengthy tradition
of Ashkenazi dealing with Christianity and the development of a de facto lower
standard for non-Jews, captured in the recognition that a noachide is not com-
manded to avoid worship through Shituf. However, I am not familiar with any
prior statement that grounds this view of the noachide’s theological obligations
in a broader view of Judaism’s relationship with world religions and its future
hopes as well as in a theory of how the noachide laws function as a code of law
and their relationship to what is expected of Jews. The statement is not only novel
in terms of the broader context that it offers, in trying to make sense of a tradi-
tion that existed in practice for hundreds of years, but also in terms of how Rabbi
Steinsaltz grounds it. He presents this view as the normative view, indeed as a
majoritarian view. He thus turns the principle permitting Shituf for the non-Jew
into Judaism’s representative statement.
For all its thoroughness and for how systematic it is, this statement does
rewrite the history of Jewish law. Indeed, the view that Shituf is permissible
to the non-Jew does create parallel tracks, while maintaining a hierarchy that
affords Judaism the superior spiritual status. But this view is far from repre-
sentative. The debate still rages today as to whether Shituf is permissible for a
non-Jew or not. More significantly, the Maimonidean position may well be the
majority position in relation to Christianity. 20 Steinsaltz casts Maimonides into
a minority position and even hints at historical factors that may have led to his
not understanding Christianity sufficiently: he never lived among Christians.21
This is itself an interesting argument, the likes of which is rarely heard in hala-
chic circles. Perhaps what is most interesting is that Steinsaltz develops a view
that is based on Shituf, without ever appealing to the term. In fact, in note 6,
where he offers his justification for his theory, he quotes Meiri, to whom we shall
turn following the present discussion. Now, Meiri is outside common consensus
and certainly cannot provide the basis for such a far-reaching view being con-
sidered majoritarian, even if one resonates with his views. Meiri does not build
on Shituf, but on another logic, to be presented in a later chapter. Apparently,
Rabbi Steinsaltz does rely on Meiri, leading him to avoid reference to Shituf,
but the theological construct he presents is that of Shituf. In any event, he has
taken a disputed, likely a minoritarian, view and constructed a broad theory,
presented as Judaism’s representative message that accommodates lower reli-
gious understanding within a hierarchical view. Conceptually, this is really an
inclusivist move, one that allows him to include lower forms of approaching
God within a framework of legitimacy.
One of the arguments contained in Steinsaltz’s presentation relates to the
question of who speaks for the religions. Religions, as we have already seen in the
case of Hinduism, are complex entities. Steinsaltz’s discussion proceeds in terms
of unified wholes, upon which the halacha must pronounce its judgment. This
gets him into the question of what is essential in a religion and what is second-
ary. His decisions may not be shared by the scholar of religion or the theologian,
88 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

but they are important both in terms of raising these questions 22 and in terms
of the positions he adopts, which are important in and of themselves. Steinsaltz’s
answer is clear. It is theologians who speak for the religions.23
Steinsaltz seems to assume that there is a core religious teaching that one can
identify. This is identified with the higher form of the religion, presumably as
preached by theologians or the officials of the religion, as distinct from what he
terms “folk” religion. Thus, he recognizes that under the name of a given religion
we may encounter a variety of phenomena. However, the halachic judgment is
made upon the essence of the religion. Thus, there seems to be one pronounce-
ment per religion, rather than multiple rulings, depending on the specific form
or practice under discussion, and it is this one ruling that determines Judaism’s
fundamental attitude to that religion. It is this strategy that will allow Steinsaltz
to make his breakthrough statement in relation to Hinduism.
To dwell for a moment longer on the notion of religion in essence and in mani-
festation, it is worth noting the following passage in his article:

Judaism does not concern itself with the internal heresies of other religions even
when these have arisen to defend standards of monotheism to which Judaism itself
adheres. The struggles over iconoclasm, in the seventh century, struggles that
touched the core of Christian monotheism, left no mark on Jewish writing about
Christianity in the period; and the Jewish attitude toward Christianity was unaf-
fected by the emergence of the Protestant sects in the sixteenth century, some of
which have practices that might be said to resemble those of Judaism more closely
than do those of the Catholic Church . . . And Judaism has likewise nothing to say
about the Sunni Wahabi struggle to purify Islam of folk practices (for example,
grave worship) that contradict the basis of Islamic monotheism. . . . Judaism is not
affected by these internal struggles because they are recognized to occur beyond
the boundaries of Jewish law.24

The truth is that Judaism does not concern itself with all these details because
Jews have been either insular or conservative in their approach to other religions.
They have indeed shown little interest, because interreligious relations have not
been as vital as they have become today. Steinsaltz, in a brilliant move, stands
this historical reality on its head, and offers it as proof for Judaism’s judgment
concentrating only on the essential. Details do not seem to matter in this scheme.
Once a fundamental decision has been reached, it remains valid, notwithstand-
ing different strands within the religion or the history of transformations within
the religion.
This allows us to move to his presentation of Indian religions:

What about indic religions and various kinds of Buddhism. Again, I do not believe
that a definitive solution is possible, but a partial solution may be considered.
It is important to introduce a distinction between theology and religious practice.
In the ancient religions grouped under the name of Hinduism, there are many gods
and local shrines, but the theological principles that guide belief and provide a uni-
formity of moral standards assume that all the deities revered in India or elsewhere
are forms of, expressions of, or names for, one ultimate reality or God. Saivites
 SHITUF: CHRISTIANITY TO HINDUISM 89

propose Siva as the best name (among many names) for this ultimacy; Vaisnavites
prefer Visnu or Krishna; atman is an Upanisadic word for the same principle—and
Brahman is perhaps the most common way among non-Muslim, non-Christian
Indians of naming ultimacy.
As for Buddhism, the difficulty is not that there is a plethora of gods, though
Siddhartha Gautama and other buddhas, bodhisattvas and “incarnate” lamas are
often treated as godlike. The difficulty, from the perspective of the Noahide laws,
is that it is unclear whether Buddhism is theistic at all. Buddhist thinkers tend to
argue that metaphysical beliefs are among the causes of human suffering. . . . Still,
it is not necessarily atheistic to conclude that because holding metaphysical beliefs
leads to pain, it is best to concentrate our attention on proper human behavior. In
any case, however controversial the question of whether Buddhism is theistic, it is
certainly not poly theistic.
By the standards of Jewish law as applied to Jews, Hinduism and Buddhism do not
count as monotheistic traditions. However, the essential point of the Noahide laws
is that the standards of Jewish law do not apply to non-Jews. Radically pure mono-
theism is expected by Judaism only from Jews. The Noahide laws do not preclude
gentile religions from developing softer, more complex, and compromised forms of
monotheism. Under the Noahide laws, it is possible to assume that Hinduism and
Buddhism are sufficiently monotheistic in principle for moral Hindus and
Buddhists to enter the gentile’s gate into heaven. Jewish law regards the compro-
mises made or tolerated by the world’s major religions as ways of rendering essen-
tially monotheistic theologies easier in practice for large populations of adherents.
The fierceness of Islamic opposition to such compromises has no counterpart in
Judaism. In Islam, it is seriously blasphemous for anyone of whatever faith to com-
bine belief in the one God with popular ideas about other heavenly powers or with
subtle theological doctrines such as the Trinity. Islam cannot tolerate such com-
promises because the truth that they violate is applicable universally and not sim-
ply to Muslims. The problem is that Islam is radically monotheistic (like Judaism)
yet is also (unlike Judaism, which is the religion of one people) universalistic as
well.25

With lessons learned and paradigms established in relation to Christianity,

Steinsaltz now extends these to Hinduism and Buddhism. Doing so requires one
more move. That is the move of focusing on theology rather than worship. We
have already noted the dual meaning of Avoda Zara as encompassing both the
wrong object of worship and strange methods of worship. We have also noted
the propensity that Jewish viewers have to focus on the action at the expense
of the understanding of that action. Steinsaltz offers us a corrective. He puts
aside the ritual, which means putting aside the worship of images and the myr-
iad gods of the Hindu pantheon, and focuses on the philosophy that underlies
these.26 The philosophy he offers us is fully vedantic. The vedantic view is indeed
a hierarchical view that considers the vedantic teaching of the ultimate unity
of being as the highest form of Hindu teaching. For vedantins, lower forms of
understanding may be tolerated and accepted, since Vedanta holds the key to
ultimate meaning. It thus makes it possible to accommodate the lower forms of
religion as well. Such understanding is also patient. Hindu belief in reincarnation
and in gradual evolution takes away the pressure to resolve philosophical and
90 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

theological differences immediately and creates a space for processes that are
long term, leading to an attitude of tolerance. It seems no accident that someone
who seeks to understand religion from the perspective of hierarchy and offers a
hierarchical reading of Judaism’s relations to world religions should appeal to a
highly hierarchical view of Hinduism itself. Steinsaltz in turn also develops an
attitude of tolerance, while rejecting the term, without even awaiting the final
messianic fulfillment of religions, as they come to know God fully. In Steinsaltz’s
view, religions may hold on to their imperfect views even in the eschaton. The
accommodation of other religions stems from the election of Israel and from the
different tracks that have been established for Jews and non-Jews. Consequently,
one can tolerate compromises to monotheism. Steinsaltz uses a striking phrase:
softer, more complex, and compromised forms of monotheism.27 Hinduism is
thus compromised monotheism, and as such is valid.
Something further is gained by this move. These religions are only valid for
non-Jews. In the contemporary context this provides a protective mechanism
against Jewish attraction to Eastern religions.28 What is permissible for non-Jews
would be considered idolatrous for Jews. Here again respect and protection of
identity are achieved in a single move.
Steinsaltz takes his knowledge of Hinduism from some textbook, and in the
process distorts a fact or two. That textbook, written from the perspective of how
representative Vedanta takes on interpretive power, allows him to deal with the
entire scope of Hinduism within a few lines. Perhaps too much knowledge is a
dangerous thing. Perhaps it is advantageous to take up a single perspective and
to develop a halachic position according to it. At the same time, one wonders
whether more detailed study of the religion might upset the facility of making
broad pronouncements based on such a view. Even more doubts are cast on his
treatment of Buddhism and his attempt to define it as theistic. Perhaps the genre
dictates the method. Steinsaltz authored these words for a panel presentation on
religious tolerance, where he represented Judaism. Such situations seem to have
their own dynamics, leading to results, even if positive in and of themselves, that
are not always commensurate with the message that emerges from other contexts
and genres. They bring out the best in a given presentation, but they are written
in English and spoken academically. Would Steinsaltz also say these very things
in Hebrew, in the framework of a pesak, a ruling of the halacha?29 Whether he
would or not, he has certainly taken us a long way into thinking about Hinduism
as Avoda Zara and has offered us a way of thinking that is systematic, grounded
in theological principles, and above all an alternative to the impressions gener-
ated by the visual dimension of Hinduism, reminding us of the priority of theol-
ogy over practice.
In the tension between theology and practice, and once one has identified the
true nature of a religion, all deviations, including theological deviations, become
irrelevant from a Jewish perspective:

The less than absolutely monotheistic folk beliefs of Christians or Buddhists are
taken in Jewish law to be violations of Christianity and Buddhism, religions that
are in themselves adequately monotheistic; hence such beliefs are only problematic
 SHITUF: CHRISTIANITY TO HINDUISM 91

internally—solely within the discourse of another religion. Such violations do not

affect what Judaism has to say about Christianity or Buddhism or any other reli-
gious tradition. The standards of Jewish law cannot be violated where they do not
apply.30

One returns to the question of how one knows these religions are in and of
themselves adequate and what provides us with the key to recognize their essence
as acceptable. The attempt to distinguish the essence of a religion from its sec-
ondary folk accretions is problematic. It ignores the complexity of religions, in
favor of a simplified model of the religions, seen from a particular vantage point.
But whether true or not, it certainly addresses beautifully the challenges of toler-
ance and religious pluralism. It is fitting to cite here Steinsaltz’s conclusion:

This hierarchical aspect of Noahide legal thought might be viewed as an unprom-

ising model for regulating relations among the monotheist faiths, but its illib-
eral quality is, I want to conclude by arguing, what is most promising about the
Noahide model. Basically, it does not require most religions to give up, or modify,
the meaning of such words as true and truth.31 It provides a basis for conversation
among religions without the expectation of compromise between or reconciliation
of claims. It requires no concession to objectionable beliefs and practices, though
the Noahide model does sharply restrict the applicability of one religion’s laws to
any other’s. The Noahide approach, in other words, is a formula for no more than
peace. But then, peace is in itself among the very greatest of religious values.32

Steinsaltz is the only rabbinic authority to attempt an application of the prin-

ciples formulated initially in a Christian context to the context of Hinduism, as
well as of Buddhism.33 For most rabbinic authorities there has been little incen-
tive or interest in finding constructive theological and halachic views that would
accommodate Hinduism. Given that most of them follow the halachic opin-
ion that even Christianity is Avoda Zara, there is little to discuss in relation to
Hinduism. Steinsaltz should accordingly be appreciated for the audacity and
novelty of his theological and halachic approach.
 9

Shituf: Critical and Constructive

Reflections

S hituf provides the basis for the few contemporary efforts at recognizing
Hinduism as a valid spiritual path for its followers. While appreciating the
application of this category to the context of a new religious encounter and rec-
ognizing the possibility that such application offers for contemporary interfaith
relations, we must also consider whether this category really does justice to and
describes adequately the views of the religion it seeks to describe. My own sense
is that Shituf is a useful internal category, but one that does not do justice to
the theological nuances of the religions it seeks to describe. The category may
therefore remain useful for future discussion as a purely internal one by means
of which Jews come to terms with another religion. But if we chose to employ it
in order to make gains in relation to Hinduism, as previously made in relation to
Christianity, we still ought to consider how adequate it really is to a description
of Hindu religious reality. We may therefore have to reconsider and reinterpret
it or, at the very least, use it with awareness of the discrepancy between our own
internal theological and halachic categories and what should be an adequate
description of the religious reality of other religions.
The use of Shituf is complex. Its complexity stems from its tortured history.
What started as a local note in a discussion of the Tosafot ended up as a prin-
cipled view of other religions. Consequently, we find various understandings of
Shituf and various positions in relation to it. Beginning with the Tosafot, there
are two possible readings of what the permissibility of Shituf for non-Jews refers
to.1 According to one reading, what is under discussion is taking an oath in God’s
name alongside the religious power or authority of something that is clearly non-
divine, such as saints, or the gospel. This reading, which I consider the correct
reading of the Tosafot, leads us to consider the entire evolution of Shituf as a
category through which we consider other religions as an accident of the history
of Jewish halacha and its views of other religions. If Shituf referred to taking an
oath, say, in a saint’s name, alongside God’s name, it addresses issues of reli-
gious propriety, rather than of theological correctness, relevant to the concerns
of Avoda Zara. This is indeed the early rabbinic application of the verb from
which Shituf is derived (the abstract noun does not yet exist in rabbinic literature
94 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

and only comes into existence with the discussions of the Middle Ages).2 If so,
we do not know much from the Tosafot concerning how a view of God, under-
stood as a complex, rather than a simple, unity would be considered, in terms of
Avoda Zara. The discussion in chapter 1 of this book, concerning the possibility
of recognizing the same God, applied to the various positions articulated in the
Middle Ages, suggests that it is possible to consider the Christian God the same
God as the God of Judaism. One way of understanding this with reference to the
Shituf construct is that Shituf describes a relationship to a being other than God
alongside God. Consequently, belief in a complex notion of divine unity does not
necessarily mean one is worshipping another God and falls outside the scope of
the original intention of Shituf. According to this possibility of understanding
the Tosafot, applying Shituf to an intra-divine plurality may represent a devia-
tion from the original intention. If so, Shituf may indeed not be suitable for the
theological challenge. One may either consider complex monotheism, referring
to several personalities within the Godhead, as theologically acceptable or not,
but Shituf is relevant to this discussion only through a process of felicitous his-
torical misunderstanding.
The alternative understanding of the Tosafot is that they are indeed referring to
Jesus, when they speak of Shituf. It is here that a series of questions arises regard-
ing the appropriateness of the category and its application to other religions. The
first question has already been raised. Whose perspective are we appealing to,
that of the worshipper or our own? Should the matter be approached from the
perspective of believers or of outside viewers? The difference in perspective will
determine the judgment placed on the act of faith. In our case, it may be that
evolution of Shituf as a halachic category forced later authorities to contorted
understandings of Christian faith by virtue of the very category. Thus, once it is
assumed that Shituf refers to Jesus, one is forced to also assume that the problem
is that a human being is worshipped. This means that we exclude the intention
of the person worshipping and view Christian faith exclusively from our own
perspective. Jesus is accordingly viewed as a person.3 We, the halachic observers,
insist on his humanity as part of our assessment of what is worshipped, rather
than taking the believer’s view that starts with a certain understanding of divin-
ity, from which it proceeds to recognition of Jesus and his divinity.
In fundamental ways this goes against the grain of halachic thinking itself.
Halachic thinking emphasizes intention as the foremost basis of defining and
appreciating any act. As already suggested, with reference to Avoda Zara we have
explicit talmudic discussions concerning the status of someone who worships
Avoda Zara, while his intention is directed to God.4 This and similar discussions
ought to have played a major role in assessing whether the worship of Jesus as God
should be considered Avoda Zara. The contemporary context, which calls for a
fresh restatement of Judaism’s views of other religions, makes the fundamental
methodological and philosophical challenge much more poignant. Continued
application of the category of Shituf, with reference to another religion, runs the
risk of violating the believer’s own faith perspective, by forcing upon it the out-
sider’s views and categories. This is a subtle form of religious violence.5 Even if
we are of the opinion that non-Jews are not forbidden to worship through Shituf,
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 95

thereby recognizing Christianity, the very category by means of which the issue
is determined constitutes a judgment that carries within it some potential or
actual misrepresentation either of the theology or of the intention of Christian
worshippers. It is therefore in some fundamental way inadequate to the task of
fair theological representation of Christianity.
One of the factors that leads Jewish authorities to this total disregard for the
intention of the Christian believer is the fact that they are “stuck” with the cat-
egory of Shituf, following one particular reading of the Tosafot. As this category
provides them with the tools for reflecting upon Christianity in halachic terms,
they have almost no choice but to take the position that Shituf, whether allowed
or forbidden to non-Jews, refers to the worship of a person, proclaimed as divine.
This theological and halachic straight jacket is not really called for by the sources
that gave birth to this halachic tradition.
The suitability of Shituf to a view of Christianity was already queried, albeit
from an entirely different perspective, by Rabbi Yakov Emden.6 Emden accepts
the position that non-Jews are permitted to worship God through Shituf. In
passing, he does, however, raise some fundamental queries in relation to this
position. Emden considers the kind of association that is permitted along the
lines of Nachmanides, quoting Deut. 4,19. In other words, what is permissible
is to worship the highest God along with a lower rung, an intermediary, on
the metaphysical ladder. The reason one might want to worship an intermedi-
ary echoes Maimonides’ thinking, namely that the king wishes to honor his
servants, rather than Nachamanides’ reasoning wherein such worship is either
required for continuing provision of needs or is a natural religious response.
As both Nachmanides and Maimonides share the same hierarchical worldview,
Emden’s hierarchical understanding of Shituf draws on elements of both teach-
ers in presenting a view of Shituf that relates to the worship of intermediaries.
Emden questions how appropriate it is to apply Shituf to a theology that rec-
ognizes multiplicity within the Godhead. Compromising monotheism, argues
Emden, is not the same as Shituf. Shituf should only be applied where hierarchi-
cally lower beings are worshipped alongside God, as distinct from recognizing
multiplicity within the Godhead. Emden’s question is certainly appropriate in
terms of the early rabbinic sources. It is also appropriate in terms of the theoreti-
cal justification for Shituf, as provided by Nachmanides’ position. The legitimacy
of Christianity, recognized by Emden as a universal position, appeals to the only
position that makes validation of Christianity possible—Shituf. Closer scrutiny
of the category and its theoretical justification runs the risk of undermining it, a
risk that Emden avoids by bracketing his own theological musings and ultimately
deferring to broader consensus.
The question of theological inadequacy is exacerbated when we turn to
Hinduism. In one way, Hinduism may have an easier time dealing with the ques-
tion posed by Emden. Emden is concerned that Shituf, in the case of Christianity,
touches on the very essence of the Godhead, introducing multiplicity within the
Christian Godhead. Shituf, argues Emden, cannot justify a complex notion of
the Godhead. In this sense, Hinduism may have a satisfactory answer. Brahman
provides the notion of the one God, beyond all, while all that is in the realm of
96 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

the manifest is in some way distinct from that unity. If, according to Emden,
successful application of Shituf assumes a tension between the one God and the
multiplicity of other beings, Hinduism may be able to address this need. But
Hinduism also challenges the premises that inform a theology of Shituf. The
affirmation that God is all-pervading, that everything is divine, and that God
can manifest or come in or as anything means that the very tension between
God and non-God, that is the basis of Shituf, crumbles before a Hindu regard of
reality. Of course, one may refer to the phenomenal world as distinct from the
transcendent world and thereby uphold the dual perspectives that could make
Shituf meaningful. Nevertheless, what makes Shituf a meaningful category is
the fundamental tension between God and non-God. Hinduism undermines the
possibility of full-fledged application of this duality, thereby undermining both a
certain critique of its worldview and the very possibility or legitimacy of accom-
modating it through a Shituf strategy.
We note, then, that the most fundamental categories that have served the
Jewish discussion of other religions run into significant difficulties when applied
to Hinduism. We must therefore ask whether the categories we have used to
describe, and then evaluate, other religions are adequate for the task. Posing this
question is important in several ways. First, it forces us to take some distance
and to reflect upon our own process of viewing another religion. Conventional
approaches to other religions assume that the different religions speak the same
language, but use that language to make different statements. The various under-
standings of Avoda Zara presented earlier attempt to contain other patterns of
faith and worship within a conceptual matrix developed within Judaism. It may
be instead helpful to think of the different religions as speaking different lan-
guages. Such an a priori recognition would require greater efforts at transla-
tion and at understanding the religious vocabulary of another tradition on its
own terms. Furthermore, the possibility that differences are informed by fun-
damental differences in approach makes it possible to ask what we might learn
from those who speak another religious language. For both Maimonides and
Nachmanides, as well as for proponents of a Shituf view, there is nothing possible
that we might learn from worshippers of other religions, classified as Avoda Zara.
For Maimonides, they are engaged in error and lies; for Nachmanides, as well as
for a Shituf view, their approach to spiritual reality is at best a partial approach.
If it is recognized that the categories with which we approach the subject do not
adequately describe the religious reality of the other and that there exist multiple
religious languages, new horizons for understanding open up. Talk of under-
standing would no longer be limited to understanding the other religions as part
of assessing their validity and their status as Avoda Zara, but would extend to
the possibility of spiritual sharing and learning from those who speak another
religious language.
Our discussion has come to an important moment. Having first applied
the category formed in relation to Christianity to Hinduism, we have now cast
some doubt on the very suitability of this category to Hinduism, as well as to
Christianity. This should not be considered backtracking, leading to an impasse.
Each stage in the unfolding of the argument is significant as we struggle to make
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 97

sense of an unfamiliar religious tradition. Applying precedents established in

relation to Christianity to Hinduism is a strategy of working within the tradi-
tion, using its recognized language. Questioning the suitability of traditional cat-
egories to the case of Hinduism is intended to stretch our thought further. This
constitutes an invitation to accommodate more complex theological patterns, to
consider the intention of worshippers more seriously, and to reflect on possible
lessons that we may derive from the religious insight of a tradition commonly
considered to be Avoda Zara.
I would like to conclude these critical reflections on Shituf by contrasting what
the category makes possible and how it operates with Nachmanides’ view of other
religions. As suggested by Emden’s conflation of the two views, there is signifi-
cant overlap between the positions, leading to their possible identification. There
are, however, significant differences between the two positions as well. One dif-
ference concerns the focus of attention. Shituf is conceived from the perspective
of the worship of God at the center, a worship that is augmented by the worship
of another being alongside God, either as part of the divinity, as later authorities
have applied the notion to Christianity, or completely outside the divine realm,
as the original source in the Tosafot suggests. By contrast, Nachmanides does
not assume that non-Jews have to primarily worship God, while they may aug-
ment their worship of Him by the worship of other beings. Rather, the primary
being that is worshipped is the other being, the ministering angels or planets. The
emphasis is different. Affirming the permissibility of Shituf for non-Jews assumes
that both God and the other being are objects of worship. In Nachmanides’ pre-
sentation, however, we hear nothing of the worship of the Supreme God by other
nations. Only Israel worships God. Other nations worship their ministers. The
Rashba is explicit concerning what makes this worship permissible: “Whoever
worships the particular star that guides a particular place is not like someone
who engages in Avoda Zara, provided he knows and recognizes that the power
of the star and its rulership are only due to God, who made it a ruler in that par-
ticular land.” Knowledge is the crucial factor that determines whether a certain
form of worship is or is not considered Avoda Zara. One is not asked to worship
God in the highest, only to recognize His existence, thereby framing the worship
of another being and providing it with a broader context.
The difference between the Shituf position and my reading of Nachmanides
is particularly relevant to a discussion of Hinduism. Here, Nachmanides may
be more helpful than the Shituf construct, inasmuch as that construct is based
on sharing of worship. Nachmanides thus challenges us to think what it is that
matters most in our view of another religion—its rituals, practices, and worship
or the theological understanding it brings to bear. Shituf focuses on worship
and requires its direction to God. By contrast, Nachmanides offers us a much
more accommodating model that is more readily adapted to the reality of other
religions. While both Nachmanides and the Shituf model might be critiqued
with regard to Hinduism, Nachmanides’ model emerges as more adequate for a
description of Hinduism and successfully avoids some of the pitfalls that inevi-
tably befall Shituf. That Nachmanides’ views were developed as an intentional
theory of religions, while Shituf developed by force of contemporary needs,
98 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

irrespective of its original parameters, might well account for the respective
strengths and weaknesses of both models.
Following these critical reflections on Shituf, I would now like to offer some
constructive reflection on the category, in what might be termed a theology of
Shituf. Adequate or not, appropriate or not, the fact is that Shituf is one of the
most important tools we have for developing a positive appreciation for other
religions. Complementing the critical reflections on its adequacy is an attempt
to think through what permissibility of Shituf really means and what its impli-
cations are for any Jewish view of or encounter with other religions. All too
often Shituf is simply cited as a legal category. Even where this legal category
has evolved into a principled appreciation of other religions, this development is
accompanied by little theological reflection.
Why is Shituf permitted for non-Jews? Other than Nachmanides’ theory of
the allocation of stars and celestial ministers to oversee the nations, regardless
of the difference in emphasis compared with the Shituf construct, we have no
theory that could account for why non-Jews may worship other beings alongside
God.7 The following reflections seek to address this challenge.
As I trace the evolution of Shituf, the notion underwent a double transforma-
tion: from reference to ways of honoring God by not sharing his honor to a proper
theological category and, concomitantly, from reference to humans (or Scripture)
that are honored alongside God, to reference to God proper, that is to the particu-
lar Christian view of God. While on one level there is something accidental in the
emergence of the category, on another level its development not only serves needs
but articulates and gives expression to a profound spiritual vision. In order to
make the point, let us revisit the dual sense of Avoda Zara—alien god and foreign
worship. This dual meaning reminds us that familiarity and strangeness pertain
both to the goal and to the path. Having established the identity of God who is
the ultimate recipient of worship and the ultimate goal of the spiritual quest still
leaves open the question of the means of approaching Him. Usually one thinks of
the means in terms of worship and ritual. What one finds particularly problem-
atic is the use of images. I would like to suggest that in relation to Christianity,
the religion in sight when Shituf was formulated, there is a more fundamental
dimension of means to an end—the figure of Jesus Christ. The means are col-
lapsed into the end, when one thinks of Jesus as part of the Godhead. Jesus is
approached as God, as part of the Christian understating of the Godhead. But
Jesus is also the path toward the Father. It seems superfluous to quote relevant
scriptural passages or to engage in an analysis of the rich and varied ways in
which Jesus functions as an intermediary, an interlocutor, a path, and various
other ways in which Christian theology has expressed his role as instrumental
in reaching God.8
This leads to the Jewish shunning of Jesus’ function on the theological plane,
as the instrument is worshipped and identified with the Divine. However, once
we accept the normativity of Shituf for non-Jews, we may also reflect on the theo-
logical possibilities that are thereby realized. The category of Shituf provides the
means for recognizing the access that humanity needs for mediating divine pres-
ence. God is brought close to humanity through the agency of those who not
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 99

only speak of Him but also represent Him and are recognized as in some way
divine, as a part of Him. One could simply dismiss this as a basic or lower need of
the spiritual life that ought to be overcome by higher teaching and clearer spiri-
tual vision. The view that considers Shituf to be forbidden might be understood
this way. If, however, we are willing to accept Shituf as a valid spiritual option,
it testifies to the need for representation and for making God accessible. This
need is recognized and there is room for fulfilling it. The evolution of Shituf
as a legal category must find correspondence in its unfolding as a theological
category. Shituf allows us to recognize that when humans turn to God through
other humans, or through understandings of God that are different than our
own, they are not turning away from God. Rather, they approach the same God
we approach, but through a different means, a different path.
Proponents of the permissibility of Shituf are in a sense willing to go along
with practitioners of the faith. When a particular spiritual path leads to worship-
ping the one who represents the path, this is still considered a path, a means,
rather than a different goal, a different god. Difference in path is tolerated as
a permissible means of approaching the same God, even if it impacts how the
Divine is understood.
It is clear that Shituf is an educational strategy that is only permissible for
non-Jews. Israel has a special spiritual charge and a special spiritual path that
demands direct approach to God, without the confusion of instrument and goal,
of ends and means, of method of worship and recipient of worship. The covenant
is twofold. It includes the forming of a special and exclusive relationship between
God and Israel. But it also includes the acceptance of covenantal laws and stipu-
lations, which we commonly refer to as commandments. Now, the covenant has
these two dimensions built into it—a relational goal and a path that includes a
detailed way of life, designed to establish Israel in God’s presence. The demand
that Israel worship in one way and not in another is thus an expression of cov-
enantal exclusivity. The exclusivity of the covenant goes farther than the insis-
tence that only Israel’s God be worshipped and no other god. It also includes the
demand that the method of worship be exclusive to the covenant and that Israel
worship God in a way particular to it, setting it apart from all nations. If other
nations may worship God through the instrumentality of other beings, Jews are
commanded to have a direct relationship with God alone. Herein is found the
deep rationale for the fundamental difference that pertains to method of wor-
ship, and the prohibition on Jews worshipping God through other beings. In this
view, Israel’s God may not be exclusive, but is known to all. However, the path He
has chosen for Israel is.
For a Jew to practice worship through Shituf would be a form of Avoda Zara.
But let me account what might be meant by this, beyond the obvious halachic
sense, by appealing to an interesting paraphrase of Avoda Zara, found in the
Talmud.9 The Talmud states that “one should always rent oneself out to Avoda
Zara, rather than become economically dependent on human beings.”10 This
is brought as an aggadic, that is nonlegal, saying to justify the fact that one of
Moses’ descendants is said to have become a priest to Avoda Zara. However, the
editor hastens to add, the saying that passed from generation to generation in
100 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Moses’ family was misunderstood. What was meant by Avoda Zara was not the
literal service of other gods, preferable as it were to financial dependency, but the
willingness to undertake an avoda, that is a labor, an occupation, that is foreign
to oneself, in other words, beneath one’s dignity.11 Now, this passage plays on
the meaning of avoda, but it also highlights the range of possible meanings one
can associate with zara. As we already know, zara can describe foreign, strange,
wrong, repulsive, repugnant, abhorrent. All these dimensions have become asso-
ciated with Avoda Zara. The present text allows us to bring Avoda Zara back to
its most fundamental sense—something that is unfamiliar, unaccustomed, inap-
propriate, for who we are. It is a statement about us and what is suitable for us,
rather than a statement about the other and how abhorrent their religious life is.
What is unique about the Jewish path to God is the demand that we serve Him
exclusively and approach Him through the path He has given us, itself an exclu-
sive path, that does not allow us to approach Him through other beings as divine.
For Jews to worship a human person, or some being, as an expression of God, or
as a means to God, is foreign to the very essence of the spiritual path of Judaism,
to the foundations of covenantal exclusivity. The sense of zara is not simply a
cultural strangeness or something that goes against an age-old collective habit
of mind, though it certainly is that as well. Worship of other beings, even when
incorporated into our worship of God and serving it, is foreign to the spirit of the
people as formed by its highest spiritual vision, its covenant with God. Thus, we
may consider the foreignness of this aspect of Avoda Zara not so much a matter
of wrong and right, as much as what is right and appropriate for us on our unique
spiritual path.
This covenantal exclusiveness is identity forming. While its purpose should
not be limited to the formation of collective identity, as distinct from that of
other religious groups, the demand for exclusive worship certainly does become
a strong identity-forming factor. The most obvious indication for this is that Jews
have given their lives for this very principle for generations.12 The halachic basis
is, of course, the talmudic requirement to die rather than commit one of three
transgressions, including Avoda Zara.13 However, the ethos of martyrdom and
the broad history of the phenomenon suggest that this has been a profound factor
in shaping identity, beyond being a formal obligation.
The concern for identity and the question of different methods of worship
suitable for Jews and non-Jews are the subject of the following anecdote that
allowed me to confront the problem and the pain it causes head on. Several years
ago I was invited to address a course of yoga teachers. The course was given by
an Israeli branch of an international religious movement, Yoga Sivananda (not to
be confused with the Sivananda Ashram mentioned elsewhere, though owing its
name to the same inspiring spiritual figure). I have been friendly with an Israel
swami of that group for over 30 years.14 Based on our long-standing relation-
ship, I was invited to address a course of yoga teachers in training. Walking into
the hall, I noticed the various images of Hindu deities that often adorn Hindu
temples and other establishments. It was clear that these were used not only for
decoration but also for purposes of worship, as part of the training of these future
Israeli, and obviously Jewish, yoga teachers. This made me feel uncomfortable.
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 101

I was comfortable enough with my hosts and with my audience that when I was
asked to share my spiritual experiences in Judaism and in Hinduism with the
audience I made a point of referring to the worship of Hindu idols. I stated my
own boundaries, why I felt they should be upheld and why I thought a way could
be found to advance in the practice of yoga without recourse to the worship of
images.15 My friend the swami later stated that he had hoped I would be articulate
on these very issues.
Following the lecture I was approached by a throng of students, who shared
with me their pain at being forced to worship Hindu images. The philosophy
was given, it was made clear to them that one is worshipping the absolute, that
these are only means, that ultimately one is approaching the same God. In short,
the finest vedantic theology was put in the service of accounting for the use of
images in worship during an Israeli yoga teacher training course. But for many
students this was not sufficient. They were suffering from being forced to partake
of worship of images, either actively or passively, under penalty of being thrown
out of the course were they to not fulfill all of its requirements. Some chose to
leave the course; most stayed on; many suffered. I attempted to mediate between
the students and the course leaders. The latter, however, were simultaneously
understanding and dismissive, considering the suffering created by this situa-
tion as part of the growth process of the students, a stage they would outgrow, in
accordance with the epistemology and educational processes spelled out by their
vedantic worldview. There was no resolution, in practical terms, to the tension
and suffering.
Looking at this incident in light of our discussion, we have here the very point
where the suggestion concerning the meaning of Shituf and how it might func-
tion differently for Jews and non-Jews comes to play. We may be able to extend
the notion of Shituf to the Hindu worship of the various deities that were placed
on the makeshift altar. I have no doubt that not a single person in that room
thought they were “God” in the full sense we ascribe to the term, or that they
conflicted with the sense of God in the absolute. The spiritual understanding
informing the worship of these images could have been fully compatible with
the views of those who permit Shituf, and possibly with those of Nachmanides as
well. However, what might be justified and understood when the worshipper is
a native Hindu looks completely different when this spiritual path is exported to
an Israeli kibbutz and applied, in fact forced, upon Jewish practitioners. It is here
that the question of the method of worship unique to Jews, in keeping with the
exclusiveness of the covenant, plays out so clearly.16
Hindu religious life offers various challenges, when applying the permissibil-
ity of Shituf. One of these was just mentioned: the worship of gods and deities,
all of whom are understood to represent the Divine in Hinduism. But Hinduism
also offers another challenge, which is in some ways more complex and even more
problematic. I refer to the worship of human beings, saints, great sages, teachers.
One might argue that this is not fundamentally different than the worship of
Jesus as God in the Christian context. Theologically, this is true. If a theory of
Shituf can accommodate the worship of Jesus as part of the Christian under-
standing of God, it should also be able to accommodate the worship of gurus and
102 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

holy men in the Indian religious landscape. There is, however, one major distinc-
tion. Even if Jesus was a human person, he was not, to the best of our knowledge,
ever worshipped while alive.17 While in the case of Jesus one could argue that one
is worshipping a human person, in fact it is the idea or memory of the person that
is worshipped.18 Even if for believers that person continues to be present, in terms
of ordinary day-to-day social relations he no longer is. In that sense, the worship
of a human person remains symbolic or theoretical.19 Even if Jesus’ humanity is
affirmed, alongside his divinity, there are no social and political consequences to
such worship that stem from Jesus’ earthly personality. The only operative factor
is the faith of believers.
The situation in India is very different. Saints are worshipped while alive and
often treated as divinities, even as they go about their daily business. We may
recognize the theoretical basis that makes this possible. It is founded upon a
combination of the recognition of God’s omnipresence and its realization to an
outstanding degree in the life and consciousness of an individual. However, this
is still an individual of flesh and blood, with bodily needs and personality, who
is being treated in some way as a god. The potential for abuse is obvious. Recent
memory leads us to recall Rajneesh, also known as Osho, who called himself
bhagwan, Lord, and who adopted a sumptuous lifestyle and preached a libertine
gospel, under the authority of his divine self. Abuses need not be as extreme. It
is sufficient to recognize that the inevitable human propensity for error, not to
mention sin, is at odds with the view of a person as god, and even more so with the
offering of worship and adoration to such a person. I can testify that some of the
problems (though not necessarily moral problems) that I myself have seen with
certain Indian spiritual teachers could be traced to their own self-understanding
as a living god and to the pressures and abnormalities this creates. If someone
can never be criticized or queried, is the source of divine inspiration without fail,
and cannot even practice ordinary bodily activities such as eating and drinking
in the presence of others, this has the potential for either corrupting that person’s
spiritual senses or those of his or her followers.
Having recognized the dangers, we are also called to appreciate the depth and
beauty of devotion toward spiritual teachers and leaders, the profound reverence
they receive and the utmost centrality that the spiritual life and its representa-
tives receive in India. There is something inspiring in the reverence shown to
spiritual teachers and when, as does happen occasionally, those teachers are truly
great spiritual beings, there is a coherence in the system between its interior logic
and its outward manifestations.
What does this say to us in terms of Avoda Zara? Clearly, there has been a
long-standing Jewish refusal to ascribe divinity and to worship human beings.
The story of Esther, celebrated on Purim, is understood as one biblical narrative
to that effect.20 The rabbis portray various figures, not least of which is Pharaoh,
presenting themselves as divine.21 And we should not forget rabbinic opposition
to emperor worship, itself a strong dimension of rabbinic opposition to Avoda
Zara. Coming out of this tradition, one would have a hard time accepting the wor-
ship of humans. One might consider the distinction between worship of figures
who are spiritual as opposed to political figures. While the distinction is helpful,
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 103

it also has its limitations. Regardless of the motive, the worship of any human
being touches a deep Jewish nerve. Moreover, the boundary between religious
and political can easily be crossed and India’s history is replete with rich and at
times complicated intersections. Furthermore, religion is also a source of power
and holy men have been great power mongers throughout the generations.
Does this mean that we must declare every instance of guru worship as Avoda
Zara? I do not wish to jump to that conclusion. It may be sufficient to state how
deep Jewish discomfort is with the worship of human beings. As much as avoid-
ance of the worship of humans is constitutive of and deeply ingrained in the
Jewish psyche, the respect due to and the worship of great spiritual beings is
equally deeply ingrained in the Hindu psyche. Hinduism would not be what it
is without the full and worshipful appreciation of its spiritual giants. If we apply
a Shituf theology to Hinduism, this means we seek to simultaneously affirm the
difficulties Jews would have with such practices, as well as an understanding of
what Hindus seek to express through them. A Shituf theology is pluralistic in
the sense of recognizing different spiritual paths. The Jewish path is one that
has no room for the worship of human beings, not even teachers and great spiri-
tual figures.22 But this does not automatically mean that Hindus who practice
veneration of their teachers are engaged in Avoda Zara. Their actions have to be
interpreted within the broader religious system within which they operate. The
worship of teachers is part of the quest for God. The teacher is not God, even
if he represents Him, and in certain cases is claimed to be His manifestation.
Whatever that means, it does not fully identify, nor exhaust what God is within
that person. Even if the teacher is recognized as God, and therefore as part of the
goal, the object of worship, he or she are also instruments, means of attaining a
goal that is surely beyond themselves. Thus, in the figure of the living teacher
means and ends are in some way collapsed and identified. Following the sugges-
tion above, this can be recognized as a valid and important expression of Shituf
theology. Non-Jews may approach God through the guru, the saint, the teacher.
That is their path and that path passes through a person, who is thereby in some
way incorporated into the understanding of God. Ultimately we look to the same
God.23 But the path is different, leading to significant differences along the way,
including the worship of teachers.24
If Judaism’s primary attitude to other religions is affirmation of their status
as Avoda Zara, this means Judaism has no message for others, at least not one
to which they can listen. It patiently and passively waits for a messianic world in
which all will come to know the true God and throw away their idols of stone and
gold. But it has nothing meaningful to say to other religions on the common stage
of world religions. Invalidation is not an effective strategy for garnering adher-
ents to a worldview. Relations, under this model, would be kept to the human,
social, and humanitarian level. Judaism has no meaningful theological message to
share, let alone receive. A Shituf theology, such that I have tried to develop, places
Judaism in a position of having something meaningful to say, because it is in a
position to have a meaningful spiritual dialogue with other religions. The posi-
tion that affirms covenantal exclusivity also affirms a plurality of paths and ways
to the one common God. This allows a meaningful dialogue to ensue. Within
104 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

this dialogue there is room to listen. And indeed, there is what to listen for. If we
recognize in India a great spiritual culture, a beacon of spirituality, and a source
of saints, we cannot simply dismiss its forms of worship as Avoda Zara. And if we
take them seriously, we must listen to the spiritual testimony they offer and to the
understanding of God they convey. Within this dialogue Judaism too has a mes-
sage. Surely its refusal to worship God through another being is more than just a
means of affirming its uniqueness. Surely this is a theological vision, rather than
simply an identitarian strategy. If so, what is this vision and what is its message? It
is the message and the testimony of what it means to worship the one God, exclu-
sively, to approach Him without any intermediary, to look to Him alone.
But if there are different spiritual paths for Jews and non-Jews, there is little to
talk about. What would be the purpose of dialogue, if the paths are only suitable
for Jews and non-Jews respectively? Each should follow their path. As an initial
response I would say that I find it hard to think of Judaism as a club, intended
only for its members, with no message or meaning for those beyond it. The dia-
logue has not yet begun. It is hard to anticipate where a serious dialogue on God
and the spiritual life could take us, were it carried from the dual platform of
covenantal exclusivity and a Shituf-based pluralism. But even without knowing
what its outcomes may be, it seems to me clear that the fruits would be spiritually
beneficial to both sides. Crafting our message in dialogue with the other seems
like the most appropriate way of advancing in our own spiritual quest, remaining
true to our identity, and answering to the contemporary challenges of dialogue
and peaceful coexistence among the world’s religions.
One significant fruit of a future dialogue has already emerged in the preced-
ing paragraphs. My attempt to articulate a Shituf-based theology of religions is
itself a contribution to a dialogue between Judaism and Hinduism, and as such
constitutes an alternative to prevailing Hindu theologies of religions. The prevail-
ing presentation of Hindu views of other religions presents all religions as doing
the same thing. All are paths up a mountain top. It matters little what path you
take, as long as the path leads you up the mountain. This theology of religions
washes away differences and highlights the ultimate commonality of the goal. In
view of the common goal all paths become equivalent. Now, the proposed Shituf
theology ultimately agrees that the goal is one, when it recognizes that different
religions worship the same God. However, the differences in the path are taken
to be much more significant. Not all paths are equivalent, or at least the path of
Judaism and the path of other religions are fundamentally different. The path for
Jews requires exclusive focus on the goal, and does not recognize the collapse of
goals and means, which leads others to worship God through the instruments
that make His presence known and available. Non-Jews worship God in another
way. This way could deflect from exclusive attention to God, or it could enhance
the realization of divine presence in all. Various expressions of Christianity have
become so christocentric as to detract attention from the God recognized as the
common God of Judaism and Christianity. And many Hindu faithful so fix their
devotion on one or another incarnation or representation of God as to lose sight
of some of the broader cognitive dimensions, by means of which we could iden-
tify the same God in Judaism and Hinduism. On the other hand, other Hindu
 SHITUF: CRITICAL AND CONSTRUCTIVE REFLECTIONS 105

worshippers could, ideally, experience an enhanced awareness of God, by not

limiting Him to His transcendent being, and by finding Him in all things pres-
ent and visible. Whether the Hindu approach detracts or enhances is secondary
to the point I wish to make at present. The important thing is that the difference
between Judaism and Hinduism, seen through the eyes of a Shituf theology, is
real and should not be minimized.
Taking a Shituf theology to the next level of reflection, we are led to think of
the meaningful differences between all religions, and even between the different
manifestations of Hinduism itself. Even if the ultimate goal, God, is the same, the
process is colored in very different ways according to who is being placed along-
side Him and who is the means through whom God is known and approached.
Approaching through Jesus, Krishna, or Sai Baba may follow similar principles
and may be accounted for through one governing logic, but the actual experience
of approaching God will be different, considering who provides access, and how
that figure’s access-providing is collapsed into the understanding of the Divine.
And all these differences stand out further when contrasted with the refusal to
worship God through any instrument and to collapse means and spiritual end, as
affirmed in Judaism’s practice. Thus, even if we affirm the ultimate commonal-
ity of the spiritual quest of all religions, the differences in paths and their details
are significant and should not be minimized. A Shituf-based theology provides
a mechanism for cultivating a vision of how Judaism might accommodate other
religions, while at the same time affirming the fundamental differences that
characterize Judaism in relation to Hinduism and other major world religions.
These reflections consider Shituf to be a fundamental divide between Judaism
and other religions. Such a fundamental difference invites dialogue and calls for
some degree of mutual appreciation. There is, however, another way of consider-
ing Shituf, as an interim strategy, as a step toward a higher goal. According to
such a view, Shituf should be viewed not as an alternative spiritual path but as an
educational and evolutionary path, emphasizing a patient pedagogy, rather than
an alternative path.25 From the perspective of human spiritual evolution and psy-
chology, worship through Shituf may aid spiritual growth. The various gods and
in particular the teachers and great ones who offer religious instruction are in
fact pointing to God and leading the way to Him. They are thus instrumental to
religious growth.26 Rather than competing with the true God, they aid their fol-
lowers and disciples in attaining proper teaching and proper living that will lead
them to the reality of God. Shituf is accordingly viewed as an educational theory
that takes into account human and social nature. Given there is a high standard
of cognition that is ultimately sought in relation to God, a serious challenge is
posed in relation to how to attain this standard. How much patience is there for
the process that leads to such perfect understanding and how much can lower
views and understandings be accommodated within a worldview that highlights
proper understanding of God as its ideal? Shituf may be presented as a patient
pedagogy that accommodates the needs of those who are not members of Israel’s
covenant, as they advance on their spiritual path toward the one and same God.
To a large extent, Judaism has long agreed to postpone the real spiritual
challenge of making God known to all till the future messianic era. If proper
106 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

knowledge of God, in its purity and exclusivity, had been Judaism’s most urgent
concern, and if Judaism indeed felt its calling to share this knowledge with all,
we would have seen a much more missionary and outgoing Judaism than what
Judaism has become. That historical circumstances may have shaped this more
introvert Judaism only accounts for how this came about. The end result is the
same: by withdrawing from active missionary work, Judaism has agreed to ful-
filling its mission in terms of the knowledge of God and to seeing its worldview
and spiritual vision triumph only in the distant future. Present-day reality is thus
a time of waiting, a process, leading up to a future fulfillment. This attitude of
patient waiting conditions Judaism’s attitude to the spiritual well-being of human-
ity. Humanity will only attain its spiritual perfection in the future. If indeed one
is willing to accommodate present-day reality, in light of a fuller messianic real-
ization, then the position that Shituf is permissible for non-Jews makes perfect
sense. Shituf is a strategy for accommodation. It suggests that perfect knowledge
is not presently available. For the time being one may settle for imperfect knowl-
edge of the Divine. The standard that Judaism expects of non-Jews, according
to this view, is not one of perfect knowledge of God but one that is suitable for a
process. In this process there is room for other beings to aid in bringing believers
to God. Non-Jews can enjoy a meaningful relationship with the true God, pro-
claimed and recognized in part, and reached through the beings that are asso-
ciated with Him.27 This degree of recognition and relationship is sufficient for
what is possible today, in an unredeemed world. It is sufficient for non-Jews, who
have not undertaken the fullness of relationship with God and who are therefore
not expected to accept the theological stringencies of perfect teaching that Jews
are. It is sufficient for a world in which Judaism has an impact, but a very partial
one. To recognize the legitimacy of worshipping God through Shituf is to offer a
judgment on today’s reality and on the meaning of spiritual process. It is a state-
ment of historical vision, a recognition of Judaism’s limitations and an expression
of a view of God as a teacher who is patient and compassionate, awaiting greater
spiritual realization of both Jews and non-Jews at some future point in time.28
 10

Thinking of Hinduism in
Light of Meiri

T he Middle Ages have bequeathed us one additional major resource for devel-
oping a theology of other religions. In many ways it is the most promising
and most helpful resource, because it deals directly with the question of the
status of contemporary religions, rather than constructing a history of Avoda
Zara, as did Maimonides and Nachmanides, or resolving the practical chal-
lenges posed by living in a Christian society, as did the Tosafists’ Shituf con-
struct. This resource is the teaching of Rabbi Menachem Hameiri (henceforth:
Meiri; 1249–1310). Meiri is, in my opinion, the single most important classical
resource to be harnessed for a contemporary Jewish theology of religions, and
the full import of his theology of religions has yet to be fully appreciated.
Some pointers to Meiri’s thought have been interspersed in our discussion
earlier. One particularly noteworthy mention was in Steinsaltz’s reference to
Meiri as the foundation for his own theory of tolerance. If so, Steinsaltz would
be one contemporary application of Meiri, and would in fact be lending his own
voice to a growing chorus of halachists who are willing to adopt Meiri’s position
in contemporary interreligious discourse and in the framework of developing
contemporary attitudes to other faiths.1 However, as noted before, Steinsaltz’s
arguments actually reflect the perspective of the Tosafists. By identifying Meiri
with the view that non-Jews have a less stringent, more patient, theological yard-
stick by which they are expected to act, Steinsaltz is in fact missing out on what is
most important in Meiri.2 The following section constitutes my own attempt to
apply the teachings of Meiri beyond their original historical context and to make
them speak to the contemporary challenge of a Jewish view of Hinduism. In so
doing, I will first present Meiri’s views in and of themselves and then reflect on
the degree to which they may be applicable to a Jewish view of Hinduism.
Meiri is a treasurehouse of thought and talmudic mastery. However, his tal-
mudic commentary Bet Habechira remained in manuscript for many centuries
and was printed only in the twentieth century. Consequently, his views have been
outside the mainstream of the Jewish learning tradition.3 It may well be the case
that Meiri’s views on the religious other are what he is most famous for. The
108 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

degree to which his views on non-Jews and other religions have been integrated
by halachists and thinkers during the last century is itself a function of their
own predisposition to Meiri’s views. That his views have not been engaged for
hundreds of years means that he remains a resource whose significance is yet to
be fully unpacked. Even within the circles that uphold the kind of open or toler-
ant view represented by Meiri, his thought has not yet received the full attention
it deserves. Its implications for Judaism’s views of world religions, especially in
the contemporary context, have not been fully fathomed. The present attempt
to reflect on the significance of Meiri to a Jewish view of Hinduism accordingly
provides an opportunity to explore further what Meiri might mean to a contem-
porary Jewish theology of religions.
As described before, the biblical references to other gods and the talmudic
references to Avoda Zara create a culture of distance and disdain in relation to
other religions and to a large extent in relation to non-Jews as well.4 This atti-
tude, formulated in response to ancient religions and the religions of late antiq-
uity, was, on the whole, transferred into the Middle Ages and conditioned Jewish
attitudes toward Christianity. However, Christianity, as well as Islam, presented
challenges that are unique in the history of Jewish dealings with other religions,
both theologically and sociologically. Theologically, no longer was one dealing
with other gods, but with other religions that claimed to worship the same God.
For the modern observer who encounters Jewish attitudes to other religions, it is
often difficult to understand on what grounds Jews could reject either religion,
given that they basically believe in the same God. Carrying over the charge of
Avoda Zara from classical literature to the dealings with Christianity, and even
with Islam, is part of the heritage of Judaism, as it confronts new religious forms
while upholding the categories and attitudes of old. That such continuity should
exist is in part an expression of Jewish faithfulness and fidelity. But it cannot be
divorced from the historical and sociological reality of Jews living as a minor-
ity, often a persecuted minority, in Christian and Muslim lands. Such historical
conditions do not easily lend themselves to profound theological rethinking of
one’s attitude to the oppressive majority society. However, as we have already
seen, a series of practical issues, stemming from the need to maintain commer-
cial relations within such an environment, arises and necessitates finding a way
of relating to earlier prohibitions on contact with Gentiles and their religion.
Meiri is to be appreciated within this context and in light of this brief historical
summary.
It is worth noting that Meiri never refers to Christianity specifically, nor to
Islam.5 Rather, he refers to religions as “religions” and to their adherents as peo-
ple who are bound by the ways of religion. Accordingly, Meiri develops a series
of expressions such as “the boundaries of religion,” “nations restricted by the
ways of religion,” and the “masters or ones possessed of religion” that are unique
to him. These categories serve Meiri to develop contemporary attitudes to the
religions of his time. Scholarly discussion of Meiri has concentrated mainly on
his attitude to Christianity.6 The present discussion explores the implications of
Meiri’s views on Christianity to a view of Hinduism. Quite apart from the con-
tribution to a Jewish view of Hinduism, this also allows us to consider in greater
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 109

depth Meiri’s thought and how it might serve as a resource to a contemporary

Jewish consideration of other religions.
Meiri’s great novelty lies in adopting a systematic and principled approach
to other religions and in resolving many of the practical and moral challenges
that were and are encountered in the attempt to apply talmudic legislation to
other religions and their members. Over and against various halachic authorities
who resolved difficulties in relation to Christians and Christianity on an ad hoc
basis, largely through appeal to the Shituf construct, Meiri developed a system-
atic view of other religions, thereby providing us with one of the earliest attempts
to formulate a broad Jewish theology of contemporary religions. Meiri’s views
are summed up by two main claims. The first concerns the nature of idolatry of
old and its relation to contemporary religions. According to Meiri, idolatry of
old no longer exists, except in remote regions.7 Accordingly, all that appears in
talmudic sources concerning pagans and idol worshippers is not relevant to con-
temporary religions. As Moshe Halbertal has suggested, Meiri relies on a theory
of religious progress.8 Avoda Zara is really a matter of the past as humanity and
its religions have progressed from an earlier primitive (fetishist) understanding
to a higher understanding of God. Such a theory of progress draws from the
philosophical literature of the Middle Ages, but it seems to me it draws no less on
the fundamental distinction between the religions of old and the religions that
Meiri encounters.9 The latter are monotheistic religions, or proclaim themselves
as such, worshipping the same God as Jews do. The move from polytheism to
monotheism, or from fetishism to the recognition of a transcendent God, can
legitimately be described in terms of progress. To the theoretical recognition may
be added the intuitive understanding that one’s neighbors or conversation part-
ners are not the base idolaters described in the Talmud. Meiri shares a common
universe of discourse with Christian scholars. We know of intellectual exchanges
between himself and Christian clergy, and his entire spiritual environment is one
in which the intellectuals and thinkers of the different religions form bonds of
common community and purpose.10 Such a climate of sharing provides a coun-
terpoint to prevailing attitudes of Jewish minorities in other European centers
and is surely one of the factors behind Meiri’s views. Within this context, one
can readily consider the view of progress in the history of religions, according to
which the religions seen today—notably Christianity and Islam in Meiri’s case—
are fundamentally different from the religions spoken of in the Talmud. As a
consequence, many of the talmudic rulings concerning Avoda Zara no longer
apply.
The other key component in Meiri’s view is the recognition that the nations of
today are bound by moral codes and practice moral living. Meiri uses the moral
argument to distinguish between the religions of old and contemporary religions.
Today’s nations are restricted by the ways of religion. They possess a moral code.
The negative and immoral representations of non-Jews found in earlier sources
therefore do not apply to them. The significance of the argument for morality
of contemporary religions and their adherents can be variously understood. In
classical Jewish terms, this may allow us to see contemporary religions as ful-
filling the requirements of the seven noachide commandments, understood as
110 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Judaism’s religious vision for humanity.11 A more reasonable reading of Meiri

is that morality establishes these religions within the very sphere of “religion,”
thereby affording them legitimacy. I shall discuss this possibility at greater length
further ahead in the chapter.
A key challenge in understanding Meiri, in cultivating his thought as a con-
temporary resource, and in applying his thought to new encounters, such as the
encounter with Hinduism, is to understand the relation between the two compo-
nents of Meiri’s thought. What is the relation between the claim that contempo-
rary religions are not idolatrous and their description as moral and law abiding?
There are two ways of constructing the relationship between the two statements.
The first is to consider them as interdependent. Accordingly, proof of morality
is proof that a religion is not idolatrous, either because morality and religion are
fully identified or because morality serves as an index to proper knowledge of
God. The other way of considering these two statements is to consider them as
complementary but independent of one another. If so, moral living might pro-
vide us with one component in light of which we might distinguish present-day
religions from religions of old. But other criteria might equally apply, and the
entire issue needs to be conceived in terms that are broader than whether a reli-
gion does or does not teach moral living. Let me begin by exploring the more
common view that identifies morality with true religion.
On first consideration, Meiri shifts the ground of discussion from theology—
the ground upon which most considerations of Christianity’s status as Avoda
Zara took place—to morality. Rather than focus upon the nature of the under-
standing of the Divine espoused by a given religion, Meiri claims that the relevant
consideration is the moral life enabled by the religion. Religions that have a moral
code and that espouse moral living should not be considered along the lines the
Talmud prescribes for idolatrous religions. At first sight it would seem that Meiri
sidesteps theology and locates the heart of the religious life, and hence a view of
the religious other, elsewhere. However, upon closer examination, we are led to
understand that Meiri’s position should not be understood as an avoidance of the
theological dimension, but as establishing a different method by means of which
the nature of the God worshipped by a religion may be known. Accordingly, the
life of the believers, rather than the theological statements of the religion, is the
ultimate proof of the nature of the religion, and hence of the nature of the God it
worships. A religion that teaches and upholds a moral way of living is proof of the
God who is worshipped through that religion.
Such a view has much to commend it. We must consider what in the first place
is wrong with Avoda Zara. If Avoda Zara is considered from the perspective of
covenantal exclusiveness, it makes perfect sense. The covenant demands perfect
loyalty to one God and to no others.12 A covenantal view of Avoda Zara may
make sense, but is not problem-free. For covenantal exclusivity to make sense
as a theological demand, one must assume some reality to other gods, making
the demand for allegiance to Israel’s God meaningful. Historically, the covenant
ceased to be the guiding conceptual framework for postbiblical Judaism, some
time after Israel’s faith consolidated the claim that in reality there is no god
besides God. If one considers God in terms of perfection, as many thinkers in
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 111

the Middle Ages did, one must revisit the question of what is wrong with Avoda
Zara. Surely the perfect God cannot be impacted by misguided worship. One
answer is that something is morally wrong with idolatry. God objects to the wor-
ship of other gods because it has harmful moral consequences. Such an under-
standing is well supported by the biblical portrayal of ancient idolatry as morally
corrupt and hence repugnant.13 To locate the problem with Avoda Zara in the
moral field is thus both scripturally and philosophically appropriate.14 If so, the
following equation may be suggested: just as Avoda Zara involves immorality, so
too morality can be used as proof of the identity of the God who is worshipped
through a religion that teaches and enforces moral living.
Most readers of Meiri are concerned with the practical solutions offered by
him.15 I am not aware of any attempt to make theological sense of the position
that living by moral codes exempts a religion from the status of Avoda Zara.
Pointing back from moral living to the God who commands and who is known
through moral living assumes that morality is the sole privilege of a true religion
and a true God. One could not rely on moral living as a sign of true religion if
morality were recognized among people who do not know God, or who worship
idols. Such, indeed, is the position of Meiri, as he describes idol worshippers and
as he spells out what distinguishes valid and invalid forms of religious life. In
several places we find not only a description of contemporary nations as bound
by the boundaries of religion, but also a description of the nature of idol worship
and its concomitant immoral lifestyle. The most succinct formulation of the rela-
tionship between religion and morality is the following quote:

Because they worship idols, and do not believe in divinity, they are not bound by
the ways of religion. And every transgression and all that is ugly is beautiful in
their eyes. And they have no concern regarding anything.16

Idols are the opposite of true divinity and the worship of idols is causally
related to lack of any moral boundary. Thus, worship of idols is equivalent to lack
of any moral standard and a complete reversal of the proper moral order. Or in
another quote:

For since they do not possess any religion in the world, and do not submit them-
selves to the fear of divinity, but rather offer incense to the hosts of the heavens
and worship the idols, they do not refrain from any transgression and they harm
[others].17

The fear of divinity is contrasted with the worship of powers that are non-
divine. Meiri does not deny the efficacy of such worship, nor its attractiveness.18
The sign of true religion is not the effectiveness or ability to attain powers and
benefits through the worship of various forces, but the moral life that points to
God and is possible only through contact with God. This reciprocal relationship
between divinity and morality allows Meiri to claim that worshippers of the true
God are moral and conversely that moral nations are ipso facto not idolatrous.
True religion is not about rituals and the worship of various powers but about
submission to God, the ultimate guarantor of moral living.19
112 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Meiri takes his cue from biblical sources.20 Already the Torah presents idol
worshippers as immoral:

It has already been explained that these things [i.e. references to idol worshippers]
were stated concerning those times, when those nations belonged to the worship-
pers of idols. And they were filthy in their deeds and ugly in their moral qualities,
as it is partially mentioned (Lev. 18,3): “You shall not copy the practices of the Land
of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the Land of Canaan, to which I am taking you.” But
the other nations, that are bound by the ways of religions and that are clear of the
ugliness of these qualities, moreover they punish such transgressions, there is no
doubt that these matters do not pertain to them at all.21

It is worth noting that Meiri does not simply refer to the fact that certain
practices are avoided by the religions of today, but that there are legal codes that
enforce these laws, thereby ensuring the moral character of society.22 The public
character of how religion impacts society seems central to Meiri’s views. The
moral yardstick by means of which religions are measured may be judged in rela-
tion to individuals or to societies. Meiri here indicates that religion infuses soci-
ety, guaranteeing its overall moral rectitude.
To conclude this small collection of texts, pointing to the nexus of faith in a
true God and moral life, I would like to note two additional texts, each of which
offers further nuance to Meiri’s thought structure. In one place Meiri writes:

What I mean is that of idolaters it is said that they were not restricted by the ways
of religion. On the contrary, every sin and everything repulsive is fit in their eyes.
As the foremost of the philosophers has already said, “Put to death one who has no
religion.” However, anyone who worships God, even though he does not belong to
a religion, is not included in this ruling.23

The opposite to being bound by ways of religion is complete lack of moral-

ity. Godlessness is equated with repulsive ways. Quoting an unidentified
philosopher,24 Meiri teaches that lack of religion is deserving of death, lack of
religion here understood as lack of morality. That morality is at stake, rather than
other aspects of religion, becomes clear from the continuation of the passage
where the worship of God places one in a separate category, despite not belonging
to a religion. Thus, God is the guarantor of morality, above and beyond the ways
He is known through religions. Moral living is mediated by religion, but can also
be attained through direct knowledge and worship of God, independently of reli-
gion. God and morality are fully identified, as are immorality and godlessness,
with idolatry. This passage is significant because it is the one and only reference
to the possibility of worshipping God outside religion. It both proves the broader
thesis of the interrelatedness of religion and morality and transcends it, by posit-
ing the possibility of worshipping God beyond a specific religion. Thus, while
religion is Meiri’s primary category, at its heart is the knowledge and worship of
God. These provide the guarantee for moral living.
The other text that makes a surprising application of the religion-morality
equation applies these principles to a Jew, rather than to Gentiles. In this, Meiri
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 113

shows how principled his position is. It is much more than a solution to practical
problems that arise from living in a Christian society. It is a total view of religion
that cuts across religions, Judaism included, without discrimination or prefer-
ence for one religion over the other.25Meiri writes:

An Am Ha’aretz (i.e. an ignoramus who does not follow the ways of the Torah)
may, at times, be killed even on a Yom Kippur that comes out on Shabbat.26 For
he does not know the nature of the commandments and the ways of religions, and
he is drawn after his [physical] nature, like an animal. And sometimes we might
encounter him chasing a male [for purposes of intercourse] or after a betrothed
maid. And it would be permitted to kill him even on Shabbat.27

The same criteria that had been applied in relation to idol worshippers are
here applied to a Jew who does not know and does not fulfill the commandments.
Religion and morality are thus a matter of religion, all religions.28 Consequently,
the same criteria that apply outward apply also within.
Meiri’s identification of religion, the knowledge of God, and moral living
allows us then to sustain the argument that moral living is an indicator of the
Divine within a religion. Meiri does not simply replace the theological demands
that have led tradition to view other religions as Avoda Zara by moral demands.
Rather, he uses morality as the yardstick through which something may be
learned concerning the nature of the God that is worshipped, or more correctly:
whether it is God or other beings—idols, astral forces etc.—that are worshipped.
According to the first reading of Meiri, then, we may posit the following under-
standing of the relationship between Meiri’s two statements regarding contem-
porary religions. The second statement, according to which the nations of today
are bound by the boundaries of religion, holds the key to the first that they are no
longer idolatrous. It is not simply that they have ceased to worship idols, but rather
that the means by which we are able to make this statement is through an exami-
nation of the moral—and I add: also spiritual29—quality of their lives. Morality
points to the God who is known through the religion, and moral living suggests a
notion of God that is real, in terms of His impact upon the lives of believers.
Let us contrast this with the second reading of Meiri. According to this read-
ing, moral living is not the sole and absolute means of establishing the identity
of the God who is worshipped. Rather, as some of the quotes from Meiri already
indicate, several criteria apply, all of which point not simply to God, but to the
character of a religion as a valid one. This reading of Meiri highlights the very
notion of “religion” as the core concept, in light of which other religions may be
recognized as legitimate.30 Accordingly, it is more than a strategy for resolving
the difficulties arising from the challenge of how to deal with Avoda Zara in the
framework of living alongside members of another religious tradition. It is a sys-
tematic view of religion as a phenomenon, of its working, structure, components,
and goals. As we have begun to see, this systematic view relates to all religions,
Judaism included.
It is significant that Meiri does not develop his views simply in response
to the challenges of Avoda Zara. A thorough examination of Meiri’s writings
114 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

reveals hundreds of references to the terms “religion” and “religions,” quite apart
from the various references already encountered to nations bound by the ways
of religion. Moreover, such reference to “religion” includes Meiri’s reference to
Judaism, on a regular basis, in contexts in which other authors might simply have
said “Torah” or used some other term that is specific to the Jewish religion. The
centrality of the category “religion” to Meiri’s thought is the key to how he applies
it to other religions, ancient and contemporary.
Let us consider then what a religion is, according to Meiri. We already know
of one important component, namely the moral teaching that religion offers.
Another component of religion is ritual. Here Meiri surprises, especially when
contrasted with Maimonides, certainly a model and a figure who left a deep
impact on Meiri’s philosophical views. Gerald Blidstein has shown that Meiri
introduces a significant novelty in relation to the permissibility of development
of non-Jewish forms of worship.31 According to Maimonides, non-Jews may not
develop their own religion. Religion is closely related to revelation and there-
fore only one of two revelatory tracks are available: the full revelation, available
to Israel and open to potential converts, and the more limited revelation of the
seven noachide commandments, designed for the rest of humanity. By contrast,
Meiri fails to place any limitation on novel forms of worship, and therefore on
the emergence of other forms of religious life. It seems likely that we have here
an important distinction between two views of what constitutes the heart of reli-
gion. For Maimonides, religion must be based on revelation, and therefore there
is no basis for inventing new rituals or religions, as these would be devoid of the
required foundation in divine revelation.32 It seems that for Meiri intentionality
plays a more important role. Therefore, religions may be successful in achieving
their goals, given the spiritual intention that drives their founders and practi-
tioners. As I will shortly suggest, this seems to be part of a broader view of reli-
gion and its purpose, a view that is much more anthropocentric, highlighting
transformation in human nature through the practice of religion, rather than the
theocentric emphasis on revelation, found in Maimonides. We may thus iden-
tify a second component of religion, any religion—worship. Some of the quotes
brought above point to the ritual dimension of religion and take this dimension
for granted. The flaw in ancient idolatries was not the very fact of worship, but
that it was misdirected. It was offered to beings other than the one God, source
of moral living.
But what of faith in God and correct teaching concerning His nature? Here
too Meiri surprises. It is common to think of the differences between religions
as focusing upon their respective teaching about God, or in other words the
truth that the diverse religions teach and concerning which they differ from one
another. In fact, according to the common view, it is likely that differences in
theology form the heart of the differences between religions. Rather than high-
lighting such differences, Meiri plays them down. This is not to suggest that
Meiri considers that all religions offer the same teaching as Judaism. Judaism is
probably unique in the full correctness of its views and teachings, whereas other
religions do offer erroneous teachings. However, for Meiri theological error is not
so grave. At least as far as other religions go, one can overlook theological error,
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 115

as long as fundamental teachings—theological as well as moral—are intact.33 If

we raised the possibility earlier that Meiri overlooks theology preferring instead
moral teaching, we now come to a more correct way of stating Meiri’s position—
Meiri is willing to overlook errors in the specifics of theological teaching, pro-
vided the fundamentals of the religious teaching are intact.34
Based on the texts I shall presently analyze, I would like to suggest that Meiri’s
core concern is that one reaches God and has a relationship with Him. Such a
relationship is measured by the quality of moral life and by the overall impact
that religion has upon the lives of its believers. It is only God, as opposed to
idols, astral forces etc., who can transform lives and effect moral living. What
is important is not how one understands God and whether or not one’s under-
standing is full and correct. What is important is that one’s relationship and the
relationships mediated through a given religion be directed to God and therefore
be effective in bringing about personal transformation and appropriate moral
ordering of the life of the individual and society. In a sense, all that is crucial
theologically is to know whether one has it basically right, that is, whether one
is worshipping God or other forces. Once it has been established—and moral
living is the major instrument in establishing this—that one is indeed worship-
ping God, the theological details of how God is understood, and for that matter
even the details and practices of ritual, become secondary, maybe even negli-
gible, certainly something to be overlooked in case of error. There are of course
some minimal requirements that are required as part of identifying faith in God,
rather than in idols. But these minimal requirements seem to be met readily by
those religions with which Meiri was familiar, making the area of theological
difference of secondary importance.
Let us look at some of the texts from which this unique theory of religion
emerges. Concerning the obligation to return lost objects and its possible limita-
tion to objects lost by Jews, Meiri writes:

Whoever is from the nations that are bound by the ways of religion and that serve
divinity in some way, even though their faith is far removed from our own faith,
they are not included in this [exemption from duty to return lost objects], but
they are fully as Israel for these matters, even in case of lost objects, or of error
committed during financial transactions, and in all other matters, without any
distinction.35

What counts is serving divinity in some way, in other words having some
kind of recognition of and relationship with God. As long as one is in touch with
God, regardless of the fact that the actual contents of faith seem strange and far
removed, one is in fact within the bounds of legitimate religion. The rules that
would apply between members of the community of true believers would there-
fore apply to such faiths as well. Theological correctness takes a very secondary
place. What Meiri is concerned about is the recognition of the other religion as
a “religion.” Minimal knowledge of God is sufficient to establish such a recogni-
tion, as the category of “religion,” consists of other dimensions that are more
significant than a correct description of God, primarily the moral dimension.
116 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Thus, Meiri neither limits what is important to the moral field, nor tries to come
up with a definition of what is the minimally needed knowledge of God. Rather,
both components are appreciated as part of the broader assessment of another
religion as “religion,” a member of the broader class of “religions,” and hence as
valid, legitimate, and leading to various practical consequences.
The same emerges from another passage.36 The passage is telling in terms of
both how Meiri views idolatry and his tolerance for theological error:

You know already that idol worshipping would exercise great attraction upon the
heart, due to the benefits that could be attained through its worship, as it says, “But
since we gave up offering incense to the Queen of Heaven and pouring libations in
her honor, we have been destitute and have perished either by sword or by famine,”37
and similarly in the final chapter of the [Talmud] tractate of Sanhedrin 102b, with
reference to Menashe, [accounting for why he could not refrain from worshipping
idols, he replies to the sage:] Had you been there at that time, you would have raised
the edges of your gown and followed it [the idol]. . . . Nevertheless, nations that are
bound by the ways of religion and believe in His (blessed be He) existence, His
Unity and His power, 38 even though they are in error concerning some matters,
according to our faith, the rules discussed above do not apply to them.39

The passage again appeals to biblical testimony. Here we hear the actual voices
of idol worshippers who testify to the efficacy of such worship and to its benefits
in their lives. Far from dismissing such testimony, as Maimonides would, Meiri
upholds it, making it a characteristic of idol worship.40 It is as efficacious as it is
attractive. To understand this passage, one would have to adopt the view that such
idol worship uses energies and powers to accomplish personal ends. Such ener-
getic manipulation and the ensuing benefits to the lives of practitioners of rituals
directed at beings other than God do not provide proof of authenticity of the reli-
gious life. These rituals are instrumental and are used to attain personal gains and
to fulfill personal desires. God is only known through the quality of life associated
with Him, not by the physical boons, apparently bestowed by lower beings.
Complementing this clear description of what idolatry is, Meiri again offers a
definition of acceptable alternative understandings of God. Meiri seems to offer
us some minimal requirements for a valid notion of God, probably because such
a notion provides the basis for grounding a moral life in God. God exists, is one,
and is capable, perhaps better rendered omnipotent. My understanding is that
because He is omnipotent He controls life, can punish sinners, and reward good
doers, and generally ensure the continuing practice and application of a moral
life. Interestingly, Meiri emphasizes God’s unity as one of the fundamental char-
acteristics. It seems that only the single God can be the source of a moral life,
whereas lower deities might compete for the attention of followers, by bestow-
ing favors upon them, regardless of their moral quality. Now, Meiri hastens to
add that once the basics of proper religious faith are established, we need not
be unduly concerned with details. To the extent that this passage does refer to
Christianity, and it would seem it does, this means that the Trinity is one such
detail. Meiri would be willing to recognize Christians as monotheists and to dis-
regard the theological error that he would ascribe to the Trinity as a detail that
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 117

one can forgive or overlook, as part of the overall assessment of Christianity.

Thus, it is not simply that Christianity is a religion that has a moral teaching
and whose institutions guarantee a moral society.41 Rather, it is a valid religion,
because all of the necessary components are present in it. The degree of correct
theological understanding needed to recognize the God of Christianity as “God,”
“divinity” in Meiri’s language, is found in Christianity.42
According to my reading of Meiri, theology is important not because it consti-
tutes the heart of the religion and its message, but because it provides the needed
conceptual foundation for the entire edifice of the religion. The problem with
Avoda Zara as a wrong understanding of God then is that it lacks the foundation
needed for the construction of a proper and healthy edifice of “religion.” In an
amazing passage, Meiri applies this very understanding to Judaism itself and to
issues related to fundamental spiritual teachings that constitute the foundation
for the edifice of the entire religion. The context for the following discussion is
the biblical prohibition on a prophet to order the worship of idols. Meiri extends
the biblical and rabbinic discussions limiting the prophet’s power to order the
worship of Avoda Zara to other fundamental religious teachings:

A prophet who has been recognized, who commanded to add or to refrain from
observance of a commandment, even temporarily, if the matter is the permission
to worship Avoda Zara, one does not listen to him at all . . . And included in this is
anything he (the prophet) would do with the intention of destroying a foundation
from the foundations of religion, such as His existence, His unity (blessed be He)
and the removal of corporeality from Him, and matters such as these.43

Meiri extends the notion of Avoda Zara to anything that might touch upon the
cornerstones of the religion. We encounter once again God’s existence and unity.
Here Meiri also mentions God’s incorporeality. This does not seem to exhaust
the list of fundamental theological foundations, as the previous text shows us,
and as Meiri himself suggests. The point is clear, however. Avoda Zara is not
simply a problem in and of itself, but it is problematic because it undermines the
foundations of the entire structure of the religion. Any similar undermining is
treated in the same way. What counts, then, at the end of the day is not simply
theological correctness, but the integrity and maintenance of the edifice of reli-
gion as a viable edifice that can continue to guide people and to help them in
their lives and in their processes of transformation.
Transformation is a key word in understanding the very function of religion
and therefore the importance that Meiri attaches to the moral strictures and dis-
ciplines that religions ensure. In several places Meiri juxtaposes human nature,
with its physicality and animal tendencies, and religion. Religion and its guide-
lines for living are the medicine with which to treat the weaknesses of human
nature. We saw this already in the quote above, where Meiri explains the talmu-
dic statement rhetorically permitting the killing of an Am Ha’aretz. The reason
is that he “does not know the nature of the commandments and the ways of reli-
gions, and he is drawn after his [physical] nature, like an animal.” We find the
same juxtaposition in various places throughout Meiri’s writings. Meiri explains
118 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

the talmudic saying that Israel do not come under astrological influences, “there
is no astrological sign for Israel,”44 in light of this juxtaposition. It is not, as the
plain sense of the Talmud could be read, that Israel is above astrological influ-
ences by its very being. Rather, by virtue of religion it has the means to rise above
any disadvantageous tendencies of body and personality that may be the result of
astrological influences.

The ways of religion will make them turn from what would have been necessitated
by their preparation or their birth, for religion is a potion prepared for whoever is
sick from head to toe. And that potion is effective for all kinds of illnesses.45

Religion is thus a panacea for all illnesses stemming from human nature.
Significantly, it is not the Torah but religion that is the panacea. The healing
power of the weaknesses of human nature is what makes religion as important
as it is in Meiri’s thought. True religion has the power to heal and transform the
weaknesses of human nature. As this is a major aspect of the workings of religion,
any religion that offers a method for control of the weaknesses of human nature
and offers a method for their transformation is recognized by Meiri as belonging
to the category of “religion,” and is therefore valid. Clearly, within such an under-
standing, worship and its various accoutrements are of secondary significance
and will not be the primary consideration in assessing the quality and legitimacy
of another religious system.46 One of the consequences that Meiri draws from
such a broad understanding of the workings of religion is that the talmudic adage
describing Israel as being beyond astrological control should be applied to all
those who possess true religion, and not to Israel alone.47 Other occurrences that
juxtapose human nature and the beneficial effects of the teachings and bounds of
religion confirm the centrality of this understanding in Meiri’s thought.48
We may now return to the distinction between Avoda Zara and true and valid
religion. It is not simply that Avoda Zara is the worship of trees and stones, idols
and stars. Rather, such worship is phenomenologically of a different quality than
true religion.49 While it may be effective, it satisfies purely human needs and aids
in achieving material goals. Hence the power of its attraction. In satisfying mate-
rial human needs, it fails to bring about any real transformation. Rather than
transform one’s animal nature it only feeds it, by satisfying physical needs and
pleasures. True religion, by contrast, is transformative. It helps raise one above
the animal nature, the weaknesses of the human body and temperament, even
when these are grounded in astrological reality. And it does so by teaching dis-
cipline and providing boundaries that help curb the appetites and desires of the
body. Avoda Zara is therefore to be faulted not simply as a cognitive error or an
error in worship,50 but as it amounts to a total phenomenology of the religious
life, or of life itself. It is not simply that faulty moral behavior is associated with
Avoda Zara. Rather, Avoda Zara is an entire construct of what false religion is and
how it fails to achieve what religion ought to achieve. In this reading, the ultimate
problem with Avoda Zara is considered in anthropocentric terms, the failure
to transform the human person, rather than in theocentric terms, an offensive
and wrong approach to God. The centrality afforded in Meiri’s thought to the
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 119

boundaries and ways of religion and how these determine his judgment of other
religions are rooted in a broader view of what religion is and how it operates.51 In
light of this philosophically oriented understanding of what religion is, Meiri is
able to revolutionize halachic tradition and to reframe the entire approach to the
subject of Avoda Zara.52
Meiri’s views on religion and on Avoda Zara are a function of the religions that
he encountered as well as of the positive relations he entertained with Christians
in his own context. In effect, by making “religion” the central category, rather
than Avoda Zara, Meiri has eliminated Avoda Zara as a major concern for daily
living in contemporary societies, both his and our own. But just how far-reaching
is Meiri’s understanding? Has he completely done away with Avoda Zara, relegat-
ing it to the past? The theory of progress, upon which Meiri relies, allows him to
draw clear demarcations between then and now and to suggest that major shifts
have occurred in human societies, making Avoda Zara all but obsolete. It would
seem that Meiri could accept a worldview and a reality that no longer considers
Avoda Zara an actual threat. In the same way that various issues that were of
concern to the Torah, such as slavery, may be obsolete, so too something as major
as Avoda Zara could in theory be obsolete, due to the progress of human soci-
ety.53 Meiri himself, however, adds to the temporal distinction also a spatial one.
Meiri recognizes that Avoda Zara continues to exist in some remote locations, on
the periphery. Drawing on the geographic understanding current in the Middle
Ages, civilized society is at the center and barbaric society on the periphery. Meiri
has dealt adequately with any challenges that might be posed by his immediate
religious environment of Christianity and Islam. He therefore has no problem
conceding that on the edge of the civilized world Avoda Zara continues to exist.54
It is interesting to consider one discussion in which the endurance of Avoda Zara
may be more than a remote and theoretical manner. In discussing the talmudic
prohibition of selling weapons to non-Jews, which, as always, is limited by Meiri
to pagan religions of old, Meiri makes the following statement:

In the days of our [talmudic] masters they allowed to sell all these [even] to the
Persians, because they dwelt amidst them and they (the Persians) protected them
(the Jews). And whenever a person is protected in the shadow of another, it is appro-
priate to aid him, as possible. And we too, in these and matters like these, and in all
matters, we rule permissively for ourselves for the same reason, even in the extremi-
ties where idolatry has remained, because all of Israel’s work is done through them,
and whenever we benefit by the things we sell them, it is permissible. 55

This passage makes it clear that Avoda Zara does remain of some concern
and we are given one example of what might count as Avoda Zara—the religion
of the Persians. In such cases another basis is found for permitting the sale of
weapons, but what is important for our discussion is the very recognition that
idol worshippers still exist. Of course, reference to the Persians is taken from the
Talmud and does not constitute an independent evaluation of Zoroastrianism
or Manichaeism.56 It would therefore make little sense to speculate on whether
either of those religions had a moral code and whether, when judged in and of
120 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

themselves, they should be judged as compatible with Meiri’s criteria for true reli-
gion. But Meiri seems to point to his own contemporary ruling on similar mat-
ters that involve religions that he considers idolatrous. In other words, the notion
of extremities where Avoda Zara persists is not merely a theoretical notion, but
is part of the sphere of contact with which Meiri has to cope in his capacity as
halachic decisor. From this passage it would seem that Meiri himself ruled con-
cerning certain religions that they were still idolatrous and that therefore talmu-
dic legislation should apply to them. Meiri’s broadening of the discussion from
a specific instance to all matters further suggests that he is reporting an actual
practice, and not just a hypothetical or theoretical possibility.57
To what religions is Meiri referring? Anything we would say would be specu-
lative, but in all likelihood these rulings would point eastward. Given the image
and knowledge of India that was current in the Middle Ages, one could of course
consider India as one such extremity. However, it is extremely unlikely that Meiri
would issue a ruling for an Indian religious context. To the best of my knowledge,
India, its sages, and its religious reality do not appear in Meiri’s works.58 And it
is highly unlikely that Meiri would be called upon to issue a ruling that concerns
Hindu religion.59
Let us now move from the presentation of the possible readings of Meiri’s
teaching to an attempt to apply those teachings to Hinduism. What could be a
Meiri-based approach to Hinduism? The answer will unfold in stages, as we con-
sider the different dimensions and possible readings of Meiri. Let us begin with
the moral dimension, understood independently of specific theological claims.
If Meiri posits the legitimacy of a religion as a function of its upholding moral
living, as opposed to idolatry that encourages all forms of ugliness and sin, then
surely Hinduism too should come under the rubric of “nations bound by the ways
of religion.”60 But let us ponder this further. Judging a religion by its moral fruits
places us before an interesting challenge. In the history of Hinduism (perhaps
of all religions) we encounter both the highest and the lowest, in terms of moral
and spiritual values. On the one hand, it is clear that Hinduism upholds a highly
disciplined life that is anything but the free pandering to desire and sinfulness
that Meiri associates with idolatry. Basic moral precepts govern Hindu life, and
these may even match requirements of the seven noachide commandments.61 On
the other hand, there are many expressions in Hindu religious life that could be
construed as contrary to the sense of morality espoused by Judaism. Some of
these are issues that are no longer relevant and some endure within Hinduism to
this very day. Temple prostitution was a part of Hindu religious life, at various
points in history.62 This would certainly be a practice that is explicitly abhorred
by the Torah and one that has close potential associations with idolatry, when we
consider ancient Israel’s immediate neighbors.63 Some customs that were com-
mon at various points in history may also be queried in relation to our sense
of morality, for example sati, the burning of widows on their husbands’ funeral
pyre. In a more fundamental way, we may find fault with the social teachings and
practices associated with the caste system and its oppressions.
This raises the difficult question of when disagreement concerning practices
and moral teachings is just that, and constitutes an important dimension of the
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 121

identity and teaching of Judaism in relation to other religions, and when such dif-
ferences are so egregious as to force one to consider another religion as not bound
by the ways of religion, according to the principles formulated by Meiri. The ques-
tion is, of course, not specific to Hinduism. David Berger recently queried the
impact of suicide bombing on a view of Islam, in light of Meiri’s principles.64 Could
the god who tolerates the bombing of women and children, or the god who tolerates
temple prostitution, be the same God we proclaim?65 Does either wrong teaching,
if it is indeed a teaching of the religion, or wrong practice, if it is the fruit of mis-
understanding or misinterpretation of the tradition, render a religion that might
otherwise be recognized as legitimate an expression of Avoda Zara?
The problem is twofold. On the one hand, if we find moral fault in another
religion and consequently declare its god to be another god, we are in fact assum-
ing perfection is possible and that any religion can attain a reasonable standard
of moral living that would never be called into question. While in theory this is
an attractive proposition and might in some way be implied by the ethos of the
noachide commandments, in reality it is a standard we may never achieve. Upon
closer scrutiny we are bound to find moral fault with any religion, without excep-
tion. Indeed, the other side of the problem is that Judaism too might not emerge
blame-free from such moral scrutiny. Whether it be slavery of old or present-day
oppression of other peoples, not to mention a host of other spiritual ailments
with which we have been plagued over millennia, it is impossible to imagine a
Judaism that is above moral criticism. It is therefore perhaps easier to use the
negative pole of the definition, as indeed Meiri does. Avoda Zara is identified
with wanton libertinism. Whatever jihadistic Islam is and however strongly we
may disagree with its practices, it is not Avoda Zara in the moral sense portrayed
by Meiri. And the same will probably be true for many Hindu practices that we
may condemn on moral grounds. That acts that are immoral are committed in a
religious framework does not mean the religion lacks morality. It only means that
corruption has entered the religion and that a morally corrupt sense has been at
work. But this need not affect the basic definition of the religion and its ability
to point to God as its ultimate referent. Misapplication of moral, legal, or ritual
principles is not wanton libertinism.
To this we might add that Hinduism itself has been steadily undergo-
ing changes. It is part of the fabric of the Hindu view of history that dharma,
the teaching and practice of moral and religious duty and obligation, steadily
declines. In this sense, Hinduism accommodates its own weaknesses and imper-
fections within a conceptual structure that accounts for how such imperfections
come about. The flip side of this recognition is that such moral and spiritual
decline is the occasion for the coming of great teachers, who come in order to
correct the upset balance and to restore the teaching. One classical expression of
this view is found in the most popular of all Hindu religious works, the Bhagavad
Gita.66 The understanding that the present-day teacher has come to restore a lost
balance is quite common in relation to various teachers and groups. For example,
Swaminarayan’s identity, mission, and authenticity are understood against the
backdrop of prevailing immorality in the eighteenth century.67 The point can be
made in relation to Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism,68 and even in relation
122 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

to contemporary teachers. I recall Sri Sri Ravi Shankar addressing a stadium full
of devotees, alluding to his divine mission in precisely these terms. If so, it is
possible within a Hindu framework to recognize that faults have crept into the
system, while pointing to the purified tradition as the authentic or true expres-
sion of tradition.
Loss of teaching and its reestablishment is not only a purely internal mat-
ter for tradition. It is also fed by encounter with external civilizations. For
several hundred years India was in contact with and under the control of the
British empire, a fact that has had profound impact on some of its practices. The
British did much to uproot those dimensions of religion that they considered
immoral, notably the practice of sati. Encounter with the British also spawned
various Hindu reform movements that have contributed to the present articula-
tion of Hinduism. It is fair to say that Hinduism as encountered by early British
and Portugese colonialists is not identical with present-day Hinduism. If Meiri
uhpolds a theory of progress in religion, one could apply this theory not only to
the contrast between present-day religions and the religions of old but also to
different historical expressions of the same religion, in our case of Hinduism.69
There is little doubt that when dealing with Hinduism today we are no longer
dealing with some of the moral challenges that we might have had to deal with
500 years ago. For a view that espouses a notion of progress in religions, the
latter-day forms of a religion are its most important expressions, and the religion
should be assessed in light of those.
All this having been said, I would like to point to one important expression of
Hindu religious life, though it would be dangerous to equate it with Hinduism in
its entirety. In fact, it is likely that contemporary Western attention to the phe-
nomenon—both academic and popular—causes this phenomenon to be viewed
as far more central and pervasive than it is within its indigenous Hindu context.
I am referring to the practices of Tantra.70 These are based on a conscious rever-
sal of the prevalent moral order in an attempt to transcend the duality of good
and evil by intentionally committing moral and ritual transgressions.71 Still, one
notes that the logic upon which Tantra is based is a logic of reversal of the exist-
ing moral order, which in fact provides testimony to its centrality. Were there
not a powerful moral and ritual order of right and wrong, there would not be
anything worth reversing, as part of a mystical drive for higher union.72 Tantra
thus reinforces, rather than undermines, the view of Hinduism as an instrument
of moral standards.
Having explored possible objections to the view that Hinduism espouses and
offers a moral teaching, we are led back to the intuitive starting point of this
discussion, namely that one cannot ignore Hinduism’s moral foundations and
that these would be commensurate with Meiri’s moral criteria for other religions.
Whatever we may say about Hinduism, past or present, and for that matter about
Islam, does not change the fundamental fabric of the religion as espousing moral
teaching and living. If Judaism has a moral vision and model to offer other reli-
gions, it may continue to do so as part of its work of Tikkun (global healing and
repair). However, differences in moral teaching should not render the God of
those other religions an other god, and those religions a form of Avoda Zara.
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 123

Thus far, I have reflected upon Hinduism in light of Meiri’s core notion of a
nation bound by religion. Let us now move the discussion to the next level and tie
explicit theological awareness to moral teaching. As we have seen, in some places
Meiri does stipulate the knowledge of God as part of his positive view of other
religions. The formulations vary. One formulation we encountered was serving
“divinity in some way, even though their faith is far removed from our own faith.”
In other words, the other culture must have a notion of divinity, even if differ-
ent, indeed far removed, from our own. That sense of divinity would be more
encompassing and total than what the worship of isolated trees, stones, stars, and
idols would provide. It would be a sense of divinity in its totality, grounding the
moral life in such broader recognition. I cannot see how anyone would exclude
Hinduism from such a formulation. Despite the fact that in theory all is subject
to worship, the governing notion is one of divinity in the broader sense posited
by Meiri. One could, in theory, suggest that the distinction between a broader
notion of divinity and the limiting of attention exclusively to some specific mani-
festations of power, trees, stars, etc., would be the criterion that distinguishes
legitimate from illegitimate religion. Accordingly, it may be that some forms of
religious life, some practices of individuals or communities, might be seen as
merely the worship of isolated forces, removed from the broader notion of an all-
encompassing divinity. In other words, it is conceivable that within the religious
life of India we will find expressions of Avoda Zara, if this particular criterion is
applied. However, it seems fair to say that the governing notion of the religious
culture is that there is a “divinity,” and not only notions of isolated powers. This
is certainly the case for the higher philosophies, the various schools of Vedanta,
and other schools. But it is also the case in popular understanding that there is a
notion of divinity, even if its practical expressions translate back to the worship
of stones and idols. Thus, according to this basic definition of what is theologi-
cally required, Hinduism would again meet with Meiri’s approval.
Let us look at Meiri’s other theological formulation. As we saw, in another
context, Meiri speaks of “nations that are bound by the ways of religion and
believe in His (blessed be He) existence, His Unity and His power, even though
they are in error concerning some matters, according to our faith.” Again, error
is permissible or acceptable, but here Meiri does seem to offer some minimal
theological requirements. These are existence, unity, and power.73 At this point
the consideration of Hinduism becomes far more complex. To what extent can
the understanding of divine unity itself be part of the error that Judaism recog-
nizes in another religion without compromising its validity? For the philosophi-
cal Hindu, there is no doubt concerning God’s unity. Whether one speaks of the
absolute Brahman or of the preferred manifestations of the Divine that are wor-
shipped, most Hindus would be able to subscribe to Meiri’s criteria, if we were
to take them as a theological minimal baseline. While it is also true that many
worshippers might not be able to affirm unity as one of the primary attributes
of God, the more general question of who speaks for Hinduism could lead us to
privilege the voice of the learned who do recognize the ultimate unity of God as
sufficient for complying with Meiri’s criteria. In any event, I am not sure that the
theological gap between Jewish and Hindu views of divine unity is significantly
124 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

greater than the gap between Jewish and Christian views, and the latter, as we
know, were deemed adequate by Meiri.
Philosophically, it is worth considering the relationship between theological
premises and moral behavior and how these are related differently in the cases
of Judaism and Hinduism. The minimal requirements of faith may be needed
as premises for establishing a moral life. It may be that belief in God is needed
not simply as a correlate of a religious system, but because without basic beliefs
concerning God it would not be possible to uphold a moral order. While this
makes sense in relation to God’s existence and power, it makes less sense in rela-
tion to His unity, and even less sense in relation to His incorporeality, posited
in one passage as a minimal theological requirement.74 The question is to what
extent morality and theology are tied together as two components needed to
construct the category of “religion,” or whether theology provides the founda-
tions for morality. If the answer is the former, then we need not account for how
theological faith motivates moral behavior. We need only recognize that a reli-
gious system is a valid “religion” possessing all basic traits of what a “religion”
ought to possess. Meiri, in fact, does not present theological belief as the founda-
tion for moral behavior, and we need not force this understanding upon him.
Nevertheless, it is worth noting that for Meiri at least some of the foundational
theological beliefs are also prerequisites for a moral life, inasmuch as they ground
moral behavior in the operative notion of revelation. The one God, who exists
and has power, reveals Himself, demanding moral behavior, that is guaranteed
by His power.
This structure of thought can be applied in only a limited way to the Hindu
context. Hinduism’s scriptures are not revealed by a personal God.75 If we rec-
ognize the unity of God in Brahman, we must also recognize that Brahman
is beyond revelation and beyond the active moral management of this world,
including considerations of recompense. The Hindu worldview is highly aware
of considerations of recompense and of the moral value of all actions. These,
however, are not tied directly to the same set of theological beliefs that operates
in Meiri’s Abrahamic milieu. While it is important to be aware of this distinc-
tion, not too much should be made of it. If the validity of a religion is determined
by the conjunction of moral behavior and a coherent set of theological premises
that condition such moral behavior, Hinduism provides us with an alternative
way of configuring religious belief and moral duty. While many of the funda-
mental details of belief—God, unity, power—may be recognizable, they appear in
different combinations, carrying different weight within the overall system and
operating in different ways as they interact with the moral order. But whichever
way we tackle the problem, we would seem to still be able to recognize Hinduism
as a valid religion. If we look for the presence of the diverse elements as consti-
tutive elements of a religion, they are there. And if we look for the theological
grounding of moral behavior, it is there. The requirement that moral behavior
be grounded in a particular configuration of theological beliefs, as indeed is the
case in the religions that Meiri knew personally, seems to me to go both beyond
Meiri’s broader spirit and beyond the specifics of how he describes the terms
under which other religions may be recognized.
 THINKING OF HINDUISM IN LIGHT OF MEIRI 125

As is obvious from my presentation, I consider the correct way to read Meiri is

not simply to highlight a governing notion, such as “nations bound by religion,”
but to appreciate the entirety of his thought structure. Accordingly, the key ques-
tion is not whether a given religion is idolatrous, or even whether it is moral, but
rather whether it is “religion” in the full sense that Meiri attaches to the term. It
would seem that Hinduism is very much a “religion.” In fact, Meiri might pro-
vide a way of helping us identify what a religion is and to consider Hinduism in
this light. The particular combination of constitutive beliefs about the Divine, a
comprehensive worldview, fundamental moral teachings, and ritual expression,
these broad characterizations apply to all forms of Hinduism. But more signifi-
cant in this context is the transformative power of religion. What gives religion
as such its weight, in Meiri’s view, is its power to transform human nature and to
help guide and intervene in the ongoing battle against the weaknesses of human
nature. Judged from this anthropocentric and spiritual perspective, not only is
Hinduism as much a “religion” as those religions with which Meiri himself was
familiar, but in many ways it can serve as a model worthy of emulation by other
religions. Much of its self-understanding focuses upon structuring life toward an
ultimate telos that is in conformity with this description of the workings of reli-
gion. I refer here to the famous fourfold division of the life cycle, leading to the
final goal of liberation, itself an expression of how religion intervenes in the bat-
tle against physical nature. The battle against nature has produced expressions of
asceticism, sacrifice, and religious ways of life that make India a model for how
religion operates in this way. Thus, if a religion is measured by its transformative
power, in accordance with the core components that make religion a “religion,”
it is clear that Hinduism must be acknowledged as a full “religion,” and hence
beyond the specter of classical Jewish charges of Avoda Zara.
The transformative workings of religion are founded upon morality but
extend beyond the moral realm to the higher regions of the spiritual life. The
battle against the animal nature produces not only decent human beings, but
also individuals who enter the spiritual life so deeply that they are considered as
having made significant contact with and even entered the divine realm. This
is a major draw of Hinduism. Indeed, Hinduism has produced and continues
to produce holy men and women, as much and perhaps more than any other
religious culture. The wanton libertine, who defines Avoda Zara for Meiri, is
to be placed at the very opposite extreme of the spectrum, contrasted with the
Hindu saint. While saints are few and they may be far more apart than popular
Hindu imagination would like to admit, the fact that Hinduism can and has
produced great spiritual saints, whose sanctity should be beyond dispute, sug-
gests that God can be known and recognized within Hinduism through the
traces He leaves in the lives of those who have come close to Him, who have
known Him, and who have reached union with Him. In this lies the ultimate
justification for considering it a “religion” in the fullest possible sense that Meiri
could have imagined.
While realizing that Avoda Zara has on the whole been transcended, Meiri
does recognize there are still pockets of Avoda Zara on the periphery. This notion
may be reworked in order to accommodate the complexity of religious realities
126 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

within the broader framework of Hinduism. While, in light of Meiri’s teachings,

we may conclude that Hinduism, broadly constructed, belongs in the same cat-
egory as Christianity and Islam, recognized by him, there may still be pockets
of Avoda Zara within Hinduism. That is, there may be people or groups whose
religious life is phenomenologically that described by Meiri as Avoda Zara. Rather
than focus on the forms their religious life takes, we should consider the over-
all structure and value of their religious and spiritual life. The use of ritual, the
appropriation of power, and the attempt to fulfill one’s own desires may be char-
acteristics of a religious phenomenology of Avoda Zara. Meiri’s insight, when
examined against reality, may be valid. People who pursue religion with such
narrow aims may indeed lead immoral lives. But if so, Meiri’s phenomenology
is of far greater importance than his contribution to the neutralization of the
specter of Avoda Zara from Christianity. Avoda Zara emerges as a self-serving,
nontransformative means of using religion or worship for personal ends, coupled
with unbridled license and abandon of strict moral standards. For Meiri this is
related to the object of worship. If one worships idols, stones, and stars, this is
their moral correlate. But if Meiri is describing a phenomenology of religion,
such phenomenology is neither limited to those who worship stones, nor is it
found exclusively in religions beyond Israel. We note time and again that Meiri is
willing to apply the same standards to Jews and to non-Jews, based on his view of
religious and moral reality. If so, an Avoda Zara–like approach to religion may be
found even within Judaism. Someone leading a life of moral abandon and taking
up Jewish magical practices—a phenomenon that one encounters nowadays with
the spread of some forms of Kabbalah within and without—would, according to
this understanding, be lacking in what Meiri considers true “religion.” We are
thus led away from the broad generalizations through which we seek to clas-
sify, categorize, and make pronouncements about huge and complex phenomena
such as Judaism and Hinduism toward a more nuanced view that distinguishes
between basic structures of a religion and the spiritual lives of individuals or
groups within them. What is true for Hinduism will be true for Judaism. When
Avoda Zara is seen as a phenomenology of religion rather than a description of
the objects of worship, a different sense of the meaning of religion and how it
challenges us to transform arises.
I shall explore the implications of shifting the discussion from broad pro-
nouncements on religions to more specific and individual configurations of reli-
gion in the final chapter of this book. But before doing so, I would like to revisit
all that we have discussed so far by reframing the discussion in a way that could
help us get beyond the challenge of the worship of images in Hinduism.
 Part IV

The Same God: Rethinking

Hinduism

Overview

In Part IV the argument takes a turn by redefining our lead question. Part III
dealt with the problem of Avoda Zara and accordingly focused our attention on
the other god. Part IV asks the question of how we might come to regard the God
of another religion as the same God. The criteria for defining Avoda Zara and for
affirming the same God are not the same and the difference between them will
yield different views of Hinduism. Furthermore, once we are able to affirm the
same God, a series of theological questions, pointers for dialogue serving the goal
of better understanding, emerges. There was no room for these questions as long
as the guiding question was that of Avoda Zara. Once the question is redefined,
new horizons of inquiry open up.
Chapter 11 makes the move from framing the question in terms of Avoda Zara
to terms of the “same God.” All the positions encountered in Part III are here
reviewed through the new inquisitive lens. The discussion suggests that different
criteria apply for each question. Accordingly, a religion could be both Avoda Zara
and an approach to the same God. If so, this would certainly neutralize the nega-
tive emotional and attitudinal by-products of the declaration of another religion
as Avoda Zara.
For each of the views surveyed in Part III, it is suggested that it is possible to
identify some aspect of recognition of the same God, if not in full, then at least in
part. Particularly interesting is the view of Meiri, who might himself be under-
stood as having reframed the question from terms of Avoda Zara to terms of the
“same God” question.
Affirmation of the same God requires criteria by means of which the affirma-
tion is made. A review of “same God” affirmations in relation to Christianity
suggests that belief in creation and faith in various stories and miracles, founded
upon the more fundamental common faith in revelation, provide the means for
recognizing the same God. In the case of Hinduism we would have to identify
criteria that do not depend upon a common revelation. These could include cre-
ation. They could also appeal to common metaphysical understanding. Finally,
128 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

they could draw on the fruits of the religious life, including morality, spirituality,
and mysticism, as ways of indicating an approach to God that may be recognized
as fundamentally one and the same as known in Judaism.
Chapter 12 builds on the premise that the same God may be affirmed in
Judaism and Hinduism. Such affirmation changes the rules of the game in terms
of attitudes and of what is made possible in the relationships and interactions
between believers of the two faiths. Scorn is replaced by acceptance; rejection and
delegitimation are replaced by the possible need to listen to the spiritual testi-
mony of the faithful of another tradition who approach the same God in a differ-
ent way. This leads us then to consider the particularity of Hindu gods. Rabbinic
positions we saw allow us to accept Hinduism by highlighting commonalities,
but at the same time ignoring the particularity, the strangeness, the otherness
of Hindu faith. But if we affirm belief in the same God, we must also be able to
account for what is different. Is the only possible approach one that ignores par-
ticularity and specificity of faith or is there a way of making sense of much of the
real, lived, expressed faith of Hindus? Put differently, how do we make sense not
only of the Hindu God, but also of the Hindu gods.
The discussion opens by exploring the possible difference of meaning between
two affirmations—“there is no god besides God” and “all gods are God.” The
conceptual gap may represent what is at stake in the discussion and suggest why
Judaism cannot simply resolve the difficulties it has with multiple gods by sub-
scribing to the latter formula, typical of a Hindu view of God and gods.
In order to make sense of the particularity of the gods we need to consider
these in their specificity. Here the discussion divides into three. The first part
discusses forces of nature, considered divine. Here we encounter one important
suggestion, recognized already by Muslim authors, that distinguishes gods from
angels, viewing Hindu gods not as “gods” in our sense, be it cosmically, meta-
physically, or devotionally, but as equivalent to angels in our worldview. This
strategy, combined with several of the strategies identified in Part III, would
allow us to consider these gods in a more positive light.
The second part discusses the view of humans as gods. While biblical and
rabbinic opposition to the view of humans as gods was related to the political
dimensions of such designations, the question remains whether we can find an
approach that could make sense of such designation, even if it is limited to the
spiritual sphere. Several notions are put forth as ways of advancing the discus-
sion. The permissibility of Shituf, discussed earlier, suggests a way of accepting
such worship. Nachmanides’s discussion also provides an interesting precedent
for acceptable worship of humans. Finally, the notion of the image of God may be
put to the service of this inquiry.
The third part focuses on all those gods that cannot be subsumed under the
first two categories, and these are some of the major Hindu gods. Some work
can be done using strategies of abstraction and translation, wherein these gods
correspond to principles of philosophical value that can be appreciated across
religious traditions. But there are limits to the power of translation, requiring us
to suggest another strategy.
 THE SAME GOD: RETHINKING HINDUISM 129

In order to make sense of their particularity and of what seems to us foreign,

against the background of a recognition of faith in a common God, I develop here
a notion of the religious imagination that seeks to legitimate the workings of the
imagination in the religious domain, independently of its truth value. This the-
ory is drawn from the resources of traditional Jewish spiritual literature. What is
here attempted is both the formulation of such a theory and its extension from an
internal discussion to an externally oriented view of other religions.
This theory would have to meet three requirements:

A. A dissociation of the content of imagination from an “out-there” truth

component, so that what is produced by the imagination need not be con-
sidered true in a descriptive sense, or correspond to spiritual reality as it is,
even though some degree of abstraction and translation into philosophical
terms seems unavoidable.
B. Recognition of the instrumentality of religious imagination in reaching
God and making His presence real, such that it enlivens the spiritual life,
producing beneficial fruits.
C. Appreciation of the fruits of religious imagination as expressions of a
divinely given capacity, grounded in the notion of the image of God.

To these discussions of the positive workings of the religious imagination is

added, at the end of the chapter, one prominent rabbinical voice, which affirms
that Avoda Zara must apply to a created being, thereby upsetting the proper bal-
ance of creator and creature. Imaginary beings do not fall within the scope of
Avoda Zara. Working with this position, especially when couched in a broader
theory of religious imagination, would further remove the concern for Avoda
Zara from the particular way in which the Hindu religious imagination presents
its gods.
Chapter 13 tackles the other thorny question that impacts a Jewish view of
Hinduism: the worship of images. As we have seen in Part III, none of the author-
ities we studied considered image worship to lie at the heart or to provide the
definition for Avoda Zara. Once we affirm recognition of the same God, we may
also revisit the worship of images and ask how we might understand it. This
discussion takes the form of a dialogue, present or future, where different spiri-
tual understandings are given a hearing, and where the potential relevance of the
Hindu position receives a hearing, founded on notions of legitimate otherness,
supported by faith in the same God, leading us to seek the testimony or spiritual
understanding of what informs the worship of idols.
Several insights are featured in this section. The first concerns the notion of
permanence of the idol and how it is conceived in relation to “God.” Some analo-
gies from Jewish sources make the practice more understandable. One analogy is
from the Temple. Thinking of the idol as equivalent to the Temple, a (ultimately
temporary) dwelling place, brings the practice within reach of our understand-
ing. A second strategy brings us back to biblical ideas of divine embodiment and
notions of a fluid divine body. The fluidity of the divine body, manifesting here
130 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

and there, simultaneously, taking on multiple expressions, makes us query the

very notion of divine embodiment. This query allows us to revisit notions of
embodiment and how they might relate to the embodiment of Hindu deities,
both in the abstract and in the concrete idol. Finally, there is room to consider
the psychological usefulness and instrumentality of the idol as a stage along the
path to a higher recognition, as affirmed by Hindu voices.
The problem of divine embodiment and its relation to the absolute has also
been of concern to Hindu thought. A study by Rabbi Herzel Hefter seeks to
explore the meaning of the prohibition on idolatry in terms of stasis and dyna-
mism. The problem is larger than the worship of images and is relevant to how
we approach our own religious values, especially our view of Torah. Therefore,
the Hindu concern for avoiding stasis in relation to idols can serve as a lesson for
the deeper meaning of what is to be avoided in idol worship.
The chapter’s concluding reflection touches on the psychology of idolatry and
the religious worldview it inculcates. If built into the worship of images is the
recognition that these must ultimately be transcended and the recognition of the
relativity of various religious forms, this inculcates a patient and tolerant attitude.
The Jewish view and its absolutist approach to the same problem could inculcate
the opposite attitude. In pedagogical terms, the questions of religious violence
and tolerance are important expressions of the psychological orientation and the
price paid for specific religious choices made. We must also consider these, when
thinking of the relative values of different religious approaches to God.
 11

Do Jews and Hindus Worship

the Same God?

R eframing a question is often a very helpful way of moving a discussion for-

ward. Having identified multiple positions concerning what constitutes
Avoda Zara and having reflected on how these positions might be relevant to
Hinduism, I would like to now approach these same sources from a novel angle,
after reframing our lead question. Part III revolved around the question of
whether Hinduism is Avoda Zara, mostly based on the precedent of Christianity.
This is a classical Jewish formulation, and it grows out of a halachic frame of
reference, providing a guideline to practical issues and setting certain attitudes
in place. What would happen if the question was redefined from the essentially
negative formulation of Avoda Zara to a more positive formulation? In Part IV
I would like to revisit the above discussions by recasting them through the fol-
lowing question: Do Jews and Hindus worship the same God? The positions
encountered in Part III would provide the building blocks by means of which we
might be able to construct new conceptual edifices, around the guiding frame-
work of the “same God.” The “same God” question allows us to seek commonal-
ity and recognition, rather than to focus on negativity, which would then have
to be limited in practical or theoretical ways. It allows us to identify common
ground, which in turn could lead to the sharing of spiritual insight, based on the
recognition that we are approaching the “same God.” The “same God” question
seems to me a powerful way of moving the discussion forward. It allows us to
revisit earlier positions and to identify their potential for advancing theologi-
cal discussion as well as relationship building. It even allows us to revisit those
positions that we would have thought showed no promise in terms of a positive
appreciation of Hinduism. Let us then explore how new horizons might open up
through a novel theoretical formulation.
The “same God” discussion is a novel discussion.1 The “same God” question
is actually the flip side of the foundational biblical perspective, forbidding the
worship of other gods. “Other gods” is how the ten commandments refer to gods
of other religions. In a polytheistic or henotheistic context, reference to other
gods is self-evident, and the issue of “same God” does not even arise. It requires
132 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

further theological evolution,2 and the clear recognition of a single divine being
to raise the question of the same God.3
A discussion of the “same God” question in relation to Avoda Zara allows
us to revisit what is Avoda Zara and how it is construed. In juxtaposing the two
perspectives we may discover full or partial overlap between the issue of Avoda
Zara and the “same God” question. The “same God” question could conceivably
uncover the implicit assumptions of a discussion of Avoda Zara, provide a coun-
terpoint to it or redefine it. It is thus a very helpful heuristic device, by means of
which age-old questions of Avoda Zara may be revisited, appreciated anew, and
possibly redefined.
The title of this section, “Do Jews and Hindus Worship the Same God,” will
seem familiar to readers conversant with the Jewish-Christian dialogue. It echoes
the opening statement of the famous Jewish statement on Christianity, issued in
2000, according to which Jews and Christians worship the same God. The affir-
mation is far from trivial and was, indeed, itself subject to further debate.4 The
need to affirm the identity of God as known in Judaism and Christianity grows
out of a tradition of considering Christianity as Avoda Zara, but more broadly,
out of a long history of competition and tension that required a statement of what
the two religions share in common as a way of advancing their relations. The
authors felt, correctly in my view, that framing the theological issues in terms of
the “same God” question is a way of advancing discussion, as well as of advanc-
ing relations. Now, as the authors of the statement are well aware of the history of
viewing Christianity as Avoda Zara, there are two ways of understanding their
statement. The first is that they have chosen to affirm the position according to
which Christianity is not Avoda Zara. If so, their statement would be opposed by
all halachic authorities who maintain the view that it is. The alternative would be
that even if Christianity is considered Avoda Zara, Jews and Christians worship
the same God. This seemingly paradoxical statement could be variously under-
stood. We have noted that the strangeness, which makes Avoda Zara strange
or foreign worship, could address either the God or the means of worship. If
the strangeness is indeed one of worship, which is executed by means, includ-
ing theological means of conceiving and approaching the Divine, foreign to
Jewish understanding, then the religion may be considered Avoda Zara even if
it approaches the same God. If so, something significant is gained by reframing
discussion in terms of the “same God” question. Such reframing provides the
basis for attitudinal change. Avoda Zara excludes; recognition of the same God
unites. Avoda Zara functions as a means of rejecting the other; recognition of the
same God limits differences to the ritual or theological realm, while maintaining
a core common approach to God. Ultimately, Avoda Zara runs the risk of other-
ing its worshippers to the point of losing sight of the common humanity, even if
the consequences of the halachic proclamation of Avoda Zara do not necessarily
entail such a position. By contrast, affirmation of a common God goes a long
way toward establishing a common humanity and its common and often related
approach toward the Divine.
The “same God” question hinges to a large extent, certainly in the first instance,
on the question of whether a religion is viewed through its ritual expressions or
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 133

through its philosophical positions. The question is as much an internal question

as it is a question between religions. One way of establishing the fact that all Jews
worship the same God is that they share the same rituals. As these rituals point
to God, who is their ultimate reference point, this functions as a way of establish-
ing the identity of the God worshipped. By extension, those who do not share
in these rituals cannot, till proven otherwise, be assumed to be worshipping the
same God. This is then further compounded by the worship of idols and images.
If worship is addressed to an idol, and that idol is not recognized by Judaism as
God, then the intuitive and instinctive conclusion is that the worship is being
directed to a god who is other than God.
The positions of the sages of the Middle Ages, especially as articulated in rela-
tion to Christianity, all make a view of another religion more complex. Let us
then review the positions discussed above in light of the “same God” question.
I would like to open with a discussion of Maimonides’ position. Maimonides
represents the view that Christianity is Avoda Zara, without any equivocation. It
would seem this position leaves little room for recognition of the same God. Yet,
upon closer scrutiny things may turn out to be more complex. As already noted,
Maimonides does not offer us a clear accounting for why Christianity is consid-
ered Avoda Zara. If Maimonides is following a possible talmudic precedent, an
unlikely possibility in my view, then we do not really know what it is that makes
Christianity Avoda Zara. The decision would be formal and would leave little
room for additional reflection. If, however, Maimonides’ working definition, as it
emerges both from his historical narrative and from the core definition he offers
for Avoda Zara in Chapter 2, 1 of the Laws of Avoda Zara, is considered, then the
problem with Avoda Zara is the worship of a being other than God. This defini-
tion would put the same God question right at the heart of the discussion. Thus,
Maimonides’ definition of Avoda Zara allows us to approach the discussion not
from an analysis of worship, but by tackling directly the question of whether or
not one is worshipping the same God. Exploring this question leads us to the
realms of intention and of philosophy. We thus return, once again, to the ques-
tion of the intention of the worshipping person. Once again we ask whether the
ultimate criterion for how to view a situation is that of the (Jewish) observer or
that of the (non-Jewish) worshipper. While this approach is useful, inasmuch as
it builds on Maimonides’ core definition, it is also problematic in some ways.
To apply it to Maimonides requires us to assume that Maimonides did not fully
understand Christianity, either because he did not live in a Christian milieu,5 or
because his rabbinic culture, both ancient and contemporary, precluded more
serious engagement with its theoretical understanding. This approach uses the
criteria suggested by Maimonides while assuming these could or should have
led to alternative conclusions. Maimonides might not recognize himself in such
a presentation.
There is another way of considering the Maimonidean view. According to this
approach, the “same God” question may be distinguished from the halachic sta-
tus of Avoda Zara. Even if a religion is considered Avoda Zara, we may still be
able to affirm that Judaism and that religion worship the same God. If so, the
affirmation of the authors of Dabru Emet concerning Christianity may be upheld
134 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

even according to a Maimonidean view of Christianity. Several lines of reason-

ing could lead to this conclusion. The first, already suggested above, would be to
consider Avoda Zara a consequence of wrong worship, a false approach to God,
while the identity of the God remains the same. While Maimonides’ core defini-
tion of Avoda Zara does involve worshipping another being, it may be argued
that the images of stone and wood are themselves such an other being.6 While
this may be a simplistic view of the practices of another religion, it would never-
theless provide us with a coherent understanding of why the worship of images
is forbidden. It is not simply a mistaken form of approach. The homage paid
to images is tantamount to worshipping a being other than God, the physical
images themselves. Now, while the worship might be considered as directed to
another being, this does not lead to the conclusion that the core understanding
of God in another tradition is of another God. We recall that Maimonides’ nar-
rative of Avoda Zara failed to mention the most basic and classical sense of Avoda
Zara, namely the worship of another God. All Avoda Zara is the outgrowth of the
worship of or the misdirected application of the will of the one true God. If we
return to the initial stages of the history of Avoda Zara, the generation of Enosh,
the worship of another being—stars and planets—is the heart of the sin, while the
understanding of God remains correct. Maimonides affirms in Laws of Avoda
Zara 2,1 that the worship of another being, even while acknowledging God’s real-
ity, still constitutes Avoda Zara. If so, it is easy to see how one could be guilty
of Avoda Zara, while at the same time holding on to a recognition of the true
identity of God. The root of the theological error concerns God’s will, not God’s
identity. If so, we may legitimately distinguish the “same God” question from
the question of Avoda Zara. Even though Christianity, and by extension many
forms of Hinduism, may worship God in ways that are inappropriate, involving
the worship of other beings, this does not necessitate the conclusion that the core
understanding of who is God is different.7
Support for distinguishing between the two questions may be brought from
Maimonides himself. In a famous responsum, Maimonides permits the teach-
ing of Torah to Christians, while upholding the talmudic prohibition of teaching
Torah to non-Jews in relation to Muslims.8 The reasoning Maimonides offers is
that Christians believe in the same revelation as us, and will therefore treat the
Torah taught them respectfully, whereas Muslims do not show the same respect
to our Scriptures, claiming they have been falsified. Now, the acknowledgment
of the validity of revelation is not simply a respectful attitude. It is a theological
statement, involving a sense of who God is, the fact that He addresses us and what
His revelation consists of. To claim that Christians recognize the same revelation
as us and that their recognition is of halachic consequence is also to make an
implicit statement concerning the faith that Christians have in the same reveal-
ing God.9 Maimonides’ ruling is thus tantamount to recognition of a common
faith in God in Judaism and Christianity.10
The distinction between the question of Avoda Zara and the “same God”
question is of great significance. Distinguishing between these two issues could
open a space for recognition and respect for Christianity, even while upholding
a variety of practical stringencies arising from the recognition that in technical
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 135

and legal terms it is Avoda Zara. The possibility that Maimonides can be enlisted
in support of such a distinction is particularly interesting. If Maimonides condi-
tions much of present-day halachic attitudes to Christianity in ways that would
seem to be negative and not supportive of respect and tolerance, the recogni-
tion that his rulings allow us to draw the distinction between the question of
Avoda Zara and the “same God” question is very significant for contemporary
relations. Entering the discussion through the “same God” portal significantly
narrows down the gap between Maimonides and the halachic authorities we are
about to discuss, who consider that it is permissible for non-Jews to worship God
alongside other beings. From the perspective of Avoda Zara there is a radical
difference between them, with the Maimonidean position leading to rejection of
the legitimacy of Christianity. Seen, however, from the perspective of the “same
God” question, the gap between these positions may disappear. Both positions
may be able to recognize that the God of Judaism and the God of Christianity are
one and the same.
Let us consider how this line of reasoning might be extended from Christianity
to Hinduism. Even if Hinduism were considered Avoda Zara, this does not neces-
sarily preclude recognition of the same God, worshipped differently in both reli-
gions. The argument would have to be constructed differently. The argument from
common scripture would have to be replaced by a philosophical/theological argu-
ment, concerning God’s Being, and the recognition of significant commonalities in
terms of metaphysics. In fact, Maimonides is probably as good a candidate as any
for establishing such commonalities. Maimonides’ philosophical view of God has
recourse to a negative theology, which precludes making positive affirmations con-
cerning a God who is beyond the power of our speech and thought. Maimonides’
entire philosophical oeuvre is geared at harmonizing his own philosophical view
with the religious language and practices of a tradition that speaks of an anthro-
pomorphic and anthropopathic God. Structurally, Maimonides is positioned in
relation to tradition in much the same way that the great philosophers of the vedan-
tic school are positioned in relation to their own. On the one hand, an apophatic
understanding of God is espoused. On the other, a tradition that espouses other
dimensions (even if these differ between Judaism and Hinduism) is upheld. The
project of reconciling philosophical views with ritual practices and a variety of
scriptural expressions is common to Maimonides and the Hindu philosophers. I
think it is fair to speculate if Maimonides had had the possibility of encounter-
ing philosophers such as Sankara or any of his followers, he would have felt great
commonality with their understanding of God.11 In all likelihood he would have
rejected the attempted integration of their philosophical worldview with prevailing
cultural and scriptural norms of worship. But the kind of rejection that is founded
upon the recognition of a common God is qualitatively very different from the
blanket rejection of another religion under the label of Avoda Zara. This is pre-
cisely what the distinction between the question of Avoda Zara and the “same
God” question seeks to achieve, and I think it is likely that this distinction can be
upheld even in relation to Maimonides and his possible views on Hinduism.
One must, of course, distinguish between different dimensions of the
Hindu notion of God. While Maimonides might feel very comfortable with
136 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

the philosophical God, the object of the philosophical and mystical quest of
the Upanishads, the Vedanta, and other philosophies, he would surely not be
able to recognize divinity in the various Hindu gods, who are said, by that same
philosophy, to be manifestations of the one unchanging being. Thus, while
we are able to identify a possible area of mutual recognition, it is clear that for
Maimonides it is possible at best to speak of a partial recognition of the same
God. How significant such partial recognition might be depends on how we view
metaphysics in relation to ritual and myth. In other words, to the extent that we
privilege the absolute Brahman as the ultimate referent of “God,” the area of pos-
sible recognition of the same God broadens.
If for Maimonides we have to argue for the possibility of a partial recogni-
tion of the “same God,” such partial recognition seems to underlie Nachmanides’
understanding, especially as explicated by the Rashba. According to this posi-
tion, it is permissible to worship another being, and to recognize it as divine, pro-
vided one maintains awareness of the ultimate metaphysical and spiritual reality,
according to which God is at the top of the metaphysical pyramid. This posi-
tion makes some interesting options available. A nation may worship its celestial
minister, and for that matter any being other than God may be worshipped, with-
out it being considered Avoda Zara. This creates the possibility that worship may
be offered that is not Avoda Zara and that is nevertheless still directed to a god
other than our own. This is one of several points where the discrepancy between
the status of a religion in terms of Avoda Zara and the answer to the “same God”
question emerges. According to this perspective, it may indeed be that Hindus
worship various gods who are not the same as our God. Nevertheless, such wor-
ship may be legitimate and appropriate for them. While it is not Avoda Zara, it
also does not point to the same God. Rather, a higher sense of God is recognized
as common to Judaism and Hinduism and it is this dimension that would allow
us to recognize the validity of Hinduism for its faithful and to recognize some
dimension of a common God. Thus, when Jews and Hindus speak of God they
mean both the same thing and something different. When it comes to the higher
aspects of God, those that are expounded by philosophy, and where some com-
monality might be identified, Jews and Hindus may be able to recognize the same
God. When it comes to the various forms of worship of gods, who are understood
as expressions of divinity, paralleling the elohim of which Nachmanides speaks,12
Jews could no longer recognize the Hindu god/s as their own. This dual perspec-
tive is grounded in how God governs the world and is therefore legitimate and
not a sign of something having gone awry.13
What this means is that in approaching the notion of God in Hinduism, from
a Nachmanides-based position, one would have to reply with a “yes and no” to the
“same God” question. Both the “yes” and the “no” may be legitimate for Hindu
believers. However, in terms of the “same God” question, the response would
vary according to the religious understanding of a given system, group, or prac-
titioner. If one maintains a position that all worship is directed to the supreme
God, who “comes as” individual beings, then the ultimate focus of attention is
God the absolute. If so, then the range of religious phenomena that can be incor-
porated within a the recognizable common ground of “God” broadens. If, on the
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 137

other hand, the Hindu believer is aware of the metaphysical gap between God the
absolute and the gods of the manifested, created order, then we find ourselves
with a position parallel to that of Nachmanides, where the only possible common
ground concerns God the absolute.
While Nachmanides’ position does allow meaningful recognition of the
same God, it does require several moves that may meet with opposition. Moving
from the divinely ordained heavenly order, known by earlier generation, to the
manifestations of the religious mind, spirit and imagination of India requires
the will power to broaden the categories and to extend the structure developed
by Nachmanides to another spiritual reality. The nature of God would also be
subject to further consideration. Do Hinduism and Judaism speak of the same
thing when they refer to God, in His ultimate being? Nachmanides’ God is jux-
taposed with celestial ministers, but remains nevertheless deeply implicated in
creation and history. While the ministers have relations with the nations, God or,
better yet, the God of Israel has a particular relationship with Israel, a relation-
ship that governs Israel’s history. If we look at the biblical image of Israel’s God,
the features it shares in common with the Hindu Brahman are minimal at best.
The fact that there is a similar structure, wherein lower and higher expressions
are recognized as divine, is not sufficient common ground for identifying the
Hindu God and the Jewish God. In order to make the case, we would need to
enter a philosophical or theosophical discussion regarding the nature of God and
to compare Hindu thought, as expressed in works such as the Upanishads and
in the vedantic philosophy, with the work of Jewish philosophers and kabbalists.
Nachmanides himself is a kabbalist, and therefore his own understanding of the
Divine is far more complex than the anthropomorphic image of God that emerges
from the biblical narrative upon which he comments. It may therefore be possible
to find strong common features between a view of God that Nachmanides would
subscribe to and a Hindu view of God.
To speak of the same God does not necessitate an identical theology. The kind
of legitimate difference between theological positions that is tolerated within
Judaism provides sufficient proof for this claim. Differences in theology between
a Jewish and a Hindu view of God the absolute may therefore be explored in
the way similar differences are explored within Judaism. Such exchanges could
be theologically enriching. They could help restore interest in theological dis-
cussion and in reflection on God in Judaism. Some of the vibrant and engaging
discussions that characterized earlier historical periods have all but disappeared
from Judaism’s spiritual horizons. Engaging another religious worldview, espe-
cially one that puts God and the quest for God at its center, could be helpful in
rediscovering the passion for theological reflection. I believe that even though
various theological nuances will emerge, the effort to clarify the relations and
differences between a Jewish and a Hindu view of God, in the highest, will lead to
the conclusion that both traditions seek to address the same reality.
One of the ways in which we can establish that indeed we are speaking of the
same reality is to identify key features of that reality. Rather than seeking full
theological accord, something that does not exist even within our own tradition,
we may seek a statement, a quality, an awareness, or a realization that captures
138 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

what we consider definitive of God and locate it in both traditions. This would
affirm the identity of God, as known by both traditions, as the same God. This
is very much the strategy that Jews have applied to Christianity for hundreds of
years. We move at this point from Nachmanides’ perspective to that of propo-
nents of the view that Shituf is permissible for non-Jews. Both Nachmanides and
the proponents of the permissibility of Shituf share the common assumption that
the standards of Avoda Zara are different for Jews and non-Jews. Accordingly, for
both views the answer to the same God question would be “yes and no.” However,
certainly in the case of followers of the Shituf view, the “yes” seems to far out-
weigh the “no.” This may be because Shituf requires worship of the same God,
not merely recognition of His existence. It may also be because the position was
articulated in relation to a religion that builds upon and extends the common
foundations of the biblical view of God. Throughout the history of the devel-
opment of this position, we find it alongside a complementary strategy, which
addresses the “same God” question directly.
If we go back to the initial statement of the Tosafot, from which the entire
Shituf construct emerged, we note that at its very initial stages the permissibility
of Shituf is accompanied by an important “same God” statement.14 The Tosafot
struggle with the possibility that a Christian who is taking an oath may be taking
an oath involving Avoda Zara, and that the Jew, through his legal involvement,
would be implicated directly or indirectly. In the discussion, the affirmation is
made that the “intention is to the Creator of heaven [and earth].” This affirma-
tion can be understood in one of two ways, depending on the variant readings.
According to one reading,15 there is no concern about taking an oath in God’s
name, even though Jesus is included in the Christian understanding of God,
because their intention is to God. This is an important reading. Even though
the notion of divinity is mistaken and includes Jesus, the ultimate intention of
the worshippers is directed to God. We know it is the same God that we worship
because He is understood as the creator. Two important lessons emerge from this
reading. The first is that the faith of the worshipper is what determines whether
He is appealing to Avoda Zara or not. Here, the intention is to God, even though
the notion of God includes Jesus. Intention prevails over the theological error of
considering Jesus as God.16 We have struggled earlier with the problem of whether
our perspective or the perspective of the believer should determine whether he or
she worships God or something else. The Tosafot are an important source in sup-
port of the understanding that intention is the ultimate source of meaning. The
second lesson is that we have here a way of identifying that we mean the same
thing when we say “God.” God’s role as creator functions as an indicator that we
are indeed talking about the same God, despite the differences in religion.17
Creation is only one way of referencing God. If it is deemed the most fun-
damental common ground for recognizing the same God across traditions, we
could equally apply it to Hinduism.18 While the theory of creation is different
and the narrative accounts vary widely, it is legitimate to boil faith down to some
broad and abstract proclamation of commonality and to see God the creator as
the means of identifying the same God. Upon further reflection, the choice of
“Creator” as the identifying attribute of God makes a lot of sense. God’s great
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 139

acts, as captured in Scripture, memory, and ritual are creation, the giving of the
Torah and the continuing involvement in Israel’s fate, particularly as this finds
expression through great acts of deliverance from exile and oppression. Of these,
only the first is of universal significance. The relationship that all humanity, and
all beings, have to God is by virtue of the fact that He is their creator. Therefore,
“Creator” could and should serve as the most fundamental common ground
between religions. Indeed, those religions that deny God’s role in creating the
world may, by this reasoning, be beyond the pale of recognition. Hinduism is not
one of those religions. Thus, one way of establishing the identity of the same God
is by appealing to what is deemed most basic about God, and in this case it is the
fact that he is the creator, as proclaimed by Judaism and Christianity.
The Tosafot’s view should be complemented by reference to another passage of
the Tosafot, again referring to Christianity in terms of Avoda Zara. The Tosafot
struggle with the fact that talmudic prohibitions on commercial relations with
idolaters are not practiced. Several answers are offered. They finally opt for the
answer that “concerning the non-Jews who are among us, we know them to not
be idolaters.”19 This is a striking statement. It appeals to a very basic instinct
of recognizing what is the religious reality of the other. It implies that one can
recognize that the other religion is not worshipping idols or, in this text literally,
stars. The “same God” argument is not explicit. However, it seems to me that it
informs this statement. Contrary to earlier rabbinic positions that attempted to
resolve the conflict between law and custom by seeing the Avoda Zara as mere
external gestures, devoid of true religious passion and zeal, 20 what we have here
is a statement that affirms our own ability to recognize the other as not worship-
ping another God or, in other words, as worshipping the same God as us. It seems
to me that this statement very much complements the previously quoted position
of the Tosafot that recognizes the fundamental intention and approach to the
common God, creator of heaven and earth, as more significant and as overriding
theological and, possibly other ritual, differences.
One must realize that such statements do not yet amount to blanket recogni-
tion of Christianity, exonerating it from the charge of Avoda Zara. Had the logic of
intention had the upper hand over the theological and ritual dimensions that led to
the prevailing attitude that Christianity was Avoda Zara, there would have been a
much more principled statement with regard to Christianity’s status as non-Avoda
Zara. In fact, Meiri may be understood as someone who affirms overall inten-
tion and orientation, in relation to God, thereby recognizing the same God in the
God of Judaism and the God of Christianity. Meiri may indeed be the product
of a gradual maturation of the Tosafists’ position.21 But other than this remark-
able exception to the rule, most authorities continued to regard Christianity as
Avoda Zara despite the striking statements from the Tosafot, quoted before. These
statements remained small autonomous arguments that found their place within
a broader halachic argumentation that upheld the view of Christianity as Avoda
Zara, in accordance with prevailing norms up to that time.22 If, indeed, we recog-
nize that the Gentiles among us (note: rather than the Gentiles among whom we
dwell) are not recognized as worshipping idols, why did this not yield a broader
and more principled statement that Christianity was not Avoda Zara?
140 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

As is implied in the previous paragraph, ideas take time to mature. An original

intuition expresses an insight that is revolutionary in relation to previous under-
standing. It does not enter broader Jewish consciousness in a flash. Its import
takes time to unfold. Time is needed because of how deeply entrenched the atti-
tude to Christianity as Avoda Zara is. The deep attitude, bolstered by the sight of
an alien worship amid an often hostile society, cannot be transformed overnight,
simply on account of an important recognition. For this recognition to become
definitive, time is required. The process whereby Christianity was affirmed to not
be Avoda Zara and the God of Christianity was recognized as the same God we
worship is thus a gradual process that grows out of the texts and insights quoted
above. The idea is first born as an attempt to justify practice, be it the practice
of doing business on Sundays or the need to accept oaths from Christians. The
theoretical formulations gradually gain force, as a different image of Christianity
as a valid religion emerges. Perhaps more positive relations between Jews and
Christians also played a role in the willingness to let these insights flourish into
a full-scale recognition of Christianity’s validity for non-Jews.23
Recognizing the same God, through common religious propositions and faith
articles, is a matter of theological choice. Were one to highlight all that is strange,
foreign, and unacceptable about Christian faith, one would have to forego recogni-
tion of the same God. What leads to affirmation rather than rejection of the “same
God” premise is more than the practical, social, and economic needs that mandate
recognizing the two religions as serving the same God. Ultimately, it is the product
of religious intuition, whereby religious affinity and commonality are recognized
and by means of which the identity of God in both traditions is affirmed.24
The approach to Christianity that is born of the Tosafot continues to develop
along the lines of the two arguments mentioned before, the “same God” argu-
ment and the permissibility of Shituf. The “same God” argument is noted time
and again in later Ashkenazi literature, and its expressions are increasingly
robust. While creation forms the basis for the “same God” argument, it does get
expanded in later iterations. The famed passage from Rabbi Moshe Rivkes of the
seventeenth century makes the point:

What the talmudic rabbis state, in this matter, was only said with reference to the
gentiles who were in their own times, who would worship stars and signs and who
did not believe in the Exodus and in the creation of the world. But these non-Jews
in whose shadow we, the Israelite nation, dwell and are spread amidst them, they
believe in the creation of the world and the Exodus from Egypt and in the prin-
ciples of faith, and their entire intention is to the maker of heaven and earth . . . We
are obligated to pray for their welfare . . . David’s prayer for God to pour his wrath
on the nations who do not know Him (ps. 79,6) refers to the non-Jews who do
not believe in the creation of the world and the matter of signs and miracles that
God did with us in Egypt and in the giving of the Torah. But the nations in whose
shadow we live and dwell under their wings, they believe in all these, and we con-
tinually pray for the[ir] peace.25

Worshipping God rather than stars and astral bodies is related to other fun-
damental beliefs. These in turn function as indicators of the identity of the God
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 141

in whom one believes. Creation remains the primary defining feature. Creation
is posited in contrast with belief in the stars, presumably following a worldview
according to which the world is primordial and noncreated. God’s creative power
continues to define His relationship with creation. Accordingly, God can accom-
plish miracles. The Exodus and Sinai are the archetypal miracles. A different
reading might be that the universal creation finds its counterpoint in those sin-
gular moments of Israel’s particularity in the Exodus and at Sinai. Christians rec-
ognize these moments through their biblical faith. This expanded formulation
could yield several alternative definitions of how one recognizes the same God.
God’s creative power is surely the clearest distinguishing mark of God’s identity.
His power to perform miracles, His intervention in history, His revelation—these
are all divine identity markers. It may be that belief in a common scripture itself
points to the identity of the God in whom one believes.26 Thus, not only God’s
actions but the acceptance of the Scriptures in which His deeds are narrated pro-
vide ways of identifying God.
What we note is that the “same God” argument become denser. It is important
to realize that it is not formulated in an attempt to define the minimal criteria for
proper Jewish faith. Unlike a parallel discussion of the principles of faith, where
we do indeed find a focused discussion of what are minimal requirements for
proper faith, references to other religions and how we recognize commonality of
faith with them are not characterized by an attempt to offer precise criteria. Were
this the case, Rivkes would be applying stricter, hence more exclusionary, criteria,
than the earlier Tosafot. Rather, the sense of theological affinity has deepened.
Consequently, more arguments are brought in support of the sense of a common
God, making the argument more robust.
It is clear there are no binding criteria on what amounts to proof that a member
of another religion has faith in the same God. The choice of Creation, Exodus, or
common scripture are all secondary moves that affirm a primary intuition, that
recognizes theological affinity and commonality. While Creation remains the
most powerful and most prevalent argument in the literature, other arguments
could in theory be put forth. In theory, mystical experience, moral rectitude, the
love of God, and many other features of the religious life could also be appealed to
as spiritual and theological commonalities by means of which the identity of God
in Judaism and in another religion could be established. Returning to Hinduism,
creation remains a powerful point of appeal by means of which Jews and Hindus
might support a realization that they worship the same God. But it is not neces-
sarily the only one. Healing, purity, holiness, the spiritual life, miracles, and more
can all be elicited in support of a religious commonality that is broad enough to
justify the affirmation of a common God, provided the theological will for such
an affirmation is there. Thus, a strong sense of approaching the same God leads
one to highlight some aspect of the tradition as proof for that claim.
Affirmation of a common God does not come at the expense of recognition
that Christianity also worships God in ways that are foreign to Judaism. The
“same God” argument does not yet resolve the problem of Avoda Zara. A com-
plementary strategy to the “same God” strategy is needed in order to justify and
legitimate everything that is different and foreign in Christianity. This is where
142 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

the Shituf argument complements the “same God” argument. Perhaps the origi-
nal intention of the Tosafot was that Shituf did not refer to God, but to saints,
while the “same God” argument accounted for the recognition of the common
God. If so, Jesus and the Trinity were somehow overlooked, by highlighting
intention. The intention is to God. Theological error does not invalidate the fun-
damental intention, hence Christians worship the same God as we do. The his-
tory of the Shituf idea, apparently, could not tolerate such overlooking. It did not
seem possible to affirm the same God without making sense of all that is differ-
ent in the Christian God. Accordingly, Shituf was made to address the Godhead
itself. According to this understanding, non-Jews worship the same God as we
do, but are permitted to conceive of Him in ways that are mistaken and that lead
them to worship other beings either alongside Him or as part of what constitutes
their definition of God. In some way, this makes the “same God” argument all
the more powerful. Even though we recognize that someone or something else
is worshipped alongside or as part of God, still the affirmation of the common
God is powerful enough to override these differences, leading one to recognize
the validity of Christianity. In other words, what unites us in our faith is more
powerful than what divides us.
The halachic authorities that are willing to extend Shituf to Hinduism implic-
itly affirm a recognition of the same God. Such recognition is obviously par-
tial, yet significant enough to afford Hinduism legitimacy for its worshippers
and recognition as a valid and normative religious form. What are the grounds
upon which such recognition of the same God is made? Given that Jews have
spent far less time with Hindus and Hinduism, we cannot expect a paraphrase
of the Tosafot, along the lines of “Concerning the Hindus who are among us,
we know them to not be idolaters.” Yet some such recognition must underlie the
declaration that Hinduism is permissible through the Shituf construct. How
then would these decisors justify the implicit “same God” argument? It is likely
that the initial application of Shituf to Hinduism, such as we find in the posi-
tions of Rabbis Herzog and Steinsaltz, is based on the recognition of a supreme
God, beyond manifestation in form. God, thus understood, is close enough to
the Jewish notion of God to suggest a same God, and therefore the applicability
of the Shituf construct. Associating God the absolute with the acts of creation
further strengthens the recognition of the same God.27 Since there is no common
story or common revelation, none of the more specific arguments that have been
advanced in relation to Christianity would apply to Hinduism. However, inas-
much as recognition of the same God is established at the intuitive level, before
advancing specific arguments, another important dimension may affect recogni-
tion of the same God in Judaism and Hinduism.
Daniel Sperber’s work is suggestive.28 Unlike Rabbi Herzog who admits to
having little knowledge of Hinduism, except by way of minimal familiarity with
ideas, Sperber’s theological will to affirm the validity of Hinduism is formed on
impressions created by encounters with Hindus. These have left the unequivo-
cal impression that the religious life, moral character, and spiritual experience
expressed in the lives of Hindus are not only valuable, but are model in ways
that suggest complementarity and identity with a Jewish recognition of God. The
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 143

present Jewish encounter with Hinduism is informed largely by direct contact

with practitioners and their spiritual lives. The quest for spirituality and the
thirst for religious experience almost privilege firsthand encounter with living
individuals and their spiritual lives and experiences over the more theoretical
theological statements found in books and systematized in philosophical schools.
Thus, in contradistinction to Christianity, where spiritual life and experience
play a minor role in affirmation of the same God, in the case of Hinduism here is
a major source for such affirmation.29 Implicit in this approach is a very different
way of making the “same God” argument, not based on theological positions but
on spirituality and the recognition of the fruit of the spiritual life in the lives of
believers. This leads us to the third position of the Jewish Middle Ages, that of
Meiri, and how it should be understood within the framework of a “same God”
discussion.
Let me begin by suggesting how the “same God” question and Avoda Zara
should be related to one another, from Meiri’s perspective. One way of presenting
Meiri’s views of other religions is to describe him as having moved from framing
the broader issues in terms of Avoda Zara to thinking of them in terms of the
“same God” question. Systematic application of this perspective yields a systemic
revolution in relation to contemporary religions. Meiri is the one and only hala-
chist who resolves the question of Avoda Zara fully and exclusively by using a
“same God” strategy. Having recognized that the God of Judaism and of other
contemporary religions are one opens the way for him to declare all talmudic
issues pertaining to Avoda Zara as no longer valid for contemporary religions.
Application of Avoda Zara would seem impossible, once it is recognized that two
religions worship the same God. Avoda Zara would thus be understood, follow-
ing biblical foundations, as worship of another God, rather than as the entry into
the domain of otherness, be it the otherness of other people, other religion, or
other practices and ways of worship. For Meiri, therefore, there is no question
that the God of Christianity and the God of Judaism are one. Details of theol-
ogy are secondary to the approach to God. The same holds true for variations of
ritual practice.
In this context it is important to recall that Meiri says nothing whatsoever
about the form of worship that religions known to him practice. His sole criteria
are the moral life that a religion preaches and its basic notion of God. Meiri’s
criteria for a true and valid religion highlight the religious and spiritual life of
its believers. Religion is about transforming the human person toward a higher
spiritual vision, associated with God. Meiri’s structure drives home an important
lesson for the “same God” discussion. There is no God of this and God of that
religion. There is only God. Therefore, a religion, a lifestyle, or a set of practices
either does bring one into relationship with God, or it does not. The core ques-
tion is thus even more fundamental than the “same God” question—it is simply
the “God question.” Once it is recognized that a given religion provides access to
God, all other details are secondary. The “same God” question thus resolves the
problem of Avoda Zara.
Applying the moral test to the question of the identity of the God worshipped
in a religion assumes God can be known through the fruits of contact with Him
144 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

and with the teachings communicated in His name. Increasingly, contemporary

religious thought focuses less on appropriate understanding of God and more
on the effects of the religious life upon the human person. Accordingly, we may
consider the effects of contact with God upon the human person as indications of
the identity of God. The basic moral indicator, posited by Meiri, can be extended.
It can include those expressions of moral and spiritual excellence that constitute
religious perfection: humility, service, loving-kindness, compassion, etc. It can
further be extended to formative experiences of God, as these register within
human awareness and as these shape the religious personality.30 Recognizing God
through the traces of contact left in His human relationship partners may serve
as an alternative to theological formulations that seek to recognize the nature
of God across religious boundaries. The serious implications of such a position
are that true and false knowledge of God are no longer the demarcating lines
distinguishing between my religion and the religion of the other. Instead, true
and false knowledge, true worship and idolatrous appeal to religion, real contact
with God and lack thereof, are qualities that are inherent within every religion,
as indeed Meiri saw. Validity and value in religion are not simply inherent in the
religion, in its doctrine, and in its practices. They are no less a function of the
degree to which religion forms a true attachment to God. Jews are as susceptible
to moral critique as are non-Jews, and by extension, the moral imperfections of
Jews do not invalidate the Jewish religion, or suggest another god, any more than
the common moral imperfections of another religion.
Seen in this light, there is little to argue against the recognition that Jews and
Hindus do indeed worship the same God. As already discussed earlier, Hindus
have a moral life, grounded in a religious worldview. Expanding Meiri’s criteria
from morality to the traces of spiritual contact with the Divine as experienced in
individuals’ lives is perhaps even more relevant to an appreciation of the Hindu
sense of God. A major part of the contemporary draw of Hinduism is its mes-
sage of spirituality and the example and testimony of its saints. If we pursue the
line of thinking that grows out of Meiri, we would be entitled to consider these
incontestable signs of the presence of God in Hinduism. Those who would argue
against them, dismissing them as something else, have already prejudged the
issue by applying other criteria and drawing their consequences. For them, if
Hinduism is Avoda Zara, its spiritual fruit must be false, accidental, or in some
other way divorced from its core practices. A line of reasoning informed by Meiri
would argue the opposite. If we are able to find the traces of God’s presence in
meaningful ways in the lives of believers and the broader religious culture of
Hinduism, this suggests that ultimately it operates with a sense of God that we
can recognize. If we can recognize the common fruits of the spiritual life in the
lives of Jews and Hindus, the means and methods of worship used by Hindus
to attain those ends become secondary to the higher spiritual quest shared by
Jews and Hindus. Obviously, not all Hindus are saints and most of them do not
necessarily exhibit the fruits of the higher spiritual life. But such is the spiritual
life, a life that takes time, process, and patience, and wherein only few attain the
goals of the religion, while the many practice their religion in varying shades of
perfection. But if a religion can bring one to a real experience of God, one that
 DO JEWS AND HINDUS WORSHIP THE SAME GOD? 145

can be somehow recognized by its fruits, the God at its center must be recognized
as God, the same God known in our tradition. One might accordingly suggest a
recasting of Meiri’s definition “who serve divinity in some way, even though their
faith is far removed from our own faith.” From the perspective of spirituality, one
may suggest that as long as God’s knowledge and presence are known in some
way, through those special individuals who know Him, even if others have only
partial knowledge, that religion too is recognized as turning to the same God.
There is an important attitudinal shift that must grow from adopting this
position. Recognizing God’s presence and reality in the life and religion of the
other constitutes a testimony to God who transcends differences in names of God
and in forms of religious life. If the same God is known through another religion
then our God is recognized through more than one religion. This requires a dif-
ferent attitude to believers of that religion, or at least to the finest among them.
Testimony and listening would then replace derision and dismissal.
This lesson is obviously most applicable to a Meiri-based approach to other
religions. However, the preceding discussion suggests that new horizons in our
view of other religions open up once the concern for Avoda Zara is replaced by
the “same-God” question. From this perspective, even the most uncompromising
perspective on Avoda Zara in relation to Christianity, that of Maimonides, might
still be able to maintain some aspect of positive appreciation and recognition.
Meiri is the only authority who answers the “same God” question with a clear
yes. All others may be presented as answering with a “yes and no.” Still, a “yes
and no” is fundamentally different from the condemning and rejecting rhetoric
that often accompanies the view of another religion as Avoda Zara. Thus, regard-
less of what position one takes on the Avoda Zara question with reference to a
particular religion, reframing the discussion in light of the “same God” question
amounts to an invitation to soften attitudes, listen in a more appreciative man-
ner, and enter into a dialogue seeking a greater understanding of spiritual and
theological common ground.
 12

From Hindu God to Hindu gods:

Confronting the Particularity of
Hindu Deities

T he “same God” discussion takes as its starting point our own understanding
of God and seeks to match it with the religious datum of another religion.
Accordingly, it identifies aspects in the understanding of God in that tradition
that allow us to proclaim God, as recognized in that tradition, as the same as
our own God, in full or in part. A large part of the previous discussion hinges
on recognizing the one God, known in Judaism, in the various configurations
of Hindu religion. What this means is that in some important ways, Hinduism
is declared to be, just like Judaism, a monotheism. As statements of contempo-
rary Hindu leaders suggest, reading Hinduism as a monotheism is indeed an
option.1 But it is not so simple to apply a single label to Hinduism, certainly not
the “monotheism” label. Some would distinguish between Jewish monotheism
and Hindu monism, thereby drawing a distinction between the personal God of
the Bible and the more philosophical view of the underlying unity of all reality
in Hindu philosophical systems. Philosophically there is, of course, merit to the
distinction. I fear, however, that it may not be as helpful to the present discus-
sion as one might think at first sight. Underlying the distinction, as applied to
two religions, is the attempt to capture “correctly” what one religion is versus
another. Thus, a formula or term is applied to one religion, while another is
applied to another. The problem is, as we know, that it is difficult to sum up an
entire religion simply under one “ism.” Indeed, if we cannot speak of a single
Hinduism or Judaism, how are we to correlate these to the two other “isms”—
monotheism and monism. While it may be true that there are prevailing tenden-
cies and characterizations that would support such generalizations, there are
ample exceptions to each. Therefore, beyond being suggestive in a broad sense,
I do not find the attempt to identify one religion with either of these labels to be
all that helpful to the present discussion.
The same holds true for the label “polytheism.” One frequently encounters
debates as to whether Hinduism is or is not polytheistic. Apologetics, self-under-
standing, philosophy, and the need to present oneself as similar to or different
from others become so entangled in such a discussion as to render it not helpful.
148 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

To simply label Judaism as one thing, while labeling Hinduism as another, can
be as misleading as it is helpful, both in terms of obtaining a better grasp of the
two religions and in terms of the halachic consequences of such labeling. I there-
fore would like to propose another means of tackling the issue that is usually
approached by means of the labels “monotheism” and “polytheism.”
Following the work of Jan Assman, I would like to simply present the tension
in terms of God and gods.2Assman explores the rise of monotheism and in so
doing draws important historical distinctions between monotheisms of Ancient
Near Eastern cultures—Egyptian, Babylonian, and Greek—and biblical mono-
theism. I would like to look at three formulations that Assman proposes as a way
of introducing the following discussion. Monotheism, suggests Assman, can be
summed up under one of three formulations—All gods are one; God is one; there
is no god but God.3 While the second formulation may be ambiguous, it is the
third formulation that distinguishes biblical monotheism from religious insights
that can be found in ancient cultures.4 It is a qualitatively different monotheism
that affirms there is no god but God and one that recognizes the existence of
other gods while affirming their ultimate unity.
There are several implications to these varying formulae. For most of the pres-
ent chapter I would like to consider the claim arising from Assman’s work that
the type of monotheism of “All gods are one,” in relation to Hinduism, is incom-
patible with Judaism, in view of what he calls “the mosaic distinction,” expressed
in the claim that there is no god but God. The resources of postbiblical Judaism
do, in my view, allow us to revisit this categorical claim. But before doing so, I
would like to touch upon another expression of Hindu religious thought that
could serve as a bridge between the “same God” discussion and the following
discussion of Hindu gods. I would like to turn for a moment to a Hindu theol-
ogy of religions, seen in the context of a “same God” orientation, as well as from
the angle of “all gods are one.” I would like to present here a short prayer of a
contemporary swami, one that I believe completely encapsulates a conventional
Hindu view of other religions and one that is relevant to our discussion. Chandra
Swami practices mainly meditation, with little to no ritual in the life of his ash-
ram. Before meditation a short prayer is recited and this is the only communal
act of prayer or worship practiced in his community. The daily evening medita-
tion opens with the following prayer, authored by Swamiji:

O Lord: Thou art Absolute Existence, Absolute Awareness, Absolute Bliss, Absolute
Power, Absolute Life, Absolute Light, Absolute Love.
People call thee by different names.
They call thee: Ishvara, Krishna, Christ, Hari, Rama, Alla, Shiva, Adonay, Indra,
Mother Bhagwati, and so on and so forth.
A rose called by any other name still remains a rose.
Though called different names by different people, Thou art, O Lord I am sure, One
and the same Supreme Being.
The one without a second.

This prayer encapsulates the most important insight of Hindu theology of

religions: in all religions it is the same God who is worshipped, though He is
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 149

known by different names. The prayer’s beginning and end offer classical philo-
sophical affirmations concerning God, who is one without a second. As there is
only one God, all names must refer to the same being. The list of names, includ-
ing one of the names of God common in Judaism, suggests that all religions are
one in terms of their ultimate referent. Thus, God worshipped in all religions is
the same God.
Jews would have a hard time subscribing to the affirmation that it is the one
and the same God, known as Christ, Krishna, Siva, and the God they worship.5
Our “same God” discussion allowed us to recognize the ultimate same God as
worshipped in Judaism and in Hinduism, either in part or in full, depending on
the particular viewpoint adopted. But even this recognition does not allow us
to consider the names of God, particularly as these are identified with incarna-
tions or deities, to be one and the same. Differently put: Same God—yes; same
gods—no.
There remains a meaningful gap between the vedantic perspective captured
in this prayer and our efforts at constructing a “same God” argument for God,
as known in Judaism and as known in other religions. The main reason why
we would have a hard time assuming this view is because it is not God that is
recognized as one in all religions, but incarnations, manifestations, and what we
might readily relate to as gods, rather than God. Thus, the question is whether
such a view is an affirmation of a “same God” position in relation to all religions,
or whether it is really a latter-day statement that “all gods are one,” which, as
Assman suggests, does not cohere with Jewish monotheistic sensibilities.
A comparison is helpful. The ancient world also struggled with the relation-
ship between divine personalities and sought to establish their identity. We pos-
sess various texts from antiquity or late antiquity that strike a note similar to the
contemporary Hindu prayer. Let me cite one:

The sons of Ogyges call me Bacchus,

Egyptians think me Osiris,
Mysians name me Phanaces,
Indians regard me as Dionysus,
Roman rites make me Liber,
The Arab race thinks me Adoneus
Lucaniacus the Universal God.6

Here we find a quest for a sole and supreme divine principle behind the innu-
merable multitude of specific deities, as part of an earlier ecumenical moment,
in late antiquity. As Assman states, “It is part of a general conviction in Late
Antiquity regarding the universality of religious truth, the relativity of religious
institutions and denominations and the conventionality of Divine names.”7
Yet, Jews of the period never considered such unifying tendencies sufficient for
identification of the various gods with their own God. Chandra Swami’s iden-
tification of all gods, Hindu and otherwise, as names of the one supreme being,
therefore as one and the same, goes a step beyond where a Jewish “same God”
theology can go. The same kind of hesitancy that ancient Jews would have shown
toward global identification of all gods as one is likely to govern contemporary
150 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

attempts to disregard all difference, in the name of an underlying unifying divine

principle. Meiri, who holds the greatest promise for an expansive application of
a “same God” theology, speaks of the religions, not of their gods. The argument
would therefore have to be constructed and proven, rather than assumed and
taken for granted.
But Chandra Swami’s prayer does more than assume. It also offers an argu-
ment. “A rose called by any other name still remains a rose.” This is an argument
from experience. Through all these different religions and forms God is expe-
rienced, and it is the direct knowledge of God that allows us to recognize God
as one and the same, precisely because there is only one God, without a second.
Here “all gods are one” leads to the statement that “God is one,” possibly even
to “there is no god but God,” inasmuch as all true religious experience points to
the same God, and cannot point to anyone but God. If so, Chandra Swami may
have articulated a theology that Meiri might be comfortable with, drawing on
the experience of the living God as the ultimate criterion of recognition across
religions. Seen in this light, a contemporary Hindu theology of religions allows
us to understand more deeply one particular Jewish theology of religions and its
possible experiential basis. The distinction between God and gods may, in this
reading, be inconsequential, inasmuch as any true encounter with the Divine,
whatever it is called, is an encounter with God.
Even if such a theology of religions challenges us to think through our criteria
for viewing other gods, we cannot simply apply it globally. Neither the criterion
nor its successful application in the lives of members of other faiths are suffi-
ciently well-established as to override long-standing consideration of otherness
in relation to other gods. We must therefore continue to wrestle with the tension
between God and gods, and in particular with the affirmation that there is no
god besides God. According to Assman’s reading, Judaism undermines the basis
for Hindu religion. How can the commonalities identified in the “same God”
discussion serve as a bridge between these religious cultures if the one culture
assumes the existence of gods whose very existence Judaism denies? The preced-
ing discussion of the “same God” played down this difference, highlighting only
the ways in which Judaism and Hinduism could affirm, in full or in part, their
recognition of a common God. It seems, however, we cannot content ourselves
with reference to the common God. We must also ask how we are to deal, from a
Jewish perspective, with the many gods of the Hindu pantheon. I would therefore
like to now address this question, from the vantage point of the various theo-
retical and theological options surveyed before, as well as of several additional
authors. In order to do so I would like to propose a threefold division of Hindu
gods.8 In relation to each I will consider what resources we have for viewing it
as less strange, possibly making sense, and consequently beyond the charge of
Avoda Zara, for its practitioners. While none of this amounts to Jewish recogni-
tion of the truth or validity of belief in any particular deity, it could suggest a way
for recognizing the permissibility and legitimacy of such an approach for the
Hindu believer. At the very least, it would allow us to consider the particular faith
in something that might have been considered as Avoda Zara (were it not for the
broader factors discussed in the “same God” section) as expressions of error, or
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 151

at least theological difference, without carrying the full weight of condemnation

typically associated with Avoda Zara. Hindu gods may thus be contained, “toler-
ated” if you will, within the range of acceptable theological difference, even if it is
conceived as an error that is either permissible or may be overlooked.
Hindu gods may be considered as falling within one of three categories:

A. Gods that can be identified with or associated with forces or aspects of

nature.
B. Holy men and women, past or present, who are recognized and worshipped
as god.
C. Gods and goddesses who are neither. While some of these are smaller,
local gods, the most important Hindu deities fall under this category.

Let us now consider how our previous discussions allow us to look at each of
these categories.
A. The first category in this discussion is forces of nature that are considered
divine. One example are great rivers, such as the Ganges, that are worshipped as
expressions of the Divine. Ancient Vedic religion, the earliest form of Hinduism,
gave worship to various forces of nature, that were considered as gods—fire,
wind, the sun, etc. This attitude remains part of present-day Hinduism. Judaism
is often presented as the alternative to the worship of forces of nature.9 What
is ultimately under discussion is the nature of God, the cosmos, and religious
action. According to this view, faith in Israel’s God assumes a break with the
forces of nature and a stark division between creator and creation. While this
understanding may be considered representative for most of the history of Jewish
thought, understandings that collapse the distinction and that find God within
creation do abound, especially in the mystical tradition. In terms of Hinduism,
we have already considered the belief in God as pervading all of creation. There
is, however, another way of considering the worship of forces of nature than
through the understanding of the supposedly equal and undistinguished divine
presence in all creation.
Natural forces are worshipped as deities, the Hindu term being devas. Already
in the Middle Ages, Muslim thinkers who reflected on Hinduism translated
devas, using the term “angels,” rather than “gods.”10 The term assumes a popu-
lated heaven, in which created beings, who are empowered in relation to nature
and to various aspects of life, dwell. These citizens of the heavenly realms are pow-
erful and elicit worship, but they are still created beings, not to be confused with
the most absolute power. In considering these many gods from a Jewish viewpoint
we are better off considering them as the equivalents of angels. How would that
impact our understanding of this class of divinities, from a Jewish perspective?
It seems that the question under discussion is not one of cosmology or meta-
physics. A Hindu view of where gods fit in the broader cosmic view could be
translated to Jewish categories. The fundamental question is whether such beings
may be worshipped or approached in prayer. Here we can revisit our earlier dis-
cussions. At least two of the approaches we studied would allow us to accom-
modate such worship. We recall that Rabbi Herzog raised the possibility that
152 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Hindu worship, like Christian worship, may be legitimated as an expression of

permissible Shituf. The terminological distinction between Brahman and devas,
a distinction that is lost by appeal to the common term God or gods, suggests
clear awareness of the metaphysical distinction between these categories, paral-
leling the emphasis placed in Jewish sources on the distinction between creator
and creation. Worship of an aspect of creation, along with the creator, is pre-
cisely what Shituf achieves. If one further considers the “pantheistic” perspective,
wherein the created being is not worshipped on its own, but rather as an expres-
sion of the absolute, the case for recognizing or legitimating such worship for the
Hindu practitioner becomes even stronger.
The worship of forces of nature allows us to also revisit Nachmanides’ per-
spective and its relevance to our discussion. As discussed, Nachmanides grounds
the permissibility of worshipping angels, stars, and other forces of nature in the
cosmic structure, known to worshippers, in accordance with a divine governance
and allotment. One recognizes that the application of Nachmanides to another
religion, rather than to worshippers of yore, may go beyond his original inten-
tion.11 But were one to go along with such an application of the structure of his
thought, we would have a basis for accepting, or understanding, how various
aspects of nature, both visible and invisible (angels), can be worshipped, within
a philosophical or theological frame that recognizes the supremacy of God the
creator.
Meiri does not provide us with any resources that would be particular to the
worship of natural forces. His perspective is conditioned by Christianity and
Islam and the issue never arises for him. In this instance, constructing an argu-
ment on the basis of Meiri involves the greater extension of authorial intention,
yet it does not seem to be impossible to contain within his conceptual frame-
work. If morality and some recognition of the true reality of the Divine are the
fundamental requirements, details of a faith system may be dismissed as having
only secondary importance. To argue that a pantheistic understanding of God
falls within the range of acceptable error does not seem to violate Meiri’s thought
structure. The same goes for the argument that God is worshipped along with or
through parts of His creation. What would count for Meiri is that some correct
notion of God is maintained, a requirement that Hinduism would surely meet.
Once we recognize that many Hindu gods can be approached or understood
as angels, additional factors should be brought into the conversation. Judaism has
been reluctant to address prayer to angels, considering that prayer and worship
are due to God alone. Offering prayer or worship to any being besides God is
tantamount to acknowledging the divinity of that being.12 But this official line has
many deviations. We find prayers to angels in all periods of Jewish thought. The
more mystically minded groups, such as the Hechalot mystics and later kabbalists,
are not as careful in maintaining this distinction as one might commonly think.
When prayer is offered to angels, one must assume that this is justified by appeal
to an understanding of the Divine that accommodates it, and by the awareness
of the praying person that both distinguishes such prayer from prayer to “God,”
properly speaking, and integrates this prayer act in the broader approach to God.
It seems to me that a similar attunement of conscisousness characterizes the
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 153

Hindu worshipper of natural forces. Certainly, for the educated Hindu, a wor-
shipful approach to a natural force, being, or minister would be integrated within
a broader spiritual understanding that does not compromise knowledge of the
absolute God. The analogy from instances of Jewish prayer to angels would make
legitimation of such practices possible even for those who consider that non-Jews
must follow the same rules as Jews, when it comes to Avoda Zara.13
I would like to illustrate this latter claim with reference to one particular
instance of worship of a natural force, the river Ganges, considered by Hindus to be
divine. I have reflected on these issues while watching contemporary practitioners,
including some well-known religious teachers, offer worship to the river Ganges.
One particular teacher who comes to mind in this case is Swami Chidananda
(Muniji) of Rishikesh. His ashram, located on the banks of the Ganges, offers a
spectacular worship of Ganges that is shown on Indian television daily. It is an
elaborate affair consisting of singing, chanting, children’s choirs, and the tradi-
tional waving of lights and sending light floats down the river. This teacher cer-
tainly follows the vedantic understanding. Visiting him and talking to him makes
it hard to consider that one is in the presence of a simple-minded, pagan worship-
per of nature. He offers the kind of sophisticated take on Hinduism that is often
taught in the West. Indeed, he is much traveled and has a large Western follow-
ing. Clearly, his is not a primitive view of nature and its forces. Precisely for this
reason he has no problem worshipping the river or, more correctly stated: wor-
shipping God as manifest through the river Ganges. Another swami with whom
I am friendly, who lives on the banks of the Ganges, and who is one among the
foremost exponent of the unitive system of Vedanta, enjoys a most intimate rela-
tionship with the river and its spiritual reality. It is a focus of devotion and source
of spiritual nourishment, blessing, and personal identification. It almost seems
as though Mother Ganges is his primary means of approaching the Divine. For
this learned sage, appreciation, reverence, and worship of the river do not conflict
with and are even expressions of a monistic worldview. Worship of the river and,
by inference, of other forces of nature can thus be spiritually and metaphysically
sophisticated, very different from the typical caricature of primitive nature wor-
ship that is often presented as part of Judaism’s view of other religions.
B. Let me move on to the second class of gods worshipped—humans and, pri-
marily, spiritual teachers. The subject has already come up in the course of our
discussion. Before revisiting some theoretical possibilities that arise out of the
discussions of various rabbinic authorities, we should recall why this form of
worship is particularly problematic and why it touches so deeply upon Jewish
sensibilities. Historically, the Jewish confrontation with Christianity does put the
worship of a human being at its center. This is certainly one factor by means of
which to account for the deep animus against human worship. Going further
back in time, we recall rabbinic objection to emperor worship, how identity-
forming it was and what place it occupied in Judaism, and for that matter also
in Christianity, during the early centuries of the common era. But the roots may
be even deeper. Several biblical passages indicate the association of monarchy, in
other words the political order, with idolatry or paganism, or however we may
chose to describe that to which Jewish religion is opposed. Ezekiel’s prophecy
154 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

against Pharaoh is a strong case in point. Ezekiel: “Thus said the Lord, I am going
to deal with you, O Pharaoh king of Egypt, mighty monster, sprawling in your
channels, who said, my Nile is my own; I made it for myself.”14 The point to be
mindful about is the association of power, political power, and idolatry or the
recognition of another god. As Jan Assman notes, in both major cultures sur-
rounding Israel, Babylon and Egypt, the monarchy is grounded in the cosmic
order, itself the subject of the religious order of that culture.15 Consequently, the
rise of monotheism, that is the particular brand of monotheism characteristic of
Israel’s faith, is nothing less than an act of liberation—a liberation from the forces
of nature as well as from the oppression of the political order.16 If so, the depth of
opposition to worship of humans cannot be divorced from its political context. It
is as much a political as a spiritual act.
Pagan philosophers have offered a defense of ancient paganism that could
have in theory been accommodated by Jewish believers. While monotheisms
are different, as Assman argues, it is not beyond the realm of the imaginable
to consider that Jewish monotheism could have recognized the various forms
of worship of gods as cohering within a broader pattern of faith that has strong
resemblances to Israel’s faith. Yet, no attempt was made to understand those reli-
gions on their own terms. In today’s terms we might say there was no room for
dialogue with them. While such a precedent is interesting, it does not control the
history of Jewish approach to other religions, nor need it limit the range of theo-
logical options that we might consider in approaching a religion like Hinduism.
Today’s attempt to understand is grounded in the broader social, political, and
diplomatic circumstances that invite, almost mandate, revisiting attitudes to
other religions. Not only did earlier periods not harbor under similar premises,
the circumstances for interacting with other religions precluded such theoretical
reflection or openness. If religion and power go hand in hand and if affirming
the theoretical possibility of some degree of legitimacy in another religion has
political implications, there is little leeway for such affirmation.17
Openness to another religion and affirming its legitimacy for its practitioners
requires theological will. It is interesting to consider the gradual emergence of
the permissibility of the worship of Jesus for Christians as an option in viewing
Christianity, as it developed over the course of hundreds of years of contact with
Christianity. To begin, it is worth recalling a fact already alluded to, namely that
the earliest strands of rabbinic literature rarely if ever contain the charge of idola-
try in relation to Christianity. This charge arose over the course of time.18 One
wonders, then, to what extent does the view of Christianity as idolatry represent
gradual theological development within Christianity or the gradual awareness of
Christian doctrine by Jews. But another possibility exists as well. It may be that
only by association with empire does Christian faith become problematic in spe-
cific ways, reminiscent of pagan culture and following its examples, in outward
worship of images, as well as in conceptualization of Christ in terms of empire
and empowerment of the ruling order.
Despite the eventual setting in of the view of Christianity as Avoda Zara,
some authorities found a way of accommodating it and declaring it legitimate
for its worshippers. I submit that despite obvious reservations relating to the
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 155

worship of a human person, it was possible to develop constructs that legitimated

Christianity precisely because the figure of Jesus was not a political figure. It was
neither a living figure nor an explicitly political figure, even if it provided author-
ity and a comprehensive worldview that undergirded contemporary power struc-
tures. Thus, the affirmation of the possible acceptability of the worship of Jesus
by Christians, or at the very least reducing the negative associations it produces
through several halachic strategies, allows us to revisit attitudes to worshipping
humans, once the political dimension has been neutralized or excluded.
Issues of power and theological will are particularly important when it comes
to a contemporary appreciation of Hinduism. In terms of its religious structure,
many of its customs and, above all, in terms of how the many gods are reconciled
with the one God, there are striking similarities between Hinduism and Ancient
Near Eastern religions. It is as though there were continuity between these reli-
gious cultures that occupied geographic regions not too far from one another. It
is somewhat odd to be constructing theological arguments for the recognition of
Hinduism as valid for its practitioners against the background of the total rejec-
tion of a similar religious worldview by Israel’s prophets and by earlier Jewish cul-
tures that made no attempt to accommodate or recognize surrounding religious
cultures. It is only by appeal to circumstances and power structures that one can
entertain the present exercise. If yesteryear’s power dynamics necessitated rejec-
tion and segregation, today’s global dynamics invite a different response. If the
religious cultures that were encountered in the past ruled Israel and competed
with it, we are now in a situation of encountering a new religious culture, under
radically different circumstances. Political and power concerns are cast aside in
what is essentially a spiritual and metaphysical encounter, devoid of the range of
political associations that shadowed earlier encounters. And, most important for
the present discussion: if earlier cultures tackled the problem of the worship of
humans in relation to power authorities and political figures, Hinduism places
the same challenge before us, but in relation to spiritual figures and as part of a
vision of the spiritual life. The completely different context therefore allows us to
consider whether a different response might be possible to this challenge. Can a
response that was good for its time make way for a different consideration, suit-
able for the particular circumstances of the present encounter? In what follows I
shall revisit some of the earlier discussions, with an eye to applying them to the
challenge of how to address the worship or worshipful attitude offered to great
teachers and spiritual beings.19
As already discussed, there is a significant difference between worshipping
a live person and the memory of a person who has ascended to heaven. While
many Indian teachers are revered and worshipped in their lives, in the long run
all important teachers are worshipped posthumously. Even the great incarna-
tions of Rama and Krishna are usually understood as historical figures, thereby
bringing them within the context of the present discussion. If so, whatever Jewish
precedent we possess in relation to accepting Christianity as valid for Christians,
despite or along with its worship of Jesus, could be extended to various Hindu
teachers, incarnations and avataras. While recognizing that the internal Hindu
logic that allows affirmation of their divinity is more profound than Shituf,
156 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

appealing to an understanding of manifestation of divinity as or through a per-

son, Shituf does afford us at a minimum a Jewish category by means of which to
make sense of the phenomenon, without compromising Jewish faith.
Meiri’s affirmation of Christianity as a valid religion does not specifically
refer to faith in Jesus and the incarnation. For present purposes, Meiri is both
more and less helpful than the Tosafists. He is more helpful in the sense that
details of belief do not seem to matter, once a baseline of proper faith and morals
has been established. Whether non-Jews err one way or another, and whether we
disagree with one belief or another, is really inconsequential. What counts is the
quality of the moral and spiritual life and the possibility of reaching God. This is
far-reaching in its potential application, but it is also less helpful to making sense
of how exactly Meiri would view incarnations and the worship of humans. One
supposes he would just prefer to ignore them.
By contrast, Nachmanides does provide an interesting resource for revisiting
this question. Let us recall how he describes the second class of worshippers of
stars and astral bodies. Nachmanides writes:

Now, these are the people who began making the many forms of graven images,
asheirim and sun images. They would make the forms of the astrological signs in
the hours of their strength, according to their rank, and they would empower the
people, so they understood, with force and success. . . . Closely related to this kind
of Avoda Zara was the worship of human beings. When people of a country saw
that a certain individual, such as Nebuchadnezar—had great power and that his
star was very much in the ascendancy, they thought that by accepting his worship
upon themselves and directing their intentionality towards him, their sign would
rise with his.

As suggested in our discussion earlier, the acts here described are coherent and
rely on a valid view of the power of astrological signs and on correct observation
of the impact of the planetary powers on groups and individuals. The astrologi-
cal theory that Nachmanides propounds is based on a correct observation of the
governance of nations and individuals. However, the legitimacy of such worship
can be disputed. In relation to the first category brought by Nachmanides, the
worship of the Separate Intelligences, Nachmanides affirms that the worshippers
did not forget the God on high, who is source of all power. He makes no simi-
lar assertion in relation to the second category, thereby suggesting that it may
involve forgetting the full cosmic view, where God is the source of all ultimate
power. This accords with his description, later in this passage, of Sennacherib and
Pharaoh, who are worshipped as gods in light of this astrological understanding,
as “wicked, but not absolute fools.” It would seem that the claim for their divin-
ity, while based on correct astrological foundations, is nevertheless an expression
of wickedness, since appropriating the title “god” leads to a forgetfulness of the
one true God.20 This leads one to question whether had such worship not led to
claims of divinity and had it been undertaken with awareness of the ultimate
power of God, perhaps they would have not been considered wicked. In that case,
approaching them as divinities may have been no different than approaching
higher beings in that manner, provided one maintained awareness of God.
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 157

From a Nachmanides-based perspective, how would we deal with the worship

of individuals whose function is to lead one to knowledge of God, rather than to
obscure it? How different would his attitude be if the cases under discussion were
not political leaders but spiritual teachers? But more importantly, Nachmanides
describes worship of humans as an attempt to connect to something else through
them, their good fortune, obtained by association with an astrological force. It
is clear to the worshipper, according to this scheme, that the person being wor-
shipped is not God, and the worship is purely instrumental to the worshipper’s
own purposes. How different this is from an approach that worships God within
the human, based on complete faith that the Divine is manifesting through the
person. The intentionality is so radically different, both based on the motivation
of worship and on how the relationship between the worshipped person and God
is conceived.21 This twofold intentionality sets Hindu practices distinctly apart
from the wicked precedent described by Nachmanides. If Nachmanides’ model
could allow for acceptable worship of humans, within the framework of the reli-
gious life allotted for non-Jews, these distinctions could make all the difference.
One further note on Nachmanides in relation to Meiri. According to the sug-
gested application of Nachmanides’ thought, worship of spiritual teachers may
not be considered Avoda Zara. This thought matrix could be superimposed on
Meiri’s thought. We were unable to account for how Meiri would view specifi-
cally the worship of Jesus and the worship of teachers in general. Reading Meiri
in light of Nachmanides could provide an answer that would make sense for
Meiri too. Because their intention is toward God, and does not eclipse aware-
ness of the Divine, it is possible to accommodate the worship of human beings
within the broader framework of the approach to God, recognized as legitimate
for other religions.
A concluding thought may be offered in this context. One of the most under-
developed theological resources for addressing this question is the notion of the
image of God. I have suggested that the relatively minor role it plays in rabbinic
thought is a means of limiting its application to non-Jews.22 Yair Lorberbaum,
in turn, ascribes to this notion a very central place in his view of rabbinic
thought and legislation.23 The notion of the image of God is developed not only
in Jewish thought but in Christian thought as well. We have here an important
site for potential enrichment through a theological exchange. For some Christian
authors, the image of God contains the full potential of the human person and
this potential goes to the extremes of the divinization of the human person.24
Jewish reflection has largely ignored the universality of the concept and has, on
the whole, not extended its reflection that far, given its own reticence to think
in terms of divinization or related expressions of actualizing human potential.
A fruitful dialogue could ensue in view of instances of the attainment of high
degrees of spiritual life and how these could be understood in light of the notion
of the image of God.25 Seeing such actualization in terms of the image of God
does not resolve the halachic difficulties associated with offering worship to a
human person.26 But it does offer a conceptual tool for making sense of it within
a Jewish framework as well. Thus, rather than simply dealing with the challenge
in terms of the permissible or the nonpermissible or attempting to otherwise
158 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

justify it as we seek to make sense of other religions, the phenomenon of offering

worship to great teachers and spiritual beings can open up a dialogue around
what it means to be fully human and how far the divine potential, expressed
through the notion of humanity’s creation in God’s image, may be extended.
C. On Hindu gods, great and minor. We are able to make sense of nature
forces and their view as divine, because we share the same natural world, and
can understand how natural forces can be viewed as divine. We can understand
why holy men and women and great teachers are considered divine, because we
too have holy men. There is commonality of experience and reality, and this
commonality allows us to suggest ways of understanding and, consequently, of
accommodating Hindu worship of such gods. Underlying the exercises above is
a sense of common experience that aids in understanding. Let us briefly dwell
upon such commonality and how it aids in understanding through what has
been called “translatability.”
We noted above an emerging trend of talking of the “same God” in discus-
sions that take place across religions. A parallel discussion has been taking place,
in close proximity in time. This discussion speaks not of the “same God” but
of the translatability of gods. Jan Assman may be credited with launching this
discussion in his Moses the Egyptian, and the discussion has continued with vari-
ous publications, notably Mark Smith’s God in Translation.27 That these two aca-
demic conversations take place with no reference to one another is in part due
to the different periods under discussion. The “same God” discussion is contem-
porary, while the translatability discussion refers to ancient religions, Egyptian,
Babylonian, Greek, and the like.28 But there is perhaps a more fundamental dis-
tinction between the two conversations. The “same God” discussion refers to
religions that understand themselves as monotheistic and therefore should, on
the face of it, subscribe to belief in one and the same God. That the issue is com-
plicated in discussions, and not only with reference to Christian belief in the
Trinity, may be a sign of how academics complicate discussions as much as of
possible inherent complexities in the subject matter.29 The “translatability” dis-
cussion, by contrast, is a discussion that relates to polytheistic religions, and in
particular to gods associated with natural forces.30 Ancient lists of gods suggest
that with reference to natural phenomena one can equate the gods of one nation’s
pantheon with those of another, as they address the same phenomenon. Reality is
the same; it is known by different names. Thus, translatability may be recognized
as a feature of reference to gods, in their variety and diversity.31 I cite this discus-
sion as a way of introducing what I find as the common denominator of the third
class of Hindu gods, from the Jewish perspective—the difficulty in translating
them to something immediately recognizable within Judaism.
In this third group of gods we find many gods, possibly the majority of known
Hindu gods. Many of these are small local gods. With reference to these it is
extremely hard to translate them to any category that has meaning. Their names,
stories, images, and worship are all completely foreign and therefore resonate
with the fundamental strangeness of Avoda Zara. A measure of interpretive
generosity will lead to viewing them as a Hindu’s version or equivalent of an
angel. If so, these deities may be dismissed as not really significant for a Jewish
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 159

consideration of Hinduism, any more than they are for an internal Hindu view of
gods great and small. Seen as angels, their worship could be tolerated in terms of
Shituf or in light of Meiri’s approach to other religions. What would matter with
reference to the worship of smaller local gods are not the answers to questions
relating to the god and his or her biography as much as questions pertaining
to how this tradition relates to the great tradition. Do followers of this tradi-
tion share in the broader philosophical understanding of the tradition? Is there
a tradition of learning that balances the actual worship of local deities? Who
speaks for this tradition and what kind of Hinduism does it represent, both in
geographic terms and in terms of greater and lesser traditions? The more local-
ized the tradition, the more detached it is from superstructures of metaphysical
meaning, indeed from a linguistic tradition that characterizes learning, primar-
ily the Sanskritic tradition,32 the harder it is to relate to it in ways that distance it
from Avoda Zara.33
Vedantins might offer a reading of all forms of religion in light of their under-
standing of the absolute in relation to particular manifestations of the Divine.
But adopting this view as an internal Jewish view requires a lot of theological will
and would require a more detailed analysis of the life of faith of a given group
or practitioner. To the extent that a vedantic view of the smaller, local gods is
superimposed on practices, and is not corroborated by self-understanding and
a broader philosophical view, it is hard to adopt the vedantin’s perspective for a
Jewish view of these practices.
The most significant challenge relates not to smaller localized deities, but to the
great gods of the Hindu tradition, due to their popularity and the position they
occupy in the overall economy of Hindu religious life. In all discussions of Hindu
religion in terms of Avoda Zara, and of Hindu faith as presented to a Jewish audi-
ence, I have not found any attempt to account for or to explain the particularity of
Hindu faith in those gods that are the most popular across India. The number is
not huge: Siva and some of his offspring; some, though not all, the incarnations of
Vishnu, primarily Krishna and Rama, as well as popular figures from the epic asso-
ciated with the latter, like Hanuman, the monkey-god; and the mother, Devi, in
various manifestations, independently or as spouse to the great gods. One particu-
lar deity that seems to enjoy almost universal popularity is Ganesha, with human
body, elephant head, and a genealogy that sees him as Siva’s son and provides the
story of how he got his elephant head.34 That these great gods include gods who fit
into the category discussed previously—humans who are worshipped—confirms
that the present discussion and its taxonomy are carried out from a Jewish per-
spective, which does not correspond to internal Hindu categorization.35
With reference to all these gods one might apply the perspective that they are
worshipped while at the same time recognizing and affirming a supreme being,
Brahman, beyond. Their worship could therefore be dismissed as secondary and
ultimately insignificant from Meiri’s perspective, or as yet a further expression of
Shituf. Formally, this move may be legitimated, thereby allowing the great enti-
ties of Judaism and Hinduism to come to a better understanding, as demonstrated
in such public settings as summits of religious leaders. Philosophically minded
practitioners are mindful of the fact that all gods, including the great gods, are
160 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

part of the created order and therefore relative, subject to eventual demise and
reabsorption into the preexistent state, or even expressions of a cosmic illusion
or dream, maya. Yet, the prominence of some of these gods in the lives of believ-
ers—with some gods playing a more important role in the lives of some commu-
nities, and others in the lives of others—gives pause for thought. Does the move
that subsumes the better part, for many practitioners—all—of the religious life
into a higher metaphysical perspective that usually eludes believers and is often
unknown to them really do justice to Hindu religious reality? Can a presentation
of Hinduism that ignores the concreteness of the personalities and biographies
of deities, their worship, and the role they play in the daily lives of the faithful do
justice to the religion? Is it really sufficient for purposes of dialogue and recogni-
tion to subsume all gods Hindu under the elevated umbrella of a philosophy that
sees them as secondary to the metaphysical ground of being? To me, this move,
characteristic especially of the vedantic philosophy, is formally sufficient in terms
of diplomatic recognition, but ultimately unsatisfactory, in terms of accounting
for the day-to-day faith in Hindu gods and goddesses. Differently put: we come
here to a point where the question is not only who speaks for Hinduism, but also
what speaks for Hinduism? How much do the great gods speak for and represent
Hinduism?
The “same God” discussion appealed to the supreme being as what might pro-
vide a basis for the recognition of the same God. If we look to the gods of Hinduism
we must identify another strategy for thinking of them within a Jewish consid-
eration of Hinduism. The most obvious strategy is translation, but, as Assman
has taught us, the uniqueness of Judaism and consequent monotheisms is the
untranslatability of gods into the Jewish system. Moreover, Hindu gods are where
otherness is most pronounced. The issue is more fundamental than images and
their worship or the names that we do not recognize. The problem is that they
are presented as personalities and stories are told of them. The entire domain of
myth and popular stories associated with the gods would seem to lie beyond the
range of translation, hence of recognition. One could, at best, affirm part of the
faith of Hindus, faith in the absolute, as either identical or close to Jewish faith or
as providing theological shelter for the other half—the belief in the actual gods.
But the gods themselves would seem to be beyond any recognition. Unless, that
is, we can identify a mechanism of translation.
Translation is not only a need for making sense of gods across religions. It is
also an internal need. The stuff of the gods are stories and myths, some of which
also translate into rituals. Making sense of these stories is an internal concern. As
part of making sense of them, one often comes across techniques of abstraction.
Abstraction is a form of translation. The story and indeed the very identity and
function of a god is translated to a more abstract level. Thus, Brahma is creator,
Vishnu is preserver, Siva is pure consciousness, and Ganesha is swiftness and
agility in the divine realm. Of particular importance is the abstraction of the
powers associated with the mother with reference to creative processes and their
energetic counterpart.
Such techniques of abstraction and translation provide a means of interpreta-
tion that allows one to consider what these Hindu gods mean, or could mean,
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 161

beyond their biographies, images, names, and rituals. The relationship between
abstraction and the mythical and biographical is of necessity complex. The one
does not necessarily replace the other but exists alongside it. Its importance var-
ies, accordingly, from one interpreter to another. Considering the great gods as
principles, rather than as personalities, certainly facilitates conversations across
religions. It allows one to relate to aspects of the faith in specific gods, rather than
others, as opposed to ignoring the gods altogether in favor of a higher spiritual
principle. Just how successful such translation and recognition tactics could be
remains a subject for future thought. Translating images of the great mother to
a kabbalistic system seems intuitively to make more sense than translating the
figure of Ganesha into something recognizable within Judaism.36
Abstraction is not the only possible way of dealing with the gods. The worship
of the important gods does not conform to the simple hierarchical view of vedan-
tic philosophy, wherein the great absolute is worshipped beyond and through
the many deities, including the most important and celebrated ones. Within the
religious life of Hinduism, the major gods have become the focus of sects and
schools that structure the view of the spiritual life around them. Siva for impor-
tant schools, like Saiva Siddhanta, is the God supreme, and not a created being,
subordinate to a higher source of origin. For schools like Gaudiya Vaisnavism,
Krishna is the supreme being, and not simply an avatar of another deity, Vishnu,
himself only an aspect of the created order. For these schools, faith in God is
identified with a specific form, a series of stories and myths and a related philo-
sophical worldview that makes sense of all these. There is great variety between
schools of thought, corresponding to choice of supreme deity. While all share
in the recognition of an absolute reality that transcends this world and even the
created order, how it is understood and imagined varies from school to school.
With this variation we recognize the complexity of Hindu religious life and the
challenges it presents to a Jewish view of Hinduism, challenges that cannot be
glossed over with a simple blanket application of a single principle. Moreover, the
strangeness or otherness of the great gods does not disappear even if we recog-
nize in them expressions of an absolute reality, identify them with higher states of
consciousness or even affirm the positive impact they have in the lives of believers,
thereby allowing ourselves to ignore these gods. Hindu gods may be approached
as part of broader philosophical systems; they may be explained through abstrac-
tion and translation mechanisms. But something of their concrete expression, in
its otherness, continues to haunt our attempt to understand them. It may be here
that ritual and image have the greatest impact. We cannot translate any Hindu
god into complete philosophical abstraction because he or she is always associ-
ated not only with specific stories but also with concrete iconography, images,
and pictorial and ritual representation. If philosophy leads us to an abstraction
that facilitates recognition, ritual reminds us of the particularity and the other-
ness of gods. If philosophy takes us to the realm of the mind, story and ritual
take us to the realm of the imagination. Thus, even if we are willing to go along
with the theologically generous view of Hindu gods as expressions of metaphysi-
cal principles that we can recognize, we cannot escape the encounter with the
human imagination and the central role it plays in approaching the Divine. It
162 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

seems to me that ultimately we cannot escape tackling the imaginative aspects

associated with Hindu gods. If we do not wish to look away from the reality and
the concreteness of the most central aspect of the religious life of India, we must
attempt a theory of religious imagination.
When religious discourse is governed by notions of truth and falsehood, it is
very difficult to make room for a positive appreciation of the imagination within
a view of another religion.37 One cannot fully convert or capture the value and
meaning of mythical and pictorial representation of gods into abstract and philo-
sophical terms that can be translated across traditions. That which remains spe-
cific, the core of otherness of a religion and its god or gods, is therefore judged
as false, not meeting the standards of truth, philosophical or otherwise, known
in the religion conducting the view of the other. Accordingly, when we view
an image of a god, hear the story of his or her biography and deeds, and more
broadly encounter this dimension of the faith of the other, we have little choice
but to dismiss it as a phantom of a people’s imagination, and as such phantasma-
goric, ultimately false. Almost instinctively, we approach the images of another
religion in terms of how faithfully they represent or correspond to a celestial or
heavenly reality, and accordingly judge them to be false. But as Diana Eck writes:
“The images of the gods are not ‘likenesses’ of any earthly form. They are fantas-
tic forms, with multiple heads and arms, with blue, green, or vermilion coloring,
or with part-animal bodies. They are not intended to ‘represent’ earthly reali-
ties, but rather to present Divine realities. They stretch the human imagination
toward the Divine by juxtaposing earthly realities in an unearthly way.”38 This,
then, presents before us other challenges and invites us to develop a theory of
religious imagination, as it applies to other religions.
In what follows, I shall suggest how such a line of reasoning may unfold, draw-
ing on internal Jewish discussions of the role of the imagination and consider-
ing whether these might be applied to other religions. Clearly, such an extension
requires theological will and generosity, and these in turn are motivated by the
attempt to carry the recognition of the “same God,” based on the various strate-
gies that make it possible, to a more particular consideration of how this “same
God” relates to the otherness of the individual god and his or her personality.
There is no accepted Jewish theory of religious imagination. Neither the Bible
nor rabbinic literature engages in such a discussion. Even when gods of other reli-
gions are judged as false, there is no appeal to the human imagination as part of
that judgment. Judgment of the imagination as inferior, misleading, and opposed
to truth is largely a product of the Jewish philosophical tradition, which is, in
turn, indebted to the Greek philosophical tradition. If anything, the wealth of
images of the Divine found in the foundational corpora challenges us to account
for how richly God is imagined and how to relate the imaginative expressions
of living faith and experience to a more philosophical view of God. Briefly put,
the challenge is how to reconcile an official view of God as being beyond form
and beyond imagination, let alone beyond the possibility of representation, with
the rich data suggesting that religious experience, particularly prophetic and
mystical experience, imaged and imagined God.39 This tension could have led
to a broader theory of religious imagination. However, efforts at neutralizing
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 163

anthropomorphism were mainly linguistic and did not attempt to resolve the
tension by constructing a theory of religious imagination. Attention to the imag-
inative power occurs mainly in reflection on prophecy and mystical experience.
Resources for a broader theory of religious imagination are therefore to be found
mainly in the realm of mystical experience, where vision and imagination are
not only part of a literary heritage that must be accommodated, but part of ongo-
ing experience. While recognizing the obvious divide between internal religious
experience, at its most profound and intimate, and the view of other religions,
what bridges these extremes could be a common theory of religious imagination.
The appeal to texts from the mystical tradition will be undertaken in the interest
of extracting from them such a theory.
Biblical and rabbinic tradition do not shy away from representing God in
words. If other religions present a challenge, and are usually condemned, for rep-
resenting God in physical objects—images, statues etc., Jewish sources present an
analogous challenge in their liberal verbal representation of God. One of the ear-
liest statements that addresses this challenge is a poem that has come to us from
the mystical circle of German pietists, active in the twelfth century. The hymn
called Song of Glory is still recited in synagogues to this very day, at the end of
the Shabbat service. The hymn tackles the challenge of multiple representations
of God, especially as portrayed in rabbinic literature. It states:

I have not seen Thee, yet I tell Thy praise,

Nor known Thee, yet I image forth Thy ways
For by Thy seers’ and servants’ mystic speech,
Thou dids Thy sov’ran splendor darkly teach
And from the granduer of Thy work they drew
the measure of Thy inner greatness, too.
They told of Thee, but not as Thou must be,
Since from Thy work they tried to body Thee
To countless visions did their picture run,
Behold through all the visions Thou art one.
In Thee old age and youth at once were drawn,
the grey of old, the flowing locks of dawn
The ancient judge, the youthful warrior,
The man of battles, terrible in war.40

The passage seeks to reconcile conflicting images of the Divine—a warring

youth versus a compassionate old man. Words for image and imagination appear
three times in the Hebrew, suggesting the importance of the imaginary power to
this passage. The key statement, as it would read in a more prosaic translation is:
“they likened you through many visions, yet you are one in all forms imagined.”
This serves as a summary statement for an entire theory of religious imagina-
tion. Religious imagination produces many images and forms of God. God is
one and his unity manifests through this variety of images. Imagination is thus
the human tool for perceiving God. It commits a permissible error of imagining
God, while God himself remains beyond the various images attributed to him,
one and the same. The author of this hymn does not seek to account for why such
164 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

imaginations are necessary and how they may be legitimated. His task is to rec-
oncile conflicting images received within tradition. Were we to account for why
such imaginations are permissible and constitute part of scriptural experience,
a likely answer would be because they facilitate access to God, making His pres-
ence real, opening the believer up to the intensity of encounter with God. The
multiplicity of religious images is instrumental to deep and authentic encounter
with Him. Because these various images are found in Scripture, there is no ques-
tion as to their propriety and legitimacy. But the theoretical grounds for such
legitimation could perhaps be extended to other forms of the human religious
imagination, and how it reaches out to God, making His presence real.
Remaining for still a moment with this text, it is worth noting that its theory
of religious imagination seems to be that what is seen through the imagination
occurs in the mind or the heart of the viewer and does not correspond to some
external reality that is properly conveyed through the vision.41 As Elliot Wolfson
notes, we can distinguish between different understandings of what is envisioned
and its relationship to God, or to what is really “out there.” Wolfson refers to these
as veridical and docetic.42 If for earlier members of the circle of German pietists,
vision corresponds to something real, for the author of this hymn, all visions are
equally irrelevant to a true depiction of reality, forcing us thereby to develop a
theory of how religious imagination functions and how to validate it.43
The question occurs also, as Wolfson notes, with regard to the earliest circle
of Jewish mystics, who ascend to visions of the heavenly throne.44 What are we
to make of the detailed descriptions of travels through celestial realms, culmi-
nating in the beautiful vision of the enthroned God? Do these correspond to
a reality that is portrayed in these texts? Were we to say so, this would consti-
tute a serious challenge for later generations, who may not recognize God in the
form portrayed in these texts. If so, should these texts simply be dismissed as
non-normative, ultimately mistaken, perceptions of God? There is an in-between
path, based on recognition of the importance of the imagination in cultivating
religious experience and in aiding the aspirant into the presence of God.45
For our purposes, it is most helpful to identify those moments where imagina-
tion is not only cultivated, but where its cultivation may be at odds with a higher
view of God. Recognition of a higher truth that in some sense invalidates what
is imagined, while upholding the inherent value of what one visions and imag-
ines, could provide a precedent, a structure, that could be extended to instances
beyond Judaism where we identify a conflict between a higher, philosophical,
view of God that affirms His unity and alternative workings of the religious
imagination that seem to be at odds with such recognition. Hassidic literature is
the latest chapter in Jewish reflection that has brought to us rich resources with
regard to religious imagination, including many exercises for cultivation of the
imaginative faculty through guided imagery, meditation, etc.46 I would like to
point to several moments within this literature that are helpful to our discus-
sion. The first concerns the legitimacy, even encouragement, of active imagin-
ing of God, even though it is known that these imaginings are false. It relies on
the already cited controversy of Maimonides and Rabad concerning the status
of someone who imagines God to be possessed of form, on account of how God
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 165

is portrayed in Scripture.47 Maimonides is a champion of the view that a correct

understanding of God is essential for a proper relationship with Him and ulti-
mately for attaining salvation. He can therefore not tolerate such error. Rabad,
by contrast, is much more forgiving, citing Scripture and the precedent of many
sages who have followed its plain sense and accepted an anthropomorphic view
of God.
One master of Jewish spirituality, and meditation in particular, R. Kalonymous
Kalman Schapiro, placed great value on the use of imagination in the religious
life. So much so, that for him the cultivation of the imaginative faculty, as part of
enhancing a sense of the reality of God, could come even at the cost of theologi-
cal propriety. At one point, in response to the query of a student who struggles to
reach God and to have a proper vision of him, the rabbi writes:

My counsel is that a person . . . at the beginning of the growth and expanding of

his mindfulness should depend upon the view of the Ravad, who responded to the
Rambam: “Why does he call a person [who attributes physicality to God] a sectar-
ian? A number of great and good people . . . have entertained this idea . . . ” (Hilchot
Teshuvah 3:7). It is difficult to understand the words of the Ravad. Does the verse
not clearly state, “You saw no image” (besides other such statements)? But in line
with what was stated above, we can understand this as follows. The Ravad is not
saying that we should delude ourselves that there is some image in the upper realm,
God forbid, let it not even be uttered. Rather, we must know in truth that God has
no image, Heaven forbid. But we beings formed of physicality, corporeal people
who possess form, visualize such a thing so that our mindfulness will be able to
grasp, expand and broaden. Then, when God helps us and our mind grows stron-
ger so that we can think of Him with a strong and clean mindfulness, and when an
image of a spark of prophecy is revealed within us, this physical image will of itself
cease to exist. When we pray, we will be able to picture that we are standing before
God and His throne of glory—realizing that whatever we imagine is merely the
way that our senses—our ears and mind—are capable of interpreting things.48

What is special in this text is the willingness to sustain a clearly wrong or false
imaginative approach to God as a station on the way to a true visioning of God.
The problem of theological correctness is dealt with by significantly stretching
the ancient dispute between Maimonides and Rabad. What was a theoretical dis-
cussion concerning the status of someone who was misled into a wrong under-
standing of God by the plain sense of Scripture has become a principled approach
to active imagining of God in prayer. Clearly, the primacy of religious experience
for this author was such that he was willing to risk theological propriety on the
road to God realization.49
I would like to point to two additional sources that could serve as resources for
the present reflection. The first is to be found in the teachings of Rabbi Nachman
of Breslav:

Descriptions and praises of God50 exist in the aspect of the imaginative faculty.
This is because all of the descriptions and praises with which we think of God, be
He blessed, are in the aspect of the imagination. This is because in the inner part of
166 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

the intellect, God, be He blessed, is stripped entirely of all praises and descriptions.
Thus, all of the praises and descriptions are necessarily in the aspect of the imagi-
nation. And so, when the imagination is refined and rectified, then it is possible to
arrange praises and descriptions of God, be He blessed. But when the imagination
is not rectified, then we have no knowledge whatsoever of how to describe God,
be He blessed, as it were, with praises and descriptions, because all praises and
descriptions of God are in the aspect of the imagination.51

In this passage we encounter explicit reference to the imaginative power.52 The

term, taken from earlier philosophical discussions of prophecy, is of great impor-
tance for R. Nachman, so much so that true faith is contingent on cultivation and
purification of this force. It is thus a factor in the everyday faith of every person,
and not only a concern of the prophet and a theory of prophecy. Purification of
the imaginative power does not lead to transcending the imagination in favor
of an abstract view of God. Rather, the appropriate and purified imagination
allows us to praise God. Praise, especially as captured in Jewish liturgy, relates
to God through a variety of anthropomorphic images. Far from being trivialized
or rejected, these are viewed as necessary for the religious life. Thus, we can-
not approach God without resort to the imaginative power. Approaching God
without the integration of the imagination will be either cold or, even worse,
impossible. R. Nachman recognizes that there is something ultimately false in
all applications of the imaginary faculty. God Himself is beyond all praises and
attributes. All that we say of Him can only be said as an expression of the imagi-
nation. Yet this does not invalidate the imagination; it only requires its purifica-
tion so that God can be properly approached through it.53
Another text, coming from a very different hassidic milieu, struggles with
religious experience, how it must resort to imagination and how imaginations
are of necessity limiting and therefore in an ultimate sense wrong. The discus-
sion, once again, concerns the internal faculty of the imagination and seeks to
legitimate religious experience, even given the knowledge that the imagination is
by definition lacking, imperfect, and ultimately even false. The discussion, by R.
Aharon Halevy of Strashelye in his Shaarei Avoda, refers to the need to experi-
ence internally what are essentially metaphysical and spiritual cognitions of the
absoluteness of God and of the fact that He alone exists. In this context he applies
the recognition that all is God to justify even the workings of the imagination as
being valid:

God Himself descends through the aspect of the imagination, as in the case of
the prophets . . . concerning whom it says “I saw God” (Isa. 6,1), literally. . . . God
revealed Himself literally, through whatever degree of surrender [or: annihilation]
they practiced, which was [still] an aspect of the imagination.
And from this you can draw similar conclusions with reference to all levels below
that of the prophets, all the more so in every Jewish soul, that each and every per-
son, according to his imaginings [attains something that] is true. For this was the
purpose of all creation, that God should be revealed specifically through the imag-
ination. Because the purpose of all of creation is to reveal His divinity, blessed be
He, even from the perspective of being [reality]. And from the perspective of being
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 167

there are infinite levels, yet from the angle of Truth—all is true. Because imagina-
tion is also His power, blessed be He, descending in the aspect of the imagination
to each and every one.54

The text contains the nucleus for a broader theory of the imagination that
could be extended beyond the traditional bounds of Judaism and its authorita-
tive texts. Grounding a theory of the imagination in creation itself suggests that
it is a vision relevant to all creatures. If the purpose of all creation is for God to
be known, it is through imagination that He is known to all His creatures. Note
that reference to the soul of Israel appears as an a forteriori argument, suggesting
that the legitimacy of approaching God through the imagination is not limited
to an inherent capacity of the Jewish soul. Rather, it is something fundamental to
the human person.55
Other hassidic teachers go as far as to associate the image of God itself with the
imaginative faculty. Their teachings may have not intended to tie all humanity to
the image of God, considering rather its application to Israel. Nevertheless, if we
take the association of the imaginative faculty and the image of God seriously,
important possibilities emerge. The various spiritual aspirations of humanity,
and the imaginations through which it captures these aspirations, may be con-
sidered as expressions of a divinely given capacity, expressing what it means to be
human, made in God’s image.
In this spirit let us consider the following interpretation of Gen.1,26 by a noted
hassidic author, R. Simcha Bunem of Przysucha:

The word ‘adam (man) is derived from ’adammeh [i.e. I will imagine].56 After God
made everything beautiful and glorious He wanted to display His actions so that
one would see everything. But those who exist, apart from human beings, do not
comprehend anything but themselves. God created man and he is the power that is
comprised of the upper and lower realities, which all can be imagined in the soul
of a person. This is the essence of man that he sees, comprehends and imagines,
like no one else. This is [the import of] “let us make man in our image, like our
likeness, for only something somehow similar in kind can envision57 that which it
is like.58

Man’s power of comprehending and imagining is a divine quality endowed in

the human person by means of which he can comprehend God’s works and God
Himself. The imaginative faculty is an aspect of a commonality man possesses
with God, by means of which he can come to know Him.59
In view of the preceding discussion, a theory of religious imagination that
could account for the workings of the imagination in other religions would be
constituted by three factors:

A. A dissociation of the content of imagination from an “out-there” truth

component, so that what is produced by the imagination need not be con-
sidered true in a descriptive sense, or correspond to spiritual reality as it is,
even though some degree of abstraction and translation into philosophical
terms seems unavoidable.
168 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

B. Recognition of the instrumentality of religious imagination in reaching

God and making His presence real, such that it enlivens the spiritual life,
producing beneficial fruits.
C. Appreciation of religious imagination as an expression of a divinely given
capacity, grounded in the notion of the image of God.

When might we apply such an attitude to the religion of the other? If our start-
ing point is the recognition of the same God and if we seek to deal with the por-
tions of another religion’s view that strike us as other and strange, what might be
conditions and criteria under which we could profitably apply this strategy? As
a first stab at articulating a minimal theory for recognizing or accommodating
expressions of religious imagination in religions’ view of God and gods, I would
like to propose three criteria:

A. The first criterion seems to be recognition of the Creator as the ultimate

source of life and creation. As we noted in our “Same God” discussion, this
is the single most central criterion by means of which the Christian God
was recognized as the same as the God of Judaism.
B. Faith and recognition of God, especially vitalized and internalized with
the aid of the imagination, produces transformative fruit in a life of faith.
Thus, the workings of the religious imagination have a beneficial spiritual
effect. Our discussion of recognizing the fruits of the spiritual life as an
extension of Meiri’s strategy illustrate what kind of beneficial impact the
spiritual life, enlivened by power of the imagination, would have. These
fruits are to be distinguished from those that would come forth from the
darker side of the imagination, which would lead to fear, superstition,
magic, attempts at controlling and manipulating reality and the likes.
Thus, in referring to the fruits of the imagination, I am referring to the
ways in which religious imagination aids in making real fundamental
spiritual teachings, deriving from and affirming God’s existence in the
life of the believer.
C. Within the beneficial fruits, I would like to single out one in particular—
love. A full religious life, lived with the power of imagination, is one in
which God is real and therefore an object of love and devotion. If imagina-
tion not only makes God real, but allows us to cultivate a loving attitude,
to God and to others, this is a positive fruit of the spiritual life as such and
of incorporation of the power of imagination in it.

Applying these three criteria means that the imaginative power is judged by
similar standards in Judaism and beyond. The discernment therefore shifts from
correct or incorrect imaginings to beneficial or harmful fruits of working with
religious imagination. Religious imagination, then, is universal, and we would
seek to discern its workings and their possible fruits in all religions.
Let us apply all this to Hindu gods. The Shituf construct, especially as applied
to a vedantic worldview, would recognize in Brahman the supreme creator.
Specific gods and manifestations are ways of making him real to the human
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 169

person and therefore resort to the imagination. The practice of having a personal
god, an ishta devata, as a focus of the spiritual life and a means of approach-
ing the absolute, would illustrate the importance of the religious imagination
in making God real in the life of the person and its ultimate instrumentality.
Through the individual deity—Rama, Krishna, Ganesha, the Mother etc.—one’s
spiritual life becomes engaged, interiorized, and real. This is particularly so in
the devotional bhakti movements that make love the focus of the approach to the
individual deity. Thus, the three suggested criteria are played out in relation to
different aspects of the Shituf construct, some in relation to the absolute, some in
relation to the individual deity. Their totality makes for Shituf and it is precisely
their totality and complementarity that make the religious life full and real.
Other configurations of these criteria are possible. In some of the religious
movements, the God who is worshipped assumes all qualities to Himself. Thus,
for some Krishna or for others Siva are not manifestations of a higher being, but
the supreme being himself. Krishna or Siva is the creator. How they are imag-
ined, envisioned, the stories told of them, how they are made real in the lives of
believers—all these would be considered by the Jewish observer as expressions of
the imaginative faculty. In the best of cases, such as in the lives of great masters,
poets and saints, these imaginative expressions are pathways to a deeper spiritual
life, making God real and generating the fruits of contact with Him in the lives of
devotees. Rather than highlighting the unfamiliar and strange expressions of the
religious imagination, we are called to consider their fruits, their impact in the
lives of believers.60 Of course, not all believers will benefit in the same way. This
is as true in Judaism as it is in other religions. But it is enough for our purposes if
spiritual advancement is made possible by means of the imagination. That some
may never go beyond an external application of the imagination is analogous to
a superficial and externalized observance of a Jewish way of life. Whatever core
allows us to apply a “same God” strategy is sufficient for inviting us to consider a
positive approach to another religion’s imaginative world, even if those who reap
its full benefits are only few.
Considering the role of the imagination in accounting for the faith of other
religions is related to points raised earlier in this study. One suggestion made ear-
lier relates to Nachmanides’ view of the allotments of gods and angels to different
nations. I suggested that the collective imaginative faculty of a people, expressed
in how their god or gods are imagined, might be considered an application of
Nachmanides’ principle. We may also recall Rabbi Herzog’s application of the
principle of Shituf to Christianity. Rabbi Herzog speaks of Jesus as having been
elevated to divine status through the workings of the frivolous human imagina-
tion.61 Given that Rabbi Herzog upholds the legitimacy of Christianity, following
the opinion that Shituf is permissible for non-Jews, what he is in effect endorsing
is the way in which human imagination complements and expresses fundamen-
tal religious truths.
There is an even more principled way of accommodating religious imagina-
tion, by focusing on what is core to the notion of Avoda Zara. While what follows
does not necessarily legitimate all workings of the religious imagination of other
cultures, it does allow us to revisit the relationship of the real and the imaginary
170 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

with reference to Avoda Zara by suggesting that application or recognition of the

workings of religious imagination, even if not fully permissible, actually reduces
the charge of Avoda Zara. In what follows I wish to present the halachic views
of one notable twentieth-century halachic authority, Rabbi Abraham Isaiah
Karelitz, known as the Chazon Ish. In his notes on the Shulchan Aruch he revis-
its issues of the definition of Avoda Zara, with particular reference to the founda-
tional discussion of the Tosafot and their view of permissibility of Shituf.62 While
the Chazon Ish himself seems to rule against permissibility of Shituf, and reads
the Tosafot in that light, he offers some important distinctions and resources for
a consideration of other religions. The Chazon Ish considers the foundation of
Avoda Zara to be the confusion of creator and creature. Thus, any act of wor-
shipping a created being as God amounts to Avoda Zara. This is true whether
the created being is present or deceased, and one continues worshipping him
or her posthumously. One consequence of this understanding is that if some-
one does not approach a created being as “God,” but rather considers God, here
understood in the fullness of divinity, as manifesting through a particular being,
this is not to be considered as forbidden worship.63 A further consequence of this
clear definition of the core of Avoda Zara as confusing creator and creature is, in
a startling statement, that the worship of imaginary beings is not to be consid-
ered as Avoda Zara.64 If one worships a being that has no reality, one is, in fact,
engaging in a mistaken view of God.65 This is not Avoda Zara, but rather a lesser
category of minut, wrong view of God. The Chazon Ish goes as far as considering
that while a non-Jew is forbidden to worship through Shituf, he is not forbidden
to entertain mistaken theological notions, minut, through Shituf.
Clearly, the Chazon Ish does not endorse all products of religious imagina-
tion in other religious cultures as legitimate. But he does remove them from the
realm of Avoda Zara, thereby facilitating a discussion of their potential value and
how they might be accommodated within a more positive appreciation of other
religions. According to this understanding, then, we would have to consider the
imagination a distinct category, as we view the gods of other religions. The imag-
ination may give expression to mistaken notions of the Divine, but these are not
ipso facto Avoda Zara. Moreover, even when these images are translated into
artifacts of worship, these artifacts are not, in and of themselves, Avoda Zara, but
only an inappropriate approach, corresponding to a lower level of error commit-
ted in relation to imaginary beings.
Perhaps we can revisit Meiri in this light. We never really understood how
Meiri could live with theological error and with misrepresentation of God in
other religious cultures, ignoring all that was “wrong” in them and highlight-
ing only the common core of a knowledge of God and a moral life that affords
those religions legitimacy. One way of making sense of Meiri is through a the-
ory of religious imagination. Alongside true knowledge of God there is also the
operation of the human imaginative faculty. God is not known or understood as
abstract philosophical truth. Rather, the reality of God is expressed through a
series of correct cognitions, in the field of metaphysics as well as of ethics. Along
with these we also find ways of portraying God that are adaptations and accom-
modations of the human imagination. How inventive the human imagination
 FROM HINDU GOD TO HINDU GODS 171

is can be seen in the creation of mythologies and art and more fundamentally
in how it pictures God and the gods. When Krishna or Siva are approached as
“God,” rather than as in some way derivative expressions of absolute being, cor-
rect spiritual cognitions are intertwined with imaginary ways of relating to the
Divine. Application of the imagination does not invalidate the commonality and
validation that Meiri recognizes.
A more positive appreciation of the imagination, such as we find in certain
streams of Jewish thought described above,66 can be further applied to Meiri’s
views, in recognizing the instrumentality of the imagination and how it aids in
the spiritual life. The fruits of the religious life, bringing together true cognition
and an imaginative approach, are not in correct knowledge, but in a full spiritual
life. The imaginative life is necessary for cultivating the fullness of the religious
life, in both moral and spiritual terms. Seen in this way, the imagination is a
necessary component of the religious life. It should be appreciated by its fruits,
rather than by its truth content. The high spiritual life that has been made pos-
sible for some followers of Hindu gods could serve as testimony to a Meiri-based
view of religions that judges religions by their impact and fruit in the lives of
believers. Engaging the imagination would accordingly be considered a value,
not a hindrance.
Seen in this light, we might go as far as to consider the mixture of the cogni-
tive and the imaginative a fundamental and necessary part of any spiritual life,
including the religious life of Jews. Shituf might accordingly refer to the bringing
together of these faculties in any religious life. Accordingly, there is some dimen-
sion of Shituf and, consequently, some mistaken or idolatrous understanding that
is a necessity in any religious life. As some of the hassidic masters suggest, with
reference to Jews, this concerns how they view and imagine God. As there is no
other object of worship, imaginative errors and limitations are contained within
the permissible, even if ultimately erroneous, approach to God. Their justifica-
tion lies in the spiritual life they lead to. For non-Jews, the range of flexibility is
larger, permitting the incorporation and application of the imaginative faculty
in the religious life even as it imagines other beings. Whether it is in wrong or
imperfect imagining of God, or viewing God as manifesting in other beings—
real and imaginary—in both cases the absolute purity of the knowledge of God
eludes us. God remains in important ways beyond, for Jews and non-Jews.67
Acknowledging this fact of the spiritual life allows us to recognize greater com-
monality in the human condition, facing the Divine, and to cultivate a greater
openness and tolerance toward those expressions of imagining God that do not
cohere with our own tradition.
 13

Revisiting the Worship of Images:

Glimpses of a Future Dialogue

W e have noted that Avoda Zara refers both to the otherness of the deity
worshipped and to the strangeness of method of worship, primarily the
strangeness and otherness of worshipping God through images and forms. In
the relation between theology and worship, we have noted the theoretical pos-
sibility that Avoda Zara would be defined by acts of worship. This may be the
viewpoint of the formative rabbinic period, where we find little express discus-
sion of what constitutes Avoda Zara and why it is problematic. Such attitudes
were perpetuated emotionally in later periods and, as we have noted in various
places, some later authorities appeal to the problematic ritual, particularly to
image worship, as markers of Avoda Zara in their own right. However, the vari-
ous voices we have analyzed, coming from the different literary genres of the
Middle Ages, all seem to privilege theology over and against worship. The vari-
ous strategies by means of which the same God is affirmed all rely on theology,
rather than worship. For such views we would have to consider that worship is
in and of itself meaningless. It requires a theoretical structure to interpret it and
a religious framework of attachment to and relationship with a deity to endow
it with meaning. We also recall that prioritizing philosophy over worship is an
internal Hindu option, and not only a way for the outsider to make sense of
Hindu practice. But even if the philosophical or theological perspective allows
us to recognize the same God as worshipped in both religions, the otherness of
worship does not disappear. Just as a “same God” position invited reflection on
the relationship between God and gods, so too further thought must be given to
the concrete means by which God is worshipped, and in particular to the use of
images. Is the only option available to us to disregard or excuse such practices,
in view of a higher understanding of God, or is further engagement with these
practices possible? We recall the concluding words of Rabbi Steinsaltz’s seminal
essay on tolerance, where he reflects on the merits of his Shituf-based position.
Regarding it, Steinsaltz says: “It does not require most religions to give up, or
modify the meaning of, such words as true and truth. It provides a basis for
conversation among religions without the expectation of compromise between
or reconciliation of claims.”1 Given the foundations of recognition, afforded by
174 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Shituf, or other “same God” strategies, the present section seeks to advance this
very conversation. In reflecting on issues such as the worship of images, one seeks
not to condone practices involving image worship but to engage them. What are
the challenges, lessons, and opportunities that a thoughtful engagement of these
practices might yield? Differently put: What might a future Jewish-Hindu dia-
logue, based on the premises of some degree of recognition and affirmation of
the same God, look like?
I would like to raise several points in the present discussion, without any claim
that these are the most important points to emerge in a future dialogue. As they
have come up as points for reflection in my own thinking process, it is likely they
will be of significance to others as well. The first concerns the very understand-
ing of the meaning and function of the idol in worship and how it is conceived in
relation to divinity. Our rejection of the worship of forms is so fundamental that
we take little time to consider what the form means to the worshipper, in what
way it mediates divinity, and how divinity is perceived through it. We implicitly
assume that any use of image in worship implies an identification of the wor-
shipped object with divinity, often identifying the two in such a way as to limit
the scope of divinity and contain it fully within the worshipped object. It is easy
to ridicule a “primitive” or simplistic view of the use of images. The Hindu view
of images, however, is usually quite sophisticated. Divinity is never fully identi-
fied, nor fully contained, in an image. It would be fair to summarize the relation-
ship between divinity and the image as that between soul and body. The analogy
is fairly exhaustive. Soul enters body at a certain point in time. Prior to that, there
is only dead matter. What makes life significant is the soul, with the body serv-
ing as its vehicle. At the other end of the process we encounter the departure of
soul from body. A lifeless body requires disposal and does not elicit great respect,
except by memory and association with the living person.
Important Hindu images are understood along similar lines. They are vehicles
for something, rather than objects bearing religious meaning in their own right.
What is worshipped is the spirit of the Divine, dwelling in them, rather than the
physical object.2 They are consecrated as ritual objects following an elaborate cer-
emony, whose purpose is to draw the divine spirit to the object.3 Significantly, the
life span of most images is limited.4 The end of the life of the image is its drown-
ing in water, where it is dissolved, returning to its primordial elements. Jewish
travelers have observed the latter ceremony, but have not offered any reflections
on its significance.5
I recall a conversation with two prominent Hindu leaders, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar
and Sugunendra Theerta Swami, one of the leaders of the Madhva school of phi-
losophy. The two represent different philosophical schools, the former closer to
a monistic view of reality, wherein the soul, God, and all reality are one, whereas
the latter belongs to the dualistic school that insists on the ontological difference
and distinction between God and creation. Notwithstanding significant theolog-
ical differences, when approached by me in discussion concerning the meaning
of the worship of idols both replied, jointly, along the same lines. The argument
from the perishability of the idol and its mandated ritual destruction affirms
the fact that it is not the idol, but the divinity that manifests through it, that is
 REVISITING THE WORSHIP OF IMAGES 175

worshipped. The eventual immersion of the idol in water was almost an immedi-
ate response to the presumed charge that they simply worship wood, stone, or
other crafted materials.
On another occasion I queried Sugunendra Swami regarding the need for
worshipping through images. As a spiritual figure who has spent all of his life
in spiritual practice, since being identified at a young age, based on astrologi-
cal indications, as a future religious figurehead, and who has since spent thou-
sands of hours in worship and meditation, what need did he have for worshipping
through images? His answer was suggestive. Rather than dismiss the use of idols
as something external, needed for the sake of the masses, or some such similar
argument, Swamiji insisted on the limitations of his own consciousness and his
own need for an object for focus in worship. The idol was an instrument designed
to raise his consciousness toward a higher reality, even as the real presence of the
idol was affirmed. Instrumentality coupled with presence thus provides the logic
that accounts for the use of idols in the framework of a developmental worldview
that seeks to raise the consciousness of the believer to a higher spiritual realm.
That images have a cognitive function and are taken as an aid to concentra-
tion and spiritual development is already an important complement to a simplistic
view that simply sees in them the form of the god that is being worshipped. But
perhaps even more important is the possible analogy to the Temple and its func-
tion in Jewish tradition. Theological reflection on the Temple wrestles with the
problem of the relationship between God as present in the Temple and His presence
either in the entire world or in the heavens. The Temple is ultimately instrumen-
tal. It is a means of realizing divine presence and making it available to people.6 It
may also be an object of meditation.7 Through the physical medium of wood, gold,
etc., divine presence comes to dwell. Its dwelling is initiated by an act or a process
of consecration. And while the departing of the divine presence is not ritualized,
rabbinic sources speak of it precisely in such terms, as departing from the Temple,
leaving it destroyed spiritually, leading to its physical destruction. It may be then
that our thinking, conditioned as it has been by derogatory rhetoric, has been mis-
directed. If we compare idol with Temple, rather than with God, a more appropri-
ate appreciation for the purpose and function of images may emerge.8
There is an even more fundamental issue that arises from encounter with
Hindu religious practice. The issue relates to images, but it relates to a much
more fundamental aspect of how the Divine is understood and as such is relevant
both to the question of God and gods and to the question of representation in
and through material objects. If the idol is understood in terms of embodiment
and its equivalent is the Temple, we are led to more fundamental considerations
of divine embodiment and what it means to talk of God’s body. Popular as well
as halachic attitudes to other religions may be driven by a sense of otherness, but
they are also nurtured by implicit assumptions about the possibility, or rather the
impossibility, of divine embodiment. Thus, Judaism is often presented in light of
its philosophical iteration as rejecting the notion of a divine body, while other
religions are reduced to a caricatural understanding of divine embodiment, one
that not only provides no challenge, but also leaves room for little response but
derision. Theological facts, however, are more complicated.
176 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

The following thoughts owe a great debt to Ben Sommer’s The Bodies of God
and the World of Ancient Israel.9 A scholar of the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient
Near East, Sommer revisits biblical monotheism and how God is understood in
biblical sources. Sommer undercuts the conventional distinction between mono-
theism and polytheism and suggests instead a typology of different understand-
ings of God and His body. Specifically, he points to understandings that present
a fluid body, contrasted with understandings that oppose such a view. Fluidity
of divine body means that the body of God is unlike the human body. It can
appear in multiple locations simultaneously, it can enter and be identified with
various objects, and it can be manifested as other beings coming as part of God
and representing him to a greater or lesser extent, though never fully. Sommer
claims that while all of biblical (and I add: rabbinic) Judaism is anthropomor-
phic, important strands in biblical thought understood the divine body specifi-
cally as a fluid divine body. Sommer sees this faith as analogous to the religious
understanding of some of Israel’s ancient neighbors. What distinguishes Israel
from other cultures was its monotheistic faith, not its claim for lack of body or
its understanding of the divine body as a fixed, nonfluid, body. Sommer further
sees fluidity as a theological strand that finds expression in various postbibli-
cal Judaisms. Finally, by focusing on this problem he stands on its head much
anti-Christian polemic, by suggesting that Christian faith in the Trinity and in
the incarnation conforms to an ancient Jewish model and is therefore not to be
considered at odds with Jewish faith.
What Sommer does not spell out for us are the implications of the recov-
ery of this theological strand to a Jewish view of Hinduism. He does, however,
come close to it. As he gropes for an appropriate language by means of which
to describe the religious understanding he presents, he applies several times the
Hindu term “avatar.” The Jewish God can have avatars, manifest in various per-
sons and beings and dwell in various objects. The already acknowledged simi-
larity between Hindu practices and Ancient Near Eastern practices thus brings
us back to the question of how to view Hindu practice and belief against the
formative biblical background.10 The question takes on very particular coloring
when this biblical background is a theology that is commensurate with Hindu
practices rather than the mockery of these very practices in prophetic rhetoric.
The Hindu understanding of divinity and its manifestation is particularly close
to this biblical strand of thought, which captures it much better than the later
construct of Shituf. For the Hindu, God comes as. It may be the great teacher,
the force of nature, or a particular avatar, deity, or lower being, all of which are
expressions of God. We could try to make sense of these while keeping on our
hierarchical spectacles, through a Shituf view, but it is much truer to the nature of
the phenomenon under discussion to appreciate Hindu God, gods, and their con-
crete manifestations, embodiment, and worship through a model that is closer
to Hindu self-understanding. The biblical model uncovered by Sommer invites
us to consider whether what we might consider as so strange as to be beyond the
pale of theological possibility is not in fact an important and much neglected
way of viewing the Divine, which is part and parcel of our most ancient roots
and their many expressions in the course of Jewish history. Thus, encounter with
 REVISITING THE WORSHIP OF IMAGES 177

this particular religious other is an occasion to encounter and rediscover a part

of our own self.
Fluidity, manifestation, and embodiment of the Divine raise anew the ques-
tion of the awareness and intentionality of the believer. The biblical believer seems
well aware of the complexity of manifesting persons as he relates to God and
to His manifestations interchangeably.11 The Hindu believer who considers that
God comes as is also likely aware of this complexity. But the Hindu believer who
is not aware of higher philosophical teaching is not. Does this alter how we view
divine embodiment? Is it the case that awareness is a condition for embodiment
to work as a theological strategy, or can embodiment as a fundamental mode of
viewing the Divine also be validated when only some believers are cognizant of
it? If we entertained the possibility that Shituf might function because teachers
and sages are aware of the higher aspect of God, could the same be maintained if
the core theological understanding requires maintaining awareness of the rela-
tionship between the Divine and its manifestation/embodiment? This is the kind
of question that invites further reflection.
Divine embodiment in a Hindu context may be in a better position for recog-
nition by a Jewish view of God than the Ancient Near Eastern gods. Ancient Near
Eastern gods are all, in some way, limited in power, subservient to a higher order
that is nonpersonal. There is a realm of power that is independent of and greater
than the realm of divinity.12 Whether it is chaos or fate, the gods are limited and
do not have ultimate control. While astrology is ubiquitous in Hindu religious
life,13 the structure of Hindu religion and the understanding of Hindu divinity
is not circumscribed in the same way as polytheisms of the religions of Greece,
Egypt, and Mesopotamia. If the message of Hebrew monotheism was one of lib-
eration from nature and its servitude,14 the Hindu gods are themselves instru-
ments for such liberation. Moreover, the relationship between Hindu gods and
Brahman would seem to be the exact opposite of that of Mesopotamian gods and
the controlling forces beyond. Hindu gods manifest this absolute, rather than
being helpless in face of it. This is a very different religious structure and one
that is much closer to a Jewish view of God, especially the kind recovered and
presented by Sommer.
What, then, makes the Jewish God unique? For theologies that reject divine
embodiment, let alone the notion of a divine body, the answer is obvious, ulti-
mately leading us to a dichotomy between correct and incorrect views of God.
For the kind of theology presented by Sommer the question is harder to address.
Especially if we recognize that ultimately it is the same God that is known in the
two religions, what is the heart of the theological divide? Is it only the particular-
ity of names and forms of manifestation, unknown and therefore not recognized
by Judaism? But if deep theological structures can be affirmed and differences are
in name only, this significantly reduces the gap, making theological difference
extremely fine. Perhaps the difference would be educational. Judaism’s unique-
ness may lie not in its faith but in its educational strategy, as it seeks to make
a certain faith broadly known and understood by all believers.15 In the same
way that we suggested a dialogue between Jews who do not worship by means
of Shituf and non-Jews who do still lies ahead, so too a dialogue between Jewish
178 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

and Hindu theologies of divine fluidity is a conversation of the future, an exercise

not only for our theological imagination but also for spiritual inspiration.
Let me move on to the next point in this series of reflections on the shape of a
future dialogue. What I shall present here is not only a pointer for a future dia-
logue but an actual reflection on idolatry, inspired by the Hindu concept of the
Divine and how it is related to the idol, as developed by a contemporary Orthodox
rabbi. These reflections were recently published in the journal Tradition, a
mouthpiece of the Rabbinical Council of America, the umbrella organization of
American Orthodox rabbis. In other words, these reflections have taken place
within mainstream Orthodoxy, a sign of the potential for serious engagement,
under appropriate circumstances. The article by Rabbi Herzl Hefter is titled
“Idolatry: A Prohibition for Our Time.”16 Hefter begins by juxtaposing the actual
practice of worshipping idols and the various forms such worship takes in the
East with its absence in the West. Does this mean that idolatry is simply part of
Judaism’s immune system, without serving any practical purpose? Hefter seeks
to construct a notion of idolatry that would have meaning for our time and that
is not simply identified with the worship of images. Following a hassidic author
as well as Tillich, Hefter argues that monotheism is not automatically free from
idolatry. The point is not how many gods one believes in, but how one believes.
By claiming that our religious understanding is direct and complete, we are both
making God finite (in our own image) and limiting the potentiality of human
growth and development. The graven image is but an expression of this problem.
Turning to Heinrich Zimmer’s work on Hinduism, Hefter finds an echo for these
concerns within the actual practices and understandings associated with Hindu
images. According to Zimmer, the static nature of idols is a major concern for
Hinduism. Hindu statues, at least of a certain period, seek to convey dynamism
and movement. The view expressed through art is that “there is nothing static,
nothing abiding, but only the flow of relentless process, with everything origi-
nating, growing, decaying and vanishing—this wholly dynamic view of life . . . is
one of the fundamental concepts of later Hinduism.”17 Zimmer similarly speaks
of the possibility of the image conveying a sense that everything “dissolves into
undifferentiated, transcendent, subtle essence.” This suggests that idols seek to
capture something that is beyond, while attempting to overcome any finality in
how they capture the Divine. Hefter contrasts this with how one approaches the
concepts of the Torah and how one may take the ideals of religion and turn them
into idols, seeking security and happiness in making them fixed and final forms
of a revelation, rather than gateways that are forever open to a mystery beyond.
In arguing against the ways that idolatry can manifest even in an image-free
religion, Hefter writes: “Appearances, then, may be deceiving. Hinduism, with its
plethora of idols and graven images, may not at the end of the day be idolatrous,
while the extreme literalist elements of the monotheistic faiths may ‘err’ in that
direction.”18
Hefter has unknowingly adopted a stance often taken by Hindu apologists,
who reject the charges of idolatry by offering an alternative definition of what
constitutes idolatry. Idolatry is not a piece of stone or wood. It is an attitude. And
that attitude can be found in any religion. Mistaking images for the essence of
 REVISITING THE WORSHIP OF IMAGES 179

idolatry runs the risk of inculcating a spiritual blindness that will, at the end of
the day, lead to idolatry within Judaism itself. By contrast, the self-awareness of at
least some Hindus functions as a buttress against slipping into the kind of fixity
that blocks the needed openness toward the most high.
Hefter’s position is striking not only for his willingness to examine Hinduism
in terms other than those based on outward appearance. Hefter has entered a
meaningful spiritual conversation with Hinduism, on the core concerns of Avoda
Zara and what they really mean to a religious life. He has pointed out the danger
of facile identification of idolatry with the worship of forms and the immanent
danger of idolatry, the limitations placed by us on God, regardless of the reli-
gion we practice. This is a true spiritual conversation. It is based on a genuine
attempt to hear the deep message, the wisdom, of the Jewish tradition, through
the authorities he cites, as well as of the Hindu tradition, through the literature
on it. This is the kind of wisdom-based conversation I have in mind when I talk
of listening to the spiritual testimony of those who practice the worship of idols.
Such listening is a means of gaining a deeper understanding not only of them-
selves but of the unique charge and mission of Judaism, as well as of the spiritual
traps it might unwittingly fall into.
Idolatry, as it emerges from Hefter’s presentation, is more about attitude than
about object. Idolatry does not require an object of worship to flourish. It is an
attitude of mind. Scripture and dogma may be subjects of an idolatrous attitude,
as much as the worship offered to a statue. Now, the similarity between this posi-
tion and words I have heard numerous times from Hindu leaders, experts in
Vedanta, who worship through idols, maintaining a sense of distance and self-
awareness, is uncanny. Swami Yogaswaroopananda, with whom I have spent
dozens of hours working through my own concerns with idolatry as practiced by
Hindus, affirmed to me time and again that the issue is not the statues. The issue
is the limitations of the mind. Any form of limitation of mind is a kind of idola-
try, hence the need to free the mind and to take it beyond all limitations. That
such an attitude can flourish in the midst of the actual worship of God by means
of physical objects suggests that the object of worship is not necessarily the most
burning concern for a spiritual understanding of idolatry.
This leads me to the next point for dialogue and one that arises directly out of
conversations on idolatry. The difficulty for the outsider in attempting to grasp
Hinduism is the sheer diversity of perspectives that seem to exist alongside one
another, without a need to force one view upon others, or to reconcile them in
standardized ways. This is as true of the different sects, with their preferred dei-
ties, as it is of the different levels of religious life and understanding within any
given system. Our discussion of the worship of idols has explored the relations
between the physical acts of worship, aimed at specific objects, and the broader
philosophical worldview that informs them. One of our theses has been that wor-
ship is subservient to religious recognition, and that therefore it is the spiritual
understanding that has the final say on whether a form of worship is Avoda Zara
or not. However, we also noted that there is a problem with regard to who speaks
for Hinduism, and that not all those whom we classify as Hindus share this higher
philosophical perspective. There ensues a tension between religious recognition
180 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

and religious practice. This is a problem for the outside observer, especially when
attempting to tackle a question as complex as that of Avoda Zara. But it also poses
a challenge for the insider and has been a point that I have queried time and
again: What is the religious status of those who do not have the “higher” perspec-
tive of Vedanta? Doesn’t the worship of idols run the risk of inculcating error?
The answers I received time and again can be cast either in terms of a variation
on Meiri or in terms of the just stated concern about limitation of the mind.
The answer that seems to represent a widespread attitude of Hindu teachers
is that there is time, that one must be patient, and that eventually all will reach
a fuller understanding.19 Now, patience has, in a sense, become Judaism’s trade-
mark, as it patiently awaits the day when the entire world will come to know
the one God. However, when it comes to its own educational efforts, these seem
geared at ensuring a modicum of proper religious understanding. It would not be
conceivable for a program of Jewish education to postpone the teaching of fun-
damental religious truth to some indefinite future time. But this is exactly what
Hindu philosophers seem content to do.
There are many contributing factors that lead to the development of such an
attitude, and it would be foolish to try to reduce complex religious tendencies to
a single cause. Living with a sense of reincarnation, where evolution follows the
slow process of one life after another, certainly contributes to this attitude. So does
the spiritual recognition that what really determines the value of things is how
God views them, and not the importance we attach to things. This could be one
important lesson, on this issue, drawn from the scriptural classic, the Bhagavad
Gita.20 But an important ingredient in the mix is an attitude that is marshalled
as typically Hindu and as one of the virtues of the Hindu religious outlook. The
attitude is tolerance. Hindu apologists will not tire in their presentation of Hindu
religion and Hindu culture as tolerant. It is tolerant toward other religions and it
is similarly tolerant toward the lower stages of religious formation, affirming that
these too have their place, and that in time they will be outgrown in favor of fuller
spiritual knowledge. Thus, in the gap between ritual and philosophy emerges an
attitude that is really a moral attitude, and one that challenges us.
Increasingly, we have come to struggle with one of the consequences of the
religious worldview associated with monotheism, the heritage of violence and
intolerance.21 The struggles have been the result of being confronted by the polit-
ical consequences of the kind of exclusivist religious worldview that insists on
“getting it right” religiously, whatever that may mean, and of the violent reper-
cussions of such a worldview. The first decade of the twenty-first century has
seen a spate of scholarship on the issue of religion and violence and much con-
cern about the fundamentals of religious epistemology and thought, and the way
these contribute to violence, subtle and overt. What has been driving much of
the contact between religions in recent decades has been the need to establish a
global ethos of acceptance and coexistence. It is this same drive that has made
violence and tolerance important factors in the assessment of religion and its
virtues. Against such a background we may consider whether the epistemologi-
cal, as well as psychological, orientation of a more patient and tolerant approach
to religious awareness and education might not be worthy of cultivation. If so,
 REVISITING THE WORSHIP OF IMAGES 181

Hinduism has what to teach us, and that teaching seems related to its acceptance
of the worship of idols, even while affirming a religious worldview that tran-
scends such worship. We must consider the merits of the Hindu critique of limi-
tation of the mind. If another religion provokes us to violence and anger, then in
some way these attitudes point to limitation and intolerance in our attitudes, a
limitation that could be critiqued as idolatrous. Viewed differently, if we expand
upon Meiri’s notion of the moral dimension of religion as the ultimate test of its
value, would it be appropriate or possible to include within such a broader view of
morality also the virtues of tolerance, acceptance, and maybe even nonviolence
(at least ideological nonviolence)?
Proverbial opposition to idolatry claims that it is tolerant because not much is
at stake. There are no absolute truth claims to defend, hence its tolerant nature.22
I think it would be a mistake to reduce Hinduism to an indifferent idolatry. Much
is at stake in Hindu religious life and Hinduism’s history has known great debates
as well as religious competition and even struggles. But its overall ethos is, for the
greater part, one of tolerance in the midst of affirmation of the most important
truths and their urgency. It may be that this cannot be easily transported into
other religious cultures, inasmuch as it is also a function of the social structure of
Indian society, where stability and identity are provided by a stable social order,
organized through a caste system, rather than by means of religious identity. Still,
we have here an important testimony to the values and attitudes that can accom-
pany the religious life. These attitudes must challenge us, not by way of choos-
ing this over that, affirming the superiority of one culture over another. Rather,
associated with the worship of idols is the challenge of an alternative view of what
constitutes true idolatry. Is the worship of physical idols the core of idolatry, or
is idolatry an attitude, a limitation of mind, a constriction of divine life and love
that ultimately generates violence?
These are constructive and generative questions that can enrich our religious
reflection. They grow out of an encounter with another culture and provide the
positive and growthful edge to what would otherwise be construed as a hopeless
battle between our own view that rejects idols and the Hindu view that tolerates
them. How far this dialogue could go and what its mutual fruits can be must be
left to the future dialogue. For present purposes, I hope to have at least suggested
some fruitful ways in which the conversation on the worship of idols and images
can go beyond the superficial level at which it has mostly been carried out to
date. This conversation can open up new avenues through which we might be
spiritually challenged and through which Judaism’s own understanding of self
and other might grow.
 Part V

When Is a Religion Avoda Zara?

Overview

The final part of the book returns to posing the lead question in terms of Avoda
Zara. Having journeyed from Avoda Zara to the “same god” question, we can now
return to a more nuanced way of inquiring about another religion as Avoda Zara.
The suggested new formulation assumes that all religions can be Avoda Zara and
that the discernment of whether a religion is or is not Avoda Zara runs within
religions, and not between them. Accordingly, the question is posed: When is a
religion considered Avoda Zara? This formulation can be applied to Judaism and
is studied here with reference to the test case of Hinduism. Rather than assume
that “Hinduism” is or is not Avoda Zara, the discussion suggests a calculus of fac-
tors that together add up to forms of the religion that can be evaluated as Avoda
Zara or as beyond the charge of Avoda Zara.
The factors that make up the calculus represent the sum total of all the criteria
that have served our discussion of Avoda Zara, especially in Part III. Rather than
assuming that only one criterion determines a religion’s status, it is suggested
that a convergence of factors informs the decision. This, it is argued, has always
been the case with reference to other religions, and the procedure is being made
explicit in our discussion.
The factors that converge include awareness of God, morality, spirituality,
overall orientation of the religious life, and more. Different sections of a reli-
gion—groups, communities, philosophies, may be judged differently. Moreover,
it may be that the determination should itself be context-specific and relate to
the context within which the question is posed. What is required to be Avoda
Zara-free in terms of diplomatic or business relations is much less than what is
required for purposes of spiritual sharing and inspiration.
The approach to Avoda Zara from this perspective takes it from the realm of
clear-cut halachic determination to the realm of spiritual discernment. Moreover,
pronouncement on another religion as Avoda Zara is not a one-time event. Rather,
Avoda Zara functions as a dynamic category, calling us to be mindful and asking
us to consider all expressions of the religious and spiritual life in terms of their
ultimate value and quality. While we may lose some of the certainty that comes
184 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

with application of the category to large religious entities such as “Hinduism,” we

also gain much by this method. It allows us to approach Avoda Zara as a dynamic
concept that has meaning in our religious lives and that informs our view of self
and other in light of our highest spiritual ideals. What we lose in terms of oth-
ering and the ability to label others as Avoda Zara we gain in the viability and
vitality of a religious category that lies at the foundations of our religious history
and life.
 14

Beyond a Global Approach to

Hinduism

W e have journeyed from global condemnation of anything that smacks

of Avoda Zara and that touches upon ancient Jewish sensibilities to
other forms of worship to a more nuanced and complex view of Hinduism.
In the process, we have moved from the domain of certainty and of absolute
categories—wrong and right, idolatrous and true worship—to the realm of
increasing complexity and uncertainty. One of the effects of increasing knowl-
edge and understanding of Hinduism is the greater uncertainty involved in
making a pronouncement on the question “Is Hinduism Avoda Zara?” It is now
time to consider whether the question has been framed in the optimal way, and
whether in light of all that we know we must adopt a different way of framing
the question.
There are several reasons why we should consider reframing the question. It
has become apparent that complex factors are at play, with pride of place going
to the tension between philosophy and ritual. Any pronouncement on the ques-
tion as posed hitherto forces us to prefer one dimension over another, thereby
leading us to ignore or minimize the importance of either the philosophical or
the ritual dimension. We have also seen that the problem of Avoda Zara extends
beyond what we associate with it at first sight, namely the worship of images.
Accordingly, it is an internal Jewish problem as well as an external problem, in
relation to others. While the manifestations of Avoda Zara and the rhetoric that
accompanies them are of different magnitude when it comes to internal Avoda
Zara, we cannot ignore this dimension when we seek to develop a comprehensive
understanding of Avoda Zara, in light of which we might view other religions.
But beyond these considerations, there is a fundamental problem that pertains
to all religions, but that is particularly relevant to Hinduism. Religions are not
monoliths and their believers are not all of a kind. To ask whether Hinduism,
or for that matter any religion, is Avoda Zara is to ignore all the complexity of
a religious tradition and all the varying nuances among its believers, whether
they stem from different creeds and practices or from different levels of spiritual
understanding.
186 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

In light of all these considerations, I would like to propose the following ques-
tion as the revised lead question: When does the practice of a religion become
Avoda Zara? Or: When should a religion be considered Avoda Zara? The new
formulation assumes all religions have the potential of being or not being Avoda
Zara and that the verdict on the matter is not pronounced on a religion-by-religion
basis, but based on other criteria. The novel question allows us to apply the ques-
tion within, as well as without. And it allows us to integrate the results of our
“same God” discussion within a theory of what is Avoda Zara. Following this
new formulation we can then ask “When does Hinduism become Avoda Zara?”
Or: “When should we consider Hinduism as Avoda Zara?”
It is noteworthy that some of the fundamental rabbinic discussions are not
framed as global pronouncements regarding a religion in its entirety. Meiri speaks
of nations that are bound by ways of religion, rather than of specific religious
traditions. The proponents of the permissibility of Shituf similarly do not make
a blanket statement about Christianity, even though it is implied. Significantly,
Maimonides does speak in broad terms about Christianity versus Islam, consid-
ering Islam nonidolatrous and Christianity as Avoda Zara.1 The less nuance one
brings to the discussion, the easier it is to address the topic through sweeping
generalizations. Some contemporary rabbinic voices have realized, after nearly
2,000 years of engagement, that Christianity is not a monolith and that a halachic
view of Christianity requires nuancing.2 However, little is made of this distinc-
tion in practical terms, and it seems more like a nod to their awareness of the
heterogeneous nature of the society within which they live than a serious consid-
ered view of Christianity that might have practical and theoretical consequences.
Nevertheless, the very raising of the recognition that Christianity is not a mono-
lith is significant in terms of intellectual honesty and in terms of its potential
to establish a different kind of discourse with other religions. To argue that, at
least in theory, some parts of a religion, construed as broadly as “Christianity,”
“Hinduism,” etc., are Avoda Zara, while others are not, forces us to study and
engage those traditions. It challenges us implicitly to define where the problem
with Avoda Zara lies and what kind of otherness we seek to cultivate in relation
to the other religious tradition, whether one of distinction or disdain.
The reason that those few halachists who have attempted a distinction between
the various strands of Christianity have not gone very far with it is related to
the workings of the halachic system. The declaration that a religion is Avoda
Zara automatically entails a series of prohibitions and attitudes. These cannot
be applied partially or selectively. One either enters a church or does not. One
cannot enter a church a little bit, because Jews and Christians recognize the same
God in part. The nuances of the discussion of Shituf, and even more of the pre-
vious discussion of the same God, cannot be translated easily into the halachic
system. That system applies wholesale patterns of behavior to large entities, or
at least has done so to date. Any nuancing that might lead to a weakening of the
sense that a religion is Avoda Zara would imply, from the perspective of halacha,
a loosening of the stringencies and prohibitions associated with Avoda Zara. Very
few halachists would be comfortable with applying practical changes in Laws of
Avoda Zara on account of a more nuanced understanding of another religion.3
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 187

Thus, it requires a wholesale revision of the criteria that define and that inform
Avoda Zara to lead to any significant change in action. This is precisely the kind
of wholesale redefinition of tradition undertaken by Meiri. Anything short of
such wholesale revision will leave us struggling with the question of how much
and under what circumstances we may draw practical consequences from a more
nuanced understanding of another tradition.4
While historically and theologically the time may have indeed come to reex-
amine our tradition and its attitudes to other traditions in a more systematic way,
applying these new understandings to the halacha is far more challenging and
likely to be received with much greater reservation. Consequently, the present
attempt to develop a more complex view of what Avoda Zara is in general, and
how it pertains to Hinduism in particular, should not be considered a halachic
discussion.5 Whether or not several decades from now the way will have been
found to apply these insights to the halachic process and what effect the decisions
of individuals, following their own instincts not always under the guidance of
halachic teachers, will have on the system are matters that we can only speculate
about.
What follows, then, is an attempt to ask the question of when a religion ought
to be considered Avoda Zara, with special reference to Hinduism. In order to do
so, I would like to first review the various dimensions that we have surveyed.
I refer to the different dimensions in light of which Hinduism was considered,
but even more so to the different perspectives through which Avoda Zara was
defined and approached. The following discussion deviates from conventional
discussions in one major point. Historically, discussions of Avoda Zara offer one
specific criterion, in light of which a practice, a practitioner, or a religion are
declared to be Avoda Zara, or free of the charge of idolatry. Historically, one
either opts for the criteria adopted by Maimonides (or purported to him), or
accepts those suggested by Meiri. Or rather: one either accepts the authority of
the one or the other. One rarely comes across a discussion that seeks to approach
Avoda Zara by incorporating multiple views, perspectives, and criteria. In terms
of conventional halachic practice, the reason is evident. One either declares a
given religion or practice to be Avoda Zara and draws the appropriate practical
consequences or one does not. In terms of proscribing behaviors for the public
at large, through the medium of halacha, one cannot say that a religion is simul-
taneously Avoda Zara and non-Avoda Zara, depending on the criteria applied.
As one seeks certainty, one must adopt one criterion, one opinion. In light of
this choice one declares a religion to either be or not be Avoda Zara. The fol-
lowing discussion seeks to problematize the method by which we chose a single
criterion and a single opinion. Our tradition contains multiple criteria in light
of which other religions are viewed. To choose one criterion at the expense of
others is to ignore some important dimension of tradition and its wisdom. I will
consequently explore what it could mean to uphold multiple criteria in relation
to other religions as Avoda Zara and how one might construct a robust sense of
what Avoda Zara is, taking into account the wealth of criteria and understand-
ings that have informed earlier discussions of Avoda Zara and of other religions.
Let us then review what these criteria have been.
188 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

A. It seems to me the most important definition, hence criterion, for recogniz-

ing Avoda Zara is that offered by Maimonides in his terse definition in Chapter 2
of Laws of Avoda Zara: the worship of any being other than God. Thus the basic
definition of Avoda Zara is related to recognition of the existence of one single
God, to whom worship is due. The basic understanding of Shituf conforms to this
definition of Avoda Zara, while recognizing the permissibility of worshipping
another being, so long as worship of God is maintained alongside it. According
to Nachmanides, awareness of God may be sufficient to permit worship of other
beings for non-Jews. As I have suggested in our discussion earlier, even the seem-
ingly alternative definition offered by Meiri should be understood as an alterna-
tive means of establishing the identity of the God worshipped. It seems to me
that both in terms of substance and in terms of the authorities who employ this
definition, this remains the most fundamental definition.
The encounter with Hinduism forces us to consider not simply the definition
of Avoda Zara, but more specifically the criteria by means of which the otherness
of the worshipped god is established. The complex relationship between philo-
sophical recognition of one God and the multiple forms through which worship
of the Divine takes place challenges us to revisit the criteria by means of which the
otherness of the other god is established. Awareness of the historical evolution of
the affirmation of exclusive faith in Israel’s God makes the challenge even more
complex. Once only one God is recognized as real, what does it mean to worship
beings other than God? On the face of it there is no meaning to competition
with what amounts to nothing.6 Hindu theology pushes the question one stage
further: If only one being exists, and all beings are manifestations and expres-
sions of that one being, what is the meaning of worshipping another god? Thus,
Hinduism’s challenge to a Jewish view of Avoda Zara is more significant and
fundamental than the selection of appropriate criteria for determining the other-
ness of the worshipped god and getting past the knee-jerk reaction of identifying
the worship of forms with the otherness of god. Hinduism, or its philosophical
and theological spokesmen, challenges us to think through the very notion of the
otherness of another god, once it is affirmed that only one God exists and that all
beings manifest His being. Hindu metaphysics undermine, to a large extent, the
notions of agency and worship of intermediaries that have informed most Jewish
thinking on Avoda Zara since the Middle Ages. Far from being a cut-and-dry
example of Avoda Zara, Hinduism provides possibly the greatest and most com-
plex challenge to any contemporary attempt to construct a meaningful definition
of Avoda Zara.
B. While the definition of worshipping another god may be quite simple, its
proper application may be far more complicated. In the framework of biblical
covenantal thinking, which is grounded in a henotheistic or monolatric world-
view that may recognize the existence of other gods but prescribes worship to one
God alone, it is quite simple to recognize when another god is being worshipped.
Part of what makes such recognition possible is the method of worship, resorting
to images and forms that depict what might be recognizably other gods. Thus,
the external or practical criterion of the worship of images emerges as the most
immediate way of recognizing that another god is worshipped. For the greater
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 189

part of Jewish history, this criterion has operated to a large extent exclusively,
providing the needed discernment as to whether God or another being is wor-
shipped. Were we looking for a single criterion for defining Avoda Zara, it would
be proper to not consider the worship of images as that criterion, as much of the
preceding discussion has made clear. Nevertheless, if we consider multiple crite-
ria for determining what Avoda Zara is, we should recognize the power that the
worship of images has in suggesting that the worship of another religion is Avoda
Zara. Given the deep-seated attitudes toward the worship of images and how they
have shaped Jewish attitudes to other religions for millennia, we should certainly
acknowledge the use of images as one criterion in the determination of whether
a given religion is Avoda Zara. It is certainly a powerful psychological factor and
depending on how one understands or constructs the halachic materials, it could
also be argued to be a self-standing halachic criterion.7
C. One often juxtaposes Meiri’s moral criterion with the theological criterion
of recognition of the single God to whom alone worship is due. Meiri’s criteria
certainly do function as an alternative to exclusive reliance on the worship of
images as determining the status of a religion as Avoda Zara. Meiri was, after
all, willing to overlook Christian image worship in light of his alternative criteria
and definitions. As our discussion has suggested, Meiri’s criterion does not sim-
ply replace one criterion with another. Rather, it assumes that a moral life both
matches and points to knowledge of God. Whereas most authorities rely either
on theological affirmations or on methods of worship, Meiri relies on moral
behavior. This allows Meiri not simply to identify other religions as worshipping
the same God, but more importantly, for him, as being instances of true, hence
valid, religion. While theological criteria for proper faith are loosened, Meiri’s
alternative criteria provide another means of affirming that the same God is wor-
shipped in different religions.
D. Meiri provides a helpful departure point for some additional criteria for
defining Avoda Zara and conversely for recognition of the same God. In our
discussion of Meiri we sought to broaden the criteria from basic moral life to the
special life of “friends of God,” saints and holy people, whose lives show traces
of the touch of God and of a relationship with Him. Once we admit phenomeno-
logical criteria, derived from the observations of a lived religious life, into our
definition of Avoda Zara, these may be broadened from the foundations of the
religious life—healthy moral living—to its summits—the spiritual lives of special
individuals. This criterion is particularly relevant to Hinduism. Hinduism as a
religious culture is largely constructed around such virtuosi. The organization
of the religious life around teachers and saints suggests their centrality in phe-
nomenological, sociological, and theological terms. They also point to the overall
pattern of a religious culture that Meiri could recognize as true religion.
E. Reference to gurus may allow us to develop a deeper appreciation for the
texture of Hindu religious culture, and recognition of the centrality of the quest
for God may be helpful for an overall evaluation of the religion in terms of Avoda
Zara. Nevertheless, the attitudes shown to gurus also present us with challenges
that are specific to the question of Avoda Zara. Even if we assume that the offer-
ing of worship to teachers and saints is ultimately but another form of respect,
190 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

reverence, and approach to God, and that it can be reconciled, in relation to non-
Jews, through appeal to the category of Shituf and a robust theological under-
standing of how it extends to non-Jews, there is still something disturbing in the
worship and consequent empowerment of human beings.8 While the caricatural
application of Avoda Zara relates to it as the worship of wood and stone, in some
ways such worship is more innocuous than the worship of living people. The
dangers of power abuse, psychological dependence, and other potentially prob-
lematic consequences of the uncritical devotion and worship of religious teachers
are more immediate in the lives of followers than any harmful consequences that
the worship of images might produce. Recent years have brought to light serious
charges against some of India’s leading teachers and gurus, from murder charges,
against one of the leading Shankaracharyas, to accusations of pedophilia against
one of India’s most celebrated gurus, Satya Sai Baba. But must the dangers of
guru worship lead us to the conclusion that such worship ought to be consid-
ered as Avoda Zara? After all, similar difficulties, whether moral or psychologi-
cal, exist in power relations within authoritarian, hierarchical, or other kinds of
student-teacher relations in other traditions that do not proffer divine status on
the teacher. We come back to the question of exclusive versus accumulative cri-
teria for declaration of Avoda Zara. It seems to me that if we apply one exclusive
criterion in light of which we judge whether guru worship should be considered
Avoda Zara, we would be forced to admit that it need not be viewed as such, given
the arsenal of halachic and theological possibilities made available by the history
of halacha. However, if we consider accumulative criteria, we may do well to keep
this as one nuance that may be added to an eventual calculus that would apply as
we seek to reflect on a given religion or practice as Avoda Zara.
F. Exploring further the implications of approaching another religion through
its religious phenomenology, rather than through its theology, we are led to
consider the significance of the overall orientation of Hindu religious culture.
While the following may be true of other religious cultures as well, it seems that
it comes to particular and heightened expression in the religious life of India.
Indian speakers and theoreticians, who seek to articulate what is unique about
Indian or Hindu culture and its contribution to the religious life of humanity,
often highlight the intensity of the spiritual quest in the religious life in India.9
Admitting the witness of religious life as a testimony to the quality of a religion,
to the god it worships, and to its status as Avoda Zara forces us to consider all that
takes place within Hindu religious life against the backdrop of the overall pur-
poses of the religion. Its self-stated goal of living a spiritual life,10 beyond the ful-
fillment of various human needs and desires, provides the context for assessing
its methods of worship and its approach to God and His many manifestations.11
The broader framework of the spiritual life may thus function as one additional
criterion in light of which the validity of a religion and its status as Avoda Zara
may be assessed.
G. The criteria we have introduced have taken us gradually from the objec-
tivity of acts (worship of images) and beliefs (affirmations of belief in God or
in beings other than God) to the more nuanced domains of attitudes, orienta-
tions, and personal and subjective spiritual life. While the criterion I am about
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 191

to suggest may seem elusive, it is in fact fundamental to the attempt to address

questions of Avoda Zara in relation to the practices of another religious culture.
The following criterion emerges as an interesting point of confluence between
Nachmanides and Meiri, despite apparent differences in the broader worldview
of these two thinkers. Meiri contrasted the worship of God with the worship
of astral forces, designed to bring material benefit to those who practice such
worship.12 This contrast may be understood as implying that worship bonds one
and establishes some real connection between the worshipper and the object of
her worship. Worship or faith are not simply personal, interior, or subjective.
Something transpires through the attitudes and actions of religion. These enable
a connection, a flow, a bonding between the worshipper and the object of her
worship. We may think of this connection in energetic terms. Through worship
one bonds with the object of worship, thereby drawing energies from the object
of worship, possibly even becoming a vehicle for that being’s reality. For Meiri, a
moral life is the guarantee that one bonds with God and not with other beings,
thereby avoiding the consequences and implications of a religious life or practice
that are deemed lower, in terms of metaphysics, the quality of the spiritual life,
and its attendant energetic level.
Nachmanides is even more explicit about this “bonding” aspect of the religious
life.13 Nachmanides presented Avoda Zara according to a threefold division that
is based on a clear metaphysical hierarchy. The hierarchy extends from the celes-
tial ministers, appointed by God to oversee the nations, to demons and spirits
whom one can worship in order to attain various benefits. If the issue were purely
theological, as it is for Maimonides, and its sole concern was with the question
of whether one does or does not worship God, Nachmanides’ threefold hierarchy
would be superfluous. The reason Nachmanides can differ from Maimonides
regarding the permissibility of the worship of celestial ministers for the nations
over whom they have been appointed by God is precisely because Nachmanides’
criterion is not strictly theological. Nachmanides’ thought, here as well as in
other contexts, is informed by the assumption that contact and “bonding” with
spiritual beings are real.14 For Maimonides it would matter little whether one
is worshipping a celestial minister or a demon. For Nachmanides it makes all
the difference, hence his threefold presentation. His hierarchical presentation of
Avoda Zara implies that whom you worship really matters.
Looking at the “bonding” or energetic principle, we are led to concerns that
seem to me fundamental to any discussion of Avoda Zara. The question touches
on the identity of the being receiving worship, but even more fundamentally on
the very heart of the concern for Avoda Zara, namely on the question of what
is really wrong with Avoda Zara. The following questions arise: Who is being
approached through a given worship or practice? What contact and “bonding”
take place through the spiritual exchange? What or whom has one become a vehi-
cle for, through the exchange of ritual, worship, or the approach of faith? In other
words: tell me whom you worship, and I will tell you who you are. What mat-
ters in worship, hence in Avoda Zara, from this perspective is the consequence
of “bonding” with a being other than God. These may be energetic, moral, or
related to impact on the will and actions of the worshipper. From this perspective
192 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Avoda Zara really does matter. Avoda Zara is a way of saying that one has bonded
with undesirable forces, and such bonding is sure to have negative and harmful
consequences for the individual and society.
Some might consider this criterion as taking us deep into subjectivity. Surely
it is the least measurable of criteria. One can measure objective acts and exam-
ine statements of belief. It is harder to ascertain what harmful energetic conse-
quences undesired spiritual liaisons may carry. But our difficulty in measuring
these does not invalidate this criterion. It only makes it harder to gauge. It is rea-
sonable to suggest that for Meiri the moral life may function as a way of gauging
the quality of spiritual contact, thereby distinguishing the effects of “bonding”
with God with those of “bonding” with other beings. But there may be other ways
of making such an evaluation. Some gifted individuals may be able to appreciate
the energetic qualities associated with different forms of religion. While this cri-
terion appeals to the intuition and to spiritual senses, rather than to the intellect
and to the faculties that measure what is observable and measurable, in terms
of the spiritual life it may be as real. Because of its subjectivity, this criterion
may be easily misapplied and corrupted in both directions. It may be dismissed
by some as unreal, and it may also be applied too readily. 15 Still, for all the dif-
ficulties in applying this criterion, we must not discount it. It must be used as a
complement to other criteria, in light of which we judge whether another religion
is Avoda Zara. Perhaps even more to the point, applying this criterion might lead
us to consider whether individual instances of the practice of another religion
are Avoda Zara or not. Applying this criterion may lead to the paradoxical, but
still very coherent, conclusion that some instances of what is called Hinduism are
Avoda Zara, while others are not.16
H. One way in which we might be able to complement what might seem com-
pletely subjective in the energetic criterion is by considering the purposes of reli-
gion. The realm of intention is purely subjective and is not subject to the same
objective verifications as acts of worship and creeds of faith. Nevertheless, it does
provide a measure of objectivity, inasmuch as the intention of the worshipper or
practitioner can be stated. Moreover, intention is a fundamental criterion of reli-
gious thought, both Jewish and non-Jewish, and an important axis along which
spiritual education, growth, and transformation take place. Kavana, intentional-
ity, is a formative category of halacha and rabbinic thought. Actions, both good
and bad, are assessed by their intentionality, and one’s spiritual evolution is a
function of the intentionality brought to bear within one’s sphere of activities.
Broadly speaking, the religious life can be presented as a movement from imper-
fect to perfect intention, from shelo lishma to lishma. The former is characterized
by self-serving intentionality, variously defined as seeking material or spiritual
gain in this world or the next. The latter is defined as acting for the sake of the
inherent good of the deed or for the sake of God’s love, fulfillment of His will,
and the attainment of closeness to Him. Growth along this axis reflects funda-
mental processes of the spiritual life and points to a hierarchy of purposes that
motivates the practice of religion.
At its lowest, religion is a means for attaining certain ends that are identified
with fulfillment of one’s interests. At its highest, religion is a means of transcending
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 193

self-interest, in the service of God and others. The attempt to make the energetic
dimension of Avoda Zara more palpable and quantifiable may benefit from a
consideration of the correspondence between intentionality and the “bonding”
dimension of religious practice. It is worth noting that the Torah associates wor-
ship of foreign gods with practices of fortune telling, sorcery, necromancy etc.17
This association points to the energetic link that is made with undesirable, “lower”
forces. But it simultaneously points to the “lower” dimensions of intentionality.
Religion practiced for the sake of attaining knowledge of future things, of gaining
control over menacing forces, and for that matter of gaining power and control
over any force that might bring with it success, prosperity, and this-worldly gain
is religion of a lower kind. Higher religion seeks to raise the person to attune-
ment with the Divine, to knowledge, liberation, and love for all. While the term
“magic” has become increasingly suspect as a neutral and descriptive category, it
does retain a certain suggestivity with regard to the purposes of religion.
Meiri’s presentation of what the idolatry of old consisted of suggests that a
“religious” life that is self-serving, in that it uses worship for purposes of material
gain and fulfillment of pleasure or, more broadly, of human interests and desires,
is closely related to and might even define Avoda Zara. Magic and fortune tell-
ing may be extreme instances of the nexus between practices, intentions, and the
energetic “bonding” with other forces that we might consider Avoda Zara. But
similar considerations may apply wherever the purposes of religion are associ-
ated with self-gain and satisfaction. What is important to note concerning the
wherever of the previous sentence is that the concern for purity of intention is
not a function of one religion over and against another, but an internal concern
that relates equally to all religions. If Avoda Zara is understood as a function or
equivalent of different levels of the religious life and their energetic correlates,
this consideration applies equally within and outside Judaism. If so, all religions
have, or are subject to the danger of, Avoda Zara within them, just as all religions
have the potential for self-transformation and for raising their followers and
believers to the heights of the spiritual life in a true relationship with the living
God. What this would mean is that one cannot pass a blanket judgment upon any
religion and its status as Avoda Zara. As we move from the realm of the objec-
tive act to the domain of the subjective intention and its energetic and spiritual
consequences, we move to a realm that is not only harder to measure but that also
shifts the focus from the religion, conceived as a broad entity, to the individual
worshipper and his or her intentions. Intentionality, motivation, magic, seek-
ing personal gain, etc., would then complement other criteria discussed above
in an attempt to portray the spiritual life or spiritual level of a practitioner or
practice. Avoda Zara would then apply to such clusters of faith or groups and
types of practitioners, rather than to religions. Perhaps one could put things as
follows: the move from larger wholes to the individual and his practices takes us
from the realm of halachic declaration to the realm of spiritual discernment. The
tools for spiritual discernment are much finer. Typically, spiritual discernment is
accompanied by a concern for the well-being of others and their spiritual growth
rather than by the disdain that often accompanies the halachic proclamation of
an entire religion as Avoda Zara.
194 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Hinduism may be much better approached through a process of spiritual dis-

cernment rather than through the process of halachic ruling and its inevitable
clumsiness, as it negotiates large and complex realities. Hinduism itself is very
conscious of competing purposes of religion.18 The distinction between self-
serving and self-transcending purposes is an internal distinction that emerges
from its own teachings. The distinction between different aspects and degrees
within the religious practice of Hinduism is a distinction with internal valid-
ity. The hierarchy it implies permits criticism, but also invites growth. It echoes
concerns we find within Judaism, thereby allowing the two systems to recognize
each other in structural terms, suggesting that the same spiritual drive informs
both. If the two religions are engaged in similar processes of orientation of the
individual and his will toward greater spiritual transformation, we may more
readily recognize similarities across the religions.
Having listed various possible criteria for Avoda Zara, we may now return to
the guiding question of the present discussion: Should a consideration of Avoda
Zara be founded upon one single criterion, leading to a debate on which of the
above is the most suitable criterion, or should it be founded upon multiple crite-
ria, which would then present us with the challenge of how to successfully negoti-
ate these criteria and how they might relate to one another. In reality, I doubt that
one single criterion ever applied, when prophets, sages, or halachists approached
another religion. Prophetic mockery of idol worship cannot be divorced from
their understanding that another god is worshipped and possibly from a critique
of the moral life of surrounding religions. Positive recognition of Christianity
as worshipping the same God was similarly based on some intuitive recogni-
tion that the same God is worshipped and the consequent application of several
criteria—moral and theological—to support such recognition. Our reading of
Meiri also suggests the simultaneous application of moral and theological crite-
ria in order to determine that today’s religions are different from the religions of
old. Nevertheless, I would submit that formally most authorities in the history of
halacha have relied on one single criterion in declaring a religion Avoda Zara.
The determination that a religion is Avoda Zara relies on a series of complex
factors. Some of these grow out of an analysis and appreciation of the religion
under evaluation. Others reflect the needs of the party undertaking the eval-
uation. The need for distinguishing one’s identity from that of the other is as
prominent as various financial and social needs growing out of common living.
The pronouncement that another religion is Avoda Zara is but the external or
final expression of a more complex process that leads to that conclusion. Much,
perhaps most, of the factoring that leads to this final declaration remains out of
sight, while the actual halachic declaration usually appeals to a single criterion.
But even appeal to a single criterion raises fundamental questions. Do we seek
to find one single criterion in light of which a religion would be declared to be
free of Avoda Zara or a single criterion in light of which it would be proclaimed
as Avoda Zara? Highlighting the moral dimension of Meiri’s reasoning would
lead to the conclusion that one single criterion might suffice to declare a religion
non-Avoda Zara. Applying this criterion alone would make Avoda Zara nearly
extinct, as indeed Meiri considered it to be. If, on the other hand, our working
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 195

assumption is that fault in one single criterion suffices to consider a religion as

Avoda Zara, then we will be led to apply the criterion of worship of idols as the
exclusive criterion, thereby leading one to the conclusion that most present-day
religions, with the possible exception of Islam and its offshoots, should be con-
sidered Avoda Zara.
Those familiar with contemporary halachic practice realize that there is a
large measure of indecision, possibly a stalemate, concerning how other religions
are viewed. In terms of halachic precedents, it remains torn between Maimonides
and Meiri, with appeals to one or the other in order to justify one’s position, and
with little to no discussion of the actual criteria upon which the decision is made.
Often the halachic discussion of other religions is formally boiled down to choos-
ing between one of these authorities. But even here, beneath the surface, even
unconsciously, lies a far more complex mechanism of reasoning, choosing, and
applying various considerations that ultimately find expression in the end deci-
sion of accepting the authority of one or another of the rabbinic precedents. It
seems to me that as a way of moving forward a serious discussion of Avoda Zara,
conceptually and maybe even halachically, we must bring to light the processes
of reasoning, the choice among competing criteria, and the ways in which they
come together that inform the decision of whether a religion is viewed as Avoda
Zara or not. Classical halachic process may not be able to sustain the attempt
to make conscious and explicit the coming together of multiple factors, inas-
much as it requires one single criterion. But what if we considered Avoda Zara
as something other than a “yes or no” determination? What if we considered the
very pronouncement of Avoda Zara as something graded? What if we thought
of Avoda Zara in adjectival rather than nominal terms. In other words: What if
a religion or its practices were “idolatrous” rather than “idolatry”? Surely we are
able to tolerate some degree of Avoda Zara. We know this because Avoda Zara
functions as much as an internal category as an external evaluation of other reli-
gions. Our own spiritual literature teaches us that there are many applications
of Avoda Zara that are internal to Judaism, to the faith processes of its believ-
ers, and to their ongoing quest to attain perfect faith.19 We can tolerate Avoda
Zara as a form of internal religious discourse that seeks to purify our faith. In
fact, it is my impression that internal application of Avoda Zara as a category for
critiquing internal practices is quite widespread.20 It is only when the category
of Avoda Zara is coupled with the attitude to the other, and quite possibly with
concerns for identity and the definitions of self and other, that Avoda Zara takes
on a charge that puts it beyond the boundary of the tolerable. Such Avoda Zara is
no longer worthy of attention, dialogue, or respect.
As we seek to make the processes of reasoning behind the declaration of Avoda
Zara more explicit, we are led to ask: How could the coupling of multiple criteria
lead to a graded and more nuanced approach to Avoda Zara? Within this graded
approach, when is a religion considered Avoda Zara, and is it possible to point
to some definite coming together of factors that make it so? And on the more
positive side: How can we put the various criteria together in a way that extends
our internal capacity to tolerate Avoda Zara to the religious other? To this end,
we must seek to bring to light the hidden processes that inform our approach
196 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

to other religions and to move the discussion from a single-value discussion of

Avoda Zara to a more complex approach to other religions. This is best described
as a calculus.
As suggested, we already apply multiple criteria in our attitudes to other reli-
gions, except we do so with limited self-awareness, thereby limiting the attitudi-
nal changes that a more nuanced and graded approach to the topic might bring
about. Let me illustrate this with regard to attitudes to Christianity, as elaborated
in one of the more important modern treatments of its status as Avoda Zara. We
have already encountered Rabbi Herzog’s discussion of Christianity, articulated
prior to the founding of the state of Israel, in anticipation of the need to accom-
modate other religions within the about-to-be-founded state. Rabbi Herzog seeks
to establish the permissibility of the practice of Christianity for Christian minor-
ities in the future state. To this end, he offers one of the more detailed halachic
analyses of Christianity’s status. An examination of his discussion reveals how
a calculus of factors operates. His explicit position relies on the permissibility of
Shituf for non-Jews. At the same time, also implicit in his discussion is the rec-
ognition of the moral standing of Christians, compared to the paganism of old.21
And yet, having declared Christianity to be permissible for non-Jews, and hence
not strictly Avoda Zara, he nevertheless makes the point, in passing, that Jews
should refrain from entry into a church.22 His reasoning is that Shituf is permis-
sible to non-Jews only, hence entry into a church means entry into a space that is
considered Avoda Zara for Jews. As noted before, his reasoning is by no means
conclusive, as the rulings of other halachic authorities suggest. What Rabbi
Herzog is doing is, in fact, applying a calculus, according to which Avoda Zara
might be different things to different people, under varying circumstances. The
notion of Shituf already suggests that much: Avoda Zara is defined differently
for Jews and non-Jews. But then a further distinction is drawn. For purposes of
public and political recognition, Christianity is affirmed as non-Avoda Zara. For
purposes of its own rituals and the legitimacy of contact with its religious life,
it is considered as Avoda Zara.23 Multiple distinctions are implied here, such as
the distinction between public and private or between the political and ritual. It
may be that concerns for identity or the need to protect the faithful from harmful
exposure add further nuance to his discussion, leading him to forbid entry into
the churches whose construction in the State of Israel he permits. The application
of the different criteria to varying situations remains implicit, a function of the
intuition rather than of the reasoned halachic process. What would it look like
if we sought to make this conversation more explicit and to reflect on the vary-
ing criteria and their application in different contexts? Let us enter this thought
exercise in relation to Hinduism, bringing to bear the various criteria discussed
above, in an attempt to develop a robust, as well as flexible, notion of Avoda Zara.
In so doing we seek to advance discussion of Hinduism beyond the simple “yes
or no” declaration, typical of the few discussions that it has received in halachic
literature.
A graded application would begin with Meiri and his moral criteria. Realizing
that Hinduism fits within the definition of “nations that are bound by ways of
religion” permits a fundamental degree of recognition of Hinduism as non-Avoda
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 197

Zara. Applying Meiri’s basic criterion does not take away the sense of strangeness
and otherness that the encounter with Hinduism’s practices might engender. Nor
does it tear down all possible boundaries, psychological and halachic, between
the two religions. But it could go a long way both in terms of attitude and in
terms of their practical consequences. For one, various strictures and instruc-
tions found in the literature in relation to idolaters would be made nonapplicable
in relation to Hinduism. While many of these do not apply in practice, they con-
tinue to inform attitudes. Consequently, providing a baseline attitude founded on
Meiri goes a long way in bringing about attitudinal change. Let us imagine for a
moment how the sheitel crisis would have been negotiated if its starting position
was not the otherness of worship, as occasioned by encounter with Hindu images
of divinity, but the commonality of legitimate religion, based on its moral prac-
tices. Surely, a different attitude would have applied, which would have made the
halachic consideration of the use of hair shorn at Hindu temples more nuanced.
The fact that halachic discussions of the sheitels completely failed to take into
account the religious nature of Hinduism or to engage the fundamental question
of whether it is or is not Avoda Zara, but relied instead exclusively on the tech-
nicalities of whether hair shearing was or was not to be considered an offering,
may be better understood in light of the present discussion of criteria and their
applications. To declare that the religious practices at Tirupati were not Avoda
Zara would be counterintuitive, if one assumed that such a declaration amounted
to recognition of the legitimacy of the religion practiced there, as encountered
by the uninitiated observer. However, if the declaration was limited in scope, in
view of one guiding criterion, one among many that figure in a broader calculus,
it may have figured in halachic discussions.
Contemporary interreligious relations are as much a matter of good diplomacy
as they are of proper theology. Diplomacy involves establishing formal or semi-
formal relations, which have representative and symbolic value. In the case of
Judaism, interreligious relations take on a distinct diplomatic dimension, in view
of the close association between Judaism and the State of Israel. This accounts for
the establishment of a dialogue track between the Israeli Chief Rabbinate and a
notable group of Hindu religious leaders.24 Now, in terms of their own ability to
enter such diplomatic relations, rabbinic authorities need to overcome the dif-
ficulties associated with the declaration that Hinduism is Avoda Zara.25 In such
a context, the recognition that Hinduism is not Avoda Zara plays an important
role, which accounts for why this has been an agenda item tackled in this dia-
logue. While the strategy that was used to arrive at this conclusion did not appeal
to Meiri, he could very well have provided precisely such a baseline exoneration
of Hinduism from the charges of Avoda Zara. It seems to me that once we are
willing to think of Avoda Zara in terms that are both graded and contextual, not
only does Meiri provide the needed baseline; his position becomes indispensible
and one that we cannot continue ignoring.
A general “diplomatic” recognition of Hinduism paves the way to doing busi-
ness, both in financial and in diplomatic terms. But more is involved in relations,
and as additional dimensions enter our calculus, we are confronted with further
subtleties in our approach to Hinduism. Recognition of morality may help us
198 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

to overcome the urge, or the challenge, to apply to Hinduism some of the worst
attitudes, reserved for idolaters. But it does not yet pave the way for a positive
appreciation of Hinduism. Such a positive appreciation would have to be built on
one of two foundations—a positive recognition of the spiritual life of Hinduism
and a recognition that despite appearances and all visible differences, Jews and
Hindus do worship the same God. Attitudinal changes will be impacted most
profoundly by our ability to move on both fronts, while advances along even one
of these fronts is obviously significant.
I think it is fair to claim that recognition of the spiritual heritage and overall
spiritual orientation of Hindu religious life must be central to a Jewish apprecia-
tion of Hinduism. Spirituality may not be, in and of itself, a halachic criterion.
But it does shape overall attitudes, and these in turn find expression in hala-
chic rulings. The case of Rabbi Daniel Sperber provides an excellent illustration
for this. In a public lecture on the status of Hinduism as Avoda Zara,26 Sperber
began with a testimony of his personal encounter with pious Hindus and the
great impact that encounter with their spiritual lives has had on him. In response
to a question, Sperber affirmed that the drive behind his willingness to consider
Hinduism as non-Avoda Zara can indeed be traced to the inspiration that he
derived from meeting religious Hindus.
One dimension that may be helpful here is the historical recognition of India
as a land of wisdom. Our presentation of the history of Jewish attitudes to India
and its religious life suggests that Avoda Zara has not always been the dominant
concern. For many centuries, the reigning paradigm was the view of India as a
land of wisdom.27 This paradigm is doubly useful, when thinking of India in
terms of Avoda Zara. First, it allows us to uphold a positive attitude to Hindu reli-
gious culture. It also points our attention to the Hindu wisdom tradition, which
in this case is the internal Hindu philosophical understanding, which is helpful
to a consideration of Avoda Zara. While the appeal to spirituality and wisdom
may condition the overall tenor of our approach to Hinduism, in order to make
significant advances in our relationship to Hinduism as Avoda Zara we have to
tackle the “same God” question. Our discussion above has suggested various
options that would allow us to affirm that ultimately Judaism and Hinduism
worship the same God.
Positive appreciation of another religion opens the door to positive recep-
tion of its ideas, to transformative spiritual encounters, and to the possibility
of overall spiritual sharing. The present encounter with Hinduism takes place
precisely within the social context of broad sharing.28 How should such sharing
and, in particular, receptivity to the spiritual example, testimony, and teaching of
Hinduism be viewed in light of the concern for Avoda Zara? This brings us back
to our calculus. If for the initial, diplomatic, recognition it may suffice to have
one guiding criterion that exempts Hinduism from being Avoda Zara, for more
advanced purposes, such as spiritual sharing, we may require a larger number
of converging factors, maybe even an accord on all factors, with perhaps a single
exception.29
Because it is difficult to quantify how many factors are needed for what pur-
pose, I refer to the processes described above as a calculus, whose application
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 199

remains intuitive, hence somewhat imprecise, by definition. We might therefore

consider a complementary approach, one that could stand on its own or become
part of the calculus. In presenting the factors that add up to a consideration of
other religions as Avoda Zara I raised the qualitative or energetic dimension, in
light of which we seek to discern what it is that one is bonded to upon entry into
the religious life of any religion. This qualitative dimension may be considered
the experiential counterpart of the philosophical discussion of the “same God.”
Accordingly, if it is God who is at the heart of another religion, then the energetic,
experiential, conscious “bonding” takes place with the self-same reality that we
seek to approach through our own spiritual efforts. If something other than God
is approached, that is, lower forces and beings, then these fall within the purview
of the original biblical battle against idolatry, understood as following forces and
beings other than God.
The present encounter with Hinduism places us before novel challenges, not
the least of which is the fact that broad spiritual sharing and influence already
take place. While some sections of the Jewish people struggle with wig hair, oth-
ers, including many who consider themselves religiously observant, are taking up
practices, experiences, and personal relationships that go to the heart of Hindu
religious experience and practice. If for the former, the external categories, pro-
vided by Meiri, might be sufficient for recognition, the latter require an approach
that would help guide them through the challenges and opportunities they face.
As the stakes rise and as halachic ruling shifts to spiritual discernment, we
require other tools for evaluating Hinduism. These are not provided by a super-
ficial view of alternative forms of worship; even the philosophical recognition of
the ultimate unity of the Divine as known in all religions may be inadequate. We
require criteria for discernment that will allow us to appreciate the spiritual qual-
ity, the “bonding” effect, that exposure to various forms of Hinduism might have.
The need for cultivating the capacity for spiritual discernment seems ever more
vital as contacts become deeper and more diverse. Setting such expectations is
appropriate, even if they can only be fulfilled in part.
I would accordingly like to raise the question of how one evaluates the overall
spiritual quality of a religion, the spiritual atmosphere or vibrations it establishes
and its potential beneficial or harmful spiritual impact on those who are exposed
to it. Framing the question in this way already suggests that different criteria
might apply to passive encounter, such as a touristic visit to a Hindu temple,
and to active encounter, such as sharing spiritual practices and teachings. As
the encounter becomes more intensive, the need for discernment, based on the
spiritual quality of that which one contacts, increases.
In this context we must ask how much we may trust our feelings and intu-
itions. If something “feels right” or “feels inspiring,” can one take that as indica-
tion that one is in an atmosphere that is fundamentally good? Of course, “feeling
right” is only meaningful if it corresponds to “feeling wrong” and if there is a
counterpoint of negative feelings that provides the complementary pole to one’s
positive feelings. The present argument assumes that within the same religion
one may come across expressions of the religious life that feel right, inspiring,
and take one toward God, as well as expressions that have the opposite effect.
200 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Even within Judaism we might find such different realities. Spiritual bipolarity is
a function of all religions.
The capacity to “tune in” to the energetic component of any spiritual reality
is something that some possess and others do not. One way of dealing with this
fact is to trust those who do. In theory, one would be evolving a kind of alterna-
tive mode of authority to the classical learning-based authority. Such intuitive
authority and discernment are already in effect in various contexts.30 If this cri-
terion were applied within an open and dialogical context, rather than within an
essentially isolationist and protective context, it could provide helpful guidance
to those who seek to engage other religions with spiritual responsibility.
Given that not many are equipped with the spiritual feelers to judge the quali-
tative energetic differences between forms of religion, we must approach the con-
cern for discernment of spiritual quality by various other methods that would be
suggestive of the overall spiritual beneficence of a religious community, lifestyle,
or practice. In this context, I would suggest a combination of four factors:

A. Morality would be the first, and instances of its absence are critical to a
discernment, as I shall presently suggest.
B. A consideration of the overall purposes of religion would be second. A
religious milieu that seeks to gratify personal desires, to fulfill material
needs and gains, to provide knowledge of things hidden, and to tell future
fortunes must be judged differently from a religious milieu that seeks self-
transcendence, personal purification, selfless service, cultivation of love
and compassion, and knowledge of and union with God. While religion,
any religion, may contain all of the above, it seems fairly easy to discern
whether a community, a set of practices, and the goals that are placed
before one seek to address the former or the latter concerns.
C. The existence of a robust body of spiritual teaching. Teaching plays a cru-
cial role in orienting the overall religious life and setting its goals. But in
relation to the concerns of Avoda Zara it is particularly significant, inas-
much as it is through the teachings of a religion that one understands how
God is understood, and therefore whether one can affirm a “same God”
position, vis-à-vis another religion.
D. The existence of models of spiritual excellence who can inspire and guide
others toward the higher goals of the religion.

The sum total of these factors could provide a helpful indication by means of
which the overall qualitative or energetic appreciation of a given section within
a religion may be made. Thus, an ashram that is organized around the presence,
or memory, and teaching of an outstanding individual, wherein teachings on the
nature of God and the spiritual life are offered, is likely to be a safe spiritual place,
where the fundamentally positive spiritual vibrations point to the same God and
open the way to spiritual sharing. Let me suggest two examples of what might be
the opposite. We have already mentioned one recent Indian spiritual teacher who
came to fame, or notoriety, in the West. This was Rajneesh, who in what might
be a clever public relations move, changed his name later to Osho. Rajneesh was
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 201

apparently an excellent teacher and philosopher and was able to put the finest
of Hindu philosophy to the use of his own brand of Hindu teaching. However,
reports of practices from his ashram suggest that his teaching violated funda-
mentals of morality. Free, and at times violent, sex was encouraged as part of the
pursuit of the spiritual life. To this day, someone visiting his ashram in Poona
is required to undergo an HIV test, in a matter as routine as handing in a pass-
port for registration. To the best of my knowledge, such testing is unique to this
ashram, and makes sense in light of what takes place in the ashram, following
Rajneesh’s teachings. In terms of discernment, violation of basic morality might
be sufficient for making us averse to this brand of Hinduism. But let us consider
one additional fact about this teacher: Rajneesh had himself addressed by his
devotees as bhagwan, that is, Lord. He thus attributed to himself divine status
and had his disciples approach him not simply as guru, but as god incarnate. This
approach to the guru as god raises all the problematics associated with the deifi-
cation of the person. Seeing Rajneesh as god himself draws upon and reinforces
a teaching and lifestyle, branded as Hinduism, that is repugnant. Here abuse of
power and moral laxity are closely intertwined with Avoda Zara. Theological
error, moral imperfection, and an overall degeneration of the religious life come
together in a way that might justify, even necessitate, application of Avoda Zara
as a critical category that provides us with discernment into the true quality of
these spiritual practices.
Visitors to Rajneesh’s ashram today are offered instruction in Tantra. As men-
tioned, this is a branch of Hinduism that plays up sexual relations, often illicit
ones, as a means of transcending conventional norms in an attempt to attain
mystical heights beyond good and evil. Tantra is only coming to light in recent
decades as a subject for careful study, and facts and myths still govern much of
common attitudes to Tantra.31 But for purposes of the present attempt to con-
struct a method for discernment between different expressions of Hinduism, we
might find in tantric practices, or some forms of Tantra, a combination of ele-
ments that might lead us to consider it as Avoda Zara. Needless to say there are the
many gods and their images, but these, as the reader of the present work already
realizes, are not conclusive in and of themselves. It is the broader philosophical,
moral, and energetic framework that provides them with meaning. In theory, the
same set of deities and images may serve a unitive spiritual approach that could be
recognized as having value from a Jewish standpoint. In the case of Tantra, break-
ing conventional moral boundaries, in the quest for ultimate liberation, raises the
question of whether we should consider its practices as Avoda Zara.
The present argument seeks to shift the ground from judging by external wor-
ship or even philosophical declaration to the energetic quality of a particular reli-
gious lifestyle. It suggests that the question of Avoda Zara should be approached
as a kind of discernment that takes place as one circle contained in another. If
we think of the interior circle as the worship of images, these are dependent on
the meaning provided by the next circle, that of theological interpretation. That
in turn is dependent on the next circle, defined as quest for spiritual life and the
overall orientation it offers. And this too is contained by the most fundamental of
circles, the moral criterion, posited by Meiri as the foundation for the recognition
202 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

of other religions. While it would be convenient to consider Hinduism in a neat

pattern, created by these circles, in reality we will encounter the various dimen-
sions in more messy combinations. The challenge will remain constant—assessing
that it is really God at the heart of the religion and discerning the spiritual quality
of the form of religion that is encountered. While this is a universal challenge
that applies within Judaism as it does outside it, the challenge posed by Hinduism
is unique. For one, because of the sheer diversity of forms of the religious life
within Hinduism. From another perspective, the challenges is unique due to the
intensity of its spiritual life and the manifold forms it takes, wherein spiritual
practice and the structuring of society around spiritual concerns intersect with
other concerns of life, served by religion. Because within Hinduism we find such
an accent on the spiritual life and its attainment, the need to confront it in its full
complexity and to develop tools for spiritual discernment is heightened, possibly
more so than in relation to any other religion.
What then of the straightforward criterion of worship of images as an indica-
tion of Avoda Zara? What room is there for it within the proposed calculus? It
is clear, in my view, that we cannot rely on the use of images to provide a final
answer as to the identity of God, independently of Hinduism’s theology, moral-
ity, and spiritual life. But we can affirm its otherness and strangeness. It is hard
for a person brought up in Judaism to relate positively to the manifold images of
the Divine found in Hindu culture. Swami Vijayananda was aware of this when
he counseled his Western disciples to take from Hinduism only the philosophical
teaching and to leave aside the worship of images. Forms of worship are cultur-
ally specific. Hindu worship is an expression of Hindu mind, being, and culture.
In this sense, Hinduism is culturally, rather than theologically, incompatible
with Judaism. But cultural incompatibility need not be translated into knee-jerk
condemnation of idolatry. Rather, it provides the mechanisms for maintaining
distinctive identity, which are as much a concern for the encounter with another
religion as are the concerns for the appropriateness of worship.
It is perfectly legitimate to feel ill at ease with the worship of Hindu images, or
for that matter of Christian or any other image. We should be able to express our
discomfort by stating just that: worship of images is not compatible with Jewish
sensibilities. However, we need not declare another religion as Avoda Zara sim-
ply in order to express our discomfort. Otherness is a matter of identity. We may
state our identity in just those terms, without absolutizing it in the theological
or philosophical terms of Avoda Zara. I have found myself over the years much
more comfortable in the spiritual home of Chandra Swami, who rejects the wor-
ship of forms, than in the atmosphere of other ashrams that practice such wor-
ship. At the same time, I have also taught myself to see beyond the forms to the
intentions and spiritual recognitions of those people who worship God through
form. Both options are legitimately Hindu. Both approach God, the same God. I
may feel safer or more at ease with one rather than the other. But it is important
for me to distinguish between my own level of spiritual comfort and an objective
judgment placed upon another religion. Avoidance of images is fundamental to
Jewish identity. It should not be the governing criterion for determining what is
Avoda Zara.
 BEYOND A GLOBAL APPROACH TO HINDUISM 203

Cultural encounters require responsibility. Responsibility amounts to a fine

balancing act of how to view the other and how to negotiate varying circumstances
involving the other. Responsibility involves more than simply putting up a protec-
tive fence against religious otherness. Insularity may be irresponsible, in its own
way, even as it seeks to be responsible. Proper application of responsibility calls for
applying different criteria to different circumstances. At the heart of interreligious
theological responsibility is the recognition that God alone counts and that we
must seek God and His reality in the encounter with others. The difficulties in
approaching other religions stem from the complications involved in ascertaining
God’s presence and from the need to simplify procedures. Our encounters with
others are already too extensive and too complex. We know about Hinduism more
than before, and still so much less than what we ought to know. Boundaries have
already broken down and we are called to establish a method that would allow us
to proceed in a relationship that affects individuals, collectives, and ultimately the
entire people, through some of its representative bodies. What I have suggested
is the conscious cultivation of a complex process that takes into account multiple
factors and applies them according to changing circumstances. Such a path is
necessarily tentative and subject to changes in our knowledge and understanding
over time. But it is a path that seeks the truth where it may be found and recog-
nizes the greater values of the spiritual life—peace, love, and harmony—wherever
they are found, as expressions of a true spiritual life.
There is one important consequence to the move suggested in this last sec-
tion. The common approach to Avoda Zara sees it as something cut-and-dry,
easy to define, demanding unequivocal response. For such a view, Avoda Zara is
not much of a challenge. Once it is defined, it simply has to be avoided. Once it
is avoided, it is out of sight and out of mind, no longer challenging the religious
system in any meaningful way. The proposed calculus leads to a dynamic view
of Avoda Zara, where neither practices, nor faith, let alone an entire religion, can
be globally defined as Avoda Zara. According to the possibility here developed,
Avoda Zara would apply variously, according to context, need, and the spiritual
understanding of the performer. This seems to have the disadvantage of confu-
sion and lack of clear categories. But its disadvantage may also be its great advan-
tage. Rather than relegating Avoda Zara to the margins of our consciousness and
our religious observance,32 leading us to focus only on the center of our religious
life, Avoda Zara becomes an ongoing presence. The battle against Avoda Zara,
both within and without, is a constant one, as we continually seek to improve our
spiritual lives. Static definitions of Avoda Zara leave us only the option of avoid-
ing it, thereby making it meaningless in our lives, at best an identity marker. An
active engagement with Avoda Zara, seeking to articulate its meaning, categories,
presence, and boundaries, makes it into a meaningful category that intersects
with other major categories of meaning—intentionality, morality, spirituality,
and more. Avoda Zara and going beyond it thus help define our spiritual lives
internally, orienting them toward the highest ideals. In this way we do greatest
justice to this formative category, by engaging it seriously and giving it the recog-
nition and attention it deserves.
 Concluding Reflection

I have decided to not conclude this book with the typical summary, summariz-
ing what has been achieved. The main theses and the unfolding of the project
have been suggested in the introductions to the book’s different parts and need
not be repeated. I would like, instead, to conclude with a reflection, one may
even call it a homily, based upon a hassidic homily, that allows me to frame
where we have come to in another language. Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of
Izbicza offers the following commentary in his Mey Hashiloach on the term
“graven image” in his commentary to Exodus 34,17:

Do not make for yourself a graven image. The graven image are principles. And
this is what Scripture teaches—when you have explicit understanding of the heart,
do not look to principles to act upon them, but through the understanding of your
heart you will know how to act in every detail.

This teaching shows how idolatry can work within. Routines, principles,
guidelines, opinions, and more can all become fixed in ways that make the stuff
of religion no longer transparent to the divine will, to God’s presence. The anti-
dote is a living relationship with God, who is known in the heart, and from there
He provides guidance as to how one is to act in every detail. Divine direction
replaces the fixity of structures that have the potential of becoming idolatrous.
The subject of idolatry can itself become the victim of an idolatrous attitude.
Our concern with idolatry can lose interest in the living understanding that
comes from God, through our understanding, intuition, and discernment, and
become a matter of ruling, of stagnant attitudes. To see idolatry only as a concern
with image worship or to use it as a yardstick for evaluating the other based on
principles that leave no room for internal spiritual discernment is itself a move-
ment of “idolatrizing idolatry.” We have lost much of the spiritual meaning of
what Avoda Zara means because we have viewed it primarily, even exclusively, in
terms of outward acts that themselves were instruments in processes of othering.
In such othering, little room is left for the understanding of the heart.
The encounter with another religion is also one that requires an understanding
of the heart, lest our approach to the other religion itself become a graven mental
image. Understanding of the heart requires listening, learning, being open, and
above all discerning God’s presence in a given situation. We need to shift the
idolatrous attitudes in us as a condition for discovering God in the other.
206 SAME GOD, OTHER GOD

Herzel Hefter has made us aware of the problem of idolatry within, as it relates
to the Hindu concern with the dynamism of the image. The fear is fixity, the loss
of dynamism, that is ever present to God’s will and to the dynamic ways in which
He appears and surprises us. The fixity of our Torah views is but a counterpart of
the image of the Divine the other makes, and whose fixity evokes in us the fear
of idolatry.
One way of describing what I hope to have achieved in this book is not only to
have removed, or lessened, or cast doubt, about the ascription of Avoda Zara to
Hinduism. If Avoda Zara is as much an attitude as it is a position taken, I hope
that the lengthy exercise in gaining multiple viewpoints and reframing our lead
question time and again will allow the Jewish reader to open up the very category
of Avoda Zara not only in conceptual terms but also in terms of how it serves
as an approach to the other. Thus, our real gain in this project is not liberating
Hinduism but liberating Avoda Zara from a narrow discourse.
Avoda Zara kills. This is true spiritually for the worship of another god that
removes one from the source of true life. But it is also true for our internalizing
the regard of Avoda Zara as we view the other, of making it our own perspec-
tive, of owning it so that we lose true regard, the regard of the heart, ultimately
the regard of God for the other. To view the other primarily through the eyes of
Avoda Zara is to make our own look deadly, cursed by the fixity of perspective
that sees the Other as other. What we need is a different regard, one that removes
the idolatry within the heart as a condition for engaging the other. Whether or
not a formal pronouncement will be made one way or another does not alleviate
the spiritual obligation of confronting idolatry not only outside but also within,
and not only within our religion but also within our attitudes, our hearts.
The difference between fixity and dynamism is process. What is idolatrous is a
block to continuing evolution, unfolding, to the continuing reach of God’s trans-
formative touch. I therefore do not wish to conclude this book with any fixed con-
clusions, though there surely are some important ones. Rather, I prefer to highlight
the nature of process and how this book facilitates the process of future students,
by spelling out parameters and questions that will inform future study. Its most
important conclusion is the invitation to further study and its most important
contribution is the tools it provides for aiding an ongoing conversation.
We have moved from ruling to discernment, and with Rabbi Leiner we move
from legal principles to the understanding of the heart, open to the Divine. Any
encounter must be lived in this way. Hinduism makes it particularly easy for us to
do so. If, as has been claimed, Hinduism makes God’s omnipresence a foundation
for its spirituality, and if it features the quest for God as a primary conscious driver
of the spiritual life, it provides a subject for consideration, encounter, and dialogue
that forces us to remember God, even as we engage in halachic reasoning and to
turn to the understanding of the heart, even as we seek to apply the principles of
the old in novel configurations and situations. In important ways, the encounter
with Hinduism may force us to be less idolatrous in our own view of reality.
 Notes

1 Book Presentation

1. The reader who seeks a more practically oriented presentation of these issues may
wish to consult Rabbi Daniel Sperber’s forthcoming manuscript, The Halachic Status
of Hinduism: Is Hinduism Idolatrous? A Jewish Legal Inquiry. Because he is more of
a halachist and less of a theologian, his discussion does seek to reach some conclu-
sions, where the present project seeks to problematize not only Hinduism but the very
concept of Avoda Zara as well. While my argument calls for an application of a more
complex method, his argument is that Hinduism is not Avoda Zara. The two argu-
ments are complementary, but also very distinct in nature.
2. The Jewish-Hindu encounter, including a mention of differing views as to its antiquity
and extensivity, is the subject of the complementary volume to the present publication,
The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism, published simultaneously by the same press.
3. See, for example, Nathan Katz, The State of the Art of Hindu-Jewish Dialogue,
Indo-Judaic Studies in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Nathan Katz et al., Palgrave-
Macmillan, New York, 2007, pp. 113–126 and the various essays collected in From
India Till Here, ed. Elhanan Nir, Rubin Mass, Jerusalem, 2006 [Hebrew].
4. This includes such figures as Benjamin of Tudela and Yaakov Sapir, both of whom are
mentioned in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
5. Many of these points emerge in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism and I do not
pretend to do justice to the subject in these few lines.
6. Some of this has been done in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.

2 Author Presentation

1. Some friends are catching up. We may be witnessing the beginnings of a trend among
Orthodox Jewish scholars who are drawn to the study of Hinduism. Alan Brill and
Pinchas Giller are two names that come to mind, in addition to Daniel Sperber,
already mentioned.

3 Model Case Presentation: The Sheitel Crisis

1. As I learned when visiting the temple and standing in the darshan line with devotees.
2. See Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, kovetz Teshuvot, Jerusalem, 2000, vol. 1, 77, pp. 114–116.
An important consideration in Rabbi Elyashiv’s earlier ruling is the testimony of an
expert (whose name is not provided), who is described as the greatest expert in Indian
matters. Rabbi Elyashiv’s concluding note affirms his dependency on this expert
208 NOTES TO PAGES 18–21

opinion as well as the need for further investigation on a factual basis. In fact, the
seeds of the future reversal of opinion are contained in this concluding note, which
eventually led Rabbi Elyashiv to obtain information based on his own independent
source. At the end of the day, then, the entire issue devolves to fundamental issues
of epistemology and authority: Whom can rabbinical authorities trust as expert wit-
nesses on a subject that is beyond their competence, and what amounts to correct
perception and knowledge of another field and—in this instance—the other?
3. Actually, I recently heard that he did meet with a SOAS expert, prior to his departure.
4. Fleming and Yoshiko Reed expose the problematic nature of the responses offered
by Hindus questioned by rabbinic emissaries. Their answers contradict Hindu self-
understanding, creating a gap that Fleming seeks to fill by pointing to the com-
plexities of traditional understandings of hair and the meaning of its cutting in
Hindu sources. See Benjamin Fleming and Annette Yoshiko Reed, From Tirupati
to Brooklyn: Interpreting Hindu Votive Hair-Offerings, Studies in Religion/Sciences
Religieuses 40, 2011, pp. 1–36. This complexity, typical of so much of Hindu religious
thought, alerts us to the care that must be taken when posing questions to practitio-
ners, based on the concerns and categories of another religious system.
5. See http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/17/nyregion/orthodox-jews-in-brooklyn-burn-
banned-wigs.html, dated May 17, 2004.
6. Shalom Dovber Wolpe, Yakem Se’ara Lidemama, Chish Press, Kiryat Gat, 2004 [Hebrew].
7. Almost none of these addressed the question of the actual practices or tried to verify
for themselves what Hindu practice and belief consist of. One exception is the legal
court of Rabbi Nissim Kareliz, in Benei Berak. As part of their ruling, which was
more lenient than that of Rabbi Elyashiv, they received the testimony of a Jewish
traveler who had spent time in India and reported on Indian customs. The witness
was by no means an expert on Hinduism or an insider to it.
8. The methodological flaws, even from the viewpoint of halachic discourse, in how
rabbis went about, or rather did not go about, discerning the nature of Hindu religion
are explored in Daniel Sperber’s, How Not to Make Halachic Rulings, http://www.
jewishideas.org/articles/how-not-make-halakhic-rulings.
9. The following anecdote captures the governing frame of mind. It is as funny as it is
sad. In the midst of the sheitel crisis I was put in touch with a leading hassidic rebbe,
who on the whole has a good grasp of contemporary reality, especially when it comes
to issues of medicine and medical ethics. His opening line was: “So what is the story
with Buddhism?” I replied by saying that the sheitel crisis revolved around Hinduism,
to which he retorted by posing the question, most sincerely: “What’s the difference?”
Given such low levels of familiarity with other religious cultures it is impossible to
have a meaningful discussion of their halachic status. Consequently, assumptions
and stereotypes prevail where careful thought and analysis are required.
10. See Noda Biyehuda, Tinyana, Yore De’ah 111;180; See also 10.
11. The conclusion of Rabbi Joshua Flug, A Review of the Recent “Sheitel” Controversy,
Journal of Halacha and Contemporary Society 49, 2005, pp. 5–33 is telling. Flug, p. 33,
speaks of the value of this controversy as an opportunity to explore issues that are
rarely of practical relevance, such as an offering to an idol and the statistical principle
of kavaua.
12. Christianity being foremost among them. A substantial part of the present work
extrapolates to Hinduism from prior views taken in relationship to Christianity.
13. Identity of the worshipped god as an other is not the only reason for disapproving
of image worship. Rabbi Yehuda Halevy seems to offer a critique of image worship
that does not hinge on an understanding of another god. For him, images are means
 NOTES TO PAGES 21–22 209

of drawing down astral powers, but these are falsely ascribed to images and in fact
do not work. See Kuzari 1, 60–62. A similar understanding is also echoed by his
colleague Abraham Ibn Ezra, commentary to Ex. 32, 1. See further Richard Marks’s
discussion of Ibn Ezra in his forthcoming The Jewish Interest in Hinduism: A History
of Ideas from Judah Halevi to Jacob Sapir. See the discussion in chapter 4 on Avoda
Zara as relating to inappropriate forms of worship, alongside the primary focus on
the identity of the worshipped God.
14. Of course, the same challenge may be posed in relation to Christianity. To the extent
that Christian worship involves the use of images and forms, this has fed widespread
perception of Christianity as Avoda Zara. But if we approach the question from the
other direction, we are challenged to contemplate how, other than through ritual,
we would recognize the Christian God as one and the same as the God of Israel. See
further, Alon Goshen-Gottstein, God Between Christians and Jews: Is It the Same
God? Do We Worship the Same God? Jews, Christians and Muslims in Dialogue, ed.
Miroslav Volf, Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI, 2012, pp. 50–75.
15. This has already been achieved by some rabbinic spokesmen. See in particular the
discussion of Rabbi Steinsaltz.
16. This move is implicit in earlier writings, especially with regard to Christianity. I
believe it is one of the contributions of the present discussion to make explicit and
conscious the reframing of the core question in this way as a basis for a Jewish view
of another religion.
17. This could lead to the realization, or the charge, that another god is worshipped by
the same means, while avoiding representation through images. This describes inter-
nal Jewish theological disputes, where the same worship is addressed to a God, vari-
ously understood by different religious philosophies. Such divergent understandings
could lead to the view of the alternative Jewish view as a form of Avoda Zara. See Alon
Goshen-Gottstein, The Triune and the Decaune God: Christianity and Kabbalah as
Objects of Jewish Polemics with Special Reference to Meir ben Simeon of Narbonne’s
Milhemet Mitzva, Religious Polemics in Context, ed. T. L. Hettema and A. Van der
Kooij, Van Gorcum, Assen, The Netherlands, 2004, pp. 165–197.
18. In a more historical vein, see K. van der Toorn, The Iconic Book: Analogies between
the Babylonian Cult of Images and the Veneration of the Torah, The Image and the
Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient
Near East, ed. K. Van der Toorn, Peeters, Leuven, 1997, pp. 229–248.
19. I would say that in terms of methodology, Daniel Sperber’s rabbinic appreciation of
Hinduism is largely based on his willingness to accept the authority of the Hindu
interpreter, thereby absolving Hinduism from charges that are imported from the
Jewish viewer’s eyes.
20. The problem of multiple Hinduisms and the challenge of who speaks for Hinduism
were addressed at length in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
21. It should be acknowledged that this fraagestellung may itself betray my Jewish per-
spective, or a philosophical perspective, and corrupt the results. Neelima Shukla
Bhatt suggests to me that the recognition of a fundamental unity of the Divine and
of life must be discerned through the approach to other ways of posing the question,
rather than by directly posing the question of the one and the many. She suggests that
if the question was framed in terms of religious difference, asking even uneducated
people whether they consider the god they worship to be ultimately the same as the
god of an other, they would respond that ultimately they are one. The notion of the
ultimate unity of life is, according to her, more deeply embedded than the articula-
tion of the relationship of a given god and ultimate being.
210 NOTES TO PAGES 22–24

22. The question of who holds the key to interpreting the religion is actually one of the
issues that arose in the context of the sheitel controversy. Whether one relied on
priests, worshippers, or the barbers would have different halachic consequences and
even account for the reversal of earlier rulings, resulting in the 2004 prohibition of
sheitels. See Flug, Review of the Recent “Sheitel” Controversy, pp. 19 and 22. See fur-
ther Daniel Sperber’s forthcoming The Halachic Status of Hinduism. Note, however,
that Hindus were only asked about the meaning of their action, not their view of God,
which is the focus of my own discussion.
23. Much of the present work is indebted to the philosophy of Advaita Vedanta. This is
the Hindu voice that is most prominent in encounters with other cultures and tradi-
tions. A word is in order with regard to the other vedantic schools, those of Ramanuja
and Madhva. The key differences between the schools revolve around understanding
the nature of God, the absolute, and specifically whether He has body and form. The
other schools identify the absolute as personal and possessing form, thereby mak-
ing the starting point of a Jewish recognition of a common God harder to identify
with a Jewish view of God. However, these schools too affirm the unity of God in his
transcendent and immanent reality. The understanding of God’s immanence and
his being all-pervading cuts across theological differences between the schools. As
to the specifics of how God the supreme is understood, more theological will may be
required by a Jewish interlocutor in order to affirm commonalities with these views.
The discussion of the same God, in Part IV, points to some possibilities for affirming
the same God also in relation to these schools. One could also draw on the diversity
that can be found within historical views of the Jewish God. Despite the diversity of
Hindu views, the core spiritual recognition of approaching the one Absolute Being
remains the same for the different schools. For views of Visishta Advaita see John
Carman, The Theology of Ramanuja, Yale University Press, New Haven, CT, 1974.
That the different vedantic schools are commentarial traditions, relating to the same
core scriptures, suggests that their differences are a matter of internal Hindu debate,
significant as it may be, upon certain scriptural foundations that can ultimately pro-
vide a point of recognition from a Jewish perspective. See further Deepak Sarma, An
Introduction to Madhva Vedanta, Ashgate, Aldershot, 2003. Note the latter’s consis-
tent use of “monotheism” in describing this theology, however it be qualified.
24. Balinese Hinduism is one interesting case in point. Reports suggest a greater aware-
ness of the philosophical principles than a visit to Nepal suggests. See the April-June
2012 issue of Hinduism Today, devoted to Balinese Hinduism, and see further C.
Hooykaas, Religion in Bali, Leiden, Brill, 1973. It is quite possible that the magazine
represents one particular form of Hinduism in light of the editor’s understanding of
how Hinduism ought to be featured.
25. I am not the only Jewish observer to confront this particular challenge. It is alluded
to in my reading of Alan Brill’s post, http://kavvanah.wordpress.com/2013/12/09/
katmandu-the-kumari-devi/.
26. The final part of the present work suggests a move away from “Hinduism” and a
method for approaching the complex religious phenomena under discussion.
27. On this, see Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
28. After reading Daniel Sperber’s The Halachic Status of Hinduism, I recalled a conver-
sation I had with him over a decade ago, when, in the context of discussing Christian
art, he considered Christianity to not be Avoda Zara, at the same time declaring that
Hinduism is obviously Avoda Zara. I expressed my doubts, at the time, concern-
ing how we could be unequivocal in relation to Hinduism. I was therefore struck
to see Sperber’s discussion, note 8, in which he includes quotes from a recently held
 NOTES TO PAGES 26–28 211

dialogue of the Chief Rabbinate and Hindu leaders as the kind of resource that should
inform halachic thinking. I queried him as to whether his opinion had changed
over time and also noted that his comment was methodological, but stopped short
of viewing Hinduism in the same permissible light through which he was willing
to consider Christianity. Sperber conceded his viewpoint had indeed changed and
ascribed it to the dialogue. The more he got to know Hinduism, the more complex it
seemed, and the harder it was for him to take an unequivocal position on its status as
Avoda Zara. Clearly, his earlier views had been informed by the visuals of Hinduism,
while his later views, or doubts, were informed by greater exposure to its philosophy,
as expounded by some of its leading contemporary exponents. Growing complex-
ity thus comes at the expense of clear-cut perspectives. This, however, is not a loss,
but a gain, and one whose significance may become obvious only in the long run.
Since then, Sperber seems to have moved beyond his own doubts, as the forthcoming
manuscript The Halachic Status of Hinduism suggests. In this manuscript Sperber
comes to the clear conclusion that Hinduism should not be considered Avoda Zara.
The summits with Hindu leaders have played a major role in moving Sperber from
one end of the spectrum to its opposite. On these summits, see Chapter 11 of The
Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.

Part II Introducing Avoda Zara

1. One possible strategy for maintaining one’s identity and even keeping some distance
from another religion without resorting to tactics of delegitimation is the “same
God” strategy, discussed in Part IV.

4 Avoda Zara: Introducing the Category

1. The Bible is not familiar with this legend; it only becomes popular in Second Temple
times, stamping the image of Abraham for generations. See my Abraham and Abrahamic
Religions in Contemporary Interreligious Discourse: Reflections of an Implicated
Jewish Bystander, Studies in Interreligious Dialogue 12,2, 2002, pp. 165–183.
2. See Deut. 18,10–11.
3. For a contemporary illustration of how Avoda Zara functions, even for someone who
approaches it with an open attitude, see Rivka Miriam, On Two Conflicting Visits to
India, From India Till Here, Rubin Mass, Jerusalem, 2006, pp. 41–42, 45. One sees in her
own testimony to what extent Avoda Zara comes to represent all that is different, other,
and foreign. Avoda Zara thus becomes the cultural and legal expression of otherness,
suggesting the extent to which the category channels a fundamental sense of estrange-
ment from the other, even as it contributes to the formation of such estrangement.
4. Halbertal and Margalit provide a contemporary attempt to extract answers from the
tradition and to present them in a theoretical framework. See Moshe Halbertal and
Avishai Margalit, Idolatry, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1992.
5. This raises fascinating questions concerning Christianity and its status in rabbinic lit-
erature. Some readers find Christianity round every corner in rabbinic literature. I am
closer to the opinion that Christianity is much more rarely discussed. See Sacha Stern,
Jewish Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings, Brill, Leiden, 1994, pp. 49–50; 109–110.
See also my Polemicomania: Methodological Reflections on the Study of the Judeo-
Christian Controversy following the commentaries of the rabbis and Origen on the
212 NOTES TO PAGES 28–34

Song of Songs, Jewish Studies 42, 2003–04, pp. 119–190 [Hebrew]. If there is little inter-
est in Christianity, then we may not be able to draw conclusions regarding its status as
Avoda Zara in the rabbinic corpus. If, on the other hand, the rabbis recognized that
the Christian God is the same as the Jewish God, this might account for the relative
paucity of reference. See further in the discussion at the beginning of chapter 8.
6. The Bible itself speaks in more than one voice. We may be able to detect a transition
from opposition to Jews worshipping other gods to a rejection of other religions as such,
based on their inappropriate means of worship. See John Barton, The Work of Human
Hands (ps. 115,4): Idolatry in the OT, Ex Auditu 15, 1999, pp. 63–72, especially p. 68.
7. See Gerald Blidstein, Rabbinic Legislation on Idolatry: Tractate Avoda Zarah,
Chapter 1, Phd Dissertation, Yeshiva University, 1968 [Hebrew].
8. While such a clear articulation of the relationship of Avoda Zara and otherness is
rarely encountered in theoretical reflections on Avoda Zara, it does inform certain
halachic positions. See Shut Ziz Eliezer Part 14,91; See also Part 10,1.
9. The just cited discussion of Ziz Eliezer is a rare exception.
10. The only rabbinic passage that comes to mind in this respect is Bavli Menachot 110a.
The Talmud explains Malachi 1,11, where the greatness of God’s name is recognized by
the nations, as acknowledgment that the nations call Him God of gods. While this could
provide an important resource for a Jewish view of other religions and might point to
some sense of a common recognition of God, this statement is quite negligible, within
talmudic literature and largely beyond it. This is the only reference within talmudic
literature to such an understanding and it receives very minor echoes in post-talmudic
literature. (For exceptions to this claim, see Nacmanides’ commentary to Deut. 10,21.
See further Malbim to Amos 3,2). Significantly, it is completely absent from later
halachic discussions. The statement could have been significant for later discussions,
especially given its resonance with the understanding of Avoda Zara as expounded by
Nachmanides, which I shall shortly present, and with the notion of Shituf. The lack of
echo points to the local exegetical quality of this statement, lacking halachic substance.
More significantly, it points to the lack of any serious interest, throughout the genera-
tions, to explore the possibility that the God worshipped by Israel is in important ways
the same God worshipped, or otherwise recognized, in other religions. In fact, in the
talmudic context Israel and their heavenly father are juxtaposed with the God of gods,
thereby reducing the likelihood of identification of “our” God with notions of divin-
ity found in other religions. That so little is made of this statement is due in part to its
already minor role in the Talmud. At the same time, it reaffirms the absolute preference
given to the visible ritual deed over and against the more theoretical and philosophical
concerns that might lead to alternative views of other religions.
11. The struggle against Christianity in terms of Avoda Zara is not as old as Christianity,
and it takes several hundred, maybe even close to a thousand years, before the charge
is made explicitly in relation to Christianity. On such attitudes to Islam, See Marc
Shapiro, Islam and the Halakha, Judaism, 42,3, 1993, pp. 332–343. It is striking to
see the ease with which the charge of Avoda Zara in relation to Islam can resurface
in contemporary halachic thinking. See Shlomo Glicksberg, Shut Nitzanei Aretz,
Jerusalem, 2011, pp. 43–48.

5 Avoda Zara: Mental Attitudes

1. See our following discussion of Shituf. This is a common strategy practiced among
Ashkenazi Jews in relation to Christianity, since early modern times. This strategy
 NOTES TO PAGES 34–35 213

has been documented by Jacob Katz, The Vicissitudes of Three Apologetic Passages,
Zion 24, 1959, pp. 181–186 [Hebrew]. For a recent summary, see Eugene Korn,
Rethinking Christianity: Rabbinic Positions and Possibilities, Jewish Theology and
World Religions, ed. A. Goshen-Gottstein and E. Korn, The Littman Library, Oxford,
2012, pp. 189–215.
2. The rabbis formulate this approach through the following maxim “all gibing is for-
bidden, save gibing at idolatry” (Bavli Megila 25b, translation of Soncino Press). How
fundamental this statement is can be seen by its use in a halachic ruling by one of the
foremost decisors of the twentieth century. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein permits the teaching
of comparative religion as part of a school curriculum, provided the teaching is carried
out in a mocking mode. See Igrot Moshe, Yore Deah, Part 2, 53. That contemporary
teaching of comparative religion, serving the social purposes that it does, should be
combined with a mocking attitude points to the inherent weakness of the traditional
rabbinic view and its inadequacy in coping with contemporary challenges.
3. Isa. 44, 8–21, Jewish Publication Society translation.
4. This is the thesis of Yehezkel Kaufmann who notes that the only polemic in the Bible
is against fetishistic worship, but never against the existence of other gods or myths
associated with them. See Yehezkel Kaufmann, History of Israelite Faith, Bialik-
Devir, Tel Aviv, 1960, vol. 1, pp. 255–285 [Hebrew]. See further Yehezkel Kaufmann,
The Religions of Israel: From Its Beginnings to the Babylonian Exile, translated and
abridged by Moshe Greenberg, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1960, pp. 13–20.
For Kaufmann, the biblical authors seem to have missed the point, hence the depth,
of the religious worldview of other religions. This is misunderstood as purely the
worship of stone and wood, in a parody of idolatry that is ultimately based on a par-
tial understanding and on ignorance of the views of other religions. It therefore raises
the challenge of the ultimate significance and the enduring legacy of such a view
of other religions. Talking these issues through with Israel Knohl suggests that in
fundamental ways the views presented by Kaufmann remain valid, despite various
discoveries since, and that no alternative to Kaufmann, in understanding prophetic
polemic, has emerged in the past half century. The biblical position seems to be con-
stitutive of much of Judaism’s approach to other religions, based as it is on partial
knowledge, as witnessed in the sheitel crisis. It is fascinating to contrast this default
understanding with the alternative default position, suggested by Maimonides in his
Guide of the Perplexed 1,36, which forces him to a theory of intermediary beings.
5. While the following discussion focuses on biblical attitudes, it applies equally to the
attitude of the classical rabbinic period. It is noteworthy that the rabbis take little notice
of pagan philosophers’ attempts to make sense of their religion. See P. Athanassiadi
and M. Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 1999; One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire, ed. Stephen
Mitchell and Peter van Nuffelen, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2010;
P. Athanassiadi, The Gods Are God: Polytheistic Cult and Monotheistic Theology
in the World of Late Antiquity, God or Gods, Collection Eranos 15, ed. T. Schabert
and M. Riedl, Königshausen & Neumann, Wurzburg 2009, pp. 15–31. Unlike some
of the church fathers, who felt the need to debate with philosophical justifications for
paganism, the rabbis never tackle these presentations head on. For purposes of the
present project, one should note, however, that the place that philosophical under-
standing plays within the overall economy of Hinduism is far greater than the role
that it played in ancient Roman pagan culture. Thus, not only have we changed, but
the object of reflection and evaluation of the present study is also very different from
that encountered by the rabbis. In accounting for rabbinical silence on what should
214 NOTES TO PAGES 35–36

be considered a burning religious issue, we do well to consider the very nature of

rabbinic literature, which does not allow for sustained philosophical engagement.
Rabbinic silence is also the outcome of rabbinic insularity, which does not join in
direct conversation with broader philosophical trends. The upshot is that the pro-
phetic precedent of viewing religions based on their outward appearances, rather
than their philosophical understanding, continues to set the tone for a Jewish view
of other religions. It could, of course, be claimed that this justifies perpetuating such
attitudes when Judaism comes into contact with new religions, such as Hinduism. If
the rabbis did not attempt to understand, accept, or legitimate the practices of pagan
religions, why should we? From a traditional perspective, this argument makes sense,
and indeed it informs much of contemporary ultra-Orthodox practice, as witnessed
in the sheitel crisis. However, what is at stake is precisely the logic and hermeneutics
of insularity, leading to hermeneutics of scorn and rejection. My own reading of the
philosophical and religious mandate of the hour is to develop a hermeneutic that
grows out of realization of the broader common ground of religions, and therefore
seeks to go beyond external appearances and to attain a fuller understanding of the
other, as a precondition for any evaluation. The following discussion of precedents in
rabbinic attitudes to Christianity suggests that my own approach should be seen in
continuity with previous rabbinic attitudes to other religions, rather than as a nov-
elty. That contemporary mentality may be informed simultaneously by different and
conflicting strands of tradition is a sign of how the entire domain is badly in need of
rethinking and reconsideration.
6. See Thorkild Jacobsen, The Graven Image, Ancient Israelite Religion: Essays in Honor
Frank Moore Cross, Fortress Press, Philadelphia, 1987, pp. 15–32; Angelika Berlejung,
Washing the Mouth: The Consecration of Divine Images in Mesopotamia, The Image
and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the
Ancient Near East, ed. K. Van der Toorn, Peeters, Leuven, 1997, pp. 45–72.
7. This will be explored in greater detail later in our discussion.
8. It is interesting to consider how the prophet is read through Indian eyes, where
an understanding of idols and images, similar to the one that was common in the
Ancient Near East, endures. The Indian reader is scandalized by a text from Scripture
that offers what seems to be a dishonest caricature of a meaningful religious practice
and that does this in a literary form (satire) that one does not expect to find in a reli-
gious book. See George Soares-Prabhu, “Laughing at Idols: The Dark Side of Biblical
Monotheism (An Indian Reading of Isaiah 44: 9–20), “A Biblical Theology for India
(Collected Writings of George M. Soares- Prabhu, S.J.), ed. Scaria Kuthirakkattel, vol.
2, S.V.D., Jnana-Deepa Vidyapeeth, Pune, 1999, p. 273.
9. I am not familiar with a scholarly view of prophetic polemic as intentional distortion.
It seems to advance scholarly discussion of biblical polemics very little and therefore
has not emerged as an alternative to Kaufmann’s views.
10. In the framework of the Parliament of World Religions, Melbourne, December 2009,
I organized two panel discussions on the religious imperative to represent the other
faithfully. Participants, theologians of all major religions, agreed this was pioneering
work and that how we portray the other is actually more fundamental than, and lies
at the basis of, work in the area of theology of religions. They also agreed this is a
subject that has received almost no systematic attention.
11. Exodus 20,13. Traditional Jewish understanding limits this to legal circumstances
and therefore would not apply it to contemporary interreligious relations. Such appli-
cation is a fairly recent turn on the interreligious front. Note the title of Amy Jill
Levine’s essay, Bearing False Witness: Common Errors Made about Early Judaism,
 NOTES TO PAGES 36–38 215

The Jewish Annotated New Testament, ed. A. J. Levine and M. Z. Brettler, Oxford
University Press, Oxford, 2011, pp. 501–504. The title appeals to a notion current in
Christian circles, but one that has not found serious articulation on the Jewish side.
For a contemporary application of this prohibition, see Peter Pettit, Case Study on
the Arab-Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, Covenantal Conversations, ed. Darrell Jodock,
Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2008, pp. 161–167.
12. Note the ease with which we speak of judging the other in this context. Halachic
thinking develops a penchant for judgment and can inculcate a spirit of being judg-
mental in relation to others. The flip side of the faithfulness to tradition that is
expressed thereby is the problematic spiritual character trait of judgmentalism. In
reflecting on the price we pay for viewing other religions as we do and on strategies
for representing and appreciating other religions, we might consider the dynamics
of judgmentalism and the traditional resources for transforming judgmentalism
through judging toward merit (see, e.g., Mishna Avot 1,6).
13. My friend Stanislaw Krajewski has also used this analogy. See his Can Another
Religion Be Seen as the Other? Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed. Goshen-
Gottstein and Korn, p. 142.
14. If we relate to the words of the prophets in terms of content, we must either abide by
them or dismiss them as erroneous. However, if we shift the focus from content to con-
text, to attitude, prophetic attitudes need not be dismissed. They are ways of address-
ing the needs of the moment, be they educational, religious, or political. If we judge
that the moment calls for it, we may have the choice of inculcating other attitudes. The
attitudes associated with a view of another religion and even with its declaration as
Avoda Zara may change, as conditions, understanding, and needs determine.
15. Christianity is primarily relevant to the present discussion as the framework within
which the defining attitudes to other religions, which could be extended to Hinduism,
were developed. To a lesser extent, it is also relevant to our discussion by providing
a precedent for engagement with Hinduism, as carried out by an Abrahamic faith
that considers itself monotheistic. However, the fact that for many rabbinic authors
Christianity presented the same challenges that Hinduism does makes its own efforts at
coming to terms with Hinduism of more limited value. The history of Muslim views of
Hinduism is also worthy of study, though I will not enter into a fuller exploration of this
dimension. My own impressions are that Muslim attitudes divide between acceptance
and rejection, in ways that are close to Jewish attitudes. A study of the conditions under
which Muslim authors have been accepting of Hinduism may be instructive for a com-
parative appreciation of how strict monotheisms come to terms with Hinduism and the
limits and mechanisms for theological accommodation of the other. My impression is
that the more one emphasizes mystical and philosophical dimensions, rather than legal
and ritualistic dimensions, in the understanding of one’s religion as well as of the other,
the more the avenues open up for a positive appreciation of Hinduism. Islam therefore
provides an interesting control group for some of the hypotheses of this discussion,
including the potential positive effects of greater familiarity with and appreciation of
spirituality and wisdom in shaping the attitude to the religious other. See the summary
statements of Y. Friedman, Medieval Muslim Views of Indian Religions, Journal of the
American Oriental Society, 95,2, 1975, pp. 214–221; Seyyed Hossein Nasser, Sufi Essays,
George Allen and Unwin, London, 1972, pp. 138–142.
16. More on this in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
17. Of course, this reasoning only applies to the worship dimension of Avoda Zara and
its resort to images and not to its polytheistic aspect, let alone anything that would
amount to recognition of a god who is indeed an “other” god.
216 NOTES TO PAGES 48–56

6 Understanding Avoda Zara: The Maimonidean Model

1. The position is thus quite similar to that of R. Yehuda Halevi in the narrative opening
of his Kuzari, where, despite favorable intention, the actual acts of the king do not
find favor with God.
2. See Gen. 20,7.
3. See also Jonathan Cohen, The Makings of a Master Story: Maimonides’ Idolatry
Narrative as an Educational Paradigm, Journal of Jewish Education 72,2, 2006, p. 137.
4. The rabbis also seem to not have entertained such a possibility. Images are images
of other gods, never of Israel’s God. The biblical basis of the prohibition of image
making, however, seems to be more complex. See John Barton, The Work of Human
Hands (ps. 115,4): Idolatry in the OT, Ex Auditu 15 (1999).
5. Such a person would be defined by Maimonides as a min, heretic. See Laws of Teshuva
3,7. This is a different category than Avoda Zara.
6. The common Jewish perspective that judges by our criteria, and therefore deems
the object of worship to be something other than God, requires further examina-
tion. Even if we assume the worshipper is in error, in order to worship Avoda Zara
he or she must be aware of the otherness of the worshipped object. If that object is
worshipped as God, or as an expression of God, it is really God, and not the object
that is worshipped. Our insistence on interpreting the act of worship in accordance
with our outsider’s perspective is incommensurate with prevailing halachic empha-
sis upon intention, rather than the externals of the act. The key talmudic discus-
sion in Bavli Sanhedrin 61b and parallels could have generated an entirely different
approach to other religions, under different social and historical conditions. It is
actually quite amazing that a legal system that has made intention its hallmark
and identifying feature should resort to completely external criteria when judging
another religion. Clearly, the double standards at play are an expression of broader
attitudes to other religions and an extension of the uncharitable mockery that is
itself a characteristic of a Jewish view of Avoda Zara. Whose perspective should
determine how worship is understood seems a fundamental, and completely unex-
amined, question. It is to Daniel Sperber’s credit that he has constructed an entire
argument, in The Halakhic Status of Hinduism, based on the internal understand-
ing and intentionality of religious practice, as expounded by Hindus. While the
point is never stated in this way, in fact Sperber applies the most important internal
halachic criteria, rather than alternative criteria that are usually brought to bear in
discussions of Hinduism.
7. For what follows, see also the discussion of spirituality in The Jewish Encounter with
Hinduism.
8. See Chapter 6 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
9. See Ashok Vohra, Metaphysical Unity, Phenomenological Diversity and the Approach
to the Other: An Advaita Vedanta Position, The Religious Other: Hostility, Hospitality
and the Hope of Human Flourishing, ed. Alon Goshen-Gottstein, Lexington Books,
Lanham, 2014, pp. 99–115.
10. Laws of Avoda Zara 9,4.
11. To take some notable examples: the two leading halachic authorities of recent Judaism,
the late Rabbi Moshe Feinstein and former Sefardi Chief Rabbi, Ovadiah Yosef, both
embrace this position. While the former never even entertains the possible implica-
tions of the alternative position, Rabbi Yosef deftly evokes the other position where
appropriate, while sticking to the fundamental position that considers Christianity
as Avoda Zara in most of his halachic oeuvre. (The single creative exception to the
 NOTES TO PAGES 56–59 217

rule is his permission for a convert to pray for the well-being of his Christian parents.
Here the nonidolatrous position is evoked. See Responsa Yechave Da’at Part 4, 66.
12. On Maimonides and Christianity, see Howard Kreisel, Maimonides on
Christianity and Islam, Jewish Civilization: Essays and Studies, ed. Ronald Brauner,
Reconstructionist Rabbinical College Press, Philadelphia,1985, Part 3, p. 156.
See also David Novak, Maimonides’ Treatment of Christianity and Its Normative
Implications, Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed. A. Goshen-Gottstein and E.
Korn, The Littman Library, Oxford, pp. 217–233.
13. See my The Triune and the Decaune God. Kabbalists had to creatively manipulate the
legacy of Maimonides in order to maintain the legitimacy of their own religious world-
view. See Gershom Scholem, Mehoker Limekubal, Tarbiz 6, 1935, pp. 90–98 [Hebrew].
14. This possibility could be deduced from Maimonides’ commentary to Mishna Avoda
Zara 1,13.
15. This is the note that is sounded in the Laws of Kings 11,4, in uncensored editions.
16. We do not know how Maimonides understood Jesus and his worship. If Steinsalz and
Korn are correct in introducing geographical and cultural critique to their apprecia-
tion of Maimonides’ ruling (see chapter 8, note 23), then we may be forced to question
the basis of Maimonides’ ruling. Perhaps he did not realize that Jesus is worshipped
as God, rather than as a human being.
17. Some even consider he is simply extending the talmudic worldview. See Yehuda
Herzel Henkin, Shut Benei Banim, part 3, 36, p. 128.
18. The medieval Jewish view of drawing astral forces into the image would therefore be
helpful in appreciating the internal logic of image worship, though it does not offer
us new parameters for a consideration of Avoda Zara. See chapter 3, note 13.
19. This would probably hold true also for stronger understandings of material expres-
sion, such as icons, used in the Eastern Churches.
20. See Francis Clooney, Hindu God, Christian God, Oxford University Press, Oxford,
2001, Chapter 4.
21. See also my Judaisms and Incarnational Theologies: Mapping Out the Parameters of
Dialogue, Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 39,3–4, 2002.

7 Avoda Zara between Jews and Gentiles: Nachmanides’ Model

1. I have discussed Nachmanides’ views on these issues in great detail in my Other gods
in the Teachings of Nachmanides: Conceptual Formulations and Their Consequences
to Attitudes to Other Religions, By the Well: Studies in Jewish Philosophy and Halakhic
Thought Presented to Gerald J. Blidstein, ed. U. Ehrlich et al., Ben Gurion University
Press, Beer Sheva, 2008, pp. 25–82 [Hebrew].
2. This may be related to Maimonides’ concern with truth and his understanding of idol-
atry in terms of truth. See Moshe Halbertal and Avishai Margalit, Idolatry, Harvard
University Press, Cambridge, 1992, Chapter 4. It may be similarly indebted to the low
stakes that Maimonides places on identitarian concerns, an obvious outcome of the
low place he assigns “Israel” in his overall philosophic view. See Menachem Kellner,
Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People, SUNY Press, Albany, NY, 1991.
3. It is fair to say that the same holds true for rabbinic literature as well. The possibility
of distinguishing Jews and non-Jews with reference to the worship of other gods and
Avoda Zara is a biblical notion that then resurfaces in various forms in the literature
of the Middle Ages. The difference between Maimonides and Nachmanides that this
section explores can thus be traced to different normative strands of the tradition.
218 NOTES TO PAGES 59–63

4. Bavli Sanhedrin 56 a-b. Avoda Zara is recognized by all as one of the noachide
commandments.
5. Laws of Kings 9,2.
6. The question of whether Jews and non-Jews should be judged by the same stan-
dards may already be traced to different biblical voices. See John Barton, The Work
of Human Hands (Ps. 115,4): Idolatry in the Old Testament, Ex Auditu 15, 1999,
pp. 63–72. Mocking and critiquing other religions due to their forms of worship
assume that the same standard should apply to Jews and non-Jews. An approach that
highlights the same standard privileges the understanding of God as universal God,
rather than His particular affiliation and relationship with Israel.
7. An alternative distinction raised by him, which remains relevant for contemporary
Jewish discussions of Avoda Zara, is between the practice of religion in the Holy Land
and outside it. I shall not enter this dimension of the discussion, as it has less bearing
on a Jewish view of Hinduism. I discuss this dimension of Nachmanides’ thought in
Other gods in the Teaching of Nachmanides.
8. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, translated Rabbi Charles Chavel, Shilo
Publishing, New York, 1973, pp. 291–292.
9. See Halbertal and Margalit, Idolatry, Chapter 1. Their presentation of Nachmanides
in other terms misses the mark. See further my Other gods in the Teaching of
Nachmanides, notes 4 and 24.
10. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, p. 288.
11. See Nachmanides at the beginning of his commentary on Ex. 20,2.
12. This verse is an ancient crux and a complicated one, precisely because of its impli-
cations for the permissibility of other nations worshipping beings other than God.
The rabbis already struggled with this verse and tried to get around its plain sense.
One ancient tradition, which the rabbis understand as representing the Septuagint,
understands the allotting of luminaries for purposes of providing light. See Bavli
Megila 9b. Another retains the plain sense of the verse, while standing its intention
on its head. Indeed, God allotted the stars to the nations for purposes of worship.
However, he did so in order to lead them to perdition. See Bavli Avoda Zara 55a. In
the history of interpretation, it is not really until Nachmanides’ commentary that a
conceptual framework is found through which the plain sense of the biblical verse
can be upheld, despite the changes in theology and worldview that had taken place
since the verse was first articulated.
13. Laws of Avoda Zara 2,1.
14. The relational element actually leaves room even for Israel to approach other beings,
so long as this approach is carried out as an expression of God’s will. See Nachmanides
on Lev. 16,8, which is discussed in my Other gods in the Teaching of Nachmanides.
What for Maimonides was impossible, that God would will a gift to other beings, is
recognized by Nachmanides as legitimate.
15. This emerges from the structure of Nachmanides’ presentation, as revealed by care-
ful analysis. However, Nachmanides does not say it in so many words. Following
the presentation of Nachmanides, we shall see that his student, the Rashba, contin-
ues this train of thought, making explicit what emerges from the present analysis of
Nachmanides.
16. The Hebrew can be translated as “first,” with reference to the typology Nachmanides
presents, or “earliest” in terms of the historical progression of Avoda Zara. While this
text does offer a typology, it couches this typology in developmental terms. I there-
fore prefer to translate ‫ ראשונים‬as earliest, rather than first, as does Charles Chavel
 NOTES TO PAGES 63–68 219

(trans.), Nachmanides Torah Commentary, Shilo Publishing, New York, 1973–1976,

Commentary on Exodus p. 292.
17. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, p. 292.
18. This is consistent with Maimonides’ views on astrology. See the famous epistle to the
sages of Marseille.
19. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, p. 293.
20. See toward the end of Nachmanides’ commentary on Ex. 20,2: “the Separate
Intelligences are the souls of the astrological signs.”
21. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, pp. 293–294.
22. The difference is, of course, that Deut. 4,19 only refers to the heavenly bodies them-
selves. Nachmanides ties other forms of Avoda Zara to an astrological understand-
ing, without a scriptural basis. The question is then whether the possible scriptural
legitimization of such worship extends to all expressions of the worship of stars, or
only to the direct worship, as described in Scripture, in which case the secondary
manifestations of Avoda Zara would indeed have to be condemned. Hence, one is left
wondering whether the change of tone with reference to the second part of the second
type is an expression of greater negativity associated with this kind of worship or a
judgment on the individual cases noted by Nachmanides.
23. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, p. 295.
24. It is worth noting that some elements of this view may be found, in a much less devel-
oped way, in Ibn Ezra’s commentary on the ten commandments, commenting on Ex.
20,1. Ibn Ezra refers to “believing in the Name, while joining others with Him,” using
the verb from which Shituf is taken. This is not considered Avoda Zara. For a discus-
sion of Ibn Ezra, see Richard Marks’s forthcoming The Jewish Interest in Hinduism: A
History of Ideas from Judah Halevi to Jacob Sapir.
25. Quoting Ex. 22,19.
26. Quoting Bavli Rosh Hashana 24b.
27. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, pp. 295–296.
28. Nachmanides, Torah Commentary to Duet. 10,21, p. 128.
29. Compare chapter 4, note 10.
30. If other nations legitimately worship other elohim, this may be predicated on their
designation as elohim. If so, only the first of the three categories mentioned in
Nachmanides’ commentary on Exodus would qualify as a form of permissible wor-
ship. On the other hand, the juxtaposition of gods and graven images in the first part
of the above commentary may be reversed in relation to the nations, thereby yielding
recognition that along with the recognition of legitimate worship of other beings,
by the nations, comes recognition of their worship through forms and images. In
light of Nachmanides’ discussion in his commentary on Exodus, this would certainly
amount to validation of the worship of stars, which schematically precedes the wor-
ship of images. I understand Nachmanides’ reference to a previous discussion as ref-
erence to his commentary on Exodus, against the editorial reference to another of his
discussions. See my Other gods in the Teaching of Nachmanides, pp. 68–69.
31. Nachmanides, Commentary on the Torah, p. 338. Like the previous quote from
Nachmanides, this one too appeals to an earlier passage in his commentary. Here too I
consider this a reference to the commentary on Exodus, against the common editorial
reference to another of Nachmanides’ discussions, in his commentary on Leviticus.
32. Regrettably, at some points in Jewish history, Jews have developed what might be
termed “a theology of perdition,” a theology that is more a mirror of contemporary
tensions between Jews and non-Jews than an effort to fathom the depths of the divine
220 NOTES TO PAGES 68–70

economy and providence for all humanity. As noted earlier, Deut. 4,19 has been read
by some rabbinic commentators in just those terms. However, Nachmanides seems to
offer a much broader view that accommodates all.
33. Teshuvot Harashba ed. H. Z. Dimitrovsky, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 1990,
vol. 1, section 37,10, pp. 215–217, my translation. The responsum reflects a dialogue
the author had with a Christian author. However, the discussion, while theoretically
relevant to a Jewish view of Christianity, makes no mention of the possible relevance
to Christianity. I therefore see no reason to dismiss this document as in any way born
of the pressures of Jewish-Christian polemic.
34. The shift from city to state may be an influence of the arabic, where a city is called
medina, the equivalent of the Hebrew state.
35. Shift to plural in the original.
36. The Hebrew ‫ והמסירה במעשינו‬may refer to our offering and abandoning of our own
deeds through faith or to the providential care of the power to whom actions and
needs are entrusted.
37. 2 Kings 17,33.
38. Deut. 4,19–20.
39. Following this the Hebrew has ‫ לתת לנו‬to give unto us. I have not translated these
two words, as they seem out of context and a carryover by memory, from some other
biblical context. See the editor’s note.
40. This dimension is actually downplayed in the Rashba, compared with Nachmanides.
Astrological correspondence takes center stage in this presentation. Was astrology
more present or familiar to him, in theory or in practice, than knowledge of angelic
beings?
41. In my Other gods in the Teaching of Nachmanides, I attempt to work out the signifi-
cance, as well as the chronology, of the territorial and of the metaphysical view, within
Nachmanides’ worldview. For purposes of our discussion of the possible implica-
tions of these views to a contemporary view of Hinduism, the territorial dimension is
actually significant. According to one construction of this theological complex, the
defining difference between proper and improper worship is not between worship as
practiced by Jews as compared to worship practiced by non-Jews, but between wor-
ship practiced in the Land of Israel and worship practiced outside it. As we see from
the Rashba’s text, the criteria overlap and intermingle and do not come at the expense
of one another. The territorial criterion does add the consideration that whatever rec-
ognition and legitimization may be afforded to forms of worship that address beings
other than God, their actual practice may be barred in the Land of Israel, due to its
sanctity and proximity to divine presence. Thus, even if we were to apply the thought
pattern developed by Nachmanides to Hinduism, it would still remain off limits to
Jewish practitioners, or, according to the alternative theological statement, to Hindu
practitioners in the Land of Israel.
42. To the best of my knowledge, the present discussion is the first attempt to explore the
significance of Nachmanides’ position to a contemporary discussion. I am not aware
of any discussion that attempts to apply Nachmanides’ views of Avoda Zara to a dis-
cussion of another contemporary religion. Nachmanides speaks of nations of old and
does not address any of the religions of his own day. I have not seen any discussion of
Christianity, Islam, or any other world religion in light of Nachmanides’ presentation.
This may be due to the genre, exegesis rather than halacha, or due to the existence of
other positions that address contemporary religions directly. Nachmanides’ impact has
been felt primarily through the grafting of his position to the Shituf position (see below).
His thought has thus had only secondary impact on any contemporary discussion.
 NOTES TO PAGES 71–75 221

43. By the nineteenth century they certainly merged. See, for example, the commen-
tary of the Malbim on Amos 3,2 or the Ketav Vekabala by R. Jacob Mecklenburg on
Deut. 4,19. See already the responsum Sheilat Yavetz, by Rabbi Jacob of Emden, the
eighteenth-century German halachist, Section 41.
44. The nations attain such correspondence in relation to the ministering angels.
However, they are not obligated to direct their worship to them, even if they may do so.
45. See See Dov Schwartz, Astrology and Magic in Jewish Thought in the Middle Ages, Bar
Ilan University Press, Ramat Gan, 1999 [Hebrew]. While Schwartz devotes extensive
attention to other discussions of Nachmanides, especially the story of the golden calf
and the scapegoat, he makes no reference to the passage from Nachmanides that pro-
vides the basis for the present discussion.
46. The Rashba’s parable might suggest such a dimension, though this emphasis may
have not been primary or even intended.
47. See the discussion in Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
48. As in all things Hindu, it is impossible to make unequivocal proclamations on this
matter. The parapuja of Sankara is an important and much used prayer addressed to
the absolute. In a similar vein, I have read dozens of prayers offered by the recently
deceased Swami Chidananda, the disciple and successor of Swami Sivananda, and
one of the greatest vedantins and spiritual luminaries of India. These prayers, offered
as introductions to his own teachings and collected in numerous publications and
videos, offer homage and adoration to the absolute, no less than to the particular
manifestations or deities who were either celebrated on a particular feast day or
close to his heart on a given day. The absolute is certainly the focus of attention and
intention. Given that approaching the absolute and uniting with Him is the goal of
the religious system that he expounded and stood at the very core of his teaching,
approaching the absolute through prayerful salutations makes perfect sense. Still,
one notes that no temples are dedicated to the absolute. All temples and the vari-
ous rituals performed in them are dedicated to specific manifestations of divinity, at
times understood by believers as identical with the absolute. The question of whether
or not the absolute is the focus of worship and how the absolute comes into focus,
even though the religion does not outwardly place Him at the center of devotion,
is similar to questions posed in relation to how en sof functions in kabbalistic and
hassidic literatures. For a contemporary rabbinic attempt to make sense of Hindu
worship in light of this Jewish precedent, see Rabbi David Brodman’s intervention in
Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
49. See for example the work by Swami Sivananda, The Philosophy and Significance of
Idol Worship, Divine Life Society, Shivanandanagar, 1960, available for download as
http://www.dlshq.org/download/idolworship.pdf.
50. This thesis will be developed in greater detail in a later chapter.
51. Actually, the question of the reality of the gods is a much more nuanced question that
brings us to one of the fundamentals of Hindu thought and points to one of the major
differences between it and Abrahamic thought. For vedantic teaching, all created life
is part of maya, illusion, and is therefore unreal. The goal of the spiritual quest is to
go beyond the unreal to the Real. The gods are part of the unreal. Religion is thus
torn between the real and the unreal. Different schools of Hindu philosophy will play
this tension out in different forms, coming closer or farther to one of the two poles.
The Hindu way of thinking of gods as simultaneously real and unreal, depending
on what perspective one adopts, is very different from our way of thinking of gods
as true or false. Yet, if one highlights the move from the unreal to the Real as cor-
responding to the move from focusing on the idol or deity to going beyond it, then
222 NOTES TO PAGES 75–77

Hinduism emerges as profoundly anti-idolatrous, despite its prevalent worship of

forms. An exemplary case in point is Sri Ramakrishna who, through discrimination,
cuts the image of the Divine Mother, focus of his worship and devotion, in order to
go beyond the limitations placed by his own devotions and attachments. See Swami
Saradananda, Sri Ramakrishna and His Divine Play, trans. Swami Chedanananda,
Vedanta Society of St. Louis, St. Louis, MO, 2003, p. 311.
52. See Chapter 7 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
53. It is of course problematic to draw such comparisons, inasmuch as they contrast the
finest of one tradition with the average or less than finest of another. We return here
to the question of who speaks for Hinduism, and what are the characteristic, and fin-
est, specimens of both traditions. I have no doubt that the finest specimens of the reli-
gious life of both traditions look much more alike than one would imagine, despite
major differences in how the religion itself is constructed. Perhaps these individuals
might be closer to one another than to other practitioners of their own tradition.
54. We have already seen this understanding as part of Maimonides’ presentation in the
Laws of Avoda Zara. The problem of intermediaries also provides the explanation
for what is wrong with the worship of images in Maimonides’ discussion in Guide
of the Perplexed 1,36. Schwarts and Schlossberg suggest that such an understanding
of intermediaries in the context of Avoda Zara owes to Muslim authors. See Dov
Schwarts and Eliezer Schlossberg, Sources of Maimonides’ Concept of Idolatry as
Mediation, The Annual of Rabbinic Judaism 1, 1998, Brill, Leiden, pp. 119–128. It
may be, then, that conceptualizing intermediaries as the core concern of Avoda Zara
is indebted to Muslim concern with purity of monotheism and avoidance of shirq,
associating partners with Allah. This might accout for why this notion is central for
Maimonides, but absent from Nachmanides. It is interesting to consider whether
authors living in Muslim countries express greater concern for the problem of inter-
mediaries, or whether references to it in the literature should be accounted for purely
on grounds of internal development. See, for example, the commentary of Rabbi
Hayim ben Atar, Or Hachayim, an author writing in a Muslim environment, who
places great prominence on this notion. See his comments on Genesis 14,18; Ex. 2,23;
3,9; 20,2–4; 23,20; 32,1, and more.
55. The later, territorial, restatement of Nachmanides’ teaching does envision the destruc-
tion of all celestial ministers in the eschaton, leading to the exclusive worship of God.
See Nachmanides’ commentary on Leviticus 18,25. It could be that Nachmanides
would have preferred for all to worship God in the highest. That Israel is to have an
exclusive relationship with God may not exclude others from God. In parts of his
commentary on Ex. 20,2, not quoted here, Nachmanides identifies the points in time
when the various forms of Avoda Zara came into being. Their coming into being at
some point following the creation, through what is ultimately a human process, sug-
gests this is not the divine intention proper and therefore lends support to a nonex-
clusivist understanding of God’s relationship to humanity.
56. It may be that some of the lesser gods are understood in that way. In fact, the number
of deities who are the objects of major cults and have major followings is nowhere as
large as the millions of gods that one often hears of (330,000,000). As Muslim writers,
especially Al Biruni, have already noted, these are better considered angels, rather than
gods. See chapter 12. Having read Nachmanides, we are much more sympathetic to non-
Jews worshipping their angels, even considering them divinities. The kinds of divinities
imagined by Nachmanides may exist in some form among the earlier vedic gods.
57. God is obviously the one who primarily takes on form. But so do saints, and so do
various other beings. The acclaimed movie by the celebrated moviemaker Deepa
 NOTES TO PAGES 78–80 223

Mehta, Water, makes no sense if one cannot buy into the assumption that the
Cobra, one of the heroes of this movie, can take up various forms at will, thereby
entering into a love affair with a married woman, while taking on the form of her
husband.
58. The only point regarding which one might argue that it is not universal is the descrip-
tion of God as omnipresent. This is, of course, the foundation for worshipping God in
all forms, as the prayer’s conclusion suggests. Even if God is omnipresent, this does
not necessitate the additional step of worshipping God in all forms, as we recognize
from the history of Jewish pantheistic and panentheistic views, which share the fun-
damental recognition but stop short of drawing consequences for worship.
59. The same reservation would apply to approaching the figure of Jesus as an intermedi-
ary. The issue is relevant mainly for early Christianity. See Larry Hurtado, Lord Jesus
Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity, Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI, 2003;
James Dunn, Christology in the Making, SCM Press, London, 1989.
60. See Dov Schwartz, Divine Immanence in Medieval Jewish Philosophy, Journal
of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 3, 1994, pp. 249–278; Joseph Ben Shlomo, On
Pantheism in Jewish Mysticism According to Gershom Scholem and His Critics,
Da’at, 50–52, 2003, 461–482 [Hebrew]; Zipi Koifman, In All Your Ways Know Him,
Bar Ilan University Press, Ramat Gan, 2009 [Hebrew].
61. The matter is never stated explicitly, but emerges from the various juxtapositions
in his presentation. Note especially the juxtaposition between elohim acherim and
elohei masecha, as well as the reference to images toward the end of his discussion,
which are brought as support for the threefold theoretical construct, rather than in
reference to specifically image-oriented worship.
62. Note that the Rashba discusses the worship of stars, which for Nachmanides are
already lower manifestations and expressions of the Separate Intelligences. I cannot
see why theologically there would be a qualitative difference between the worship
of stars and the worship of images. In Nachmanides’ discussion they are considered
of a kind. The common conflation of reference to Avoda Zara as worship of idols or
worship of stars similarly suggests they are of a kind. In discussing elohei masecha,
images, Nachmaindes discusses these as an extension of elohim acherim, other gods.
While the attitude is negative to both, this negativity must be contextualized in rela-
tion to Israel, which is the focus of his presenation.
63. Conversely, where such worship is forbidden, it would matter little that the wor-
ship takes place without recourse to images. See David Berger’s concern regarding
imageless Avoda Zara in an internal Jewish context in The Rebbe, the Messiah and the
Scandal of Orthodox Indifference, Littman Library, London, 2001, p. 171.
64. I am not familiar with a halachic discussion of Avoda Zara that makes explicit the
theoretical discussion of the relative significance of theology and (image) worship for
defining Avoda Zara. The only theoretical mention of this issue arises in Steinsaltz’
discussion (see chapter 8), which, however, is not formally a halachic discussion. In
relation to Christianity it is clear that these two dimensions have interacted in ways
that are not fully explicit, nor has the theoretical relationship between them been
adequately explored. As already intimated earlier, one must ask to what extent the use
of images has contributed to some authors considering Christianity as Avoda Zara.
In terms of procedure, this would amount to a reversal of the procedures suggested
here in Nachmanides’ name. For an extreme, and most problematic, case of reliance
on external worship and the use of images and forms in determining the status of
Christianity as Avoda Zara, see Rabbi Yehuda Herzl Henkin’s, Shut Benei Banim,
Part 3, sections 35 and 36.
224 NOTES TO PAGE 81

8 Shituf: Applying a Construct of Christianity to Hinduism

1. While various passages in rabbinic literature have been read in light of the Jewish-
Christian polemic, nowhere, or almost nowhere, in the Talmud or early rabbinic lit-
erature is Christianity considered in terms of Avoda Zara. See Sacha Stern, Jewish
Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings, Brill, Leiden, 1994, pp. 27–28 and other discussions
referenced there. The designation of Christians in polemical passages, to the extent
that we are able to point with precision to whom a polemic is directed, is minim, here-
tics. Anti-Christian polemic thus focuses on divergence in proper religious belief and
not in religious practice. The accumulated testimony that emerges from such classical
collections as R. Travers Herford, Christianity in Talmud and Midrash, Williams &
Norgate, London, 1903, is impressive and in my view remains valid. My own reading
of Peter Schafer’s Jesus in the Talmud, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 2007,
corroborates this further. As a testimony to early rabbinic attitudes to Christianity
and the New Testament, the rabbinic stories analyzed do not betray an understand-
ing that Christianity or its founder should be viewed as Avoda Zara. Schafer himself
does read at least one of the stories as pointing to idolatry, but my own reading of it is
weaker. In any event, if charges of Avoda Zara do arise, they do so at a fairly late stage,
associated with Babylonian story telling. The consideration of Christianity in terms
of Avoda Zara is a product of the clear cognizance of Christianity as another reli-
gion and the negative assessment of Christianity, influenced by multiple factors on
account of which Christianity is perceived as a religious other. Daniel Boyarin’s push-
ing forward in time the separation of Judaism and Christianity accords well with the
lack of reference to Christianity as Avoda Zara. Significantly, the sources analyzed
by him with reference to the Jewish belief in a second God could have been related
internally to terminology of Avoda Zara. Yet, they never are. See Daniel Boyarin,
Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity, University of Pennsylvania Press,
Philadelphia, 2004, and Beyond Judaisms: Metatron and the Divine Polymorphy of
Ancient Judaism, Journal for the Study of Judaism 41, 2010, pp. 323–365.
2. The classical presentation of the array of Jewish responses, including halachic ones,
to Christianity, is Jacob Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, Oxford University Press,
New York, 1961.
3. Christian belief in the incarnation further complicates matters, inasmuch as a human
person is considered as God—a religious perspective classically opposed by Judaism.
The incarnation will be excluded from the discussion of Christianity as Avoda Zara
since most major treatments of the Christian God focus upon trinitarian faith, rather
than upon faith in the incarnation of one of the persons of the Trinity. Nevertheless,
the incarnation is an important site for Jewish reflection upon Christianity and even
more so upon Hinduism. Some comparative comments will be found in the discus-
sion. On the incarnation, see my Judaisms and Incarnational Theologies, and my The
Triune and the Decaune God.
4. Careful thought must still be given to the relationship between the various factors,
on account of which Christianity is considered in terms of Avoda Zara: theology,
worship, and the sense of a religious other. We are hard-pressed to suggest the precise
relationship between these components and which of them is primary. Maimonides,
as already noted in our discussion earlier, is a good case in point. While declaring
Christianity to be Avoda Zara, he never enters a discussion that would account for why
that is so. He seems to take the fact for granted, possibly based on prevailing customs
and attitudes. See commentary on Mishna Avoda Zara 1,3. The reference to Deut.
4,28 might point to the worship of images as the actual characteristic of Christianity,
 NOTES TO PAGE 82 225

due to which it is considered as Avoda Zara. See, however, Laws of Kings 11,4, in
uncensored editions. Existing custom and the immediate witness of image worship
seem to have made the ruling fairly intuitive and self-evident, thereby eliminating
the need for a detailed theological discussion of Christianity’s religious status. To the
extent that the most condemning approach to Christianity is based on a self-evident
sense of otherness, which is fed by cultural distance, these factors apply equally to
Hinduism. Rabbinic attitudes expressed in the sheitel crisis may share not only the
uncompromising definition of Avoda Zara characteristic of Maimonides’ attitude to
Christianity, but also the cultural attitudes that are assumed by his ruling.
5. Indeed, individual rabbinic authorities, aware of the challenge at hand, attempted
such a formulation. See for example the discussion of Israel’s first Chief Rabbi, Rabbi
Isaac Herzog, Minority Rights According to the Halacha, Tehumin 2, 1981, pp. 169–
179 [Hebrew]. While this discussion, and one or two similarly minded attempts (See
Rabbi Chayim David Halevy, The Ways of Peace in Relations between Jews and Non-
Jews, Tehumin 9, 1988, pp. 71–81 [Hebrew]), do contribute to the proposed systematic
consideration, they fall short in scope and in content of the kind of careful reconsid-
eration of Judaism’s attitude to other religions that I feel is mandated by contempo-
rary circumstances. Rabbi Herzel Henkin’s discussion in Shut Benei Banim, part 3,
33–36 is one of the longest recent discussions, and it does attempt to review different
Christian groups. However, it is seriously hampered by the author’s overall orienta-
tion, which typical of many contemporary Israeli rabbis, is reactionary, compared
to attitudes that were common a generation or two ago. A comparison with his own
illustrious grandfather is suggestive. Compare to Rabbi Eliyahu Henkin’s homily,
Ketz Hayamin, Hadarom 10, 1959, pp. 5–9 [Hebrew].
6. Some significant first steps in this direction are taken in Eugene Korn’s Rethinking
Christianity: Rabbinic Positions and Possibilities, Jewish Theology and World
Religions, ed. A. Goshen-Gottstein and E. Korn, The Littman Library, Oxford, 2012.
7. The most recent treatment of these issues from a classical rabbinic perspective is
Rabbi Shlomo Glicksberg’s Shut Nitzanei Aretz. Pp. 25–56 are devoted to the ques-
tion of whether one may pray in multifaith prayer rooms in airports, and in the pro-
cess the author reviews the history of attitudes to both Christianity and Islam. It is
striking how readily this contemporary author dismisses the more accommodating
voices, and sides, in full or in part, with opinions that consider both Christianity
and Islam as Avoda Zara. This seems to be a sad turn that is representative of con-
temporary Israeli rabbinics. On p. 48, he recognizes the need for deeper theological
investigation, but lacking such investigation, he claims one must simply rely on the
authority of earlier halachists. That an author writing in the twenty-first century
must actually incorporate such theological investigation into his halachic reasoning
is a possibility that seems to have never occurred to him.
8. I refer here to considered discussions that also take into account the history of rab-
binic attitudes to Christianity. These constitute a very different genre than the state-
ment or declaration. The first paragraph of the noted statement on Christianity,
Dabru Emet, is obviously informed by such considerations, but does not in and of
itself address the need.
9. See Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, p. 35.
10. See Bavli Sukka 45b and Bavli Sanhedrin 63a.
11. See the discussion in the following chapter as to who the original referent of the
Tosafists’ position was—Jesus or the saints.
12. This process has been documented by Jacob Katz, The Vicissitudes of Three Apologetic
Passages, Zion 24, 1959, pp. 181–186 [Hebrew].
226 NOTES TO PAGES 84–89

13. Alick Isaacs, Benamozegh’s Tone: A Response to Rabbi Steinsaltz, Common Knowledge
11,1, 2005, p. 48.
14. The following discussion is based on Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, Peace without
Conciliation: The Irrelevance of “Toleration” in Judaism, Common Knowledge 11,1,
2005, Duke University Press, pp. 41–47.
15. On the noachide commandments, their function within a Jewish view of other reli-
gions and the limitations inherent in the category, see my Towards a Jewish Theology
of World Religions: Framing the Issues, Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed.
Goshen-Gottstein and Korn, pp. 11–13.
16. Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation, p. 46.
17. Ibid., 42.
18. The use of “share” in the above quote can be understood in both senses, suggesting
a view of potential relations between religions that may be more far-reaching than
Steinsaltz himself intended.
19. Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation, pp. 43–44.
20. The assessment of majority and minority views is hard to gauge and remains impres-
sionistic until further study is conducted. While for Ashkenazi authorities Steinsaltz’s
statement is clearly true, it is less clear that a majority would be found for this view
when the entire corpus of halachic literature is taken into account. My own impression
is also that there has been a shift in this regard and that the Maimonidean position is
gaining the upper hand among contemporary decisors, regardless of its prominence
or otherwise throughout the centuries. While an assessment of majority and minority
views can affect a halachic discussion, developing a contemporary Jewish view of world
religions should not be dependent on majority/minority considerations. Halachic
discussions reflect contemporary attitudes, and these were influenced by a variety of
factors. Most authorities repeat earlier views, without entering into a careful consider-
ation of what the view of another religion ought to be. Therefore, when these issues are
revisited within a contemporary reevaluation of Jewish attitudes to world religions, the
positions, their historical context, and their philosophical merit need to be weighed as
seriously, if not more so, as issues of majority and minority views, as these may have
found varying expressions in different periods and centers of learning.
21. On this point, see also Korn, Rethinking Christianity. The consideration is also
raised in a halachic discussion by Rabbi Isaac Herzog, Minority Rights According
to the Halacha, p. 175, note 10. Underlying this argument is the issue of how deep
the knowledge of Christianity was within a given Jewish society and to what extent
dwelling among Christians provided deeper knowledge of Christian faith. On this,
see Daniel Lasker, Jewish Knowledge of Christianity in the Twelfth and Thirteenth
Centuries, Studies in Medieval Jewish Intellectual and Social History: Festschrift
in Honor of Robert Chazan, ed. David Engel et al., Brill, Leiden, 2012, pp. 97–109.
Lasker’s overview may undermine the suggestions of Steinsaltz and Korn.
22. For one of the first times in the history of rabbinic literature I believe. See also ref-
erence to Rabbi Menashe Klein’s ruling in Daniel Sperber’s The Halakhic Status of
Hinduism.
23. This is also the position of several contemporary thinkers and scholars on the Hindu
side, as expressed in the debate on “Who Speaks for Hinduism.” See Chapter 5 of The
Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
24. Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation, p. 46.
25. Ibid., pp. 44–45.
26. Steinsaltz extends a strategy first developed in relation to Christianity to Hinduism.
One should note that in the case of Christianity, the ritual is transparent to the
 NOTES TO PAGES 90–94 227

theology. That is, the theology comes through the ritual in a clear way. Accordingly,
the possibility for error and misinterpretation is reduced, making the move from
ritual to theology credible. By contrast, the vedantic position is often a superimposi-
tion on a ritual that is not transparent to this worldview. If so, making this theologi-
cal move is literally a leap of faith, leaping from the ritual, in faith that Vedanta offers
a correct interpretation, to the realm of faith and understanding. The gap between
faith and action is even greater in relation to Buddhism.
27. It is interesting that the kabbalistic tradition that informs his own theological think-
ing may be described in the same words. The differences between kabbalistic and
trinitarian or Hindu understandings are more in the realm of action than in the
realm of theological difference. At least so it would seem to the outsider. See my
Triune and Decaune God. See also David Novak, Jewish-Christian Dialogue: A Jewish
Justification, Oxford University Press, New York, 1989, pp. 50–51.
28. The argument is structurally similar to one contemporary author’s approach to
Hinduism. See our discussion of Matityahu Glazerson in Chapter 9 of The Jewish
Encounter with Hinduism.
29. As an aside, teachers in Rabbi Steinsaltz’s yeshiva have been among Orthodox travel-
ers to India. One wonders what the reciprocal relationship between Rabbi Steinsaltz’s
ruling and his students’ practice could be.
30. Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation, pp. 45–46.
31. On the implications of such a view to a construction of “true” and “truth,” see my forth-
coming article The Truth Beyond and Beyond Truth: Religious Truth in Teachings of
the Breslav Tradition and Their Contemporary Interreligious Application.
32. Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation, p. 47.
33. Nathan Katz makes a similar suggestion, based on the work of David Novak in rela-
tion to Christianity. Katz recognizes the formidable challenge that Avoda Zara rep-
resents in terms of a Jewish view of Hinduism and concedes that dealing with it is
beyond his own expertise. His application of Novak’s discussion of Christianity to
Hinduism is sound, but lacks the authority associated with Steinsaltz and the first-
hand command of the halachic sources used by Novak. See Katz, The State of the
Art of Hindu-Jewish Dialogue, Indo-Judaic Studies in the Twenty-First Century, ed.
Nathan Katz et al., Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2007, pp. 117–118.

9 Shituf: Critical and Constructive Reflections

1.. The two readings and the key texts are conveniently summarized in Appendix III,
Tosafot on “Association”’ (Shituf), in David Berger’s The Rebbe the Messiah and the
Scandal of Orthodox Indifference, Littman Library of Jewish Civilisation, London/
Potland, OR, 2008, pp. 175–177.
2. See Bavli Sanhedrin 63a and parallels.
3. We noted this already with reference to Rabbi Herzog, who refers to Jesus as a human
elevated by imagination to the status of Divine. Emphasis on Jesus’ humanity, and
a thorough misreading of how Christian faith and worship operate, due to the pro-
jection of a Jewish ritually oriented perspective on Christian faith, can be found in
Rabbi Henkin’s, Shut Benei Banim, Part 3, sections 35 and 36.
4. See chapter 6, note 6.
5. Seeing things from the believer’s perspective does not mean one recognizes the
validity of faith claims of another religion. It only means one recognizes that the
believer’s worship is not consciously addressed to a being other than God. Even
228 NOTES TO PAGES 95–101

if the believer upholds a mistaken notion of God, it is He, and He alone, that is
worshipped.
6. Sheilat Yavetz, responsum 41.
7. There has been very little attempt to make sense of the permissibility of Shituf for
non-Jews, other than the appeal to Nachmanides’ cosmic structure. Steinsaltz’s
translation of this position into a Jewish theory of tolerance would make tolerance
the ideal. This does seem to make a secondary ideal into the primary one, without
articulating what the real spiritual vision underlying permissibility of Shituf for non-
Jews, as well as the prohibition for Jews, is.
8. The point here is not to cast Jesus as an intermediary in the sense that intermediaries
serve in common Jewish constructs of Avoda Zara. Rather, I refer here to Jesus’ func-
tion and instrumentality in terms of spiritual process.
9. I owe the inspiration, though not the content, of the following paragraph to David
Novak’s Maimonides’ Treatment of Christianity and Its Normative Implications,
Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed. A. Goshen-Gottstein and E. Korn, The
Littman Library, Oxford, 2012, p. 219, note 5.
10. Bavli Bava Batra 110a.
11. ‫עבודה שהיא זרה לך‬
12. Conceptually, identitarian concerns may lead to martyrdom more than concerns about
the veracity of an alternative religious system. If one follows the path of another reli-
gion, one ceases to be Jewish, even if in terms of truth it may matter little whether the
one God is being worshipped through one monotheistic faith or another. It would be
interesting to explore Jewish attitudes to Islam in light of this identitarian dimension.
I refer both to the persistence of views of Islam as Avoda Zara (See chapter 4, note 11)
and to attitudes to forced conversion to Islam, compared with those found in relation
to Christianity. (On Maimonides’ Epistle on Martyrdom, Igeret Hashemad, see Haym
Soloveitchik, Maimonides’ “Iggeret Ha-Shemad”: Law and Rhetoric, Rabbi Joseph H.
Lookstein Memorial Volume, ed. Leo Landman, Ktav, New York, 1980, pp. 281–319;
David Hartman, The Epistle on Martyrdom, Discussion, Crisis and Leadership:
Epistles of Maimonides, texts translated and Notes by A. Halkin, Discussions by
D. Hartman, Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia-New York, 1985, pp. 46–90;
Yair Lorberbaum and Haim Shapira, Epistle on Martyrdom in the Light of Legal
Philosophy, Dine Yisrael, 25, 2008, pp. 123*–169*). Concerning the latter discussion, it
is also worth reviewing it in light of “same God” discussions and in consideration of
the place of image worship as determining the identity of the worshipped God.
13. Bavli Sanhedrin 74a.
14. More on Swami Swaroopananda and the Tel Aviv Sivananda Yoga Center in The
Jewish Encounter with Hinduism, Chapter 10.
15. In The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism, Chapter 10, I share the spiritual pedagogy of
a Jewish swami, Swami Vijayananda, who gave spiritual direction to many Jewish and
Christian seekers who came to him in the ashram of Anandamayi, in Haridwar. Swami
Vijayananda discouraged Jewish and Christian seekers from engaging in Hindu devo-
tions, expressed toward idols and images. The grounds are not philosophical. Vedanta
accommodates worship. They are, rather, psychological. Worshipping God through
images is part of the Hindu psyche and foreign to the Jewish psyche. He himself became a
swami while never becoming formally Hindu, nor worshipping in the ways that Hindus
do. He offers his own experience as a model for Western seekers to follow.
16. In completely theoretical terms, one might have been able to relieve some of the ten-
sions by appeal to Meiri, whom we shall study presently, whose views are not based
on a distinction between Jews and non-Jews. However, in this instance, it seems to me
 NOTES TO PAGES 102–105 229

that a Shituf-based approach does far greater justice to the sensibilities and complexi-
ties of the situation.
17. This may not be strictly related, but it is worth noting in this context that in the
Catholic Church too the proclamation of sainthood is only undertaken once the can-
didate has died. Thus, no special devotion or worship is shown to a living person.
18. Note how the Chazon Ish works his way around this issue, by affirming the appli-
cability of Avoda Zara to someone who worships the soul of a deceased person. See
Chazon Ish, Yore De’ah, Hilchot Avodat Kokhavim, 62, 22. While this description
may be apt for various forms of ancestor worship, it seems inadequate as a reference
to Jesus, who is in any event not an explicit subject of the Chazon Ish’s discussion.
19. Unless Jews are ready to accept Christian claims about and descriptions of Jesus as
a person as historical facts that form the basis for Christian worship, halachic dis-
course might explore the possibility of viewing Jesus not as a person, but as an ideal.
Further along we will discuss the Chazon Ish’s exclusion of imaginary beings from
the realm of Avoda Zara. This opens an interesting way of rethinking attitudes to
both Christianity and Hinduism. In many cases what is being worshipped is not the
person, but the ideal expressed through that person. In the case of Jesus, such a move
would be the exact opposite of the movement affirming Jesus’ historical person and
his Jewish identity. The two movements could be reconciled.
20. See Esther Rabba 7,5. While the plain sense of the story says nothing of Avoda Zara,
Mordechai’s refusal to bow to Haman does suggest that this is an ancient feature of
Jewish identity, and therefore representative of this particular worldview.
21. Ezekiel 29,3; 8. Contemporary readers find in these verses boastfulness and a self-suf-
ficiency, but not claims of divinity, though of course these are grounded in the struc-
ture of Egyptian religion, and can therefore not be dismissed. See Moshe Greenberg,
Ezekiel 21–37, Anchor Bible, Doubleday, New York, 1997, p. 610.
22. This is part of what has led to David Berger’s criticism of some developments within
the Lubavitch movement. See Berger, The Rebbe, the Messiah, etc.
23. This view is briefly alluded to in David Novak, Les juifs et les chrétiens révèrent-ils le
même Dieu? Le christianisme au miroir du judaïsme, ed. S. Trigano, In Press Éditions,
Paris, 2003, p. 126.
24. This discussion does not account for worship of other human beings. As alluded, kings
have also been worshipped in India’s history. This may be tolerated through a more
mechanical and formal application of the principle of Shituf, but cannot be integrated
into the present theological understanding of Shituf. Moreover, as acknowledged above,
it is more problematic in terms of Jewish sensibilities, given the political aspects of the
worship. No less alien are phenomena such as the worship of a young virgin, kumari, as
an incarnation of the goddess, in Nepalese Hinduism. (Such worship in the framework
of navaratri celebrations or other festivals is temporary and transitory with reference
to the object of worship, and therefore more symbolic and less institutional.) It reminds
us of the multiple forms of Hinduism, some less spiritual than others, and ultimately of
the difficulty of articulating a Jewish view of all of Hinduism.
25. In this reading, Shituf presents a patient view of historical growth, much the same way
that vedantic teaching views lower expressions of the religious life. Steinsaltz clearly
opted for an alternative understanding, in affirming that theological differences will
remain in the eschaton. The pedagogic view must assume that tolerance of Shituf is
part of a historical process that will be fulfilled in the eschaton, if not sooner.
26. Later in the discussion we will appeal to testimony of Sugunendra Swami, who justi-
fied his continuing use of images on grounds of human, psychological frailty and the
process of spiritual evolution.
230 NOTES TO PAGES 106–108

27. It is interesting to consider the implications of my suggested theology of Shituf to

the notion of religious truth. For classical understandings of Shituf, it is best viewed
as permissible or tolerated error. According to my view, worship through Shituf is
different, but not necessarily erroneous. In this, I carry a viewpoint associated above
with Nachmanides into the theological appreciation of Shituf.
28. Recognition of a patient divine pedagogy with the rest of humanity and legitimation
of Shituf on theological grounds cannot be divorced from other issues fundamental
to a philosophy of religion. These issues are as relevant to internal differences as they
are to a view of other religions. The famous debate between Maimonides and the
Rabad concerning the status of someone who is misled by Scripture into a mistaken
idea of God is here relevant. See Hilchot Teshuva 3,7. Maimonides is the champion
of the view that correct understanding of God is essential to a proper relationship
with Him, and ultimately to salvation. The view that tolerates imperfect religious
understanding could be understood as founded upon the recognition that proper
knowledge of things spiritual, in particular of God, is not the most important thing.
There may be other aspects of the spiritual life that are more vital for our ultimate
well-being than the knowledge we possess. Proper action, formation of personality,
love, charitable actions, and more may present themselves as worthy alternatives to
proper knowledge. While grounding his argument in the possibility that Scripture
might mislead believers into wrong understandings of God, Rabad could also be seen
as a proponent of a patient divine pedagogy. See Rabbi A. I. Kook, Orot Harambam
on Maimonides’ Laws of Idolatry. According to such an understanding, while it
is important to uphold true teaching, there is time for this higher teaching to be
attained, but through a lengthy process of human perfection and education.

10 Thinking of Hinduism in Light of Meiri

1. A list of such authorities may be found in David Berger’s, Jews, Gentiles and the
Modern Egalitarian Ethos: Some Tentative Thoughts, Formulating Responses in an
Egalitarian Age, ed. Marc Stern, Rowman and Littlefield, Lanham, 2005, p. 100.
Note also the list in Eugene Korn’s Rethinking Christianity: Rabbinic Positions and
Possibilities, Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed. A. Goshen-Gottstein and E.
Korn, The Littman Library, Oxford, 2012, pp. 198–199.
2. I suspect that rather than a partial or corrupt reading of Meiri, we simply have here a
poor reference to support Steinsaltz’s views. Rather than refer to the Tosafists, whose
views are difficult to document and follow, Steinsaltz offers the broader views of
Meiri as support for his own application of the narrower views of the Tosafists. If so,
not much should be made of Steinsaltz’s reference to Meiri.
3. Haym Soloveitchik has attempted an account of this by appeal to Meiri’s literary style
that does not conform to the norms of medieval talmudic learning. Only with the rise
of secondary halachic literature that organizes sources by themes, in the past 50 years,
does Meiri’s clear style and patterns of organization receive a new and enthusiastic
hearing. See Haym Soloveitchik, The Bet ha-Behira of R. Menahem ha-Meiri: Its Nature
and Fate, Studies in Jewish History Presented to Joseph Hacker, ed. Y. Ben-Naeh et al.,
Zalman Shazar Center, Jerusalem, 2014, pp. 253–259. The suggestion that Meiri’s time
has only now come may be made with reference to his interreligious thought as well.
4. The extension to non-Jews is particularly relevant for understanding the background
of Meiri. For an overview of talmudic attitudes, see Sacha Stern, Jewish Identity in
Early Rabbinic Writings, Brill, Leiden, 1994, pp. 22–39.
 NOTES TO PAGES 108–111 231

5. Meiri’s halachic oeuvre is similarly characterized by his lack of reference to indi-

vidual authors by name and his preference for epithets. However, in the case of other
religions, Meiri does not refer to individual religions by specific designations, but
rather relates to them all under the broad umbrella of nations bound by religion. For
the designation of Christians as a nation, see already Maimonides’ commentary to
Mishna Avoda Zara 1,3.
6. Modern Meiri scholarship is much indebted to the pioneering work of Jacob Katz.
See Jacob Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, Oxford University Press, London, 1961,
pp. 114–128. Katz related to Meiri within a broader presentation of Jewish views of
Christianity. As Meiri lived in a Christian society, it makes sense to consider his ref-
erences to other religions as relevant to Christianity. Nevertheless, Katz’s framing of
Meiri’s views in relation to Christianity did much to limit continuing discussion of
Meiri to the specifically Christian context, rather than to a broader consideration of
Jewish attitudes to other religions.
7. See discussion in the following.
8. See Moshe Halbertal, “Ones Possessed of Religion”: Religious Tolerance in the Teachings
of the Meiri, Edah 1,1 2000. Halbertal’s analysis is of crucial importance to our discus-
sion. It is the only major scholarly discussion that explores the significance of the cat-
egory of “possessing religion” to Meiri’s thought, thereby contextualizing it in a broader
philosophical and theoretical framework that is broader than previous discussion.
9. It is striking to contrast Meiri’s notion of progress, and how humanity moves from
idolatry to higher forms of knowing God, with Maimonides’ description wherein the
starting point of humanity is actually one of proper knowledge of God, rather than
of ignorance, and idolatry is the product of historical process. While Meiri could in
theory consider latter-day progress to be a later chapter in a story whose beginning is
told by Maimonides, it seems the differences between the two thinkers are deeper, as
my presentation indeed suggests.
10. Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, p. 124, notes that Meiri composed his treatise on
repentance following an exchange with a Christian priest. Daniel Lasker, Christianity,
Philosophy and Polemic in Jewish Provence, Zion 68, 2003, pp. 313–333 [Hebrew],
notes the broader sharing that creates community-like bonds between Jews and
Christians in Provence. Yaakov Elman has recently attempted to account for the
uniqueness of Meiri’s position in light of personal and experiential considerations,
rather than in terms of the internal unfolding of halachic tradition. See Yaakov
Elman, Meiri and the Non Jew, New Perspectives on Jewish-Christian Relations, in
Honor of David Berger, ed. E. Baumbgarten and J. J. Schacter, Brill, Leiden, 2012,
pp. 265–296.
11. David Novak seems to read Meiri this way. See David Novak, The Image of the Non
Jew in Judaism: An Historical and Constructive Study of the Noahide Laws, Edwin
Mellen Press, New York and Toronto, 1983, Chapter 12.
12. See Moshe Halbertal and Avishai Margalit, Idolatry, Harvard University Press,
Cambridge, 1992. On the covenantal model, see pp. 9–36.
13. See Leviticus 18. On historicity and ideology in this depiction see the note by Edward
Greenstein, The God of Israel and the Gods of Canaan: How Different Were They?,
Proceedings of the Twelfth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Division A, Jerusalem,
1999, p. 58.
14. The moral argument is not exclusive to Meiri’s position. Some recent treatments
of Judaism’s relationship to other religions have appealed to the moral factor, even
while failing to mention Meiri’s position. See the discussions of Rabbis Herzog and
Halevy (chapter 8, note 5). It is conceivable that Meiri did influence these writers’
232 NOTES TO PAGES 111–113

awareness. Their silence in relation to Meiri could stem from the understanding that
Meiri avoids the theological issue with which they attempt to deal.
15. Indeed, some have attempted to minimize the import of Meiri’s work, due to the
fact that he has not broken new ground in terms of actual comportment in relation
to non-Jews. See E. E. Urbach, Rabbi Menahem Ha-Meiri’s Theory of Tolerance: Its
Origin and Limits, Studies in the History of Jewish Society in the Middle Ages and
in the Modern Period, Presented to Jacob Katz, Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 1980,
pp. 34–44 [Hebrew]. Urbach’s reading has been refuted even within the frame-
work of the first reading of Meiri. See Gerald Blidstein, Maimonides and Meiri on
the Legitimacy of Non-Judaic Religions, Scholars and Scholarship: The Interaction
between Judaism and Other Cultures, ed. Leo Landman, Yeshiva University Press,
New York, 1990, pp. 27–35.
16. Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 27a.
17. Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 15b.
18. See Bet Habechira Gittin 62a.
19. For additional descriptions of idolatrous rituals, offered to the sun, moon, stars, trees,
stones, as well as of magical practices of necromancy and the drawing down of astral
powers upon statues, see Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 6b and 26a.
20. As a rule of thumb, appeal to biblical sources, at the expense of exclusive reliance
upon talmudic sources, will yield or is related to a more tolerant attitude to other reli-
gions. It is therefore worthwhile exploring the rhetoric of authors in order to guage
to what degree biblical reasoning informs their halachic discussion. See Eliyahu
Henkin’s Ketz Hayamin (chapter 8, note 5). David Berger, Jews, Gentiles and the
Modern Egalitarian Ethos, p. 108, note 44, makes the astute observation that when
a contemporary authority proves his point directly from the Bible, it is clear that
unusual concerns are at work.
21. Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 22a.
22. Does this correspond to one of the noachide commandments, namely the obligation
to set up courts of law that would ensure a society’s moral governance?
23. Beit Habechira, Avoda Zara, 26a.
24. Concerning the identity of this philosopher, see Halbertal, Ones Possessed of
Religion, p. 18.
25. It is worth nothing that throughout his great oeuvre, Meiri repeatedly refers to
Judaism in terms of “religion,” to teachings of Torah as “teachings of religion,” and to
principles of theology as “principles of religion.” The broad use of the term “religion”
leads to viewing Judaism as a particular instance of a much broader phenomenon
and allows Meiri to apply the same criteria within. This has many far-reaching con-
sequences, which cannot be elaborated upon in the present context. It also lends sup-
port to the second reading of Meiri, to be explored below.
26. This is rabbinical hyperbole that highlights the number of potential transgressions
that would be accumulated during such an act and that are nevertheless permitted,
given the poor standing of the Am Ha’Aretz. However, the expression is justified by
the case that follows that really would permit killing him to save others.
27. Bet Habechira Pesachim 49b.
28. Meiri actually offers us a theory that allows us to view all religions as sharing in the
same enterprise, thereby establishing fraternal relations between their members. See
Bet Habechira Bava Metsia 2a.
29. I will suggest below that the moral criterion can be expanded to the spiritual life in
its entirety. When we add to the moral dimension a consideration of the higher fruits
of spirituality in the lives of followers of a given religion, we may say that God can be
 NOTES TO PAGES 113–116 233

known in a given religion through the traces that His knowledge and worship leave
in the lives of believers.
30. This understanding of Meiri received excellent presentation by Halbertal (see note 8).
It is worth noting the impact of Halbertal on a modern Orthodox historian-thinker,
who struggles to identify a viable contemporary Jewish position and who seeks to
integrate the far-reaching consequences of Halbertal’s work in his own thinking. See
Berger, Jews, Gentiles and the Modern Egalitarian Ethos, p. 93ff.
31. Blidstein, Maimonides and Meiri on the Legitimacy of Non-Judaic Religions.
32. This is very much a Muslim sensibility, highlighting as it does revelation as the
ground for religion. On Jewish authors operating in a Muslim intellectual milieu
who view Hinduism through the lens of revelation, or lack thereof, see Chapter 9 of
The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism. Maimonides’ emphasis is thus best understood
within the broader religious culture within which it can be situated. That Meiri is
capable of developing an alternative to this religious worldview may in part be due to
the fact that he is operating in a Christian milieu that places less of an emphasis on
revelation as the sole foundation of the religious life.
33. One notes that Meiri never appeals to the notion of reason in his construction of “reli-
gion.” In this, he is different from Mendelssohn, who in many other respects might be
presented as a continuation of Meiri’s position. See Gideon Freudenthal, No Religion
without Idolatry: Mendelssohn’s Jewish Enlightenment, Notre Dame University Press,
Indiana, 2012, p. 10.
34. Jan Assman, Of God and Gods: Egypt, Israel and the Rise of Monotheism, University
of Wisconsin Press, Madison, 2008, p. 128, suggests that a biblical understanding of
idolatry goes beyond the distinction between true god and other gods, or true belief
and idolatry. Idolatry includes evils such as injustice, lawlessness, oppression, vio-
lence, murder, and fornication. But it is also characterized by lack of insight, a failure
to recognize the truth. If we join fundamental religious insight (rather than full rec-
ognition of truth) to upholding moral norms, we arrive, in fact, at a Meiri position,
suggesting Meiri’s fidelity to a biblical view of idolatry.
35. Bet Habechira Bava Kama 113b.
36. This passage is the focus of Bleich’s discussion in David Bleich, Divine Unity in
Maimonides, the Tosafists and Meiri, Neoplatonism and Jewish Thought, ed. Len
Goodman, SUNY Press, Albany, NY, 1992, pp. 237–253. Bleich appreciates the pas-
sage correctly for what it is. However, he reads it in the narrow context of Meiri’s
views on Christianity, rather than in the broader framework of Meiri’s theory of
religion. Unable to accept Meiri’s words at face value, Bleich engages in the poor-
est of Orthodox apologies, trying to read Meiri’s reference to Christianity (in his
own reading) as to something other than the Christianity prevalent in Meiri’s own
time. His attempt has been correctly characterized by Berger, Jews, Gentiles and the
Egalitarian Ethos, p. 95, as desperate.
37. Jer. 44,18.
38. Heb: ‫לאחדותו ויכולתו‬. I have ignored the ‫ ל‬in my translation, and have rendered ‫יכולתו‬
as power, even though it could equally be translated as capacity, that is, capacity to
achieve whatever He wants.
39. Bet Habechira Gittin 62a.
40. In this, Meiri is much closer to Nachmanides, who also considered idolatry to possess
spiritual reality. See Moshe Halbertal, By Way of Truth: Nahmanides and the Creation
of Tradition, Shalom Hartman Institute, Jerusalem, 2006, pp. 265–276 [Hebrew]. The
issue is not truth versus falsehood or illusion, but the different spiritual or energetic
realities associated with true religion on the one hand and with idolatry on the other.
234 NOTES TO PAGES 117–119

It is precisely here that moral and spiritual living makes such a difference. It serves
as testimony to the quality of spiritual life associated with a religion. It is likely that
Meiri would also acknowledge that moral living provides the foundation for access-
ing the reality of God, rather than alternative realities associated with idolatry.
41. See Katz’s formulation: Meiri’s positive evaluation of Christianity stems in the main
from his esteem for the maintenance of legal institutions and moral standards in
society. Jacob Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, p. 121.
42. Pointing to components of Christian faith as providing a common basis with Judaism,
and therefore as pointing to the same God, is a move that has been undertaken by
many rabbinic authorities. See Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, pp. 165–167 and see
our discussion on “same God” in the following chapter. What makes Meiri unique is
not simply the list of minimal theological requirements he stipulates, but how these
function within a broader conceptual framework of “religion,” which is what ulti-
mately affords Christianity its recognition.
43. Bet Habechira Sanhedrin 90a.
44. Bavli Shabbat 156a.
45. Bet Habechira Avot 4,19.
46. Yehuda Herzel Henkin’s attempt, Shut Benei Banim 3,35, p. 122, to uphold the criterion
of image worship even according to Meiri is completely forced and unsubstantiated.
47. Bet Habechira Shabbat 156a. Halbertal, Ones Possessed of Religion, p. 16, n. 38,
notes how original Meiri’s interpretation is even in relation to Meiri’s philosophical
predecessors.
48. See further Bet Habechira Shabbat 156a; Berachot 5a.
49. The present summary statement is an alternative to Halbertal’s more metaphysical
reading of Meiri’s overall understanding. Halbertal’s Meiri still places an empha-
sis upon the correctness of religious understanding by identifying Avoda Zara with
fetishism and true religion with a transcendental sense of God. See Halbertal, Ones
Possessed of Religion, p. 23. Without denying this element in Meiri’s thought, I am
suggesting that Meiri’s major contribution is his entire construction of religion in
terms of its transformative power, hence the phenomenological, rather than cogni-
tive, distinction between Avoda Zara and true religion.
50. See Halbertal and Margalit, Idolatry, Chapters 4 and 5.
51. One of the challenges in applying Meiri’s thought to contemporary times is that
Meiri provides a theoretical framework for recognizing other religions, but at the
same time seems to have no room for accomodating secular humanism. David Berger
struggles laudably with this issue. See Jews, Gentiles and the Modern Egalitarian
Ethos, p. 98. Another possible challenge concerns the free adaptation of motives and
practices from various religions, Hinduism included, in the supermarket of religious
ideas and practices, from which many contemporary practitioners draw freely and
at will. One may query whether such practices provide the norms of being bound
by religion, which Meiri posits as the basis for his system. Classical religions assume
some kind of systemic adherence to the religion as a whole, and hence a moral train-
ing and discipline of the personality. Contemporary selective application of elements
of classical religions may lack the very spiritual and moral discipline that was foun-
dational to Meiri’s view of the transformative power of legitimate religion.
52. The philosophical basis for Meiri’s approach was already suggested by Katz and
received detailed attention in Halbertal’s study.
53. Just how hard it is, even for open-minded Orthodox mentality to accept such a posi-
tion can be seen in David Berger’s struggles with Meiri. See Berger, Jews, Gentiles
and the Egalitarian Ethos, p. 94. Upholding the value and the reality of Avoda Zara
 NOTES TO PAGES 119–121 235

has become constitutive of Jewish identity, and Avoda Zara is consequently a value
that cannot be compromised. Indeed, for Meiri Avoda Zara is not a means of identity
construction, as can be seen by how readily he applies talmudic texts on Israel to
members of other religions.
54. See Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 6b and Halbertal, Ones Possessed of Religion, p. 24
55. Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 15b.
56. See Bavli Avoda Zara 16a.
57. Meiri’s text presents further difficulties in that it distinguishes a common ruling in
such matters with the less common ruling in the extremeties.
58. See, however, Brill’s suggestion regarding Meiri’s knowledge of literary works coming
from India. See Alan Brill, Judaism and World Religions: Encountering Christianity,
Islam and Eastern Traditions, Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2012, pp. 206–207.
59. The passage thus remains enigmatic. To make sense of it, one would have to identify
a distant Jewish community residing in the shadow of another religion that is nei-
ther Christianity nor Islam, unless we had cause to believe that Meiri would declare
remote forms of either of these religions as idolatrous. Michael Avraham’s sugges-
tion that Meiri did consider Christianity, after all, as idolatrous, does not withstand
the scrutiny of the texts and can therefore not aid in making such an argument. See
Michael Avraham, Is There Enlightened Avoda Zarah? On the Attitude to Non-Jews
and on Changes in Halacha, Akdamot 19, 2007, pp. 65–86 [Hebrew].
60. Abraham Ibn Ezra, in his short commentary to Ex. 23,20 writes: “The laws of the
Torah are not given except to straighten the crooked, for those people who live
in a place where there are no oxen, there is no need for the laws about an ox who
gores . . . and if in the land of India, there is no need for a law about theft and murder
and oppression and false witness.” For Ibn Ezra, the morality of Indians is exemplary,
making legislation superfluous. This statement is particularly interesting consider-
ing that in Ibn Ezra’s view, Hindus do not believe in revelation. See Richard Mark’s
forthcoming The Jewish Interest in Hinduism.
61. There is some circularity here. The seven noachide commandments include the pro-
hibition on idolatry, Avoda Zara, but following Meiri, we would be using the moral
criterion to suggest that Hinduism is not Avoda Zara.
62. See Frederique Marglin, Hierodouleia, Encyclopaedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade,
Macmillan, New York, 1987, vol. 6, pp. 309–313, drawing heavily on her 1984 work,
Wives of the God-King: The Rituals of the Devadasis of Puri, Oxford University Press,
Delhi. Concerning the class of women known as devadasis, temple dancers and cour-
tesans, see some of the recent research that provides a counterpoint to previously
prevailing views of these women. See Priyadarshani Vijaysri, Recasting the Devadasi:
Patterns of Sacred Prostitution in Colonial South India, Kanishka Publishers, New
Delhi, 2004, and more recently Davesh Soneji, Unfinished Gestures: Devadāsīs,
Memory, and Modernity in South India, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 2012.
63. Saadiah Gaon speaks of Indian temple prostitution. See his commentary to Ex. 32,
1–6.
64. David Berger, Jews, Gentiles and the Egalitarian Ethos, p. 108, note 54.
65. As suggestive as this formulation may be, the fundamental question under discussion
is the margin of permissible error.
66. Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 4, line 7.
67. See Raymond Williams, An Introduction to Swaminarayan Hinduism, Cambridge
University Press, Cambridge, 2001, Chapter 1.
68. See Balwant Dhillon, Sikh Perspectives of Friendship, Friendship across Religions, ed.
Alon Goshen-Gottstein, Lexington Books, Lanham, MD, 2015, pp. 135–144.
236 NOTES TO PAGES 122–131

69. A theory of progress need not rely on Meiri’s position. It can be incorporated also
into other views of religions. Eliyahu Henkin applies a notion of progress within
the Shituf view, suggesting that Christian society is progressively less idolatrous.
Therefore, even contemporary image worship may not really be idolatrous. See Ketz
Hayamin, Hadarom 10, 1959, p. 8.
70. The range of presentations of Tantra is confusing, as is the attempt to attain a clear
focus on how representative Tantra—and what we mean by the term—are of the reli-
gion of India throughout the ages. A fairly tame presentation is Agehananda Bharati,
The Tantric Tradition, Doubleday, New York, 1965. Far more challenging is a presen-
tation such as David Gordon White, Kiss of the Yogini: “Tantric Sex” in Its South Asian
Contexts, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 2003. The challenge is not only in
accommodating the sexual practices of Tantra, but in the broader claim of the author
that Tantra is the truly pervasive religion of South India, rather than the more refined
elite forms of Hinduism that have served most of our discussion. Serious exploration
of this claim is beyond my competence, but may matter little, once we acknowledge
changing constellations and constructions of Hinduism, and the prominence of cer-
tain constructions in today’s Hinduism. Meiri’s views on the evolution of religions
are particularly relevant in this context.
71. Tantra is of interest to the Jewish-Hindu encounter inasmuch as some tantric ideas
provide important analogies to kabbalistic thinking. See the discussion of Charles
Mopsik in Chapter 6 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism. The present discus-
sion, however, is concerned with the implications of tantric morality, rather than
with tantric mysticism or metaphysics.
72. One may reflect upon whether the practitioners of such methods might in fact be
practicing a form of religion that, according to Meiri, would land them beyond the
pale of legitimate religion. Such reflection takes us beyond blanket pronouncements
concerning an entire religion and into more particular appreciation of movements
and even individuals. For a view that rejects such detailed evaluation, see Steinsaltz
above. For a view of Hinduism that breaks down the global approach to the religion,
see Part V of the present work .
73. Halbertal, Ones Possessed of Religion, p. 24, claims that for Meiri, the concept “pos-
sessed of religion” is linked to belief in creatio ex nihilo, providence and recompense.
I am unable to muster proof for this statement in Meiri’s writings on other religions
and regrettably I do not find this claim (highlighted in the essay) substantiated in
Halbertal’s discussion either.
74. Unless that passage (Bet Habechira Sanhedrin 90a) refers to minimal requirements
made within Judaism, as opposed to requirements of other faiths.
75. One could, of course, offer a reading of the Bhagavad Gita, where the one omnipotent
God offers a teaching, but even that does not provide us with a revelatory basis for
morality. Dharma is presupposed rather than revealed as part of the teaching.

11 Do Jews and Hindus Worship the Same God?

1. One collection of essays is Do Jews, Christians and Muslims Worship the Same God
(no editor), Abingdon Press, Nashville, TN, 2012. A second collection of essays, edited
by Miroslav Volf, is Do We Worship the Same God? Jews, Christians, and Muslims in
Dialogue, Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI, 2012. While conscious articulation of this
question is recent, one notes that this strategy provides a foundation for A. J. Heschel’s
seminal essay, No Religion Is an Island. See No Religion Is an Island: Abraham
 NOTES TO PAGES 132–134 237

Joshua Heschel and Interreligious Dialogue, ed. H. Kasimow and B. Sherwin, Orbis,
Maryknoll, NY, 1991, especially pp. 9, 15.
2. The development may already take place within the Hebrew Bible. Recognition of the
same God could be a way of making sense of such texts as Malachi 1,11. This seems to
be a development that is distinct, even if related, to texts that are taken to suggest the
rise in monotheistic thought, such as Deutero Isaiah.
3. Strictly speaking, if there is only one God, there are no other gods to worship. From
that perspective, the “same God” question is meaningless. At best, one either does
or does not worship “God.” From a monotheistic perspective, it is therefore easier to
speak of Avoda Zara than to refer to other gods.
4. For a critique of this statement, see David Berger, Dabru Emet: Some Reservations
about a Jewish Statement on Christians and Christianity, Persecution, Polemic and
Dialogue: Essays in Jewish Christian Relations, ed. David Berger, Academic Studies
Press, Boston, MA, 2010, pp. 392–398, and Jon Levenson, How Not to Conduct
Jewish-Christian Dialogue, Commentary 112,5, 2001, pp. 31–37.
5. A possibility raised by Steinsaltz. See also Korn, Rethinking Christianity: Rabbinic
Positions and Possibilities, Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed. A. Goshen-
Gottstein and E. Korn, The Littmann Library, Oxford, 2012, pp. 203–204. The con-
sideration is also raised in a halachic discussion by Rabbi Isaac Herzog, Minority
Rights According to the Halacha, p. 175, note 10.
6. This may be alluded to in his commentary on Mishna Avoda Zara. See chapter 6, note 14.
7. Christianity and Hinduism may not be in the same camp with reference to this argu-
ment. One could argue that the understanding of the triune God is indeed essentially
different than the Jewish view of the one God. To affirm the same God would require
adopting specific arguments by means of which the identity of the same God is estab-
lished, despite this theological difference. Such arguments are discussed later with
regard to the Shituf position. By contrast, Hinduism does recognize a simple Godhead
beyond all manifestations. Thus, it is not open to the same theoretical objection.
8. See Maimonides’ Responsa, ed. J. Blau, Jerusalem, 1960, vol. 1, responsum 149,
pp. 284–285. On this responsum see H. Kreisel, Maimonides on Christianity and
Islam, Jewish Civilization: Essays and Studies, ed. Ronald Brauner, Reconstructionist
Rabbinical College, Philadelphia, PA, 1985 and D. Novak, Maimonides’ Treatment of
Christianity and Its Normative Implications, Jewish Theology and World Religions, ed.
A. Goshen-Gottstein and E. Korn, The Littmann Library, Oxford, 2012, pp. 217–233.
9. Revelation plays an important role in pointing to God in other contexts. Non-Jews are
expected to observe the seven noachide commandments, as a minimal moral and reli-
gious obligation. The noachide commandments do not, in and of themselves, speak
of faith in God. However, Maimonides, Laws of Kings 8,11, stipulates that observance
of the noachide commandments must be performed based on faith in their revealed
character, rather than by force of reason. Various authors have pointed out that
faith in revelation actually implies faith in the revealer. See Michael Zevi Nehorai,
Righteous Gentiles Have a Share in the World to Come, Tarbiz 61, 1991–2, pp. 465–
488 [Hebrew]. Note the fascinating application of this principle in the ruling of Rabbi
Moshe Feinstein, who considers prayer as part of the religious life of a non-Jew who
observes the seven noachide commandments. While prayer is not one of those com-
mandments, it is an expression of faith, which underlies the fulfillment of the seven
commandments. Faith in revelation thus points to the revealer, establishing a relation-
ship with Him, leading to a life of prayer. See Igrot Moshe, Orach Chayim 2, 25.
10. David Novak has gone as far as to claim that this ruling reverses the earlier rul-
ings concerning the status of Christianity as Avoda Zara, and therefore distinguishes
238 NOTES TO PAGES 135–139

between early and late Maimonides on Christianity. I find Novak’s conclusion far-
reaching and not supported by the evidence. While his argument does not work for
the halachic status of Christianity as Avoda Zara, it is effective for a discussion of the
“same God” question.
11. For purposes of constructing a hypothetical “same God” argument for Maimonides,
this would have to be limited to Advaita Vedanta. Maimonides’ strictness in terms of
imagining God with form would seem to preclude the application of this strategy to
other schools of Vedanta, those of Ramanuja and Madhva, that envision the highest
God (Vishnu) as possessing form.
12. Nachmanides’ thought structure is here applied to Hinduism. In terms of what beings
are called elohim and therefore considered divine there would probably be no point of
commonality between Nachmanides and followers of Hinduism.
13. Herein lies the difference with Maimonides, who may also be able to recognize some
aspects of the Hindu ideal of God, while rejecting others.
14. This statement appears in several sources with minor variations. See Tosafot Bechorot
2b s.v. Shema; Tosafot Sanhedrin 63b s.v. Asur; Rabenu Yerucham, Toledot Adam
Vechava 17,5. See further Rosh, Sanhedrin, Chapter 7, 3 and Meiri to Sanhedrin 63,2.
15. See Tosafot Bechorot and Meiri to Sanhedrin.
16. The second variant may or may not suggest a slightly different theological nuance.
The argument from intention is a second argument following the claim that they do
not actually use an idolatrous name. The difference may not amount to much and the
argument from intention may stand on its own. Alternatively, it may be considered
weaker, and only sufficient to neutralize the implicit reference to Jesus, as part of an
understanding of God. It would not be sufficient to override express reference to his
name. The first reading makes better theological sense. It would be hard to argue why
intention is effective only so far, but no more. Both variants can, in any event, support
such a reading.
17. This view assumes some core notion of divinity that is common, with an overlay of
theological views that Judaism does not recognize. Such a structure can be readily
applied to an Advaita Vedanta view of the absolute in relation to the various manifes-
tations of divinity, making Shituf one option for validating an Advaita view. It would
be harder to justify the view of the schools of Ramanuja and Madhva that affirm the
absolute as having form and personality, using this strategy. To do so, one would have
to affirm there is something that is significantly recognizable as “God” within the
Divine, understood as Vishnu, despite the name, form and personality attributed to
Vishnu, which does not immediately show commonality with a Jewish view of God.
Such a position can be constructed, but it requires theological will.
18. It is worth noting that Ibn Ezra applies a “same God” strategy to Indians, while
claiming they do not believe in creation. For such a possibility, see note 27. Ibn Ezra
assumes they recognize only the name elohim, which provides a commonality, with-
out knowing the great name. This is a completely different way of constructing a
“same God” argument. While theoretically interesting and while serving as a prec-
edent in principle for the application of a “same God” argument, one would have
a hard time transposing Ibn Ezra’s India to the Hinduism we know. See Richard
Marks’s chapter on Ibn Ezra in his forthcoming The Jewish Interest in Hinduism: A
History of Ideas from Judah Halevi to Jacob Sapir.
19. Tosafot Avoda Zara 2b, s.v. Asur.
20. See Bavli Chulin 13b, and see the application of this ruling to Christians by Rabbenu
Gershom, Responsum 21, quoted in Katz, Exclusiveness and Tolerance, Oxford
University Press, New York, London, 1961, p. 33. I have come across a fascinating
 NOTES TO PAGES 139–142 239

articulation of the principle that contemporary idol worship is a continuation of paren-

tal customs in a Hindu tractate against the worship of idols. See Dialogue Between
a Theist and an Idolator, an 1820 Tract Probably by Ram Mohun Roy, ed. Stephen
Hay, Firma K. L. Mukhopadhyay, Calcutta, 1963. On p. 85 the following argument is
made: “If you say whether it is agreeable to reason and the Shaster (scriptures) or not,
we must do what our forefathers did.” The argument goes on to invalidate this kind
of justification for worship of idols.
21. This is at least how E. E.Urbach reads Meiri. See chapter 10, note 15. My own reading
of Meiri makes it clear that Meiri involves much more than simply making explicit
and systematic what is already implied by the Tosafot. Still, it is possible that the seeds
sowed by the Tosafists bore fruit already in the work of Meiri.
22. For a history of these views and their context, see Jacob Katz, Exclusiveness and
Tolerance.
23. Eugene Korn has suggested that advances in the theological view of Christianity
are related to historical circumstances changing for the better. See his Rethinking
Christianity.
24. One rarely thinks of the halachic process and the pronouncements made concerning
other religions as intuitive. In fact, intuition may be one of the most significant, if not
the most significant, faculty employed in making such pronouncements. Intuition
precedes logically working out the arguments for why another religion’s god is rec-
ognized as an other god. We can see intuition at work to this very day in halachic
discussions of Christianity. An analysis of Rabbi Yosef’s responsum is highly sug-
gestive (see chapter 14, note 4, this volume). His personal struggles as well as his
application of the notion of desecration of the divine name ultimately rely on his
personal intuitions. It is intuition that leads him to proclaim Christianity as Avoda
Zara, despite the massive weight of the sources he brings that could have led to an
alternative conclusion. Recognizing the centrality of intuition points the way to mov-
ing beyond present-day positions, either by recognizing alternative intuitional points
of departure or by appealing to reason, beyond intuition. Education would play a
central role in such a process. It seems to me very significant that the Tosafists’ posi-
tion concerning the permissibility of Shituf is complemented by another statement
of theirs, which recognizes Christians as nonidolaters, on what may be described as
purely intuitional grounds. See note 19. The significance of intuition in approaching
another religion is extremely fertile ground for future reflection, to which I can only
hint here, better yet: that I can only intuit at present.
25. Be’er Hagola on Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat, 425, letter Shin.
26. See also the previous discussion of the “same God” question with regard to
Maimonides.
27. Whether or not Hindus can be said to believe in a creator God, in a sense that Jews
would recognize, is a matter both of philosophical difference between various schools
and interpretive generosity, in one’s view of Hindu religious and philosophical sys-
tems. (A fact not considered by Flusser, who comfortably equates the Upanishad’s
creator with Abraham’s faith. See Flusser, Abraham and the Upanishads, Between
Jerusalem and Benares, ed. Hananya Goodman, SUNY Press, Albany, NY, 1994,
pp. 33–40). For some schools (Mimamsa, possibly Vedanta), one cannot speak mean-
ingfully of a creator God. Brahman is creator only by implication as there is noth-
ing outside the absolute reality. Creation is, thus, not the essential function of God,
but only a secondary definition. Shrivatsa Goswami emphasizes this perspective to
me in personal communications, citing among others the work of T. R. V. Murti. At
the same time, contemporary vedantins certainly do refer to God, the absolute, as
240 NOTES TO PAGES 142–150

creator. And it is worth noting that when de Nobilis engages Saivite theology, he reads
it comfortably as referring to the creator God he knows. Reference to God as creator
is therefore not simply a product of colonial exposure to other religions. See Anand
Amaladass and Francis X. Clooney, Preaching Wisdom to the Wise : Three Treatises
by Roberto de Nobili, Institute of Jesuit Sources, St. Louis, MO, 2000, pp. 45ff.
28. It is also suggestive of an important methodological consideration in the approach
and study of other religions and how these inform the halachic process. Book learn-
ing and the study of ideas will yield a very different process and understanding than
the encounter with the faithful, their practices, and spirituality. Just as the Tosafot’s
instinctive recognition of the Christians among them was based on some firsthand
knowledge, even if not upon meaningful study of Christianity, so too one must have
some firsthand exposure as the basis for appreciating another religion.
29. This strategy for affirming the same God, as well as that of Meiri to be discussed
presently, would not be limited to an advaitic position and can be applied to most, if
not all, schools of Hinduism.
30. The continuing scholarly debate concerning fundamental similarity or difference of
mystical and religious experience in different religions is obviously relevant to this
consideration.

12 From Hindu God to Hindu gods: Confronting the

Particularity of Hindu Deities

1. See Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism. For present purposes I
gloss over the question of how appropriate the use of “monotheism” is to describe
Hinduism, in the self-understanding of Hindu religious leaders. Sperber’s use of
“monotheism,” in The Halakhic Status of Hinduism, to describe Hinduism has met
with some opposition by Swami Dayananda, who more than any other figure has
influenced Sperber’s own work. As Hindu respondents to Sperber note, the joint
Hindu-Jewish statements never refer to both religions as monotheisms.
2. Jan Assman, Of God and gods: Egypt, Israel and the Rise of Monotheism, University of
Wisconsin Press, Madison, 2008.
3. Ibid., p. 107.
4. This gives pause for thought. The third formulation is actually part of the Muslim
creed, while the second captures the core statement of Jewish faith, the shema. If
the second is not as strong as the third, what are the implications of this fact for the
potential of constructing a Jewish view of other religions that is not based on the total
rejection that Assman associates with the third?
5. Consider, however, the fascinating possibilities opened up by the discussion of Yehuda
Gellman, Names and Divine Names: Kripke and Gikatillia, Sefer Higayon: Studies in
Rabbinic Logic, ed. M. Koppel and E. Merzbach, Zomet Institute, Alon Shevut, 1995,
pp. 51–60, especially p. 60.
6. Ausonius, Epigrammata no. 48, brought in Assman, Of God and gods, pp. 55–56.
See further the text in Mozart’s cantata K. 619, discussed in Jan Assman, Moses the
Egyptian: The Memory of Egypt in Western Monotheism, Harvard University Press,
Cambridge, 1997, p. 136.
7. Of God and gods, p. 56, where various other sources from Late Antiquity are
brought.
8. I have not found such a taxonomy of gods and goddesses in the literature. It clearly
reflects the concerns of a Jewish perspective and the possibilities it affords us for
 NOTES TO PAGES 151–155 241

addressing the Hindu understanding of divinity and of the many Hindu gods and
goddesses.
9. See most recently on biblical monotheism as the antithesis to nature worship in
Assman, On God and gods, pp. 72–74.
10. Detailed references are provided by Brill, Judaism and World Religions: Encountering
Christianity, Islam and Eastern Traditions, Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2012,
p. 204 and notes, p. 276.
11. Nachmanides’ thought structure is the only one that has meaningful room for relat-
ing to gods and angels through the mechanism of translatability, discussed below,
which allows us to recognize gods across religious cultures, in view of their associa-
tion with natural and cosmic forces.
12. Some scholars have considered this to be the dividing line between Judaism and early
Christianity. While there is a common conceptual background, according to which
other beings are acknowledged alongside God, offering worship to one of these, in
this case to Jesus Christ, constitutes the real dividing line between acceptable faith,
in Jewish terms, and heresy or the beginning of a new religion. See Larry Hurtado,
One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism, SCM,
London, 1988. Contrast this with Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of
Judaeo-Christianity, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, 2004, pp. 119,
295. In his abstract to Beyond Judaisms: Metatron and the Divine Polymorphy of
Ancient Judaism, Journal for the Study of Judaism 41, 2010, pp. 323–365, Boyarin
shifts from belief in a second divine person to perhaps a cult, to a cult of the second
person. The article itself does not explore this distinction in any way.
13. Sperber, in Chapter 6 of The Halakhic Status of Hinduism draws the analogy from the
many instances of prayerful approach to angels in the history of Judaism to legitimat-
ing or recognizing parallel approaches to forces of nature in Hinduism. Sperber is
also aware of the distinction between devas and other ways of expressing an under-
standing of God. In fact, this contribution of his is one of the most important contri-
butions to the Jewish-Hindu summits. See Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with
Hinduism. In considering prayers to Hindu gods along the lines of the precedent of
prayers to angels we confront a twofold challenge. From the Jewish side, it is worth
considering the fact that Jewish angelology has all but disappeared. Other than ves-
tiges in prayer books, belief in angels plays next to no role in contemporary faith and
cosmology. This obviously makes reflection on the approach of other religions to a
class of beings that was once prominent in Jewish experience less immediate. From
the Hindu side, as Martha Doherty notes in a comment on Sperber’s manuscript, the
case of Hinduism is not really one of intercessory prayer, inasmuch as one does not
turn to various beings to intercede with higher beings, but rather turns to them as
expressions and manifestations of the higher being.
14. Ezekiel 29,3.
15. For the association of monarchy and the gods in an Indian context, see the summary
of Christopher Fuller, The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in India,
Princeton University Press, Princeton, 2004, p. 38ff.
16. Assman, On God and gods, p. 75.
17. I ignore in the present context the broader observation, already made above, that
rabbinic culture is fairly insular and therefore lack of engagement with contemporary
philosophy may not mean as much as what I here ascribe to it.
18. See Sacha Stern, Jewish Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings, chapter 4, note 5.
19. I shall not reenter the discussion of the moral and educational challenges associated
with ascription of divinity to contemporary teachers. The points made above remain
242 NOTES TO PAGES 156–158

valid. However, they do not address the issue in terms of Avoda Zara, the present
focus of the discussion, but in terms of broader educational concerns. Many of these
concerns apply to potential abuse of power also in relation to Jewish teachers and
authority figures, even if no ascription of divinity is made to them.
20. See, however, the possibility that such worship may also be condoned, based on our
analysis of the Rashba, discussed in chapter 7.
21. Recall the Tosafot who identify Christian worship as the same as ours, due to inten-
tion, while recognizing that Jesus is worshipped as well. See Tosafot Bechorot 2b s.v.
Shema.
22. See my The Image as Body of God in Rabbinic Literature, Harvard Theological Review
87,2, 1994, pp. 171–195.
23. Yair Lorberbaum, The Image of God: Halacha and Aggada, Schoken, Jerusalem and
Tel Aviv, 2004 [Hebrew].
24. Of the vast literature on the subject, see Veli-Matti Karkainen, One with God: Salvation
as Deification and Justification, Unitas Books, Collegeville, 2004, and Stephen Finlan
and Vladimir Kharlamov (eds.), Theosis: Deification in Christian Theology vol. 1,
James Clarke, Cambridge, 2010, and Vladimir Kharlamov (ed.), Theosis: Deification
in Chrisitan Theology vol. 2, James Clarke, Cambridge, 2012.
25. Crispen Fletcher Louis, Humanity and the Idols of the Gods in Pseudo Philo’s Biblical
Antiquities, Idolatry: False Worship in the Bible, Early Judaism and Christianity, ed.
Stepen Barton, T & T Clark, London 2007, pp. 58–72, presents us with an interest-
ing ancient argument that contrasts the worship of idols with God’s true image in
humanity. If God’s real presence is within humanity, this allows us to distinguish
between different expressions of what is typically considered under the one umbrella
of Avoda Zara.
26. The earliest instance is the originary image of God, Adam. See Bereshit Rabba 8,10.
27. Mark S. Smith, God in Translation: Deities in Cross-Cultural Discourse in the Biblical
World, Mohr Siebeck, Tubingen, 2008.
28. One common denominator, however, is noteworthy. As Smith notes, in the second
chapter of his book, translatability is a function of international relations and their
requirements. The same may be said of the “same God” discussion, even if the politi-
cal circumstances that it serves are radically different from those that are manifest
in ancient practices of translating divinities. As Smith further suggests, p. 328ff., the
contemporary situation in many ways resembles that of the ancient world, especially
the Greco-Roman period, where permeability of identity and mobility require theo-
logical reflection on relations between gods or religions. Smith’s Epilogue seeks to
spell out the continuing relevance of the problem of translatability to contemporary
reality, though he seems to be unaware of the “same God” discussion.
29. I say this with particular reference to the Abingdon Press collection; see chapter 11,
note 1. One of the surprising facts about it is how issues one would have considered
simple at face value have become complex and how one cannot take for granted the
affirmation of the same God even across Abrahamic faiths.
30. See Jan Assman, Of God and gods, p. 54. See also Moses the Egyptian, p. 45ff. The dif-
ference may be captured by contrasting two slogans, representing each of the strate-
gies. For the “Same God” strategy—one God, many names; for translatability—many
gods, many names.
31. Accordingly, Assman puts forth the thesis that the “mosaic distinction” is that there
is no translatability between Israel’s God and other gods, thereby setting them apart.
Smith nuances the historical issue of translatability, suggesting some biblical prece-
dents, but he is in agreement that ultimately biblical religion moved toward a position
 NOTES TO PAGES 159–164 243

of untranslatability, in the relations between Israel’s God and the gods of its neigh-
bors. In what follows I shall continue to refer to translatability, albeit in an altered
sense. Translatability into ideas and aspects of the Divine will replace reference to
translatability of the name and identity of a particular god from one pantheon to
another.
32. M. N. Srinivas, Religion and Society among the Coorgs of South India, Asia Publishing
House, New York, 1952.
33. In the final part of the present work, I argue for moving away from a global view of
Hinduism, toward a more nuanced and complex view. The discussion of great and
local traditions points in this direction as well.
34. It is conventional to present a Trinity of Hindu gods—Brahma, Siva, and Vishnu,
corresponding to three aspects of creation, preservation, and destruction. This pre-
sentation is actually far less common internally than it is in outward-looking pre-
sentations of the religion. The god Brahma is, in fact, almost universally absent from
Hindu temples and worship.
35. The humanity of Rama and Krishna, however, seems more theoretical, even mythi-
cal, rather than historical, given the immense span of time since they are said to have
lived. In this they are different from great teachers, whose memory is much closer.
For Hindus, however, this seems to matter very little.
36. See Saxena Neela Bhattacharya, Shekhina on the “Plane of Immanence”: An
Intimation of the Indic Great Mother in the Hebraic Wholly Other, Journal of Indo-
Judaic Studies 12, 2012, pp. 27–44.
37. Indeed, from such a perspective, imagination and idolatry are related. Both serve
purposes related to controlling masses, based upon a false understanding of reality.
See Halbertal and Margalit, Idolatry, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1992,
p. 127ff.
38. Diana L. Eck, Darśan: Seeing the Divine Image in India, Anima Books, Chambersburg,
PA, 1981, p. 28.
39. This is the conceptual thread that informs Elliot Wolfson’s Through a Speculum That
Shines: Vision and Imagination in Medieval Jewish Mysticism, Princeton University
Press, Princeton, NJ, 1994.
40. Translation by Israel Zangwill, brought by Arthur Green, Keter: The Crown of God in
Early Jewish Mysticism, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ, 1997, p. 108.
41. See Wolfson, Speculum, p. 217.
42. Ibid., p. 214ff.
43. It is useful to reference broader theories of the imagination, as these have found
expression in the history of philosophy. Daniel Reiser, To Fly Like Angels: Imagery
or Waking Dream Techniques in Hassidic Mysticism in the First Half of the Twentieth
Century, PhD, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2011, pp. 301ff. [Hebrew], suggests
three models for understanding the human imagination. The first is the mirror
model, dating back to Plato. According to this model, the imagination is charged
with copying and representing the original. A second model is the light-bulb model,
according to which the imagination is active and productive in and of itself, and
not only by force of its representational power. This is the romantic model. A third
model, a postmodern one, is the multiplication of mirrors, so that each reflects the
other, ultimately leading to a collapse between reality and imagination. Recognizing
these different models is helpful in appreciating some of the texts brought in the pres-
ent discussion. One recognizes that it is only within a very specific understanding of
the imagination that one can even think of critiquing other religions as erroneous,
due to the workings of the human imagination.
244 NOTES TO PAGES 164–167

44. See Wolfson, Speculum, pp. 108–119.

45. Wolfson works through contemporary scholarly research in an attempt to provide an
alternative to naive positivism or reductionism of these images. I find it interesting
that this issue is only raised in contemporary scholarship and is not part of tradi-
tional reflection on these early texts and on the phenomenology of religious experi-
ence as such. This fact is best accounted for by the little attention given overall to the
issue of religious imagination, suggesting how much constructive work lies ahead.
46. See Daniel Reiser, To Fly Like Angels. See also Zvi Leshem, Between Messianism and
Prophecy: Hasidism According to the Piaseczner Rebber, PhD, Bar Ilan University,
2007 [Hebrew].
47. See Hilchot Teshuva 3,7.
48. From Kalonymus Kalman Schapira, Experiencing the Divine: A Practical Jewish Guide,
unpublished translation by Yaakov Shulman, 2002, pp. 25–26. A less precise transla-
tion of the same text is available in Andrea Cohen-Kiener, Conscious Community: A
Guide to Inner Work, Jason Aaronson, Northvale, NJ, 1996, pp. 23–24. Thanks are
due to Zvi Leshem for sharing translations and sources relevant to the work of Rabbi
Schapira with me.
49. How far-reaching Rabbi Schapira’s understanding of the role of imagination in the
spiritual life is will depend on how to understand the final phrase: when we pray, etc.
If it reflects the state following the purification of the imagination, then it describes
a form of imagination that would be distinguished from that described earlier in the
section. We would thus speak of higher and lower or more or less correct expressions
of the imagination. The sentence could also be read as a return to the general instruc-
tion of the passage, rather than as a description of the function of the imagination
following its purification.
50. In the original, “which,” referring to the proof text from Isa.44,13, omitted here for
sake of simplification.
51. Likutey Moharan II, 8, end subsection 12. Translation taken from Zvi Mark, Mysticism
and Madness: The Religious Thought of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, Continuum,
London, 2009, p. 178.
52. On the imaginative power in R. Nachman’s teaching see Zvi Mark, Mysticism and
Madness, especially Chapters 1 and 5. Mark’s discussion provides references for some
of what follows. Mark’s project in Mysticism and Madness is to explore how ordi-
nary consciousness and its rational constraints are transcended in the teachings of R.
Nachman. See further Yaara Levitas Bibas, Imagination in the Thought of R. Nahman
of Brahslav, Phd, Bar Ilan University, 2008.
53. In Likutey Moharan II, 5,9, R. Nachman distinguishes between a dream given by
means of an angel and a demon. Dreaming with the aid of an angel is obviously not
strictly true to reality, in the sense of everyday life. Yet it is true in some other sense,
and this sense is related by R. Nachman, again, to the purification of the imaginative
faculty. The imagination conveys to us a different aspect or quality of truth.
54. R. Aharon of Strashelye, Sha’arei Avoda, Introduction, p. 9a.
55. See, however, later in this work part 4, Chapter 35, where R. Aharon is explicit with
reference to the souls of Israel, and possibly Israel only. The present argument may
therefore extend R. Aharon’s way of thinking beyond his own intention, an extension
that can, nevertheless, be justified by his own metaphysical system. The following
sources that consider the imagination as an expression of the image of God would
lend further support to such an argument.
56. Alluding to Hosea 12,11—by the prophets I was imaged.
57. Or estimate.
 NOTES TO PAGES 167–174 245

58. R. Simcha Bunem of Przysucha, Kol Simcha to Gen. 1,26, translated by Wolfson,
Speculum, p. 73. Wolfson omits the last phrase in his translation and concludes the
translatiom by translating: “after our likeness (ki-demutenu), “ by the power of imag-
ination.” What R. Simcha Bunem seems to be saying here, rather, is that the power of
the imagination provides the bridge and link between man and God, allowing man
to imagine God, because of an existential common ground. Wolfson also points to R.
Nachman of Breslav’s Likutey Moharan II, 5,9.
59. It may be argued that this reading only assumes a commonality in human potential
across all of humanity, but this does not guarantee correct application of the imagi-
native power, nor does it make all imaginations appropriate. Given that all imagina-
tions are ultimately wrong, this objection may not mean much, certainly if supported
by R. Aharon’s view of God’s presence in the imagination. Nevertheless, recogniz-
ing the same God would seem a precondition for extending theories of the religious
imagination from an internal context to other religions.
60. Overall, this is the strategy for appreciating other religions cultivated by the Dalai
Lama. This non-theist is capable of appreciating what faith in God could bring
believers, by reference to the fruits of faith in their lives. It seems to me this is an
important approach that can be integrated into a Jewish view of other religions,
by means of a Meiri understanding of religions. See His Holiness the Dalai Lama,
Toward a True Kinship of Faiths: How the World’s Religions Can Come Together,
Doubleday, New York, 2010, and see my review at http://www.elijah-interfaith.org/
index.php?id=1011.
61. My translation of ‫שובב‬.
62. Chazon Ish, Yore Deah, I, 19.
63. Nor is it permitted. For Chazon Ish it still constitutes recognition of another god,
which is forbidden, though on a lower level. Thus, the Chazon Ish would offer us a
way of reducing the severity of recognizing many gods or forces of nature as expres-
sions of the Divine, without legitimating such a perspective, even for non-Jews.
64. Chazon Ish’s distinction between real and imaginary beings is not dependent on
his reading of Tosafot as forbidding Shituf. Consequently, the distinction between
real and imaginary beings can be incorporated within a view that permits Shituf, or
within a view that otherwise accommodates and validates other religions.
65. That Hindu gods are considered part of the created order would not make them crea-
tures for purposes of the present discussion. Creature, for Hazon Ish, is seen in the
concrete physical world, and not imagined in the celestial world.
66. Though not in the philosophical tradition to which Meiri himself subscribes.
67. See, however Rabbi A. I.Kook, Shemona Kevazim 8,44.

13 Revisiting the Worship of Images: Glimpses of a Future Dialogue

1. Adin Steinsaltz, Peace without Conciliation: The Irrelevance of “Toleration” in

Judaism, Common Knowledge 11,1, 2005, Duke University Press, p. 47.
2. There is a lesser category of images, typically images that are mass produced, which
does not follow these principles. These serve mainly as memorials and devotional
objects, but are not understood as proper vehicles for divinity, unless the broad philo-
sophical principle of divine omnipresence is applied.
3. Needless to say, the mocking attitude will highlight the impossibility of achieving these
goals through the various elaborate rituals. Our task is not to assess the effectiveness
of the method nor the possibility of achieving its stated goal, but only to understand
246 NOTES TO PAGES 174–178

the religious attitude and worldview of practitioners who approach God through the
use of images. A serious comparison of attitudes to ritual will also have to consider
energetic approaches to the observance of mitzvot, such as we find in the Kabbalah, as
we seek to establish a baseline for comparison between the religions. With reference
to Christianity, the proper analogy is the eucharist, rather than the use of images in
prayer. Here too, whether an understandings of the workings of ritual seems reason-
able to the outside observer or not should be kept distinct from the ruling whether a
religion is viewed as Avoda Zara. See, however, Rabbi Isaac Herzog, Minority Rights
According to the Halacha, Tehumin 2, 1981, p. 175, note 10, on the eucharist.
4. Major images in great temples seem exempt from this process. There are alternative
rituals that are performed on these images that rely on the same worldview and apply
it to “perpetual” statues.
5. See Sapir, quoted by Alan Brill, Judaism and World Religions: Encountering
Christianity, Islam and Eastern Traditions, Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2012,
p. 211.
6. See Jon Levenson, Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible, Winston Press,
Minneapolis, MN, 1985, pp. 137ff.
7. See Gary Anderson, Towards a Theology of the Tabernacle and Its Furniture, Text,
Thought and Practice in Qumran and Early Christianity, ed. Ruth Clements and
Daniel Schwartz, Brill, Leiden, 2009, pp. 161–194.
8. It is fascinating to read Exodus 32 and following in light of this insight, especially
keeping in mind the rabbinic view that the sin of the golden calf preceded the instruc-
tion and construction of the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle is accordingly a response to
the sin of the golden calf.
9. Ben Sommer, The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel, Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge, 2009.
10. See chapter 5.
11. One of the passages analyzed by Sommer is Genesis 18, which offers a very good
example of this theology.
12. See Yochanan Muffs, The Personhood of God, Jewish Lights, Woodstock, 2005,
pp. 12ff.
13. The present study does not explore the implications of astrology to a religious world-
view and to the present discussion. This is fertile ground for further study and
reflection.
14. See Jan Assman, Of God and gods: Egypt, Israel and the Rise of Monotheism, University
of Wisconsin Press, Madison, 2008, p. 75.
15. In terms of biblical theology itself the problem may not exist. God is a person, rather
than the abstract being of Brahman. His particular individual personality is there-
fore the unique focus of Israel’s faith and as such clearly distinguishable from any
other personality. Once we move from personalities to theological models, it becomes
harder to state our differences.
16. Tradition 42,1, 2009, pp. 15–28.
17. Hefter, p. 23, quoting Heinrich Zimmer, Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and
Civilization, ed. Joseph Campbell, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ, 1946,
p. 130.
18. Ibid., pp. 25–26. Underlying Zimmer’s and Hefter’s discussion is a certain under-
standing of images. It is useful to relate this understanding to the fourfold division
of attitudes to icons and images, developed by Bruno Latour. See Bruno Latour, What
Is Iconoclash? Or Is There a World beyond the Image Wars, Iconoclash: Beyond the
Image Wars in Science, Religion and Art, ed. Bruno Latour and Peter Weibel, MIT
 NOTES TO PAGES 180–186 247

Press, Cambridge, 2000, pp. 14–37. On p. 14 Latour defines four classes of iconoclasts:
A—those who are against all images; B—those who may destroy images, but are not
against them as such, only their “freeze framing,” their absolutizing or fetishizing;
C—those who are only against images of others; D—those who break images only by
accident, unintentionally. This is a helpful breakdown of possibilities. Most Jewish
theorists would belong to group A, or to group C (if we are willing to accept verbal
images as our own legitimate images, while condemning the images of others). Hefter’s
identification with option B is largely unique within a traditional Jewish framework.
19. It is interesting to consider, in this context, a discussion by Rabbi Kook on Maimonides’
laws of idolatry, presented in chapter 9, note 28, in his Orot Harambam. Rav Kook
discusses the difference between Abraham, who smashed the idols of his father and
his society, and the other great men, who, according to the rabbinic view, maintained
a kind of chain of tradition of proper knowledge of God, even if they did so as a
minority, or even in hiding. The Rabad on Laws of Avoda Zara 1,3 asks where these
figures were prior to Abraham’s coming along. Rav Kook seeks to offer a theoretical
accounting for why they did not smash idols as Abraham did. His answer is similar to
the vedantic answer. Patience and the hope that people will eventually regain the lost
faith informed their attitude, while Abraham represents the impossibility of leaving
people in darkness and the need to take active steps to guide and save people.
20. Such an understanding could emerge from the oft-quoted verse 9,26.
21. Within the vast literature on the subject see the debate between the two authors cited
in the present chapter. If Jan Assman, in both Moses the Egyptian and Of God and
gods, affirms the potential relationship, Mark Smith seeks to put the charge of mono-
theism and violence to rest, once and for all. See Smith, God in Translation: Deities in
Cross-Cultural Discourse in the Biblical World, Mohr Siebeck, Tubingen, 2008, p. 28.
22. See Rabbi A. I. Kook, Orot, pp. 130–131.

14 Beyond a Global Approach to Hinduism

1. Contrast Laws of Avoda Zara 9,4 and Laws of Forbidden Foods 11,7.
2. The earliest near-contemporary discussion in this vein is Rabbi Herzog’s Minority
Rights According to the Halacha. Rabbi Henkin’s responsa in Shut Benei Banim
3,35–36 also acknowledge some differences between different Christian sects. In
terms of practice, however, his ruling ignores the distinctions he himself sets up, opt-
ing for a blanket view of Christianity as Avoda Zara. For more recent discussions, see
the short comment of Michael Broyde, Entering a Sanctuary for Hatzalat Yisrael: An
Exchange, Hakira 8, 2009, pp. 53–68, specifically p. 58. Broyde’s comment indicates
awareness of the need to distinguish between the different sects and proposes this
as a long-standing distinction. (Most of Broyde’s argument relies not on the status
of Christianity but on permitting exceptions in situations of public need by public
representatives, thereby accounting for exceptional behavior of leaders such as Rabbi
Sacks). Also Rabbi Riskin’s recent lenient ruling on entering churches appeals to this
distinction. See http://jewishisrael.ning.com/page/rabbi-riskin-on-jews-entering.
There seems to be a trend among contemporary rabbis to argue for nuances and dis-
tinctions among Christian groups, in ways that are significantly different than the
precedent of tradition up to contemporary times. This could, in and of itself, be a
positive development. Unfortunately, little is done beyond the proclamation in prin-
ciple, with only occasional differences being drawn. Moreover, the age-old specter
of images and the visual plays a disproportionate part in such discussions, working
248 NOTES TO PAGES 186–187

against Catholicism (Braude) and Orthodox Christianity (Henkin). Consequently,

the distinction often opens the door to a view of Christianity that privileges worship
over theology. For further contemporary discussion, see J. D. Bleich, Entering a Non-
Jewish House of Worship, Tradition 44,2, 2011, pp. 73–101.
3. Sperber’s The Halakhic Status of Hinduism is an important exception to this state-
ment. While authored as a kind of halachic responsum and while applying, especially
toward the end, a variety of halachic reasonings, the bulk of the work consists of
quotations from Hindu authors and experts, suggesting how important a correct and
nuanced view of another religion is to its halachic consideration. With reference to
entering houses of worship, Sperber’s opening remarks place participation or obser-
vation of rituals as one of the realities that has to be addressed. Supposedly his tractate
and its absolution of Hinduism from the charge of Avoda Zara would therefore have
consequences on issues of entry into temples and observation (and participation?) in
rituals. One notes, however, that this question is raised in the opening description of
the situation that the book seeks to address, but is not made explicit in its conclusions.
The matter was also brought up in a question, following a public lecture delivered
by Sperber at the David Cardozo Academy, Jerusalem, March 23, 2011. Sperber was
asked what the halachic consequences of his understanding might be. The question
was posed in terms of permissibility to enter, or even pray, within a Hindu temple, if
one considers that Hinduism is not Avoda Zara. On this question, as a test case, see
the following note. In this context, Sperber avoided drawing an out-and-out conclu-
sion from his position. He preferred a more pedagogic approach, according to which
he would require the prospective visitor to learn more about Hinduism, till he or she
had formulated their own position as to whether or not Hinduism was Avoda Zara.
The practical consequences would then flow as a decision based on personal convic-
tion. Note that a more nuanced view of Hinduism has led Sperber to basically absolve
Hinduism of the charge of Avoda Zara, rather than take a more complex view of
Hinduism as Avoda Zara.
4. Let me illustrate this again with reference to the question of entering a church.
Methodologically, entry into another religion’s religious space is often the limit case
for testing a halachic authority’s views on another religion. The basis for the prohibi-
tion to enter a church is that one is forbidden, by mishnaic law, to enter a house of
Avoda Zara (see Mishna Avoda Zara 1,3). If Christianity is considered Avoda Zara,
one cannot enter a church. This is the plain logic of Maimonides in his commentary
to this Mishna. But what of the more nuanced understanding of Christianity that rec-
ognizes it as a permissible form of worship for non-Jews? If in fact it is not considered
Avoda Zara, why should one refrain from entering a church? An extreme, if disputed,
expression of how far one would legitimate Christianity is the permission to partici-
pate financially in the construction of a church. See David Ellenson, Jewish Covenant
and Christian trinitarianism: An Analysis of a Responsum on Jewish-Christian
Relations in the Modern World, Jewish Civilization, 3, 1985, pp. 85–100. It is hard to
imagine forbidding entry into the church that one was allowed to help construct. It
may therefore be reasoned that entry into a church and abstention from entry should
fully correspond to the views one takes on whether worship through Shituf is permis-
sible for non-Jews. This logical and coherent reasoning can be seen in several responsa
of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef. See Yabi’a Omer, Yore De’ah, Part 2, 11; Part 7, Yore De’ah 12.
However, we find halachists avoiding such clear conclusions and holding on to views
of one school while affirming the practices of another. Thus, Rabbi Herzog, who is a
strong proponent of the view that Shituf is permitted for non-Jews, and who bases his
view of the required religious and political tolerance in the about-to-be-formed state
 NOTES TO PAGES 187–190 249

of Israel on these grounds, nevertheless affirms that even if Christians are permitted
to build churches, Jews may not enter them. This position tries to affirm what are
essentially two opposing perspectives. It seems to me that underlying this attempt
is the difficulty in moving from a theoretical position to bringing about changes in
practical halachic terms. The halacha tends to traditionalism. Certainly the specter
of Avoda Zara is such that halachists would have no reason to seek change to pre-
vailing attitudes, unless it was realized that those attitudes are in some way harm-
ful, spiritually if not politically. When we add identitarian considerations, we come
out with a halachic system that is willing to consider in theory that there exists more
than one form of Christianity, but that draws almost no practical consequences from
such theoretical affirmations, or that draws some conclusions, stopping short of oth-
ers. It is worth noting that even though Rabbi Sacks will attend public functions in a
church, he avoided being present in church for the funeral mass of a personal friend
and Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal Basil Hume. Sacks avoided the mass as a
moment of worship, preferring instead to be present, and to be acknowledged as such,
in a side room. The inconsistencies inherent in the decisors and in practice can only
be accounted for in light of a patchwork of conflicting perspectives that are brought to
bear upon what should ideally be decided on a more principled level.
5. I noted above that the most “tolerant” view of Hinduism, expressed by Rabbi Steinsaltz,
is similarly not a halachic discussion but a theoretical reflection on the ideals of tol-
erance in Judaism. Of course, one cannot fully divorce these processes. Theoretical
recognition of Hinduism’s status could, and should, be brought into a discussion of
the practical consequences of relating to it. See once again Sperber’s comments in
How Not to Make Halachic Rulings, http://www.jewishideas.org/articles/how-not-
make-halakhic-rulings.
6. For a powerful, as well as entertaining, illustration of this theological question, see
the dialogue narrated in the Mechilta DeRabbi Ishmael Bahodesh 6, on Ex. 20,5.
7. Our discussion of Maimonides’ Laws of Avoda Zara pointed to the gap, wherein his
halachic definition as well as his history of devolution into Avoda Zara fail to address
the possibility of worship of the one true God, through the use of images. Does this
assume that the criterion has no independent value other than helping establish the
identity of the god that is worshipped? Much would depend on whether non-Jews
and Jews are obligated by the same criteria when it comes to defining Avoda Zara, a
question that underlies the Shituf controversy. For Jews there exists an independent
commandment to not worship through images. See Exodus 20,5 and Maimonides’
count of negative commandments, where this appears as the second negative com-
mandment. See also the list of commandments at the introduction to the Laws of
Avoda Zara, where a distinct prohibition on image making is brought. Whether or
not the same prohibition applies equally to non-Jews would determine whether the
worship of images constitutes in and of itself Avoda Zara, or whether in relation to
non-Jews it functions only as means of pointing to another god.
8. The problem may be situated philosophically at an even more fundamental level, in rela-
tion to the notion of the potential divinization of man. This seems to have been the great
stumbling block for Shmuel Hugo Bergmann, in his almost lifelong dialogue with Hindu
thought, as represented primarily through the thought of Sri Aurobindo. See Miriam
Dean-Otting, Hugo Bergman, Leo Baeck and Martin Buber: Jewish Perspectives on
Hinduism and Buddhism, Journal of Indo-Judaic Studies, 1,2, 1999, pp. 7–26.
9. Our discussion of spirituality and wisdom in The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism,
Chapters 7 and 9, indicated how central the quest for God and wisdom are in Indian
religious life.
250 NOTES TO PAGES 190–196

10. It is recognized that there is room for fruitful conversation around questions of the
spiritual life and how it should be lived in this world. Jewish and Hindu voices may
differ. Nevertheless, whatever differences in philosophical vision may be identified
are not relevant to the implications of living in a spiritually oriented culture for pur-
poses of thinking of that culture in terms of Avoda Zara.
11. Following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, Rabbi Dov Berkovitz published an essay in
the Israeli weekly Makor Rishon (29.1.2010, titled cheshbono shel olam), in which he
attempted his own theodicy of the event. In it he appealed to the religious culture of
voodoo, which many of the people of Haiti practice, and which he saw as an instance
of Avoda Zara. In attempting to distinguish the religious culture of Haiti from that
of India, Berkovitz appealed to the Hindu religious culture as one driven by the quest
for spirituality, and thus radically different from that of the people of Haiti. The
argument assumes that the broader backdrop of the spiritual life provides the context
in light of which similar practices may be valued differently as far as their status as
Avoda Zara is concerned.
12. See, in particular, the quotes above from Bet Habechira Avoda Zara 6b and 26a.
13. I could equally well use the term “relational” here instead. However, by using “bond-
ing” I seek to capture the sense that something real transpires through worship, and
that the relational nexus brings about a real exchange of being, an energetic exchange,
and that this exchange is crucial to the spiritual life and consequently to the defini-
tion of a religion as Avoda Zara.
14. See Halbertal, By Way of Truth: Nahmanides and the Creation of Tradition, Shalom
Hartman Institute, Jerusalem, 2006, Chapter 7 [Hebrew].
15. Religious orthodoxy may be quick to dismiss the spiritual value of anything out-
side the Jewish fold and to attribute to it harmful negative influences. I recall the
case of a Jerusalem figure, Rabbi Moshe Bentov, who specialized in reading mezuzot,
the ritual parchments placed upon doors and entryways. He used these as mantic
devices, through which he would tell those who came to him what needed to be set
right in their lives and homes. One of his frequent recommendations was the removal
of foreign books, that is, books belonging to other religions. I have heard several
testimonies of people who had books on Hinduism in their homes. Rabbi Bentov
counseled to burn those books, due to their harmful energetic influence. He knew of
these books through his psychic or mantic powers, rather than by being told about
them by his clients.
16. In theory, the very same practice may be Avoda Zara in the life of one practitioner, and
not Avoda Zara, given the overall picture of the spiritual life, in the life of another.
17. See Deut. 18,9 ff.
18. The notion of purposes of religion and the recognition of multiple purposes within
religious systems are central to the theology of religions of Mark Heim. See Mark
Heim, The Depth of the Riches: A Trinitarian Theology of Religious Ends, Eerdmans,
Grand Rapids, MI, 2001.
19. See Zipi Koifman, Foreign God and Avoda Zara in Hassidic Thought, Akdamot 19,
2007, pp. 87–104 [Hebrew]. I have seen in the streets of Jerusalem posters of ultra-
Orthodox groups that condemn processes of local political involvement in terms of
Avoda Zara and have photos of such posters in my possession.
20. I have noted this frequently with regard to rabbinic critiques of magical or mystical prac-
tices. I imagine Avoda Zara is used in these contexts without intending the full conse-
quences of the term as it applies say to Christianity. For one example, see http://www.
moreshet.co.il/web/shut/print.asp?id=120996&kod=&modul=15&codeClient=58.
21. See Rabbi Isaac Herzog, Minority Rights According to the Halacha, pp. 178–179.
 NOTES TO PAGES 196–203 251

22. Ibid., p. 175.

23. Compare this to the alternative calculus applied by Chief Rabbi Sacks, above note 4.
24. See Chapter 11 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
25. The Torah forbids making alliances with idolaters and this injunction carries over
into halacha. This is one of the driving considerations of Rabbi Sperber’s The Halakhic
Status of Hinduism.
26. At the David Cardozo Academy.
27. See Chapter 9 of The Jewish Encounter with Hinduism.
28. Ibid., Chapter 2.
29. For example, conformity on all criteria, except for the worship of images, would not
get in the way of recognition for spiritual purposes, as it would be recognized that
this is an expression of a religious language, particular to Hindus, a language that
Jews don’t speak. Jews would take internal distance from the worship of images,
but might be able to bracket such internal reservation, while remaining open to the
overall spiritual testimony of a given Hinduism. Similarly, worship of a guru, even
though it may go against the grain of Jewish sensibilities, may be accommodated as
part of the religious path of Hinduism, without necessarily impeding possibilities for
spiritual sharing and learning. Ability to tolerate deviation from a single (or minimal
number of) criterion also informs internal Jewish conversations on proper faith. See
Rabad contra Maimonides, Laws of Repentance 3,7.
30. Note the reference to the figure of Rabbi Bentov, see above, note 15.
31. On Tantra, see chapter 10, note 70.
32. We recall the lessons drawn by Flug from the sheitel crisis. It is no more than an
opportunity to study forgotten or uncommon laws. See chapter 3, note 11.
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 Index

Abraham (biblical figure), 27, 50–1, 59, Maimonides and, 42

239n27, 247n19 Meiri and, 45–6, 189, 193, 196–7
Adret, Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham, 68 Nachmanides and, 42–3, 59–80, 190–2
Advaita Vedanta, 14, 22, 210n23, 238n11, objectivity and, 192–3
238n17 other religions and, 29–31, 34
see also Vedanta otherness and, 28–9
American Academy of Religion, 14 prophets and, 34–5
angels religion as, 183–7
astrology and, 220n40 religious phenomenology and, 190
Avoda Zara and, 43, 47–50, 52, 61–8, 128 Shituf and, 44–5
dreams and, 244n53 see also idolatry; Shituf
Gentiles and, 76, 222n56 Avraham, Michael, 235n59
Hinduism and, 151–3, 158–9, 241n13
Israel and, 66–8, 70 Berger, David, 121, 223n63, 233n36,
Nachmanides and, 43, 61–2, 97, 152, 234n51, 234n53
169, 221n44, 241n11 Berkovitz, Rabbi Dov, 250n11
prayer and, 47, 152–3, 241n13 Bhagavad Gita, 121, 180, 236n75
role of, 68 bhakti movements, 169
Shituf and, 97 Bharati, Agehananda, 236n70
see also elohim Bhatt, Neelima Shukla, 209n21
Assman, Jan, 148–50, 154, 158, 160, Bible
233n34, 240n4, 242n31, 247n21 angels and, 61
astral bodies, 48, 53, 63, 65–6, 70, 74, 113, Avoda Zara and, 3, 25, 27–8, 41, 51, 53,
115, 140, 156, 191 60–2, 102, 143
astrology, 43, 64–6, 69–72, 118, 156–7, 175, Christianity and, 81
177 Deuteronomy, 52, 62, 64–5, 67, 69, 71, 95
Atmapriyananda, Swami, 14 Exodus, 70, 140–1, 205, 214n11, 219n16,
Aurobindo, 249n8 219n30, 246n8, 249n7
Avoda Zara God/gods and, 61, 67, 70–1, 108, 110–12,
attitudes toward, 36–9 128–9, 162–3, 176–7, 188
definition of, 188–9 Hinduism and, 131, 137–8, 141, 143
delegitimation and, 33–5 idolatry and, 35–7, 116–17, 199
determining, 194–6, 200 imagination and, 162
diplomacy and, 197–200 Judaism and, 30, 34–5, 41
evolution of term, 27–8 Leviticus, 61, 112, 218n14
factors to consider, 200–1 monarchy and, 153
gurus and, 189–90 monotheism and, 147–8
identity and, 29 Bleich, David, 233n36
levels of, 62–6 Blidstein, Gerald, 114
260 INDEX

Boyarin, Daniel, 224n1, 241n12 dharma, 121, 236n75

Brahman, 22, 72, 83–4, 89, 95, 123–4, 136–7,
152, 159–60, 168, 177, 239n27, 246n15
see also Hindu deities
Brill, Alan, 207n1, 210n25, 235n58
Brodman, Rabbi David, 221n48
Broyde, Michael, 247n2, 249n4
Buddhism, 74, 84, 88–91, 208n9, 227n26,
249n8
Bunem, Rabbi Simcha, 167
Carman, John, 210n23
caste system, 120, 181
Chaitanya, 14
Chandra Swami, 148–50, 202
Chazon Ish, 170, 229n18–19, 245n63–5
see also Karelitz, Rabbi Abraham Isaiah
Chidananda, Swami, 153, 221n48
Chief Rabbinate, 197, 211n28
Christianity
Avoda Zara and, 25–6, 29–30, 38, 44,
55–7, 196
God and, 30, 95–8, 101, 104, 157–8
idolatry and, 37, 153–5, 202
Judaism and, 38, 107–8, 153–6, 176
Maimonides and, 42, 55–7
Meiri and, 45, 108–10, 113, 116–17, 119,
124, 126–7, 156, 189
Nachmanides and, 43, 80
Rabbi Herzog and, 196
“same God” and, 131–5, 138–43, 145,
168, 194
Shituf and, 44, 81–3, 86–91, 95–8, 152,
169, 186
Trinity, 56, 84, 86, 89, 116, 142, 158, 176,
224n3
see also Jesus
colonialism, 122, 240n27
covenant, Judaism and, 27–9, 43, 59–60,
66–7, 70, 99–101, 103–5, 110, 188
see also Israel
Dabru Emet, 133, 225n8
Dayananda, Swami, 240n1
delegitimation, 6, 25, 33–5, 38–9, 128, 211n1
Deuteronomy, Book of, 52, 62, 64–5, 67,
69, 71, 95
devadasis, 235n62
devas, 151–2, 241n13
Devi, 159
diaspora, 38
Donner, Rabbi, 18, 21
dreams, 160, 244n53
dynamism, Hindu imagery and, 178, 206
Eck, Diana, 162
Elijah Interfaith Institute, 11, 13–15
Elman, Yaakov, 231n10
elohim, 61, 63, 65, 67–8, 70, 76, 136,
219n30, 223n61, 238n12, 238n18
Elyashiv, Rabbi Yosef Shalom, 18–19,
207n2, 208n7
embodiment
astral bodies and, 65
Divine, 129–30, 175–7
Hinduism and, 176
idolatry and, 175
Emden, Rabbi Yakov, 95–7
Esther (biblical figure), 102
exclusivism, 180, 222n55
Exodus, Book of, 70, 140–1, 205, 214n11,
219n16, 219n30, 246n8, 249n7
Ezekiel (biblical figure), 153–4, 229n21
Feinstein, Rabbi Moshe, 213n2, 216n11,
237n9
Fleming, Benjamin, 208n4
Flug, Joshua, 208n11, 210n22, 251n32
Flusser, David, 239n27
fortune telling, 193
Fuller, Christopher, 241n15
Ganesha, 159–61, 169
see also Hindu deities
Gaudiya Vaishnavism, 161
Genesis, Book of, 61, 167
Glicksberg, Rabbi Shlomo, 225n7
God
Abraham and, 51
approaches to, 84–6
astral bodies and, 63–5
Avoda Zara and, 21–2, 28–30, 42–4,
49–51, 63, 68–9, 110–11
Bible and, 61, 67, 70–1, 108, 110–12,
128–9, 162–3, 176–7, 188
Christianity and, 30, 81–4, 95–8, 101,
104, 117, 157–8
false prophecy and, 49–50
form and, 77–8

Hinduism and, 9–10, 14, 38–9, 72–7, 84,
147–53, 156–8
identity and, 21, 29
idolatry and, 48–50, 173–80
Israel and, 27–8, 43, 66–71, 76, 86, 97,
99, 137, 139, 167
Kabbalah and, 47
Maimonides and, 54–6, 78–9, 164–5
Meiri and, 108–10, 114–16
morality and, 110–12, 121–2
Nachmanides and, 59–63, 76–8, 188
prayer and, 165, 233n48
prophecy and, 162–3, 165–6
Rabbi Steinsaltz on, 86–9
religion and, 113–14
religious imagination and, 129, 164–8
Shituf and, 45, 83, 93–106
spirituality and, 9
ubiquity of, 77
worship and, 51, 74–5, 112–16
see also “same God” concept; Trinity
Greenberg, Moshe, 213n4, 229n21
Greenstein, Edward, 231n13
gurus, 45, 72, 101, 103, 121, 189–90, 201,
251n29
halacha, 19, 30, 87, 90, 93, 186–7, 190, 192,
194, 220n42, 249n4, 250n19
Halbertal, Moshe, 109, 211n4, 217n2,
231n8, 233n30, 234n49, 236n73
Halevy, Rabbi Aharon, 166, 208n13
Hanuman, 159
Hassidic Judaism, 18–19, 79, 164, 166–7,
171, 178, 205, 208n9, 221n48
Hefter, Rabbi Herzel, 130, 178–9, 206,
246n18
Heim, Mark, 250n18
Herford, R. Travers, 224n1
Herzog, Rabbi Isaac, 83–4, 142, 151, 169,
196, 227n3, 231n14, 247n2, 248n4
Heschel, A. J., 236n1
Hindu deities
abstraction and, 160–2
Brahman, 22, 72, 83–4, 89, 95, 123–4,
136–7, 152, 159–60, 168, 177, 239n27,
246n15
categories of, 151
Chazon Ish and, 169–70
Devi, 159
Ganesha, 159–61, 169
INDEX 261
gods/goddesses, 158–60
Hanuman, 159
holy persons/saints, 153–8
Judaism and, 162–6
Krishna, 73, 89, 105, 148–9, 155, 159,
161, 169, 171, 243n35
meditation and, 148
Meiri and, 170–1
monotheism and, 148–9
natural forces and, 151–3
overview, 147–8
prayers to, 148–50
religious imagination and, 162–70
“same God” and, 150–1, 160
translation and, 16
Vishnu, 77, 159–61, 238n11, 238n17,
243n34?
see also Hinduism
Hinduism
angels and, 151–3, 158–9, 241n13
Bible and, 131, 137–8, 141, 143
embodiment and, 176
Israel and, 13, 26, 38, 83, 120, 155
Meiri, Rabbi Menachem and, 120–6
prayer and, 77–8, 148–50, 221n48
prophecy and, 176
“same God” concept and, 135–6
Shituf and, 88–91, 97, 101–2
Torah and, 112–14, 118–20
see also Hindu deities
Ibn Ezra, Abraham, 209n13, 235n60
idolatry
Bible and, 35–7, 116–17, 199
Christianity and, 37, 153–5, 202
drowning/immersion, 174–5
embodiment and, 175
Israel and, 51
Maimonides on, 48–50
Meiri on, 111–12, 116–17
prophecy and, 34–7, 48–9, 60, 117
Torah and, 112, 178, 251n25
see also Avoda Zara
intermediaries, 42, 52–4, 76–8, 95, 98, 104,
188, 213n4, 222n54, 223n59, 228n8
see also angels
Isaac (biblical figure), 85
ishta devata, 169
Islam, 29–30, 41, 45, 83, 86, 88–9, 108–9,
119, 121–2, 126, 152, 186, 195
262 INDEX

Israel Madhavacharya, 14
astrology and, 118 magic, 126, 168, 193, 232n19, 250n20
Avoda Zara and, 59–71, 82–3, 110, 188, 196 Maimonides
biblical, 51, 59–61, 154 Avoda Zara and, 42–5, 107, 187–8, 195
covenant and, 110 Christianity and, 82, 186
God and, 27–8, 43, 66–71, 76, 86, 97, 99, God and, 78–9, 164–5
137, 139, 167 on identity, 50–2
Hinduism and, 13, 26, 38, 83, 120, 155 on idolatry, 48–5
idolatry and, 51 Laws of Avoda Zara, 47–53
law and, 85 Meiri and, 114, 116
monotheism and, 154, 176 Nachmanides, 59–60, 62–4, 70, 72, 76, 78
Nation of, 196–7 on prophecy, 49–50
nature and, 151 on religious imagery, 52–3
neighbors, 154, 176 “same God” and, 133–6, 145
other religions and, 86, 90, 97, 118–20, 154 Shituf and, 82–3, 85–7, 95–6
revelation and, 114 Mark, Zvi, 244n52
“same God” and, 137, 139–41 Marks, Richard, 209n13, 219n24, 235n60,
Shituf and, 97, 99–101, 105 238n18
see also covenant, Judaism and Meiri, Rabbi Menachem, 45–6, 87
Avoda Zara and, 108, 110–14, 118–20
Jesus, 45, 56, 82, 94, 98, 101–2, 105, 138, Christianity and, 108–9
142, 154–7, 169 on God, 114–16
see also Christianity on Godlessness, 112
Hinduism and, 120–6
Kabbalah, 30, 47, 56, 126, 137, 152, 161 on idolatry, 111–12, 116–17
Karelitz, Rabbi Abraham Isaiah, 170 Maimonides and, 114, 116
see also Chazon Ish morality and, 109–10
Katz, Jacob, 224n2, 231n6 on religion, 112–14, 117–18
Katz, Nathan, 227n33, 234n41, 234n52 on theology, 115–17
Kaufmann, Yehezkel, 213n4, 214n9 miracles, 67, 127, 140–1
Kavana, 192 monotheism, 51, 56, 84–6, 88–91, 94–5, 109,
Koifman, Zipi, 250n19 116, 147–9, 154, 158, 160, 176–8, 180
Kook, Rabbi Abraham Isaac, 79, 230n28, mysticism, 55, 128, 136, 141, 151–2, 162–4,
247n19 201, 236n71, 240n30
Korn, Eugene, 213n1, 217n16, 226n21,
239n23 Nachman of Breslav, 165–6
Krajewski, Stanislaw, 215n13, 231n10 Nachmanides
Krishna, 73, 89, 105, 148–9, 155, 159, 161, applying teachings to modern Judaism,
169, 171, 243n35 72–80
see also Hindu deities Avoda Zara and, 42–4, 59–60, 191
kumari, 210n25, 229n24 on “bonding” of religious life, 191
on God, 76–8, 188
Lasker, Daniel, 226n21 Hinduism and, 70–80
Latour, Bruno, 246n18 idolatry and, 60–1
Leiner, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef, 205–6 intermediaries and, 76–7, 152, 169
Leshem, Zvi, 244n48 Israel and, 67–8
Levine, Amy Jill, 214n11 on jealousy, 60–2
Leviticus, Book of, 61, 112, 218n14 levels of Avoda Zara, 62–6
Lorberbaum, Yair, 157 Maimonides and, 59–60, 62–4, 70, 72,
Lubavitch movement, 18–19, 79, 229n22 76, 78
 INDEX 263

Meiri and, 191 Ramakrishna Order, 15

Rashba and, 68–70 Ramanuja, 14, 22–3, 210n23, 238n11,
“same God” and, 136–7 238n13
Shituf and, 95–8, 101, 107, 128, 138 Rashba, 68–70, 80, 97, 136, 136, 218n15,
ten commandments and, 66–7 220n40–1, 221n46, 223n62, 242n20
worship and, 152, 156–7 Rashi, 61, 79
Nanak, Guru, 73, 121 Reiser, Daniel, 243n43
Novak, David, 227n33, 229n23, 231n11, revelation, 36, 52, 114, 124, 127, 134,
237n10 141–2, 178, 233n32, 235n60, 236n75,
237n9
Ochs, Peter, 11 see also prophets/prophecy
Orthodox Judaism, 1, 5, 17–19, 33, 38, 178 Rivkes, Rabbi Moshe, 140–1
Osho
see Rajneesh Saadiah Gaon, 235n63, 249n4
otherness, 12, 21, 25, 27–30, 33, 54–5, 57, Sacks, Rabbi Jonathan, 247n2
128–9, 143, 150, 160–2, 173, 175, 186, sacrifice, 47–50, 65, 125
188, 197, 202–3 saints, 77, 93, 101–4, 125, 142, 144, 169,
189, 222n57, 225n11, 229n17
paganism, 109, 119, 153–4, 196 “same God” concept
Pettit, Peter, 215n11 Avoda Zara and, 133–5
prayer Christianity and, 139–42
angels and, 47, 152–3, 241n13 creation and, 138–41
Avoda Zara and, 217n11, 225n7, 248n3 Hinduism and, 135–6
Christianity and, 246n3 Maimonides and, 133–6, 145
God and, 165, 233n48 Meiri and, 143–5
Hinduism and, 77–8, 148–50, 221n48 Nachmanides and, 136–7
non-Jews and, 237n9 Rabbi Herzog and, 142
religious imagination and, 244n49 Shituf and, 138, 141–2
“same God” and, 140 Sperber and, 142–3
prophets/prophecy Steinsaltz and, 142
Avoda Zara and, 51–2, 55, 69, 176, 194 theology and, 137–40
divinity and, 48 Tosafot and, 138–9
Ezekiel and, 153 view of other religions and, 132–3
false prophecy, 49–50 Schafer, Peter, 224n1
God and, 162–3, 165–6 Schapiro, Rabbi Kalonymous Kalman, 165,
Hinduism and, 176 244n48–9
idolatry and, 34–7, 48–9, 60, 117 Schwartz, Dov, 221n45, 222n54
Maimonides and, 55 Separate Intelligences, 63–4, 156, 223n62
Meiri and, 117 Shankar, Sri Sri Ravi, 14, 122, 174
Nachmanides and, 60 Shankara, 22, 135
Rebbe and, 19 Shapiro, Marc, 212n11
religion and, 48–9, 155 sheitel crisis
see also revelation attitudes and, 33, 36, 38
Purim, 102 Avoda Zara and, 17–24, 33, 42, 56
controversy over, 18–21
Rabad, 164–5, 230n28, 247n19 explained, 17
Rabbenu Tam, 82 otherness and, 197
Rajneesh, 102, 200–1 ritual and, 21–2
Rama, 148, 155, 159, 169, 243n35 Torah and, 18
see also Hindu deities tradition and, 18
264 INDEX

Shirdi Sai Baba, 73 Stern, Sacha, 211n5, 224n1, 239n21

Shituf
angels and, 97
Avoda Zara and, 44–5
Christianity and, 44, 81–3, 86–91, 95–9,
152, 169, 186
complex nature of, 93–4
divinity and, 102–3
explained, 83
halachic thought and, 94–5
halakhah and, 85
Herzog on, 83–4
Hinduism and, 88–91, 97, 101–2
identity and, 99–101
Israel and, 97, 99–101, 105
Jews vs. Gentiles and, 99–101, 104–6
Judaism and, 83–7
Maimonides and, 82–3, 85–7, 95–6
practice of, 99–100
religion and, 87–91
“same God” concept and, 138, 141–2
Steinsaltz on, 84–91
Torah and, 45, 83, 86
Sikhism, 121
Siva, 89, 149, 159–61, 169, 171
see also Hindu deities
Sivananda, Swami, 13, 77, 221n48
Smith, Mark, 158, 242n28, 242n31,
247n21
Soloveitchik, Haym, 230n3
Sommer, Ben, 176–7
Soneji, Davesh, 235n62
Sperber, Daniel, 142, 198, 207n1, 208n8,
209n19, 210n22, 210n28, 216n6,
240n1, 241n13, 248n3, 249n5
stasis, idolatry and, 130
Steinsaltz, Rabbi Adin
Avoda Zara and, 89–91, 223n64,
227n33
on changing relationship between Jews
and non-Jews, 84–6
on God, 86–7
Indian religions and, 88–9, 226n26,
227n29
on Jewish law, 85, 87
Meiri and, 107, 230n2
on religion, 87–8, 226n20
Shituf and, 84–91, 142, 229n25
on tolerance, 86, 173, 228n7, 249n5
Sugunendra Theerta Swami, 174–5,
229n26
Swaminarayan, 121
Talmud, 84, 99, 109–10, 116, 118–19,
212n10, 224n1
Tantra, 122, 201, 236n70–1
Tikkun, 122
Tillich, Paul, 178
Tirupati, 17–20, 22–3, 29, 197
tolerance, 44, 70, 82, 84, 86, 90–1,
107–8, 116, 130, 135, 171, 173,
180–1
Torah
Avoda Zara and, 52, 63–4, 66, 69,
118–19, 193
commandments, 86, 235n60
creation and, 139
fixity and, 206
Herzog and, 83
Hinduism and, 112–14, 118–20
idolatry and, 112, 178, 251n25
Maimonides and, 134
Meiri and, 112–14, 118, 232n25
Nachmanides and, 42, 59–60, 63–4, 66
prophecy and, 49
religion and, 118, 232n25
ritual and, 21
“same God” and, 134, 139–40
sheitel and, 18
Shituf and, 45, 83, 86
Tosafot, 82, 93–5, 97, 138–42, 170, 239n21,
240n28, 242n21, 245n64
Trinity, 56, 84, 86, 89, 116, 142, 158, 176,
224n3
see also Christianity
unity, Divine and, 6, 22, 73, 76, 89, 94,
96, 116–17, 123–4, 147–8, 163–4,
199
Upanishads, 23, 136–7, 239n27
Urbach, E. E., 232n15
van der Toorn, K., 209n18
Vedanta, 14, 23, 74–5, 89–90, 123, 126,
153, 159, 179–80
Venkateshwara temple, 17
Vijayananda, Swami, 202, 228n15
 INDEX 265

Vishishtadvaita, 22 Yoga Sivananda, 100

Volf, Miroslav, 236n1
White, David Gordon, 236n70
wigs, 1, 5, 10, 17–20, 24, 29, 33, 199
see also sheitel crisis
Wolfson, Elliot, 164, 244n45, 245n58
Wolpe, Rabbi Shalom Dov, 19
Yogaswaroopananda, Swami, 14, 23,
179
Yosef, Rabbi Ovadiah, 216n11, 239n24,
248n4
Zalman, Rabbi Shneur, 79
Zimmer, Heinrich, 178, 246n18