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Rabbi - Pastor - Priest: Their Roles and Profiles Through the Ages
 3110266016, 9783110266016

Table of contents :
The Talmudic Rabbi as Holy Man
Offices? Roles, Functions, Authorities and Their Ethos in Earliest Christianity: A Look into the World of Pauline Communities
Insights into the Christian Office in Late Antiquity
Men of Knowledge and Power: A Tentative Profile of Medieval Rabbis
Change or Continuity? How the Reformation Changed the Role of the Pastor
Modern Rabbinical Training: Intercultural Invention and Political Reconfiguration
Rabbis as Preachers, 1800-1965: Regensburg Conference Lecture
The Professionalization of the American Rabbinate
The Protestant Pastoral Office: Its Self-Understanding and Its Challenges Today
Whom Does the Priest Represent? The Theology of the Ordained Ministry Following the Second Vatican Council (19621965)
The Protestant Pastor and the Communication of the Gospel: Public Ministry in the Present Protestant Church
A Female Rabbi Is Like an Orange on the Passover Plate. Women and the Rabbinate: Challenges and Horizons
Functional Secularization and Conversion: On the Changed Demands Made on Ministerial Action in the Catholic Church
Islamic Clerics: Tradition and Transition
Invited to Preach to the People” (Origen): A Theological Plea for “Lay” Preaching in the Catholic Church
Word Workers: The Rabbinate and the Protestant Pastoral Office in Dialogue
The Modern Community Rabbi in Germany: Towards the Development of a Contemporary Occupational Profile
List of Contributors
Index of Abbreviations
Index of Names
Index of Subjects

Citation preview

Rabbi – Pastor – Priest

Studia Judaica Forschungen zur Wissenschaft des Judentums Begründet von Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Herausgegeben von Günter Stemberger Band 64

De Gruyter

Rabbi – Pastor – Priest Their Roles and Profiles Through the Ages Edited by Walter Homolka and Heinz-Günther Schöttler

De Gruyter

ISBN 978-3-11-026601-6 e-ISBN 978-3-11-026696-2 ISSN 0585-5306 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2013 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Printing: Hubert & Co. GmbH und Co. KG, Göttingen ∞ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Dedicated to Christine Lieberknecht, Minister-President of the Free State of Thuringia, for her outstanding support of the training of rabbis and cantors in Germany

Inhalt Judith Hauptman The Talmudic Rabbi as Holy Man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

Tobias Nicklas Offices? Roles, Functions, Authorities and Their Ethos in Earliest Christianity: A Look into the World of Pauline Communities . .

23

Annette von Stockhausen Insights into the Christian Office in Late Antiquity . . . . . . . . . . .

41

Robert Bonfil Men of Knowledge and Power: A Tentative Profile of Medieval Rabbis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

55

Jrgen Kampmann Change or Continuity? How the Reformation Changed the Role of the Pastor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

67

Carsten L. Wilke Modern Rabbinical Training: Intercultural Invention and Political Reconfiguration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

83

Marc Saperstein Rabbis as Preachers, 1800 – 1965: Regensburg Conference Lecture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

111

Lawrence A. Hoffman The Professionalization of the American Rabbinate . . . . . . . . . . .

129

Eilert Herms The Protestant Pastoral Office: Its Self-Understanding and Its Challenges Today . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

157

Erwin Dirscherl Whom Does the Priest Represent? The Theology of the Ordained Ministry Following the Second Vatican Council (1962 – 1965) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Inhalt

Ulrike Wagner-Rau The Protestant Pastor and the Communication of the Gospel: Public Ministry in the Present Protestant Church . . . . . . . . . . . . .

203

Dalia Marx A Female Rabbi Is Like an Orange on the Passover Plate. Women and the Rabbinate: Challenges and Horizons . . . . . . . . .

219

Johannes Fçrst Functional Secularization and Conversion: On the Changed Demands Made on Ministerial Action in the Catholic Church . .

241

Reuven Firestone Islamic Clerics: Tradition and Transition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

257

Heinz-Gnther Schçttler “… Invited to Preach to the People” (Origen): A Theological Plea for “Lay” Preaching in the Catholic Church . . . . . . . . . . . . .

277

Alexander Deeg Word Workers: The Rabbinate and the Protestant Pastoral Office in Dialogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

303

Walter Homolka The Modern Community Rabbi in Germany: Towards the Development of a Contemporary Occupational Profile . . . . . . . .

327

List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

355

Index of Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

359

Index of Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

361

Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

373

Preface Both Judaism and Christianity have authorized clergy, charged with fulfilling a multitude of tasks in their respective communities. They teach, provide pastoral care, and preach. They lead worship and offer counseling regarding all aspects of life. They perform religious rites at the beginning and end of life as well as in between. They make decisions regarding religious questions, serve as administrators, and even possibly mediate “between heaven and earth”. The concrete forms of realization and the functions of the office are not only defined through theological specification, they are also subject to trends and influences. This in turn leads to constant change and adaptation. The contributors in this volume examine the expectations held towards holders of religious office and their identity over the course of the centuries: first, on the level of role definitions; and second, on the level of practical manifestations and their respective historical, cultural, and social contexts. Despite many differences regarding the definition of clergy in Judaism, Catholicism, and Protestantism, it is striking to see the many parallels. We are particularly grateful that Reuven Firestone added the dimension of the cleric in Islam to provide a fuller picture. This volume combines lectures held at an international conference at the University of Regensburg between September 19 and 22, 2011, on the topic “Legal Scholar – Preacher – Spiritual Advisor: Changing Roles of Rabbis, Pastors and Priests”. It has been a very meaningful joint venture of the Abraham Geiger College at Potsdam University, the chair for Pastoral Theology at the Department of Roman Catholic Theology at Regensburg University, and the chair for Practical Theology at the Department for Protestant Theology of Leipzig University in collaboration with the Wittenberg Institute for Preaching and Homiletics. Both editors would like to express their gratitude to Professor Dr. Alexander Deeg for his cooperation.

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Preface

The editors are indebted to Debra Hirsch Corman for the copyediting. We would also like to thank Tobias Barniske and Martin Kujawa for compiling the indices and coordinating the publication of this volume. Rabbi Professor Walter Homolka BD MPhil PhD DHL Professor Dr. Heinz-Gnther Schçttler

The Talmudic Rabbi as Holy Man Judith Hauptman The Talmud is a wide-ranging collection of teachings by men called rabbis who lived from the 1st to the 6th century CE in the land of Israel and in Babylonia. Utilizing the legal prescriptions of the Torah, the rabbis of the Talmud developed Jewish religious, social, and civil practice. Their pronouncements are venerated by many Jews to this very day. The Talmud is composed of two main parts: the Mishnah, the older stratum, and the Gemara, the later rabbis commentaries on the Mishnah. There are two Gemaras or Talmuds, one edited in the land of Israel, called the Talmud Yerushalmi, and the other in Babylonia, called the Talmud Bavli or Babylonian Talmud.1 Rabbis who speak up in the Mishnah are called tannaim and in the Gemara amoraim. This inquiry will examine the character of the Talmudic rabbi. A rabbi is often called a holy man, with the word “holy” suggesting devotion to God, to Torah, and to performing good deeds. I will show a side of the holy man that is generally not recognized. My thesis is that the term “holy” is far more inclusive than one might think. The ancient rabbis were indeed holy, as long as the word “holy” also means “human.” The various strata of the Talmud portray the rabbi in different, sometimes conflicting ways. Until now, most characterizations of the rabbi have emerged from legal pronouncements and stories. Tractate Berakhot, for instance, discusses the recitation of the Shema (Hear, O Israel) “prayer” in detail, presenting rules about the position one must assume when reciting it, the extent to which one must pronounce the words aloud and clearly, the state of purification that is required of the one who recites it, and so on. The authors of such exacting rules were clearly striving to attain holiness. The stories in the Talmud also impute holiness to the rabbi. In the ancient world, two well-known traits of holy men were the abilities to heal the sick and to feed the hungry. The biblical Elijah and Elisha qualify on 1

The dates of closure are not certain, but the Talmud Yerushalmi is thought to have emerged in about the middle of the 5th century and the Talmud Bavli in the 6th or 7th.

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these grounds,2 and so does Jesus.3 The Talmud portrays rabbis who fit this model, too. Tractate Berakhot tells two stories about Hanina b. Dosa. The first (mBerakhot 5:5) relates that people would come to him and ask him to pray for the sick. Upon concluding his pleas, he would say, “This one will live, and that one will die.” When asked how he knew, he would answer that if the words of prayer flowed freely from his mouth, it meant recovery would take place. If not, not.4 The second story relates that once, when he was engrossed in prayer, a lizard bit him, but he did not feel the bite. The lizard then died, not the rabbi.5 The clear message of the story is that R. Hanina b. Dosas intense “holiness” killed the animal.6 Another trait ascribed to the Talmudic holy man is devotion to the study of Torah. A passage in tractate Sukkah relates that R. Yohanan b. Zaccai was the first to arrive at the study house in the morning and the last to leave at night, never stopping his studies for even a moment.7 The same passage goes on to say that when Yonatan ben Uziel concentrated on Torah study, any bird that flew over his head was instantaneously consumed. As hagiographic as all these tales are, they show clearly how the Talmud characterized a holy man. An altogether different side of the rabbi emerges from the legal anecdotes. These small passages, which appear in much greater number in the Gemara than in the Mishnah, usually follow a legal pronouncement and show how the proposed law was carried out by a particular rabbi or group of rabbis. Unlike the longer stories, which are likely to have 2 3 4

5

6

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Elijah stories: 1Kgs 17 (feeding the hungry, curing the sick); Elisha stories: 2Kgs 2 (feeding the hungry), 2Kgs 4 (curing the sick). See, for instance, Luke 8 (curing the sick) and 9 (feeding the hungry). See yBer 5:5, 9d. The text goes on to say that it once happened that a son of Rabban Gamaliel fell sick. He sent several scholars to R. Hanina b. Dosa to pray for his son. R. Hanina b. Dosa said to them: Wait for me while I go upstairs. And he went up and came down and said: I am certain that the boy is recovering. And they later noted that at that very moment the boy asked for some food. See mBer 5:5. The Talmud (bBer 34b) reports yet another story of R. Hanina b. Dosa healing the sick, this time a son of his teacher, R. Yohanan b. Zaccai. Honi Hameagel is yet another holy man. Mishnah Taanit 3:8 relates that once, when there was a drought, people came to him and asked him to pray for rain. He told them to bring into their homes anything they had outdoors that could get damaged by water. He then drew a circle around himself and said to God: I will not budge until you bring down rain. And it began to rain. See parallel versions in bTaan 23a and yTaan 3:10, 66d. See bSuk 28a.

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been fabricated to teach a lesson, many of these small anecdotes give the impression of having actually taken place. No doubt they were edited and modified for inclusion in the Talmud, but the reported episode seems real. For example: we read in Bavli Berakhot 13b that one should linger on the word “ehad [(God is) One]” at the end of the recitation of the Shema. We are then told that when R. Yirmiyah did exactly that, a colleague said to him, “Enough.” That is, a colleague chided R. Yirmiyah for being too pious in public. We thus see that the descriptive passage sets limits on the abstract rule and offers new insight into the rabbinic personality. To learn more about how rabbis behaved in a variety of prayer situations, I will analyze ten anecdotes, seven from the Jerusalem Talmud and three from the Babylonian Talmud. In each, a rabbis behavior will be measured against the ancient and also contemporary understanding of the word “holy.” All stories appear in Berakhot, the first tractate of the Talmud. The first three chapters of Berakhot focus on the belief in, and reverence for, the holy and present a set of rules to protect the holy from desecration by the profane. In particular, these chapters stipulate that a male Jew confess his faith in the one God morning and evening by reciting the Shema. This “prayer” is composed of three Torah sections. The first begins “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One” (Deut 6:4 – 9), and goes on to speak of the requirement to love God and Gods Torah. The second section lays out the terms of the covenant: if Jews keep Gods mitzvot, commandments, He will bring rain in due season, crops will grow, and people will eat and be satisfied. But if Jews stray, the rains will be held back, crops will not grow, and people will disappear from the face of the earth (Deut 11:13 – 21). The third segment is a call to action, to wear zizit, or fringes, on the corners of ones garment in order to remember the commandments (Num 15:37 – 41).8 The Shema was to be recited morning and evening and followed by the Amidah, a set of prayers that begin with praise, move on to petitions, and end with thanks. References to these pillars of Jewish prayer will appear often in the passages below.

8

These laws are still followed by Jews today. This is evidenced by the fact that some Jewish prayer books contain charts that specify day by day, for the entire year, from when and until when in the morning and in the evening one may recite the Shema.

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1 The Legal Anecdotes 1.1 Direction of the Heart in Prayer (yBer 2:4, 5a)

R. Laya (JA 3),9 R. Yasa (JA 3) in the name of R. Aha Ruba: If a person was praying and found himself saying the words “shomea tefilah” [at the end of the petitionary portion of the Amidah], we can assume he had the proper direction of the heart [all along and need not return and repeat the petitionary prayers from the beginning]. R. Yirmiyah (JA 4) in the name of R. Eleazar (JA 3): If he was praying and did not direct his heart, then if he knows that if he repeats the prayers he can direct his heart, he should pray [a second time]; if not, he should not pray [a second time]. Said R. Hiyya Ruba (JA 1): All my days, I was never able to direct [my heart] but one time when I wanted to do so [i.e., when I was striving for kavvanah, for direction], I said to myself, “Who precedes whom when going before the king – the araqvsa 10 or the exilarch?” Shmuel (BA 1) said: I count chickens. R. Bun bar Hiyya (JA 3) said: I count stone rows. R. Matanyah (JA 5 – 6) said: I owe my head thanks for when I reach the “modim” prayer [which requires bowing], I bow automatically. A number of rabbis discuss the tension between reciting prayers by memory and achieving direction of the heart. For someone who prays regularly, the words may issue from his mouth even while his mind is elsewhere. Shockingly to todays reader of this passage, a number of very prominent 9 The abbreviation JA 3 means Jerusalem amora (rabbi) of the third generation, circa 350 CE. The abbreviation BA 3 would mean Babylonian amora of the third generation. 10 Meaning of word and of entire statement is not clear.

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rabbis admit that they are unable to concentrate on their prayer. R. Hiyya Ruba says that he almost never achieves direction of the heart. Shmuel says that he counts chickens and R. Bun bar Hiyya rows of stones. Although their statements are not clear, they may be describing focusing techniques.11 The last rabbi, who is pleased that his knees bow on their own in the Modim prayer, is probably saying that his mind was elsewhere when he was mouthing the words of prayer but his body compensated for him. Thus, these four rabbis all openly admit that they cannot achieve the goals their predecessors set for them. Even though they are devoted to God and to prayer, they are not able to pray with direction of the heart on a regular basis.12 These short passages alter the way we think of holy men. They struggle with prayer just as laypeople do. The Talmud records their concerns, thus giving the message that at the same time that rabbis stipulate kavvanah, direction of the heart, they know how often unattainable the goal is. Please note that the rabbis in this discussion span the generations. R. Hiyya Ruba and Shmuel are early amoraim of the first generation in the land of Israel and Babylonia respectively (circa 250 CE). The two clear statements of law that precede their “confessions”13 date from a period later than they, from the third and fourth generation of Yerushalmi rabbis. When these later rabbis issued their legal pronouncements, they did so with knowledge acquired from earlier rabbis of how difficult it is to achieve kavvanah. They make allowances for real, flawed human beings, like themselves, and permit a person to fulfill prayer obligations even if he failed to direct his heart. As time passes, kavvanah becomes a desideratum, not a demand.

11 According to the Yerushalmi scholar Leib Moscovitz, these statements mean that the rabbis minds wandered off to extraneous things, like chickens and stones, both visually available in a typical courtyard. 12 The traditional commentators hold otherwise. R. Eleazar Azikri (16th century), author of a commentary on Yerushalmi Berakhot, Perush Mi-baal Sefer Haredim, writes (ad locum): “It is impossible that these holy men [haqedoshim halalu] did not direct their hearts when praying.” 13 1) That a person should not repeat his prayers if he cannot be sure of having kavvanah the second time round; 2) that a person who “finds himself” saying the words shomea tefilah may assume that he prayed until that point with direction.

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1.2 Mourning Practices (yBer 3:1, 6a)

– –

– – –

When R. Yassa died (JA 3), R. Hiyya bar Abba (JA 3, his teacher) received mourners and they were fed meat and given wine to drink.14 When R. Hiyya bar Abba died, R. Shmuel bar R. Yizhaq (his teacher, JA 3) received mourners and they were fed meat and given wine to drink. When R. Shmuel bar R. Yizhaq died, R. Zeira received mourners and . fed them lentils, saying, “This is the custom”, When R. Zeira was dying, he gave the following instructions: Do not receive condolences one day and drink wine the next…. When R. Yizhaq bar R. Hiyya Ketubah15 (JA 3) was in mourning, R. Mana (JA 4) and R. Yudan came to see him and drank much good wine and laughed and jested. The next day they wanted to visit him again, but he said to them: Rabbis, is this what one does for a colleague? All that was missing yesterday was for you to get up and dance!

This passage surprises the modern reader in a number of ways. First, it suggests that in the early rabbinic period visiting a house of mourning involved eating meat and drinking wine.16 As time passed, lentils became 14 I thank Bible scholar David Marcus (electronic communication, November 13, 2011) for suggesting the translation “they were fed meat and given wine to drink.” The passive voice, he writes, explains the plural form of the verb. 15 Translation is based on a textual emendation suggested by Hanoch Albeck, Mavo Latalmudim (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1969), 397. 16 See yBer 3:1, 6a and bKet 8b. In these passages, too, reference is made to people getting drunk at a house of mourning and to changes instituted in mourning practices.

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the mourning food of choice. Second, junior rabbis “party” in a house of mourning and only after being admonished by a senior colleague do they come to understand that their behavior is offensive. Such comportment does not gibe with our idea of a rabbi as a holy man. Third, several teachers formally mourn their students. These rites are reserved, according to rabbinic law, for close blood relatives. In this instance, the rabbi sees himself as a father, as attested by statements elsewhere in the Talmud.17 Criticism by senior colleagues of junior colleagues is common in halakhic anecdotes. It seems to be a main technique for modifying the law. The junior rabbis had been adhering to the law as they knew it, but the senior rabbi institutes new, “improved” rules.

1.3 Religious vs. Political Leaders (yBer 3:1, 6a)

What is the law regarding a kohen becoming ritually impure to honor a [deceased] Nasi [i.e., chief rabbi]? –





When R. Judah Nesia (JA 1) died, R. Yannai (JA 1, a kohen) made an announcement, saying: There is no kehunah today [since a man of great importance has died, even a kohen must become impure and mourn him]. When R. Judah Nesia (JA 3), the grandson of R. Judah Nesia (JA 1), died, R. Hiyya bar Abba (JA 3) pushed R. Zeira (JA 3, a kohen) in the synagogue of the vineyard of Sepphoris and made him ritually impure [so that he would mourn the Nasi]. When Nehorai, the sister of R. Judah Nesia died, R. Hanina sent word to R. Mana [(JA 5), a kohen, to come and mourn the deceased] but he did not come up [and did not render himself impure]. He [R. Mana] said to him [R. Hanina of Sepphoris (JA 5)]: If in their

17 See, for example, mBM 2:10 and bQid 30a.

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[i.e., womens] lifetime a man does not become impure because of them [i.e., a man may not come into contact with menstruants], then surely not in their death [should he become impure because of them and I will not compromise my kehunah for the sister of the Nasi]! Said R. Nissa (JA 4): Upon their [a sisters] death, they [the rabbis] made them [sisters] like a met mizvah [an abandoned corpse, for whom a kohen is required to render himself impure. It follows that a rabbi who is a kohen should become impure for the sister of a Nasi].

A kohen is obligated by the Torah to maintain a state of ritual purity and may only compromise it when close family members, such as a parent, sibling, or child die. The issue under discussion is the respect due a Nasi after death. Should a kohen render himself impure by attending a funeral for a Nasi? As we see above, rules are changed on occasion. In this passage, kohanim who are rabbis are being instructed to become ritually impure when a political leader who is not a family member dies, or even when the close relative of a political leader dies. Some rabbi/priests rebelled against compromising their kehunah for a Nasi. Others felt that a Nasi should be mourned by priests too. R. Zeira had literally to be pushed by a colleague to become impure.18 R. Mana refused to become impure for a sister of a Nasi even though two colleagues told him he should. Are these anecdotes indicative of a strained relationship between the Nasi and rabbi/priests? Perhaps. But the issue as it is presented in this passage is one of evolving Jewish law. Confounding our notion of a holy man, we again see rabbis altering the law for what might be considered political or even self-serving ends.

18 Catherine Hezser, in Form, Function and Historical Significance of the Rabbinic Story in Yerushalmi Neziqin (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993), 80, writes that R. Hiyya bar Abba dragged the priest R. Zeira into a synagogue and thereby made him unclean. That is where corpses were brought to be eulogized prior to burial. Being in an enclosed space with a corpse renders a kohen (or anyone else) ritually impure.

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1.4 Heeding a Rabbis Advice (yBer 3:4, 6c)

R. Yosi bar Halafta (a tanna) was walking in the street at night and an ass driver was walking behind him towards a cistern. The assdriver said: That man [referring to himself] needs to bathe. R. Yosi said to him: Dont endanger yourself [by immersing at night]. [The man said:] But I had [illicit] sex with a menstruant and with a woman married to another man [and so I need to immerse]! [R. Yosi again said]: Dont endanger yourself. Since the man did not listen [to him], R. Yosi said: May he go down [into the cistern] and not come up. And that is what happened. R. Yosi b. Yosi (JA 4) was taking a walk on a boat. He saw a man tie a rope around himself so that he could lower himself [into the ocean] and immerse. He said to him: Dont endanger yourself. The man said: But he [referring to himself] needs to eat [and he is ritually impure and cannot recite a blessing19]. R. Yosi said to him: Eat [in an impure state]! He then said: But that man [(referring to himself) also] needs to drink! R. Yosi said to him: So drink [in an impure state]! When they reached the lamina [port, namal], R. Yosi said to him: I only allowed you to eat and drink without first immersing because of the danger [of immersion at night]. But now it is forbidden for that man [i.e., for you] to eat or drink until he first bathes [i.e., immerses]! 19 Pnei Moshe commentary, ad locum.

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These two anecdotes form a “contrasting” pair and should be read together. In both, a rabbi reaches out to someone who has not sought him out. In the first, the rabbi is fearful for the mans life and instructs him not to immerse at night. The man does not heed the rabbis advice, the rabbi curses him, and the man dies.20 It is surprising to todays reader that a holy man, according to the Talmud, has the power to bring about the death of someone who offended him.21 In the second story, a rabbi reaches out to a man who was also about to risk his life, this time by immersing in the ocean when suspended by a rope from a boat. The man was trying to behave according to standards of Jewish law as he knew them. But the rabbi tells him to eat and drink without immersing because of possible danger. In this instance, the layperson obeys the rabbi and survives. In this second episode the rabbi expresses interest in the actions of a layperson, hears the man describe his religious quandary, issues a leniency to extricate him from it, and warns the man not to exceed its limits. This is expected behavior on the part of the rabbi. But since both tales are intended by the storyteller to be read as a pair, together they say that the rabbi who can “reward” you is the same one who can “punish” you.

1.5 Sacred and Profane (yBer 3:5, 6d)

20 That a holy man can curse and “kill” is evidenced in the Bible. See 2Kgs 2:24 where Elisha curses in Gods name the 42 children who mocked him. Two bears appear and devour them. 21 This is just one of many stories in the Talmud in which rabbis are portrayed as bringing harm to people who violate their wishes or flout Jewish law. Another instance of a rabbi cursing someone who then dies: A student of Samuel had sexual relations on the Sabbath during his week of mourning. Samuel heard about it, became angry, and the man dropped dead (yMQ 3:3, 82d). Gideon Bohak, in Ancient Jewish Magic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 369, writes that according to the Talmud, a rabbis curse was dangerous.

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A tanna taught: One must distance oneself four amot from [the source of] an offensive odor [such as excrement, in order to recite the Shema]. Said R. Ammi (JA 3): One must distance oneself four amot from the end [or edge] of [the source of an] offensive odor. That is so if [the source of the odor] is behind him. But if in front of him [he must get far enough away from the source of the offensive odor], so that he can no longer see it. Like this. Rabbi Laya (JA 3) and the havurah [group of colleagues] were sitting in front of an inn at evening [and smelled an offensive odor but could not see its source]. They [the colleagues] said: What is the law regarding saying words of Torah [in the presence of an offensive odor, the source of which cannot be seen]? He said to them: If it were daytime, we could see what was before us [and distance ourselves from the source of the odor]. But like this it is forbidden [to speak words of Torah]. A tannaitic passage states that a person must distance himself four amot from an offensive odor. R. Ammi says that one must distance himself four amot from the edge of the offensive odor. The anonymous commentator stipulates that a person must not even be able to see the source of the odor if it is in front of him. It is clear that as this discussion unfolds, the rules of separating holy words from profane substances grow stricter. The passage continues with an episode about R. Laya. As he and colleagues are assembled at an inn, in the dark, they smell a bad odor. The colleagues ask R. Laya to decide if in such circumstances he may speak words of Torah to them. That is, they consider the possibility that if one smells an offensive odor, Torah may still be discussed. He answers that one may not speak words of Torah when one cannot see the source of the offensive odor, presumably because it is impossible in the dark to distance oneself from it “as far as the eyes can see,” as stipulated by the anonymous commentator.22 In this anecdote, it is the colleagues who surprise us. They seem to think it possible that even when smelling an offensive odor—but not seeing 22 The phrase “like this” implies either that R. Laya is familiar with the anonymous comment that one should distance oneself from the source of an offensive odor as far as the eye can see and wants to abide by it or else that the anonymous comment was formulated on the basis of this anecdote and was interpolated into the discussion. That is, the notion of moving so far away from an offensive odor that one can no longer see its source may have been derived from this very anecdote in which R. Laya refuses to say words of Torah at night because he cannot move to a place where, if it were daytime, he would no longer see the source of the odor.

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its source—one may discuss Torah. Note that this episode supports the image of a master teacher whose colleagues or disciples follow him from one place to the next. 1.6 Behavior During Prayer, part 1 (yBer 3:6, 6d)

For R. Hanina (JA 1) said: I saw Rabbi [Judah Hanasi] yawn and pass wind and put his hand over his mouth but not spit [in a synagogue]. R. Yohanan (JA 2) said: One may even spit so that his mouth [kos] is clean. In front of him is forbidden; behind him is permitted; to his right is forbidden; to his left is permitted; as the verse says…. All agree that one who spits iztalin23 is forbidden. Said R. Joshua b. Levi (JA 1): One who spits in a synagogue is like one who spits into the pupil of his eye. R. Yonah (JA 4) spat and then rubbed [it]. R. Yirmiyah (JA 4), R. Shmuel bar Halafta in the name of R. Adda bar Ahavah (BA 2): One who prays should not spit until he walks [away a distance of] four amot. Said R. Yosi bei R. Abun (JA 5): [Likewise,] one who spits should not pray until he walks [away a distance of] four amot. This passage discusses manners in the synagogue. R. Hanina (JA 1) gives an eyewitness report that R. Judah Hanasi behaved in questionable ways at prayer, but did not spit.24 R. Yohanan (JA 2) comments that spitting is ac23 Meaning unclear, as noted by Michael Sokoloff in A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic (Bar Ilan University Press, 1990), 53. 24 It is of interest that the parallel report in the Bavli (bBer 24a) says that R. Hanina saw Rabbi Judah Hanasi belch, yawn, pass wind, and also spit. The Bavli then goes

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ceptable so that ones mouth will be clean.25 An anonymous comment states that one may not spit to the right or in front but may do so to the left or behind ones back. R. Joshua b. Levi (JA 1) compares spitting in a synagogue to spitting in ones eye, which means that he sharply condemns such behavior. The passage continues and says that R. Yonah (JA 4) spat but then rubbed the spittle, which probably means that he pressed it into the ground with his foot. This rabbi is saying that he cannot abide by the religious requirement of not spitting where he prays and so devises a way to spit but at the same time protect the sanctity of the place of prayer. He thus models a creative solution to a halakhic problem. This portrait of R. Yonahs behavior does not gibe with our expectations of a holy man. In this context, a rabbi is still holy if he succumbs to bodily urges while praying. A related passage appears in the Bavli.

1.7 Behavior During Prayer, part 2 (bBer 24b)

… For R. Judah (BA 1) said: If a person was standing in prayer and saliva accumulated [in his mouth], he should spit it out into his outer garment. If his garment is too handsome [to be treated in this way], he should spit it out into his undergarment [apraqsuto]. Ravina (BA 7) was standing behind R. Ashi (BA 6) and saliva accumulated [in his mouth] and he spat it out behind him. R. Ashi said to him: Doesnt the master hold like R. Judah, that one should spit into ones undergarment? He answered: I am fastidious [ana anina daatai]. As in the Yerushalmi passage cited above, here too, a number of rabbis feel the need to spit during prayer services. R. Judah, an early amora, alon to rationalize Rabbi Judah Hanasis behavior. Even so, it is clear that in Babylonia manners in the synagogue were understood to be more restrictive than in the land of Israel. See below. 25 It is not clear what kos means. The standard Yerushalmi commentators say it refers to ones mouth being clean for prayer.

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lows it, as long as one spits into his own garment, thus keeping the spittle invisible and close to oneself. Ravina, however, does not spit into his outer or undergarment, as suggested by R. Judah, but spits behind himself. When asked by R. Ashi, a senior colleague, why he did so, his answer is that he is fastidious. This is a time-honored argument, first appearing in mBerakhot 2:7, when Rabban Gamaliel bathed right after burying his wife, even though he himself taught his students that mourners may not bathe. When challenged by them, he responded that he could not bear not to bathe. Ravina thus modifies the immediately preceding rule of only spitting into ones garment, not onto the ground and not into a place of prayer. He expands the definition of the word “holy” to include men who strike a balance between sanctity of place and pressing personal circumstances. 1.8 Nighttime Demons (yBer 1:1, 2d)

A tanna taught: One who recites Shema in the synagogue in the morning has discharged his obligation. In the evening, he has not discharged his obligation. What is the difference between the morning and evening recital [that would explain the difference in ruling]? R. Huna in the name of R. Yosef (BA 3): Why did they say that a man is required to recite Shema in the evening in his home? In order to chase away demons…. When R. Shmuel bar Nahmani (JA 3) would go down [to Bavel] to intercalate [the year], he would be received by R. Yaakov Gerosa, and R. Zeira (JA 3) would hide behind baskets in order to hear how he

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[R. Shmuel bar Nahmani] would recite Shema. [R. Zeira] heard him recite it again and again until he fell asleep while reciting it. For what reason [did R. Shmuel repeat Shema until he fell asleep]? R. Aha and R. Tahlifa his father-in-law in the name of R. Shmuel bar Nahman: [As the verse says].… The Bavli also discusses reciting Shema at bedtime. bBer 4b-5a

Said R. Joshua b. Levi (JA 1): Even if a person recited Shema in the synagogue, it is highly meritorious [mizvah] to recite it [again] in bed.… Said R. Nahman (BA 2): If he is a scholar, he need not do so [because Torah study protects him from demons]. Said Abaye (BA 4): Even a scholar needs to say at least one verse [asking for] mercy.… Said R. Yizhaq (JA 3): Whoever recites Shema in bed, it is as if he holds a two-edged sword in his hand.… And R. Yizhaq also said: Whoever reads Shema in bed, demons keep away from him.… Both Talmuds suggest that a reason for reciting Shema at bedtime is to chase away demons. This notion is attributed in the Yerushalmi to R. Yosef, a Babylonian rabbi, and in the Bavli to R. Yizhaq, a Palestinian rabbi. Each Talmud claims that the rabbis of the other “school” acknowledge the existence of demons and the possibility that they can do harm. That these kinds of beliefs were common in the ancient world is not surprising. But it is surprising that rabbis recite Shema, the primary confessional statement of faith in one God, in order to chase away demons. Demons do not belong in the same universe as an omnipotent, omniscient God.26

26 Bohak (Ancient Jewish Magic) suggests that rabbis introduced rules of this sort in order to shore up their own authority and control the behavior of their flock.

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According to Israel Ta-Shma,27 the bedtime Shema was, for many years, the recitation of the nighttime Shema. Instead of attaching Shema to the evening prayer (Maariv), as Jews do today, since the evening prayer was not yet obligatory, some rabbis recited the nighttime Shema when they went to bed.28 In a sense, they thereby fulfilled the House of Shammais teaching that at night one should lie down for the recitation of Shema (mBer 1:3). At a later time, when the nighttime Shema became a standard part of the evening prayer, the bedtime Shema was retained as a third daily recitation. It acquired a new rationale, as we saw above, that is, to keep away nighttime demons. The Yerushalmi reports that R. Zeira (JA 3) overheard R. Shmuel bar Nahmani (JA 3) reciting Shema again and again until he fell asleep, apparently to protect himself from demons. As noted, this is not behavior that we would expect today of a holy man, but back then it made sense. Note that R. Zeira did not ask R. Shmuel outright what his practice was but concealed himself near his bed in order to find out.29 Did R. Zeira think R. Shmuel would not answer if he asked him directly about his practice? I dont know. The Talmud often shows students observing their masters behavior and drawing practical conclusions from it rather than asking him about it.

It is clear, he writes, that the rabbis, like the rest of the populace, assumed the existence of demons (366 – 370). 27 Israel Ta-Shma, Minhag Ashkenaz Ha-Kadmon (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992), 311 – 326. 28 Another reason they did so, says Ta-Shma, was that Maariv was sometimes recited too early for the time frame of Shema and so they postponed reciting Shema until bedtime. 29 In the Bavli (bBer 13b), two rabbis talk about falling asleep after reciting the first verse of Shema. Yet another speaks of not reciting Shema while lying on ones back. These rabbis are referring either to the recitation of the nighttime Shema in bed or to the bedtime Shema in bed.

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1.9 Ritual Purity and Leading Prayers (bBer 22b) mBerakhot 3:4

An ejaculant recites [the words of Shema mentally] without reciting blessings before or after. As for a meal, he recites a blessing afterwards [i.e., Grace], but not before. R. Judah says: He recites a blessing both before and after.30

The rabbis taught: An ejaculant on whom they poured nine qabs of water is ritually pure. In what circumstances? For himself [e.g., to study Torah]. But for [teaching] others, he needs [to immerse in] 40 seah. R. Judah says: [Immersion in] 40 seah [is required] in all cases…. R. Pappa, R. Huna brei dR. Joshua, and Rava bar Shmuel broke bread together.

30 The next Mishnah (mBer 3:5) states that an ejaculant is limited in certain ways. From the outset, he should not pray. But if he starts to do so and then remembers he is ritually impure, he should not stop his prayer but abbreviate it. If an ejaculant had gone down to immerse before reciting Shema, and there is time for him to emerge from the water and cover [his private parts] and recite Shema before the sun rises, he should do so. If not, he should cover himself with water and recite Shema [in the water]. But he should not cover himself with foul water [i.e., urine] or steeping water unless he adds [fresh] water into it. And how far should he distance himself [when reciting Shema] from it and from excrement? Four cubits.

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R. Pappa said to [the two of] them: Let me bless [i.e., recite Grace for us], for nine qabs have been poured on me [and I am no longer an ejaculant]. [But] Rava bar Shmuel said to [the two of] them: We learned in a tannaitic text, in what circumstances [does an ejaculant become pure by having nine qabs of water poured on him]? For himself [e.g., to study Torah]. But for [teaching Torah to] others, he needs to [immerse in] 40 seah [and so you, R. Pappa, are not pure enough to lead us in Grace]. Rather, let me bless [i.e., recite Grace for us], for I have immersed in 40 seah [and am no longer an ejaculant]. R. Huna [then] said to [the two of] them: Let me bless [recite Grace for us], for neither this nor that is upon me [I have not had nine qabs poured on me, nor have I immersed in 40 seah, because I was not an ejaculant]! – R. Hama (BA 5) used to immerse [in 40 seah] on the eve of Passover so that he could discharge the obligation of many. The various tannaitic texts agree that having nine qabs of water poured on an ejaculant is sufficient to make him ritually pure for Torah study on ones own, but immersion in 40 seahs is necessary to make him pure enough to teach others. R. Pappa and Rava bar Shmuel both admit to having recently been an ejaculant but having then immersed, the first one in nine qabs and the second in 40 seah. The third rabbi, R. Huna brei dR. Joshua, says that, even so, he is the most fitting leader for Grace since he was not an ejaculant to begin with. In his view, one who did not emit semen at all is more pure than one who emitted and then immersed. The passage then says that R. Hama immersed on the eve of Passover. The reason he did so is that he wanted to make sure he was ritually pure so that he could discharge the obligations of others, either by leading a seder for them or reciting Grace for them at the seder meal. That is, even if he were meticulous about immersing in nine qabs after a seminal emission, this time, because he will be acting on behalf of others, he must immerse in 40 seah, as stipulated by the baraita.31 31 That R. Huna brei dR. Joshua considers himself more pure than the other two, since he was not an ejaculant to begin with, is a new point. The notion that leading Grace for others is in the same category as teaching Torah to others, and hence requires immersion in 40 seah is also new. As the medieval commentator Rashi states (ad locum): to discharge the obligation of others [for Grace] is equivalent to teaching them Torah. Thus, this example-story does not just show rabbis applying the law of the baraita as stated, but applying it to new sets of circumstances.

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Note that two (and perhaps three) of these four rabbis readily admit either to engaging recently in sexual relations or experiencing an involuntary seminal emission. They openly talk about these matters when enjoying a meal with colleagues. These conversations do not strike the contemporary reader as befitting holy men, although it appears that in the ancient world such talk did not raise eyebrows.

1.10 Sex in the Presence of a Torah Scroll (bBer 25b-26a)

R. Ahai married off his son [to a daughter] of R. Yizhaq bar Shmuel bar Martha (BA 2). The young man entered the wedding chamber but things did not work out [i.e., he was not able to complete the sexual act]. R. Ahai went to visit in order to see [what was happening] and noticed a scroll of Torah lying [in the bridal chamber]. He said to his in-laws: If I had not shown up now, you would have endangered my sons [life], for a tannaitic passage states: one may not engage in sexual relations in the same room [literally, house] as a Torah scroll or tefillin, until one removes them or encloses them in a vessel inside a vessel…. Said R. Joshua b. Levi: One must erect a partition ten handbreadths high for a scroll of Torah [in order to have sex in the same room]. Mar Zutra (BA 6) visited the home of R. Ashi (BA 6) and noticed that in the room of Mar, the [married] son of R. Ashi, there was a Torah scroll and a partition ten handbreadths high was made for it. He said to him [Mar Zutra to R. Ashi]: Like whom [do you rule], like R. Joshua b. Levi? [Dont you know that] his statement about erecting a partition ten handbreadths high referred to someone who did not have a separate building [in which to place the Torah]? You have such a building!

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R. Ashi responded: It did not occur to me. The Yerushalmi (bBer 3:5, 6d) comments on this same topic.

Like this. For R. Huna (JA 3) [said]: A man may not engage in sexual relations if a Torah scroll is with him in the same house. R. Yirmiyah (JA 4) in the name of R. Abbahu (JA 3): If it was covered in a wrap or placed in a window ten handbreadths high, it is permitted [because the Torah scroll would be in a separate domain]. R. Joshua b. Levi (JA 1) would make for it [for the Torah scroll] a kilyon [an enclosure]. The notion of not having sex in the same room as a Torah scroll appears to have originated in the Yerushalmi. R. Joshua b. Levi made an enclosure for a Torah scroll in order to separate it from the bed chamber of a married couple. Late amoraim in the land of Israel modify the rule by saying that sex in the same room is allowed if the Torah scroll is wrapped or placed in a separate domain. Note that when this rule is cited by R. Ahai in the Bavli, it is considered tannaitic. Also note that when R. Joshua b. Levi is cited in the Bavli, he talks about a partition, not an enclosure. In the first Bavli anecdote, a newly married couple attempts to have sex in the same chamber as a Torah scroll, but the groom is unable to perform sexually. Although the brides father learned that the sex act was not accomplished, he does not know why there was a problem. It is the grooms father who informs the brides father of the tannaitic teaching about not having sex in the same room as a Torah scroll. The implied ending is that once the Torah scroll was removed, all went well. We see in this discussion that a rabbi is worried about his sons welfare – and possibly even his own reputation – and goes and discovers the source of the problem. He does not explicitly express concern for his sons wife, either because he thought she would not be punished or because he limited himself to advocating for his own offspring. This kind of intervention seems to be

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the role of a rabbi who suspects a “religious” reason for a marital problem. In the second anecdote, both rabbis know the rule of separating a Torah scroll by partition from a married couple. And a partition was, in fact, erected. But Mar Zutra, the slightly more senior colleague, tells R. Ashi32 that when a better solution is available, it should be implemented, and that is, to place the Torah in a separate structure, not just behind a partition. R. Ashi responds that it did not occur to him. He could have said, “I agree with you” or “Fine idea.” Either R. Ashi did not respond positively to criticism from someone close to his own rank or else felt that the additional measure, apparently innovated by Mar Zutra, was unnecessary. Such indifference is surprising behavior for a “holy” man, as we generally understand the term.

2. Conclusions My goal in this inquiry was to look more closely at the Talmudic rabbi, not just to read all the pious utterances about prayer and commandments that rabbis formulate, but to examine the small, “real life” anecdotes that follow the legal pronouncements. They show a side of the rabbi not evident in the pronouncements or even in the longer stories. I contend that these small anecdotes preserve reports of events that actually took place and that give us information about how rabbis carried out their own prescriptions. That is, they tell us far more about the behavior of rabbis than do the abstract rules of religious behavior that these same men formulated. It is abundantly clear that Talmudic rabbis are devoted to prayer, to fulfilling religious requirements, to performing good deeds, to the study of Torah, and to teaching Torah to others. It is also clear that they are concerned about others and that they intervene to save lives. Those aspects of their character are evident on nearly every page of the Talmud. But the small anecdotes that are interspersed with the legal pronouncements reveal other aspects of their character that surprise the contemporary reader. They show rabbis who: 32 Albeck, Mavo Latalmudim, 436, says that R. Ashi sat before Mar Zutra (bMen 35b) and asked him questions (bQid 7a, bBB 155b, bZev 27a). This means, according to Richard Kalmin (electronic communication, November 13, 2011), that R. Ashi is junior to Mar Zutra.

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struggle to achieve direction of the heart in prayer but fail behave raucously at houses of mourning until told to comport themselves otherwise resist paying homage to the “chief rabbi” if doing so compromises their priestly lineage exercise their power to curse someone who offends them and even bring about that persons death believe in nighttime demons have no compunctions about observing a master at his private moments of prayer and reporting what they saw to others speak openly with each other about their sex lives yawn, belch, pass wind, and spit in places of prayer adapt the law to special situations criticize each other in strong terms

In short, I am not suggesting that the rabbis of the Talmud were not holy. That would not make sense given their vast collection of teachings on such a wide variety of religious subjects. What I am suggesting is that we not take the image of the “holy man” of the ancient period and measure the Talmudic rabbi against it, even though some rabbis performed well-known holy actions, like healing the sick and feeding the hungry. I instead suggest that we read carefully the small legal anecdotes that have often been neglected by scholars and allow them to add significant details to the portrait we paint of a rabbi and to our evolving understanding of the word “holy.” When we do so, we see that holy men are shown to be far more lively, powerful, independent, down-to-earth, human, and free-thinking than we might have imagined. And that makes them all the more inspiring.

Offices? Roles, Functions, Authorities and Their Ethos in Earliest Christianity: A Look into the World of Pauline Communities Tobias Nicklas The quest for the origins and development of church structures and hierarchies in earliest Christianity1 is not new.2 This is surely not surprising: the question of the importance of ecclesiastical offices – and particularly the Popes office3 – is of highest ecumenical relevance. However, I do not

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Perhaps it should be stated that even the term “Christian” in a certain sense is an anachronism if we speak about the earliest communities of “Jesus-followers”. For lack of better possibilities, I will, however, use it in the following article. It is almost impossible to give a full overview of the literature on the topic. Among the newest titles is Thomas Schmeller, Martin Ebner and Rudolf Hoppe, eds., Neutestamentliche mtermodelle im Kontext, QD 239 (Freiburg et al.: Herder, 2010) [with indications of older literature]. For an important earlier view, see Paul Hoffmann, “Priestertum und Amt im Neuen Testament. Eine kritische Bestandsaufnahme,” in his Studien zur Frhgeschichte der Jesus-Bewegung, SBAB 17 (Stuttgart: Bibelwerk, 1994), 274 – 325. Because of the subjects explosiveness I regard it as extremely important to argue as cautiously and as transparently as possible, if one deals with this topic. The article by Ansgar Wucherpfennig, “Das Petrusamt im Johannesevangelium,” in Schmeller et al., Neutestamentliche mtermodelle im Kontext, 73 – 100, seems quite problematic to me. Without giving arguments, the author regards the Gospel of John as very old, perhaps even going back to John the son of Zebedee. Even more important, Wucherpfennig is in danger of mixing up Peters role in the Gospel and his office, which, according to Wucherpfennig, already in John is related to the whole of the church. In addition to this, the author expects “old tradition” (“alte berlieferung” [97]) in John 21, but does not address the problems of the first closure of the book, John 20:30 – 31. Wucherpfenning regards Peters office as standing “in der Kontinuitt der Verheißung an das Haus Davids und das Volk Israel” (99). He writes: “Mit dem Hirtenauftrag erhlt Petrus die missionarische Verantwortung, auch die anderen Schafe zu einer Herde zusammenzufhren. Sein Primat garantiert, dass die Mission die Geschichte Israels bruchlos fortsetzt. … Das Johannesevangelium enthlt die authentische berlieferung von der Einsetzung des Petrusamts fr die christliche Mission durch den Auferstandenen.” I think that ideas like these will not really help to develop the ecumenical dialogue; moreover, reading Wucherpfen-

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want to readdress this classical problem, but only a part of it: my focus is on the question whether earliest Christians developed something like an emerging special “ethos” for people with important roles and functions in the growing communities. To get a somewhat deeper view of the situation I will concentrate on Pauline literature, texts which at least partly allow us quite clear insights on structures of at least some very early Christian groups. Moreover, as mainly (or at least partly) “pagan Christian” communities, which had to organize themselves outside (or beside) the synagogue, the Pauline communities are of particular interest.4 This means, of course, that the following discussion will cover only parts of the New Testament evidence. I will concentrate on the witness of undisputed Pauline letters and will exclude the so-called Pauline pseudepigrapha, that is, texts which claim to be written by Paul but (more or less clearly) represent later stages of development. As do many other scholars, I regard Rom, 1 – 2Cor, Gal, Phil, 1Thess and Phlm as Pauline – still a broad range of material. However, before I deal with the concrete sources, it is necessary to clarify my understanding of two key concepts: (1) Because the question of origins, development, impact and interpretation of offices in the earliest church is of highest importance for Christian self-definition even today, the whole question is always in danger of formulating anachronisms, that is, projecting our problems and views into ancient times. In other words: when we ask about offices in the early church from our modern (or even post-modern) perspective, we connect the term “office” with the idea that certain persons in ancient Christian communities had a more or less secured status or position which was accepted by the whole community. Functions and tasks, but also certain honors and dignity, perhaps even a rank within a more or less established hierarchy were connected with this position. This also meant that an office holder had certain rights, but also duties, in relation to his (or her) community.5 However, already the idea that an office was connected

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nigs article one always has the feeling, that for the author Judaism is nothing more than a relic of the past. See also Carsten Claußen, Versammlung, Gemeinde, Synagoge: Das hellenistisch-jdische Umfeld der frhchristlichen Gemeinden, StUNT 27 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002). Jrgen Roloff, “Amt/mter/Amtsverstndnis IV,” in TRE 2 (1978), 509 – 533, esp. 509, goes even further. He writes: “Nach heutigem Sprachgebrauch bezeichnet Amt eine rechtlich eindeutig festgelegte und gesellschaftlich anerkannte

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with a certain (more or less fixed) position within a community implies the idea that this office is bound to a kind of institution, in our case the institution “church” or “community”. We will see that at least for the earliest texts such an idea of ecclesiastical offices is a far-reaching anachronism, which does not do justice to the source material.6 Actually, this cannot really surprise us if we consider the fact that at least important parts of the earliest church lived in the expectation of the immediate parousia of the risen Christ.7 This expectation becomes particularly clear in 1Thess, probably the oldest extant Christian writing: in the fourth chapter of this text Paul deals with the problem that members of the Thessalonian community had not even considered the idea that Christians could die before Christs second coming. To speak about ecclesiastical offices in such a context would surely lead us in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, even a community that regards its own situation as highly provisional needs certain structures to survive. It is, however, clear that these structures are very different from those of communities that are already living after the disappointment of the hope of the immediate coming of the Lord, communities which had to find their place in time, the world and societies. And moreover, communities whose life was still determined by the hope (and perhaps fear) of the immediate end of the world surely did not need to reflect about these structures in the ways later communities would. But even after the turn of the 1st to the 2nd century CE, when the church was forced to define itself anew,8 I would speak about ecclesiastical offices only in analogous terms. It would be historically nave to relate structures of ecclesiastical institutions of the 20th and 21st

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Fhrungsstelle, die im Namen einer bestimmten Institution Hoheitsrechte ausbt und der dazu bestimmte Machtmittel zugeordnet sind.” For a comparable, very cautious approach, see also Markus Tiwald, “Die vielfltigen Entwicklungslinien kirchlichen Amtes im Corpus Paulinum und ihre Relevanz fr heutige Theologie,” in Schmeller et al., Neutestamentliche mtermodelle im Kontext, 101 – 128, esp. 101 – 102. For an overview of the development of ancient Christian belief in Christs parousia, see for example Rudolf Hoppe, “Parusieglaube zwischen dem ersten Thessalonicherbrief und dem zweiten Petrusbrief,” in his Apostel – Gemeinde – Kirche: Beitrge zu Paulus und den Spuren seiner Verkndigung, SBAB 47 (Stuttgart: Bibelwerk, 2010), 269 – 284. Actually, as far as I can see, the main task for the church was to define itself anew while staying faithful to its origins. In this context, pseudepigraphical writings, claiming to come from earliest times, but trying to cope with the new problems, find their place.

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centuries (and the powers connected to them) too closely to the situation of the first centuries.9 (2) For my use of the term “ethos” I draw from the ideas of Michael Wolter, who writes:10 Unter einem Ethos verstehe ich einen Kanon von institutionalisierten Handlungen, die innerhalb eines bestimmten sozialen Systems in Geltung stehen. Ihnen wird Verbindlichkeit zugeschrieben, weil allererst durch solche Handlungen eine bestimmte Gruppe als solche erkennbar und erfahrbar wird.

In this definition, “ethos” is connected per se with identity and membership in a community: Handlungen, die als Ethos in Geltung stehen, weisen … immer ber sich hinaus, denn ihnen kommt die Aufgabe zu, die distinkte Identitt einer bestimmten Gruppe unverwechselbar darzustellen und zur Anschauung zu bringen. In diesem Sinne kann ein Ethos als Objektivation von Identitt gelten, insofern jedes soziale System ein bestimmtes Handeln als Ausdruck der Zugehçrigkeit zu ihm sowohl verlangt als auch akzeptiert.11

That means that if a group wants to develop its identity against other social entities, it must delimit itself from other groups via certain acts (or certain ways of acting), but at the same time it has to co-exist with other groups within a society (or a bigger group). Thats why Wolter distinguishes between “exclusive” and “inclusive acts”: while “exclusive acts” are decisive for a certain group and work as “identity markers” or “boundary markers” against other communities, “inclusive acts” are also practiced outside and serve to integrate the group into the greater society.12 9 Just one example for such a kind of historical naivety is the treatment of the figure of Irenaeus of Lyon in some popular and semi-popular books on the development of the canon. 10 See Michael Wolter, “Identitt und Ethos bei Paulus,” in his Theologie und Ethos im frhen Christentum: Studien zu Jesus, Paulus und Lukas, WUNT 236 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2009), 121 – 169, esp. 127. For a similar view, see also Jan G. van der Watt, “Preface,” in idem, ed., Identity, Ethics, and Ethos in the New Testament, BZNW 141 (Berlin – New York: de Gruyter, 2006), v-ix, esp. vi-vii. Perhaps it could be discussed whether it is appropriate to follow Wolter and speak about a “canon” of institutionalized acts. The term “canon” is perhaps going a bit far. I owe this point to my colleague Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte. 11 Wolter, “Identitt und Ethos”, 128. 12 Wolter, “Identitt und Ethos”, 129, writes: “Daraus folgt, dass das Ethos jeder Gruppe aus einer Mischung von exklusiven und inklusiven Handlungen bestehen muss. … Durch exklusive Handlungen unterscheidet sich eine Gruppe von ihrer

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In the following paper I will deal with the question of whether it is appropriate to speak about an “ethos” which distinguishes certain parts or groups within the earliest Christian communities – lets call them “office holders” – from the rest of the communities – the “usual or normal members”. Only if this is the case can we speak about an “ethos” of “early Christian offices” (or better “authorities”).

1. Authority and ethical standards for apostleship Already the struggles around Pauls apostleship, as they are testified to by texts like Gal, 2Cor or Rom, make clear that we cannot speak about an apostles “office” in the earliest church, but that we are dealing with authorities and their acknowledgment. Because of his highly controversial practice of baptizing pagans without circumcision, but also due to his background as a former persecutor of the new movement (see, e. g., Gal 1:13; 1Cor 15:9), Paul had to defend his claim to be a “real” apostle of Christ more than once. While Pauls opponents seem to have related “apostleship” to a sending by Jesus or by other early Christian authorities, Paul himself understood his apostleship in terms of the vocation of important prophets of Israel.13 Even if he never calls himself a “prophet” explicitly in his letters, he describes his own vocation by clearly alluding to the calling of prophets like Deutero-Isaiah or Jeremiah (Gal 1:15 – 16; cf. also Umwelt, und ihre Mitglieder besttigen einander durch diese Handlungen die Besonderheit ihrer Identitt. Handlungen, die ein exklusives Ethos konstituieren, fungieren darum nach innen als identity markers und nach außen als boundary markers. Demgegenber werden inklusive Handlungen auch außerhalb der Gruppe praktiziert; die dienen dementsprechend der Integration der Gruppe und ihrer Mitglieder in die Mehrheitsgesellschaft.” 13 I have discussed this idea in more detail in Tobias Nicklas, “Paulus – der Apostel als Prophet,” in Joseph Verheyden, Korinna Zamfir and Tobias Nicklas, eds., Prophets and Prophecy in Jewish and Early Christian Literature, WUNT II.286 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2010), 77 – 104. See also Karl O. Sandnes, Paul – One of the Prophets? A Contribution to the Apostles Self-Understanding, WUNT II.43 (Tbingen: Mohr, 1991). Of course, it remains clear that Pauls use of the term “apostle” not only differs according to the situation, but developed on the whole. For a detailed overview, see Jçrg Frey, “Paulus und die Apostel. Zur Entwicklung des paulinischen Apostelbegriffs und zum Verhltnis des Heidenapostels zu seinen Kollegen”, in Eve-Marie Becker and Peter Pilhofer, eds., Biographie und Persçnlichkeit des Paulus, WUNT 187 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2005), 192 – 227.

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Rom 1:1 – 2). Additionally, a text like 1Thess 1:1 – 12 can be read as a defense against accusations of being a false prophet (like Jer 11:20 and 12:3 LXX),14 and even Pauls language of “mysteries” (1Cor 15:51; Rom 11:25) or “revelations of the Lord” like in 1Thess 3:4; 4:2 – 6; Gal 5:21b can be best interpreted in such a framework. To call such an apostle an “office holder” would evoke completely wrong connotations. I regard it as much more appropriate to speak about Pauls (and other figures) “authority” (or “authorities”), a term used by Paul himself. This authority does not have its roots in a certain “office”, which finds its place in a given hierarchy; according to Pauls self-concept, it is not given to him via other human authorities, but owes itself to Christ. In other words, Pauls relation to Christ determines the apostles whole life and his mission. A typical argument based on this idea can be seen in Pauls Letter to Philemon and the community in his house. After an extensive Proçmium (vv. 4 – 7), where Paul stresses his good relation to Philemon and talks about Philemons exemplary behavior, he comes to speak about the problem which has to do with Philemons slave Onesimus. It is not necessary to go into the details of the concrete problem here.15 It is important to see, however, that Pauls argument starts with the following words: “though I have enough confidence [paqqgs¸a] in Christ [1m Wqist`] to command you what is required from you” (Phlm 8). In this sentence, the words “in Christ” – 1m Wqist` – are decisive: they express both Pauls and Philemons relation to Christ; and only within this relation the apostle has the confidence – one could also say “authority” – to command “what is required”.16 There are many other texts that show how Pauls ethos is determined by his relation to Christ. When Paul and Timothy call themselves “slaves 14 See Rudolf Hoppe, “Der Topos der Prophetenverfolgung bei Paulus,” in his Apostel – Gemeinde – Kirche: Beitrge zu Paulus und den Spuren seiner Verkndigung, SBAB 47 (Stuttgart: Bibelwerk, 2010), 59 – 74. 15 For more information see for example Martin Ebner, “Der Philemonbrief,” in idem and Stefan Schreiber, eds., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2008), 397 – 407. 16 For the importance of the social identity marker “in Christ” for Pauline argumentation, see also Rikard Roitto, “Act as a Christ-Believer, as a Household Member or as Both? – A Cognitive Perspective on the Relationship between the Social Identity in Christ and Household Identities in Pauline and DeuteroPauline Texts,” in Bengt Holmberg and Mikael Winnige, eds., Identity Formation in the New Testament, WUNT 227 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2008), 141 – 161.

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of / for Jesus Christ” (doOkoi WqistoO YgsoO) in the prescript of Philippians, they do this deliberately: their own self-description is based on the image of Christ developed in Phil 2:6 – 11 – Christ “who emptied himself and took upon him the form of a servant” (Phil 2:7).17 This also becomes clear when the apostle says that he is in chains “for Christ” (or better: “in Christ”; 1m Wqist`; Phil 1:13) and that exactly this imprisonment has made most of his brothers “in the Lord” (1m juq¸\) speak more fearlessly the word of God (Phil 1:14). Again, I would not understand the words “in Christ” and “in the Lord” as pure set phrases, but as expressions of the apostles and the communitys (perhaps even mystical) relation to Christ.18 Interestingly, this becomes the basis for a deeper treatment of an “ethos” of Christian kerygma. While Paul instead (or even because) of his own imprisonment motivates other “brothers” to a fearless proclamation of Gods word (Phil 1:14) and thus can call himself doOkor, there are other missionaries who preach “out of envy and rivalry” (di± vhºmom ja· 5qim ; Phil 1:15), and others who do that “out of selfish ambition” (1n 1qihe¸ar Phil 1:17). Even if it is the message of Christ that matters (see Phil 1:18) there is a fundamental difference between this kind of mission and a proclamation of Christ “out of good will” (dQ eqdoj¸am ; Phil 1:15) and “love” (1n !c²pgr ; Phil 1:16). These descriptions are already understandable per se, but they receive additional weight when we consider Pauls image of the church, which finds its unity in the crucified Christ, a church which is the body of this Christ (1Cor 12:12 – 27; but see also Rom 12:4 – 5; 1Cor 6:15 – 16; 10:17) and may not be divided because of selfish rivalries. 17 Neither the idea that the apostle is doOkor nor the motif of “serving Christ” is only to be found in Phil. See for example Rom 1:1 (Paul as slave of/for Christ); Rom 3:21 – 26; 9:1 – 5; 15:8. For more information, see Thomas Sçding, “Nicht bedient zu werden, sondern zu dienen (Mk 10:45): Diakonie und Diakonat im Licht des Neuen Testaments,” in Klemens Armbruster and Matthias Mhl, eds., Bereit wozu? Geweiht fr was? Zur Diskussion um den Stndigen Diakonat, QD 232 (Freiburg et al.: Herder, 2003), 30 – 62, esp. 35 – 36. 18 Regarding the discussion, whether the words “in Christ” can be understood mystically, see mainly Hans-Christoph Meier, Mystik bei Paulus: Zur Phnomenologie religiçser Erfahrung im Neuen Testament, TANZ 26 (Tbingen: Francke, 1998), 27 – 39. Christopher N. Mount, “Religious Experience, the Religion of Paul, and Women in Pauline Churches,” in Stephen P. Ahearne-Kroll, Paul A. Holloway and James A. Kelhoffer, eds., Women and Gender in Ancient Religions: Interdisciplinary Approaches, WUNT 263 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2010), 323 – 347, esp. 342, uses even more drastic expressions; he speaks about a “possession by the crucified and resurrected Jesus”.

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2 Corinthians perhaps makes the image of the apostle, whose apostleship is fully oriented towards Christ and who therefore has to accept sharp polemics, even clearer.19 I can mention only a few points here, as a full analysis of the relevant passages is beyond the scope of this essay:20 (1) According to 2Cor 4:7 – 18, Paul understands his communion with the crucified Christ as going so far that he virtually carries “the death of Jesus” in his body (2Cor 4:10). It would be wrong to understand this as a pure symbol; I think that Paul speaks here about a very concrete reality, perhaps the different sufferings mentioned in 2Cor 11:24 – 29, sufferings which created wounds in Pauls body and thus make visible what it means to be an apostle in the way of Paul. In any case: Paul interprets his own apostleship in the sense of a communion with the crucified Christ, “so that also his life becomes manifest in our mortal flesh” (2Cor 4:11). (2) Forced by the polemics of his opponents, Paul here more than elsewhere stresses his 1nous¸a, his apostolic “authority”. This authority, however, does not come from himself, but is given to him through the Lord (2Cor 10:8). As such, this authority has to “build up” and not to “destroy” or “pull down” (2Cor 10:8); of course, Paul here wants to blame his opponents for doing exactly that. (3) Moreover, every boasting has to be oriented towards a nonhuman standard,21 which is set by God himself (2Cor 10:13). While he accuses his opponents of praising only their own qualities, Paul, alluding to Jer 9:22 – 23, advises to boast only about the Lord (2Cor 10:17; cf. 1Cor 1:31), because it is not “he who commends himself that is approved, but whom the Lord commends” (2Cor 10:18). (4) The apostle has to be a di²jomor WqistoO, that is, a servant of Christ (2Cor 11:23).22 Obviously Pauls opponents claim to be that as well. Paul, however, calls them “super-apostles” (2Cor 11:5; 12:11), 19 I cannot discuss hypotheses of divisions of 2Cor here. Since for this discussion concrete theses on the origins and development of the text are of minor importance, I will interpret 2Cor as a unity. 20 For more information on the conflict in the background see Manuel Vogel, “Seine Briefe sind gewichtig und gewaltig (2Kor 10,10). Polemik im 2. Korintherbrief,” in Oda Wischmeyer and Lorenzo Scornaienchi, eds., Polemik in der frhchristlichen Literatur: Texte und Kontexte, BZNW 170 (Berlin – New York: de Gruyter, 2011), 183 – 208. 21 For details on the difficult Greek text, see Frank J. Matera, II Corinthians: A Commentary, NTL (Louisville – London: WJK, 2003), 228. 22 This title occurs only quite rarely in the Corpus Paulinum; the other passages are Col 1:7 and 1Tim 4:6 (see also 1Cor 3:5; 2Cor 3:6 and 6:4).

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“false apostles” (2Cor 11:13) or even “servants of Satan” (2Cor 11:14 – 15). While his opponents are paid by the community (2Cor 11:7) and behave in a way which Paul calls “enslaving” the community (2Cor 11:20), Paul prides himself on his weakness (!sheme¸a). His own fame and his honor originate in his (dishonorable) wounds, which he received through maltreatment and torture and not in glorious battles (2Cor 11:24 – 25). His own honor is based on the dangers and labors of his missionary activities (2Cor 11:25b-27,32 – 33) and the sufferings he shares with others (2Cor 11:28 – 29.).23 Of course, Paul could well argue in the super-apostles categories and talk about great visions and revelations he received (2Cor 12:1). He, however, concentrates on matters which, in the categories of his world, must be interpreted as signs of weakness. In this weakness, however, Christs power (d¼mamir toO WqistoO) works (2Cor 12:9).24 If Christ himself was crucified “in his weakness”, but lives out of “Gods power”, the apostle, who is “weak in him” (2Cor 13:4), virtually participates in Christs suffering.25 Again, it is Pauls Christ-relation that determines the categories of his apostleship. Because in the categories of the world Christs cross is only “foolishness” (1Cor 1:18), Paul as apostle of the crucified Christ cannot be measured by worldly categories – where this is done, everything is at stake. Only in this way are Pauls sharp reactions against his opponents understandable – not only out of his own difficult situation, but also because of his theological concern.26 23 For further thoughts on the topic, see Wenhua Shi, Pauls Message of the Cross as Body Language, WUNT II.254 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2008), 241 – 263. 24 Sçding, “Nicht bedient zu werden”, 45, speaks about “angewandte Kreuzestheologie” in this context. For similar thoughts, see Wolfgang Schrage, “Leid, Kreuz und Eschaton: Die Peristasenkataloge als Merkmale paulinischer theologia crucis und Eschatologie,” in his Kreuzestheologie und Ethik im Neuen Testament: Gesammelte Studien, FRLANT 205 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 23 – 57. 25 For more information regarding this idea, see Michael Wolter, “Der Apostel und seine Gemeinden als Teilhaber am Leidensgeschick Jesu Christi: Beobachtungen zur paulinischen Leidenstheologie,” in his Theologie und Ethos im frhen Christentum, 219 – 240. 26 But compare also Vogel, “Seine Briefe”, 206, who writes: “Wird der Theologie dieses Briefes [= 2Kor; TN] ihr durchgngiges Machtinteresse in Rechnung gestellt, erscheint eine kritische Distanz ratsam, die das paulinische Argument nicht immer schon sachlich im Recht whnt. Zu fragen ist etwa, ob Paulus nicht die Kreuzestheologie des 1Kor in 2Kor 10 – 13 unterboten hat bzw. notwendig hinter sie zurckfallen musste, wenn er sich in Korinth durchsetzen wollte.”

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2. Structures, authorities and functions in Pauline communities The multicolored image of different tasks, functions and services done by different members of different early Christian communities is presented especially well in Rom 16, Pauls greetings to the community of Rome.27 In a situation where Paul does not have to respond to concrete questions regarding the role of women or related to schisms and divisions in the communities, we find – almost along the way – a number of names of persons otherwise unknown, thus giving us a little glimpse of the real variety of life in earliest Christian communities. In this context we also discover some terms, which are nowadays connected with “offices” in the church. However, a closer look into a few examples can show which kinds of misjudgments are possible if we just identify the situation of Pauline communities with later churches. Rom 16:1, for example, speaks about Phoebe, who is not only called a “sister”, but also di²jomor of the church in Kenchreae.28 It is not easy to give an appropriate translation of what is meant here. If we translate the word di²jomor as “servant”, we surely do not go far enough. Perhaps it would be better to speak about a “deaconess”, but we should not be too quick in identifying her function with the later “office” of a “deacon(ess)” in the later threefold order of consecration. With this decision, I do not want to belittle Phoebes function in the community of Kenchreae – perhaps Phoebes authority in her house community extended the authority of a modern deacon by far.29 This is also expressed with 27 On the women in Rom 16 see also Stefan Schreiber, “Arbeit mit der Gemeinde (Rçm 16,6.12): Zur versunkenen Mçglichkeit der Gemeindeleitung durch Frauen,” New Testament Studies 46 (2000): 204 – 226. Our concentration on Rom 16 does not mean that there are not other Pauline passages telling interesting details about concrete figures playing roles in Pauline communities. One could, for example, think about figures like Chlo (1Cor 1:11), Stephanas (1Cor 16:15 – 17) or Euodia and Syntyche (Phil 4:2 – 3) – on the whole the undisputed letters of Paul give indications of about 40 people in Pauls circle. 28 For more details regarding Phoebe, see Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament. Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer Bercksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen, WUNT II.226 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2007), 167 – 172, sowie Annette Merz, “Phçbe: Diakon(in) der Gemeinde von Kenchre – eine wichtige Mitstreiterin des Paulus neu entdeckt,” in Adelheid M. von Hauff, ed., Frauen gestalten Diakonie I: Von der biblischen Zeit bis zum Pietismus (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2007), 125 – 140. 29 Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 944, for example, writes: “Although earlier commentaries interpret the

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her description as pqost²tir pokk_m (Rom 16:2). The word pqost²tir first describes a person who “presides” over something or who “stands in front of others”. Following Hans-Joseph Klauck, Markus Tiwald understands the Greek word as rendering the Latin patrona. Tiwald writes:30 Auch wenn man von Phçbe und Paulus nicht gleich annehmen sollte, dass zwischen beiden ein regelrechtes Patronats- und Klientelverhltnis existiert habe, wird man doch in Phçbe eine reiche und einflussreiche Hausbesitzerin erkennen drfen, die nach den paulinischen Kriterien des „Sich-Mhens“ und „Mitarbeitens“ auch Einfluss und Mitspracherecht in der christlichen Gemeinde besaß. Kann von einer Hausbesitzerin und eigenstndig handelnden Frau auch angenommen werden, dass sie ihre eigene Hausgemeinde in Korinth selbst leitete?

The answer must remain open, but it is clear that a translation like “she has been a helper of many” (New American Standard Bible) is much too weak. In any case: Paul trusted her in a situation of highest impact. As the person who had to bring his Letter to the Romans, she was not just a “letter carrier”, but had to represent Paul in Rome. Surely she was the communitys first “contact person” who was able to respond to questions regarding Pauls theology and had to discuss problems around his thoughts. Thus, in a certain sense, she had to act as a kind of mediator for Paul, even as his representative, who had to defend Pauls concerns in Rome.31 If I am hesitating to call Phoebe a deaconess, it is not just because this would very probably not do justice to her real function and her real authority in the extremely complex situation she had to face in term di²jomor as a subordinate role, it now appears more likely that she functioned as the leader of the congregation.” 30 Tiwald, “Entwicklungslinien”, 122, discussing Hans-Josef Klauck, “Junia Theodora und die Gemeinde von Korinth,” in his Religion und Gesellschaft im frhen Christentum: Neutestamentliche Studien, WUNT 152 (Tbingen: Mohr, 2003). For a different view, see Marlis Gielen, “Die Wahrnehmung gemeindlicher Leitungsfunktionen durch Frauen im Spiegel der Pastoralbriefe,” in Thomas Schmeller, Martin Ebner and Rudolf Hoppe, eds., Neutestamentliche mtermodelle im Kontext, QD 239 (Freiburg et al.: Herder, 2010), 129 – 165, here 140 – 141, who writes: “Daher besitzt pqost²tir hier am ehesten die Konnotation von Beistand bzw. Helferin. Der Sache nach drfte die Hilfe, die Phçbe zumal ortsfremden Glaubensbrdern und -schwestern angedeihen ließ, vor allem im karitativen wie organisatorischen Bereich anzusiedeln sein (etwa Verpflegung und Unterkunft; Herstellung wichtiger Kontakte; Bereitstellung von Reiseausrstung). Dagegen empfiehlt es sich nicht, die Funktion der Phçbe … in der profangriechisch belegten, technischen Bedeutung Patronin zu interpretieren.” 31 For quite similar thoughts, see Merz, “Phçbe”, 130.

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Rome, but also because even in Corinth Phoebes role seems to have been much weightier than that of a deacon in modern times. A few people are called “co-workers” – we discover, for example, Prisca and Aquila, a pair known from several other texts (Rom 16:3; see also 1Cor 16:19; 2Tim 4:19; Acts 18:18, 26)32, but also a certain Urbanus whose name is mentioned only here (Rom 16:9). That being a “co-worker” not only means to act (or have acted) on behalf of Paul, but claims to do service to God, can be seen from 1Cor 3:9, where Paul speaks about “Gods co-workers” (heoO … sumeqco¸).33 Of course, we cannot always be sure in which way the figures mentioned in Rom 16 became “co-workers”, but it is quite possible that at least many of them played a role in Pauline missionary activities.34 Prisca and Aquila seem to have played an important role during the foundation of the Corinthian community; interestingly, the fact that they put their life on the line for Paul (Rom 16:4) seems to be more important than their concrete function (or “office”) within the community. At least 1Cor 16:19 seems to presuppose that they were leading a house community;35 and this was possible without an official “office”.36 More questions arise: is a person like the otherwise unknown Mary / Miriam (Rom 16:6)37, who had “worked very hard for you”, just a member of the community (see also Tryphaena, Tryphosa38 and Persis in Rom 16:12), or is our distinction between “ordinary people” and “office-holders” an anachronism? After all, it should not be forgotten that Pauls use 32 For more details, see Christoph G. Mller, Frhchristliche Ehepaare und paulinische Mission, SBS 215 (Stuttgart: Bibelwerk, 2008), 17 – 36. 33 For similar ideas, see Udo Schnelle, Paulus: Leben und Denken, de Gruyter Lehrbuch (Berlin – New York: De Gruyter, 2003), 150. 34 Compare Jewett, Romans, 965 (discussing Urbanus). 35 See for example Gerd Hfner, “Paulus und die Frauen,” in Christ in der Gegenwart 60 (2008): 123. Gielen, “Wahrnehmung”, 132 – 133, speaks about the “kaum zu berschtzende Bedeutung, die sie [Hausgemeinschaften wie diejenige von P. und A.; TN] fr die Bereitstellung der grundlegenden Infrastruktur der urchristlichen Gemeinden wie fr die konkrete Organisation des Gemeindelebens besaßen.” 36 Another example which shows that it was well possible that a woman organized and led a “house community” is the (probably) pseudepigraphic Letter to the Colossians. Col 4:15 speaks about a certain Nympha and the community gathering in her house. Even in the case of Prisca and Aquila the woman seemingly played the more important role. 37 On the text-critical problem, see for example Jewett, Romans, 949 and 960 – 961. 38 Mller, Frhchristliche Ehepaare, 41 – 42, understands Tryphaena and Tryphosa as two women working together in earliest Christian mission.

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of the verb jopi²y draws attention to these womens personal burden and commitment.39 It is also not absolutely clear what the concrete meaning of Andronicus and Junias40 description as “distinguished apostles” is – possibly they had a revelation of the risen Lord, possibly they received the title “apostle” as active missionaries “sent” by other apostles.41 In any case, they played an outstanding role not only for the concrete community, but within the whole of the earliest church. I thus regard it as impossible to reconstruct a more or less concrete system of “functions” or even “offices” from this broad variety. It is rather my impression that the concrete organization of different tasks could be very different in different communities: while in his prescript to the Philippians Paul addresses “episcopes” (in the plural!)42 and deacons (Phil 1:1),43 he speaks about apostles, prophets and teachers when he talks to the Corinthians (1Cor 12:28) and, additionally, mentions a whole series of other “charisms”.44 Only sometimes – and more or less 39 Gielen, “Wahrnehmung”, 136. 40 It seems beyond doubt that Junia was a woman and no man (as some modern translations want to indicate). For a very detailed overview of the whole discussion, see Eldon Jay Epp, Junia: The First Woman Apostle (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005). 41 For a similar description, see Tiwald, “Entwicklungslinien”, 125 – 126. 42 The term should not be translated too quickly as “bishops” because this would lead to a misunderstanding of these peoples actual role and function. For information on the background of the title in the fields of the ancient Greek magistrates administration and associations, see for example Christoph Markschies, “Episkopos, Episkopoi,” in DNP 3 (1997), 1157 – 1160. The community in Philippi was organized differently from other early Christian groups. For more details, see for example Sçding, “Nicht bedient zu werden”, 57 (organized like an ancient Greek association) or Peter Wick, Die urchristlichen Gottesdienste: Entstehung und Entwicklung im Rahmen der frhjdischen Tempel-, Synagogenund Hausfrçmmigkeit, BWANT 150 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002), 238 (particularities of the community have to do with the fact that it did not live in the shadows of a synagogue). 43 For a detailed discussion of the roles of both “episcopes” and “deacons” in Philippi, see Hentschel, Diakonia, 172 – 178. 44 According to the Book of Acts, Paul and Barnabas established “presbyters”, i. e., councils of the eldest, in their newly founded communities (see Acts 14:23; 20:17). A look into the undisputed Pauline letters, however, shows that this information seems to mirror a later stage of development, i. e., the situation in the time of Luke, (probably) at the turn of the 1st to the 2nd century. For more details see Dietrich-Alex Koch, “Die Entwicklung der mter in frhchristlichen Gemeinden Kleinasiens,” in Thomas Schmeller, Martin Ebner and Rudolf

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in passing – does it become clear that certain people can be called “leader of the community” (see 1Thess 5:12 and Rom 12:8). However, there is never a theological discussion of their role for the community; Paul uses the term b pqozst²lemor only casually.45 Had there existed a commonly accepted structure of offices or a hierarchy, this would not be explainable. Another interesting text in this context is, again, Pauls Letter to Philemon, where he addresses a house community whose most important members are mentioned in the prescript: Philemon, obviously the owner of the house, is called “beloved brother” (Phlm 1); while he probably organized the communitys gatherings, we cannot say much more concrete in this case. Apphia and Archippos are called “fellow soldiers”, and, finally, Paul addresses the whole community in Philemons house (Phlm 2). If this were just a private letter, it would not be explicable why Paul addresses the whole community. Would, however, this community have been organized according to a more or less fixed and commonly acknowledged structure of offices, we could not explain why Paul in this case addressed a number of members of the community, but among them no “office holder”. This does not, of course, mean that there was not a division of tasks and responsibilities within Pauline communities; otherwise these communities would not have survived for even a short period. But it does mean that we should not speak about “offices” in our modern sense when we talk about Pauline communities. Perhaps it is more appropriate to talk about “charisms” in the sense of 1Cor 12:4, that is, gifts of the spirit granted to the different members of the community. This is especially interesting because Paul in 1Cor 12:5 – 6 speaks about “services” and “powers” which all go back to the same Lord and the same God. That these charisms are very different can be seen in the list starting with 1Cor 12:8: message of wisdom and knowledge, faith, gifts of healing, miraculous powers, prophecy, distinction of spirits, speaking in tongues and its interpretation. Perhaps at least 1Cor 12:28 – 30, which takes up these ideas in slight variation, could evoke the impression Hoppe, eds., Neutestamentliche mtermodelle im Kontext, QD 239 (Freiburg et al.: Herder, 2010), 166 – 206, esp. 167 – 169. For a study of the early Christian “office” of “presbyters”, see also Martin Karrer, “Das urchristliche ltestenamt,” Novum Testamentum 32 (1990): 152 – 188. 45 In addition to that, Wick, Gottesdienste, 236, regards Phoebe mentioned in Rom 16:1 – 2 as the leader of a community.

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of a certain hierarchy (or at least division) of “offices”:46 in his list Paul first speaks about “apostles”, then “prophets” and then “teachers”, but, connected through the word 5peita (“further”), he goes on and mentions miracles, healing, speaking in tongues and so on. The text does not show any clear distinction between “offices” and “charisms”:47 Every element of the list is a charism, and thats why it goes back to the one spirit of God (1Cor 12:4); every charism, again, has to serve the others benefit (1Cor 12:7).48 So although we should not speak about “offices” in the modern sense of the word when we talk about earliest Christian communities, the different functions and tasks in the communities are connected with an extremely high “ethos” because they are gifts of the spirit. This “ethos”, however, is not an “ethos” of an elite circle within Christian communities, but refers to each member, because everybody has certain “gifts of the spirit”. In fact, this “ethos” cannot be distinguished from what has been said about “apostolic ethos”. Even if Paul understands his own call as something very particular, the standards of his own life as an apostle are – at least in his own eyes – assignable to all members of the community. Surely Paul denotes himself as “called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God” in 1Cor 1:1, but only one verse later (1Cor 1:2) he also addresses the members of the community as “called to be holy”. And a few lines later we read that every member of the community is called by God “into fellowship with Christ” (1Cor 1:9). Then, however, there cannot be any fundamental difference between the “ethos” of any community member and the apostles ethos. A few examples may illustrate this idea. In his First Letter to the Corinthians Paul deals with a series of problems which trouble the Corinthian community and lead to schisms and quarrels. According to Paul, the 46 Koch, “Entwicklung”, 175, relates these three “offices” to three aspects in the life of earliest Christian missionary communities: “der Apostel [steht fr] den expansiv-missionarischen Aspekt, der Prophet die (charismatische) Verkndigung, die sich primr, aber nicht ausschließlich, nach innen wendet, und der Lehrer die von Beginn an notwendige Vermittlung der berlieferung.” At the same time (175 – 176) Koch rightly addresses the “wenig stabile Situation von frisch gegrndeten Gemeinden mit hoher Fluktuation, in denen eher flexible Regelungen angebracht waren.” 47 For more information on the discussion around the relation between “charism” and “office” in the history of research, see Norbert Baumert, “Charisma und Amt bei Paulus,” in his Studien zu den Paulusbriefen, SBAB 32 (Stuttgart: Bibelwerk, 2001), 239 – 271, esp. 239 – 242. 48 Clear parallels to the ideas expressed in 1Cor 12 can be found in Rom 12:1 – 8.

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reason for this discord can be seen in the fact that the Corinthians are still “worldly” (1Cor 2:14; see also 1Cor 3:1 – 3) and “infants in Christ” (1Cor 3:1). According to Paul, it is only this worldly attitude that leads to jealousy and fighting among the Corinthians (1Cor 3:3) and creates schisms. A key sentence here is 1Cor 2:16b: Ble?r d³ moOm WqistoO 5wolem – “but we have Christs mind” (and live according to his “attitude”).49 This mind of Christ, who is surely understood as the crucified one here (see also 1Cor 1:18 – 31), becomes the basis of the apostles answers to concrete (mainly ethical!) questions and problems within the community. This mode of argumentation is not only to be found in 1Cor; another example is Phil 2:5, the introduction of the well-known hymn of Phil 2:6 – 11: toOto vqome?te 1m rl?m d ja· 1m Wqist` YgsoO. – “In your relation with one another, have the same mindset that you do as you are in Christ Jesus.” This is followed by the hymn, which speaks about Christ who “emptied himself” and became “like a slave and was born in the likeness of man” (Phil 2:7). Because the members of the community are 1m Wqist` YgsoO they should have the same mindset; this, however, cannot be different from “the mind of Christ” (1Cor 2:16b). Above all, the relation between tasks, functions and authorities within the community and the image of the church as “body of Christ” (mainly 1Cor 12:12 – 27) should not be overlooked. Of course, this image can be interpreted in the sense of Menenius Agrippas well-known fable where the Roman state and its order are compared to a body, which needs all its parts to be able to function.50 However, with only this undeveloped sense of the metaphor, the central point of Pauls argument in 1Cor 12 is not yet fully grasped. Even if Paul does not make it explicit in 1Cor 12, given the background of 1Cor 1 – 2, the basis of the whole letters argument, the “body of Christ” can be none other than the tortured body of the crucified Christ, which now can be identified with the transfigured body of the risen one (cf. 1Cor 15). Then, however, 1Cor 12:12 – 27 expresses the idea that every member of the church has to define him- or herself via his/her relation to the crucified and risen Christ. This relation 49 On the importance of 1Cor 2:16b as a key sentence in the argument of 1Cor see Christof W. Strder, Paulus und die Gesinnung Christi: Identitt und Entscheidungsfindung aus der Mitte von 1 Kor 1 – 4, BEThL 190 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005). 50 For an overview of different sources of ancient pagan and Jewish use of “body” metaphors, see Matthias Walter, Gemeinde als Leib Christi: Untersuchungen zum Corpus Paulinum und zu den “Apostolischen Vtern”, NTOA 49 (Freiburg, Schweiz: Universittsverlag; Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 70 – 104.

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also defines all relations to other members of the community. When every member of the community lives in this decisive relation to Christ, the importance of concrete tasks and functions is put into perspective, because everybody is “in Christ”. At the same time every action is measured by this relation to the crucified Christ. This also connects 1Cor 12 with 1Cor 13: without the decisive charism of love, everything else is worthless.51

3. Conclusion Perhaps it is disappointing that I have not written more about “offices” in Pauline communities. I hope, however, that the reasons for this decision are comprehensible. Although it is clear that even communities living in the immediate expectation of Christs parousia needed a certain arrangement of tasks and functions, because otherwise they would not have been able to survive, it becomes clear that every unreflected use of the term “office” for Pauline communities would be an anachronism. It seems to be more appropriate to adopt the Pauline language of “charisms”, which understands tasks and functions within the community as “given” by the spirit – and hereby already creates a benchmark for the community members ethos. Another important term to be used is “authority”, also used by Paul himself – for example, when he speaks about his own role as an apostle – an authority which is always bound to Christs, the Lords, authority. In addition to that, for Paul baptism creates a relationship between every Christian and Christ, which determines the Christian life in such a way that “the mind of Christ” – shown in his crucifixion – (1Cor 2:16b) becomes a decisive criterion for every Christians ethical decisions. The standard created by this criterion is very high – and a look at Pauls own polemical, partly aggressive language (e.g., in 2Cor) shows that he himself did not always do justice to it. Nevertheless, if the “word of the cross” means foolishness to those outside the Christian community (1Cor 1:18), then it also describes the criterion that is the “boundary marker” between the community and the outside world. The “ethos” of Pauline communities thus can be under51 For a discussion of “agape” for the building and development of a Pauline community, see Thomas Sçding, Das Liebesgebot bei Paulus. Die Mahnung zur Agape im Rahmen der paulinischen Ethik, NTA.NF 26 (Mnster: Aschendorff, 1995).

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stood as “applied Christology”. Its connection to the “mind of Christ”, the idea of living “in Christ” and being part of “the body of Christ”, moreover, makes it possible to speak with Michael Wolter about “applied ecclesiology”52. This thought does not leave room for a special ethos of “office holders”. Of course, these structures could not survive permanently, since they are not created as long-lasting, but in the awareness that the end of times has come. Only where the expectation of the immediate end disappeared did new models have to be developed so that the community might survive as part of the world and time; new images of the church emerged; one of them was the idea of the church as an oikos or a polis, a house or a city with its defined orders, or an association with its organization.53 Images like these can already be found in the pseudepigraphical Pastoral Epistles of the end of the 1st century.54 Only where these images became central did the church develop as an institution that needed “offices” and “office-holders”. This development was absolutely legitimate; it becomes dangerous, however, where church is seen only as an institution with its offices.

52 See Wolter, “Identitt und Ethos”, 167 – 169 (“angewandte Ekklesiologie”). 53 For a detailed discussion of these images, see Korinna Zamfir, Men and Women in the Household of God: A Contextual Approach to Roles and Ministries in the Pastoral Epistles (Habilitation Regensburg 2012, not yet published). 54 For the structures of the communities of the Pastoral Epistles, see for example Koch, “Entwicklung”, 190 – 193, and – with more details – Ulrike Wagener, Die Ordnung des Hauses Gottes: Der Ort der Frauen in der Ekklesiologie und Ethik der Pastoralbriefe, WUNT 65 (Tbingen: Mohr, 1994).

Insights into the Christian Office in Late Antiquity1 Annette von Stockhausen As the Christian office is a well-researched topic and as the literature especially on the development of offices in the church in the first centuries (during and after New Testament times) is abundant2 and I therefore can 1

2

This is the English version of my originally German presentation, to which some notes were added for the publication. For the texts I cite in the following, I fell back on existing, even older English translations. Cf. a select list of introductory or noteworthy titles: Ernst Dassmann, mter und Dienste in den frhchristlichen Gemeinden, Hereditas 8 (Bonn: Borengsser, 1994); Wolf-Dieter Hauschild, “Amt V. Kirchengeschichtlich 1. Alte Kirche,” in RGG4 I (1998), 426 – 427; Wolf-Dieter Hauschild, “Bischof II. Kirchengeschichtlich,” in RGG4 I (1998), 1615 – 1618; Wolf-Dieter Hauschild, “Presbyter/ Presbyterium II. Kirchengeschichtlich,” in RGG4 VI (2003), 1612 – 1614; Thomas Kramm, “Amt,” in RAC Suppl. 1 (2001), 350 – 401; Richard P. C. Hanson, “Amt/ mter/Amtsverstndnis. V. Alte Kirche,” in TRE 2 (1978), 533 – 552; Paul F. Bradshaw, “Priester/Priestertum. III. Christliches Priesteramt. 1. Geschichtlich,” in TRE 27 (1997), 414 – 421. On the legal view on the Christian office, cf. Karl Leo Noethlichs, “Zur Einflussnahme des Staates auf die Entwicklung eines christlichen Klerikerstandes,” in JbAC 15 (1972), 136 – 153; Karl Leo Noethlichs, “Materialien zum Bischofsbild aus den sptantiken Rechtsquellen,” in JbAC 16 (1973), 28 – 59. On the role in society, cf. Henry Chadwick, The Role of the Christian Bishop in Ancient Society: Protocol of the Thirty-Fifth Colloquy, 25 February 1979 (Berkeley, CA: The Center, 1980). In more recent times, there has also ´ ric Rebeen a lot of research done on the developments in Late Antiquity; cf. E billard und Claire Sotinel, eds., L e´veˆque dans la cite´ du IVe au Ve sie`cle. Image et autorite´. Actes de la Table ronde organise par lIstituto Patristico Augustinianum et lcole franÅaise de Rome, Rome, 1er et 2 dcembre 1995, Collection de l cole FranÅaise de Rome 248 (Rome: E´cole franc¸ aise de Rome, 1998); Pauline Allen und Wendy Mayer, “Through a Bishops Eyes: Towards a Definition of Pastoral Care in Late Antiquity,” in Augustinianum 40 (2000): 345 – 397; Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “PrÞtre et fonctionnaire. Lessor dun mod le piscopal aux IVe-Ve si cles,” in Antiquit Tardive 7 (2000): 175 – 186; Wendy Mayer, “Patronage, Pastoral Care and the Role of the Bishop at Antioch,” in Vigiliae Christianae 55/1 (2001): 58 – 70; Georg Schmelz, Kirchliche Amtstrger im sptantiken gypten nach den Aussagen der griechischen und koptischen Papyri und Ostraka, Archiv fr Papyrusforschung und verwandte Gebiete. Beiheft 13 (Mnchen et al.: Saur, 2002); Sabine Hbner, Der Klerus in der Gesellschaft des sptantiken Kleinasiens, Altertumswissenschaftliches Kolloquium 15 (Stutt-

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in this short paper only point to some aspects connected with the Christian office, Id like to highlight the profile and the roles which the bearers of the Christian office have assumed. Due to the enormous amount of sources, I will especially focus on the Roman Empire, on “orthodox” Christianity and on the period from the 4th to the 6th century, when all Christian offices which have influenced the life and developments of the Christian church in its different denominations during the Middle Ages and until our times are established. In order to get as wide a picture as possible, I will examine different genres of Christian sources: (1) legal texts, (2) a hagiographic text, and (3) a deliberative text.

1. The office in Christian legal texts Christian legal texts like the so-called church orders3 are an important source for learning about the respective profiles of and the different roles connected to the offices, as well as the expectations people have of the offices. The “Apostolic Constitutions”, which were compiled at the end of the 4th century and which recur in older collections of Christian law, are an exemplary exponent of such Christian legal texts. In book VIII we find all regulations on the offices in the church.4 They refer to the offices of bishop (VIII 5 sqq.), presbyter (16), deacon (17 sq.), deaconess (19 sq.), sub-deacon (21), lector (22), confessor (23), virgin (24), widow (25), and exorcist (26).

3

4

gart: Steiner, 2005); Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2005); Ewa Wipszycka, “The Institutional Church,” in Roger S. Bagnall, ed., Egypt in the Byzantine World, 300 – 700 (New York et al.: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2008), 331 – 349. A good and recent overview on the ancient church orders can be found in Johannes Mhlsteiger, Kirchenordnungen. Anfnge kirchlicher Rechtsbildung, Kanonistische Studien und Texte 50 (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2006). The Apostolic Constitutions make use of the early 3rd-century “Apostolic Tradition”.

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In these passages on the different offices, the most revealing parts for our question are the prayers spoken at the ordination (weiqotom_a5), because there we hear about the ideal of the office. The prayer for the ordination of a bishop states the following:6 The bishop has to act as shepherd (poila_meim tμm "c_am sou po_lmgm) and keep the congregation together (1pisumacace?m t¹m !qihl¹m t_m s\fol]mym), he has to offer service to God day and night as high priest to appease him (!qwieqate}eim soi, !l]lptyr keitouqcoOmta mujt¹r ja· Bl]qar ja· 1nikasj|lem|m sou t¹ pq|sypom), and he has to give God the offerings of the church (pqosv]qeim soi t± d_qa t/r "c_ar sou 9jjkgs_ar), which are more closely described as a clean and immaculate offering (pqosv]qomt\ soi jahaq±m ja· !ma_lajtom hus_am). Enabled by the Holy Spirit and through Jesus Christ, the bishop can remit sins (!vi]mai "laqt_ar), loose bonds (k}eim d³ p\mta s}mdeslom), and appoint 5

6

The differentiation between the offices I talked about earlier is also manifest in the terminology used: The term “ordination” (weiqotom_a) is only used for the bishop, the presbyter, the deacon, and the subdeacon; in the case of deaconess and lector, the term used is the untechnical “to lay hands on” (1pihe?mai t±r we?qar). The offices of confessor, virgin, widow, and exorcist are distinct from that insofar as it is noted that due to the special character of these offices no ordination is needed (confessor, widow, exorcist) or known from the New Testament (virgin). I cite here only the most relevant part of it (Const.Ap. VIII 5,6 sq., Bruce Manning Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, Sources chr tiennes 336 [Paris, 1987], 146 – 148): “… D¹r 1m t` am|lat_ sou, jaqdiocm_sta He] , 1p· t¹m doOk|m sou t|mde, dm 1nek]ny eQr 1pisjopμm, poila_meim tμm "c_am sou po_lmgm ja· !qwieqate}eim soi, !l]lptyr keitouqcoOmta mujt¹r ja· Bl]qar ja· 1nikasj|lem|m sou t¹ pq|sypom, 1pisumacace?m t¹m !qihl¹m t_m s\fol]mym ja· pqosv]qeim soi t± d_qa t/r "c_ar sou 9jjkgs_ar. D¹r aqt`, d]spota pamtojq\toq, di± toO WqistoO sou tμm letous_am toO "c_ou Pme}lator, ¦ste 5weim 1nous_am !vi]mai "laqt_ar jat± tμm 1mtok^m sou, did|mai jk^qour jat± t¹ pq|stacl\ sou, k}eim d³ p\mta s}mdeslom jat± tμm 1nous_am, Dm 5dyjar to?r !post|koir, eqaqeste?m d] soi 1m pqa|tgti ja· jahaqø jaqd_ô, !tq]ptyr, !l]lptyr, !mecjk^tyr pqosv]qomt\ soi jahaq±m ja· !ma_lajtom hus_am, Dm di± WqistoO diet\ny, t¹ lust^qiom t/r jaim/r diah^jgr, eQr aslμm eqyd_ar di± toO "c_ou Paid|r sou YgsoO WqistoO toO HeoO ja· syt/qor Bl_m, di ox soi d|na, tilμ ja· s]bar 1m "c_\ Pme}lati mOm ja· !e· ja· eQr to»r aQ_mar t_m aQ~mym ….” An English translation can be found in Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, Lactantius, Venantius, Asterius, Victorinus, Dionysius, Apostolic Teaching and Constitutions, Homily and Liturgies, American repr. of the Edinburgh ed. (Edinburgh et al.: Clark et al., 1989), 482 sq. Of course there are obvious references to Old and New Testament conceptions and terminology.

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to office (did|mai jk^qour). His character is distinguished by gentleness and a pure heart (1m pqa|tgti ja· jahaqø jaqd_ô), by constancy (!tq]ptyr), by impeccability (!l]lptyr), and by innocence (!mecjk^tyr). Quite similar, but with distinct restrictions, the Apostolic Constitutions describe the office of the priest:7 The priest is selected by the whole clergy to his office (x^v\ ja· jq_sei toO jk^qou pamt¹r eQr pqesbut]qiom 1pidoh]mta), but can fulfil his duty also only by the gift of the Spirit (5lpkgsom aqt¹m PmeOla). His duties and responsibilities are to assist the bishop in his task to govern the congregation (sulbouk_ar toO !mtikalb\meshai ja· sucjubeqm÷m t¹m ka|m); especially he has to act as doctor (pkgshe·r 1meqcgl\tym Qalatij_m) and teacher (k|cou didajtijoO ; 1m pqa|tgti paide}, sou t¹m ka¹m) of the congregation, but he also has cultic and liturgical duties (douke}, soi eQkijqim_r 1m jahaqø diamo_ô ja· xuw0 heko}s,, ja· t±r rp³q toO kaoO sou Reqouqc_ar !l~lyr 1jtek0). The third office, that of the deacon, is an office of service (keitouqc^samta tμm 1cweiqishe?sam aqt` diajom_am), and by fulfilling this service well the deacon can hope to climb up the career ladder (!niyh/mai bahloO) and become a priest or bishop.8 At the end of book VIII of the Apostolic Constitutions we find a collection of laws (jam|mer) for office holders and laity, the so-called Apos7

8

Const.Ap. VIII 16,4 sq., Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 218: “Aqt¹r ja· mOm 5pide 1p· t¹m doOk|m sou toOtom t¹m x^v\ ja· jq_sei toO jk^qou pamt¹r eQr pqesbut]qiom 1pidoh]mta, ja· 5lpkgsom aqt¹m PmeOla w\qitor ja· sulbouk_ar toO !mtikalb\meshai ja· sucjubeqm÷m t¹m ka|m sou 1m jahaqø jaqd_ô, dm tq|pom 1pe?der 1p· ka¹m 1jkoc/r sou ja· pqos]tanar Ly{se? aRq^sashai pqesbut]qour, otr 1m]pkgsar Pme}lator. Ja· mOm, J}qie, paq\swou !mekkip³r tgq_m 1m Bl?m t¹ PmeOla t/r w\qit|r sou, fpyr, pkgshe·r 1meqcgl\tym Qalatij_m ja· k|cou didajtijoO, 1m pqa|tgti paide}, sou t¹m ka¹m ja· douke}, soi eQkijqim_r 1m jahaqø diamo_ô ja· xuw0 heko}s,, ja· t±r rp³q toO kaoO sou Reqouqc_ar !l~lyr 1jtek0, di± toO WqistoO sou, di ox so· d|na, tilμ ja· s]bar 1m "c_\ Pme}lati eQr to»r aQ_mar· !l^m.” For an English translation, see Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 492. Const.Ap. VIII 18,2 sq., Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 220: “… ja· pk/som aqt¹m Pme}lator ja· dum\leyr, ¢r 5pkgsar St]vamom t¹m pqytol\qtuqa ja· lilgtμm t_m pahgl\tym toO WqistoO sou·ja· jatan_ysom aqt|m, eqaq]styr keitouqc^samta tμm 1cweiqishe?sam aqt` diajom_am !tq]ptyr, !l]lptyr, !mecjk^tyr, le_fomor !niyh/mai bahloO, di± t/r lesite_ar toO WqistoO sou, toO lomocemoOr URoO sou, di ox so· d|na, tilμ ja· s]bar 1m "c_\ Pme}lati eQr to»r aQ_mar·!l^m.” For an English translation, see Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 492. Cf. the prayer for the deaconess in VIII 20,2.

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tolic Canons.9 They provide us with a more “realistic” view on the offices holders and the way the offices were executed by them, as they regulate disputed or possibly problematic issues. Thus we learn about the formal procedures connected with the Christian office like ordination10, the jurisdiction of the bishops11, and the primacy of the bishop12, which implies also his power in financial matters,13 9 This collection is a compilation of traditional regulations (among others the canons of some 4th-century synods), most probably made at the end of the 4th century in Syria. 10 Can. 1 (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 274): “9p_sjopor to_mum rp¹ 1pisj|pym weiqotome?tai d}o C tqi_m, pqesb}teqor rp¹ 2m¹r 1pisj|pou ja· di\jomor ja· oR koipo· jkgqijo_.” “Let a bishop be ordained by two or three bishops. A presbyter by one bishop, as also a deacon, and the rest of the clergy.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 500). 11 Can. 14 (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 278): “9p_sjopom lμ 1ne?mai jatake_xamta tμm 2autoO paqoij_am 2t]qô 1pipgd÷m, j#m rp¹ pkei|mym !macj\fgtai, eQ l^ tir eukocor aQt_a × B toOto biafol]mg aqt¹m poie?m, ¢r pke?|m ti j]qdor dumal]mou aqtoO to?r 1je?se k|c\ eqsebe_ar sulb\kkeshai· ja· toOto d³ oqj !v 2autoO, !kk± jq_sei pokk_m 1pisj|pym ja· paqajk^sei lec_st,.” “A bishop ought not to leave his own parish and leap to another, although the multitude should compel him, unless there be some good reason forcing him to do this, as that he can contribute much greater profit to the people of the new parish by the word of piety; but this is not to be settled by himself, but by the judgment of many bishops, and very great supplication. (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 501.) Cf. Can. 35 (edited by ibid., 284): “9p_sjopom lμ tokl÷m 5ny t_m 2autoO fqym weiqotom_ar poie?shai eQr t±r lμ rpojeil]mar aqt` p|keir ja· w~qar·” “A bishop must not venture to ordain out of his own bounds for cities or countries that are not subject to him.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 502.) 12 Can. 39 (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 286): “OR pqesb}teqoi ja· oR di\jomoi %meu cm~lgr toO 1pisj|pou lgd³m 1piteke_tysam· aqt¹r c\q 1stim b pepisteul]mor t¹m ka¹m Juq_ou ja· t¹m rp³q t_m xuw_m aqt_m k|com !paitghgs|lemor.” “Let not the presbyters and deacons do anything without the consent of the bishop, for it is he who is entrusted with the people of the Lord, and will be required to give an account of their souls.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 502.) 13 Can. 41 (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 288): “Pqost\ssolem t¹m 1p_sjopom 1nous_am 5weim t_m t/r 9jjkgs_ar pqacl\tym·eQ c±q t±r til_ar t_m !mhq~pym xuw±r aqt` pisteut]om, pokk` #m d]oi peq· t_m wqgl\tym 1mt]kkeshai, ¦ste jat± tμm aqtoO 1nous_am p\mta dioije?shai to?r deol]moir di± t_m pqesbut]qym ja· t_m diaj|mym ja· 1piwoqgce?shai let± v|bou HeoO ja· p\sgr eqkabe_ar, letakalb\meim d³ ja· aqt¹m t_m de|mtym, eUce d]oito, eQr t±r !macja_ar aqtoO ja· t_m 1pinemoul]mym

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or with the convening of bishops to synods, in order to decide about the matters of the church.14 Through laws like Can. 615 or Can. 2016, which prohibit involvement in matters of the world, we also learn about the general distinction drawn between the clergy and the laity and the notion of an otherworldliness of the clergy.

!dekv_m wqe_ar, ¢r jat± lgd]ma tq|pom aqto»r rsteqe?shai. j c±q m|lor toO HeoO diet\nato to»r t` husiastgq_\ paqal]momtar 1j toO husiastgq_ou tq]veshai, 1pe_peq oqd³ stqati~tgr Qd_oir axym_oir fpka jat± pokel_ym 1piv]qetai.” “We command that the bishop have power over the goods of the Church; for if he be entrusted with the precious souls of men, much more ought he to give directions about goods, that they all be distributed to those in want, according to his authority, by the presbyters and deacons, and be used for their support with the fear of God, and with all reverence. He is also to partake of those things he wants, if he does want them, for his necessary occasions, and those of the brethren who live with him, that they may not by any means be in straits: for the law of God appointed that those who waited at the altar should be maintained by the altar; since not so much as a soldier does at any time bear arms against the enemies at his own charges.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 502.) 14 Can. 37 (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 286): “De}teqom toO 5tour s}modor cim]shy t_m 1pisj|pym, ja· !majqim]tysam !kk^kour t± d|clata t/r eqsebe_ar, ja· t±r 1lpipto}sar 1jjkgsiastij±r !mtikoc_ar diaku]tysam· ûpan l³m t0 tet\qt, 2bdol\di t/r Pemtgjost/r, de}teqom d³ zpeqbeqeta_ou dydej\t,.” “Let a synod of bishops be held twice in the year, and let them ask one another the doctrines of piety; and let them determine the ecclesiastical disputes that happen—once in the fourth week of Pentecost, and again on the twelfth of the month Hyperberetæus.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 502.) 15 “9p_sjopor C pqesb}teqor C di\jomor joslij±r vqomt_dar lμ !makalbam]ty· eQ d³ l^, jahaiqe_shy.” (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 276.) “Let not a bishop, a priest, or deacon undertake the cares of this world; but if he do, let him be deprived.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 500.) 16 “Jkgqij¹r 1cc}ar dido»r jahaiqe_shy.” (Metzger, ed., “Les constitutions apostoliques III. Livres VII et VIII”, 280.) “Let a clergyman who becomes a surety be deprived.” (Translation by Roberts and Donaldson, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 7, 501.)

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2. The ideal bishop – a hagiographic approach With the life of Bishop Maximianus of Ravenna17 in the “Book of Pontiffs”, a collection of lives of the bishops of Ravenna written by Agnellus of Ravenna in the 9th century, we enter the genre of hagiography and get further insight into the ideal and the reality of the Christian office. At the same time, Agnellus description of the office of bishop confirms the observations we made on the Apostolic Constitutions and Canons. Agnellus praises Maximianus and the way he was acting towards the end of his vita with the following words:18 17 Maximianus, who was born in Pola in Istria, was between 546 and 556 archbishop of Ravenna, since 493 the capital of the Ostrogotic kingdom and since 540 again in possession of the Roman (Byzantine) Empire. Amongst other things, he completed the famous Ravennese church San Vitale in 547, where we also find a portrait of him at the side of Emperor Justinianus in a mosaic panel at the foot of one of the apse side walls; cf. Agnellus, lib. pont. 77 and Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis, Ravenna in Late Antiquity (New York: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2010), 223 – 249. Generally it would be very instructive to include in this short study the selfrepresentation of bishops in mosaics (and other forms of Christian art) like the mosaics in Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome commissioned by Sixtus III (see the Roman Liber pontificalis, ch. 46). 18 Agnellus of Ravenna, lib. pont. 82; the translation is by Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis, The Book of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna (Washington, DC: Catholic Univ. of America Press, 2004), 195 sq. The Latin text can be found in the edition by Oswald Holder-Egger, “Agnelli qui et Andreas Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis”, in Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum saec. VIIX, MGH SS rer. Lang. 1 (Hannover, 1878), 332. “Pauca de multis diximus, plura de eo invenietis, quam hic legistis. Nunquam suas laniavit oves, nunquam mordit, nunquam percussit, sed refovit eloquiis, nutrivit alimentis, monuit vagos, revocavit errantes, collegit dispersos, ministravit inopi, condoluit tribulanti. Miror, modo iste, qui ex alterius fuit sede, sic se cum suis disposuit ovibus, quod nullum contra eum sermonem unquam multavit: modo ex nobis ipsis pastorem habentes, postquam sedes adipiscunt, dentibus devorare volunt nec ullam nesciunt habere misericordiam; plus sublimitatem seculi quam caeleste gloria quaerunt; non participant cum ovibus, sed res ecclesiae soli deglutiunt, et tales ex ipsis opibus nutriti fiunt, qui nec ecclesia serviunt, sed magis depopulant, neque pro dimissoris animam preces Deo ei fundunt. Tunc ipsae oves cotidie moerendo clamant ad Dominum, dicentes: Erue nos, Domine, de captione dentium pastoris nostri, quia non mercenarii locum, sed crudelitatem lupi tenet, omnes nos in sua extollentia cunsumit. Hic vero beatissimus Maximianus nunquam talia peregit, sed cum mansuetudine inimicorum suorum corda humiliavit, ut adimpleret, quod scriptum est: Noli vinci a malo, sed vince in bono malum, et alibi: In patientia vestra possidebitis animas vestras.”

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We have said a few things out of many; you will find more about him than you have read here. He never ravaged his sheep, never hurt them, never struck them, but refreshed them with words, fed them with food, warned the wandering, recalled the errant, collected the dispersed, ministered to the needy, condoled the one in trouble. I marvel at how this one, who was from another see, thus behaved with his sheep, that no one ever raised up any word against him. Now that we have pastors from among ourselves, after they obtain the see, they want to devour us with their teeth, nor do they know how to have any mercy. They seek secular heights rather than heavenly glory; they do not participate with their sheep, but they devour the possessions of the church alone; and fed from this wealth become such as do not serve the church, but rather depopulate it, nor do they pour out prayers to God for the soul of him who disposed of these possessions. Then these sheep daily cry in mourning to the Lord, saying, “Free us, Lord, from the captivity of the teeth of our shepherd, since he has not the place of a mercenary, but the cruelty of a wolf; he consumes us all in aggrandizing his own possessions.” This most blessed Maximian never did such things, but with kindness he humiliated the hearts of his enemies, that he might fulfill what is written, “Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good,” and again, “In your patience you shall possess your souls.”

Unsurprisingly Agnellus, too, resorts here first and foremost to the metaphor of the good shepherd when he speaks about Bishop Maximianus, but by doing so he also designates the activities a bishop has to execute in order to serve his congregation well. These activities comprise teaching, correction, and edification (refovit eloquiis; monuit vagos; revocavit errantes; collegit dispersos) on the one hand and care of the needy (nutrivit alimentis; ministravit inopi; condoluit tribulanti) on the other hand. After that Agnellus introduces the embodiment of the evil bishop by way of antithesis to Maximianus, and we can conjecture that he draws here at least partly from real-world examples. He envisions bishops who are not shepherds but wolves, who have no mercy (nec ullam nesciunt habere misericordiam), and who care not for the needy (non participant cum ovibus). Those bishops are only looking for their earthly glory (sublimitatem seculi quaerunt) and revenue (res ecclesiae soli deglutiunt), and by behaving like that they attract candidates to the office who are even worse than themselves (tales ex ipsis opibus nutriti fiunt, qui nec ecclesia serviunt, sed magis depopulant, neque pro dimissoris animam preces Deo ei fundunt).

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3. John Chrysostom as exemplary bishop John Chrysostom was another exemplary bishop. He passed all ranks on the career ladder up to the bishopric:19 In 368 he was baptised, and in 371 he became lector in Antioch; after having lived for six years as an ascetic in the vicinity of Antioch, he returned to the city and was selected as deacon by Bishop Meletios on the eve of the Council of Constantinople (381). In 386 Bishop Flavian ordained him to the priesthood and Chrysostom became the famous preacher we know him for. In 398 he was chosen as bishop of Constantinople20, where he ruled until 404, when he was exiled due to his administration of the office and the reforms of the Constantinopolitan church he had initiated,21 as well as due to his general behaviour as bishop and towards the imperial court. On September 14, 407, he died in exile. Most probably during the period he was deacon in Antioch and influenced by Gregory of Nazianzus oration no. 2 (De fuga sua), John Chrysostom wrote a treatise in dialogue form, “On Priesthood” (De sacerdotio), in order to reform existing grievances.22 In it he formulates a theory of the Christian office, which is totally affected by a concept of the priesthood (Reqos}mg), which elevates the priest and the bishop23 19 On the career of John Chrysostom, cf. for example Wendy Mayer and Pauline Allen, John Chrysostom, The Early Church Fathers (New York: Routledge, 2000). It is deeply interwoven with 4th-century church politics and dogmatic controversies. 20 Cf. especially Wendy Mayer, “John Chrysostom as Bishop: The View from Antioch,” in The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 55/3 (2004): 455 – 466. 21 Cf. for example the article by Nathanael Andrade, “The Processions of John Chrysostom and the Contested Spaces of Constantinople,” in Journal of Early Christian Studies 18/2 (2010): 161 – 189. 22 Cf. especially Hermann Dçrries, “Die Erneuerung des kirchlichen Amtes im vierten Jahrhundert. Die Schrift De sacerdotio des Johannes Chrysostomus und ihre Vorlage, die Oratio de fuga sua des Gregor von Nazianz,” in Bernd Moeller and Gerhard Ruhbach, eds., Bleibendes im Wandel der Kirchengeschichte. Kirchenhistorische Studien. FS Hans von Campenhausen (Tbingen: Mohr, 1973), 1 – 46; Jutta Tloka, Griechische Christen – christliche Griechen. Plausibilisierungsstrategien des antiken Christentums bei Origenes und Johannes Chrysostomos, Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 30 (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 226 – 244; Gus George Christo, Bishops as Successors to the Apostles according to John Chrysostom: Ecclesiastical Authority in the Early Church (Lewiston, NY et al.: Edwin Mellen Press, 2008). 23 Both bishop and priest are denominated as Reqe}r. The differentiation between the two offices in the treatise is not always clear, as sometimes (like in sac. I 3)

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(clergy) above the congregation (laity). I will now highlight some points John Chrysostom claims in his lengthy treatise. According to Chrysostom, the exalted position of the priest is justified because the priest is intermediator between heaven and earth and therefore also responsible for the salvation of his flock. He states:24 [H]e will then clearly see what great honor [til^] the grace of the Spirit has vouchsafed to priests; since by their agency these rites are celebrated, and others nowise inferior to these both in respect of our dignity and our salvation. For they who inhabit the earth and make their abode there are entrusted with the administration of things which are in Heaven, and have received an authority [1nous_a] which God has not given to angels or archangels. For it has not been said to them, “Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in Heaven, and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven.” They who rule on earth have indeed authority to bind, but only the body: whereas this binding lays hold of the soul and penetrates the heavens; and what priests do here below God ratifies above, and the Master confirms the sentence of his servants [ûpeq #m 1qc\symtai j\ty oR Reqe?r, taOta b He¹r %my juqo? ja· tμm t_m do}kym cm~lgm b desp|tgr bebaio? ] ….

Besides acting as intermediator, the priest is representing Christ on earth as well, as he is the gateway to salvation:25 These (sc. the priests) verily are they who are entrusted with the pangs of spiritual travail and the birth which comes through baptism: by their John Chrysostom also talks of 1pisjop^; apparently the bishop is understood as the priestly office proper (see above). 24 Sac. III 5. Translation by Philip Schaff, A Select Library of the Nicene and PostNicene Fathers of the Christian Church, vol. 9, Saint Chrysostom: On the priesthood; Ascetic treatises; Select homilies and letters; Homilies on the statues (Edinburgh et al.: Clark et al., 1889), 47; edition of the Greek text by AnneMarie Malingrey, Jean Chrysostome. Sur le sacerdoce. Dialogue et homlie, Sources chr tiennes 272 (Paris: d. du Cerf, 1980). 25 Sac. III 6. Translation by Schaff, A Select Library, vol. 9, 47. Cf. sac. VI 4 (translation ibid., 76), “For he who acts as an ambassador on behalf of the whole city— but why do I say the city? on behalf of the whole world indeed—prays that God would be merciful to the sins of all, not only of the living, but also of the departed. What manner of man ought he to be? For my part I think that the boldness of speech of Moses and Elias, is insufficient for such supplication. For as though he were entrusted with the whole world and were himself the father of all men, he draws near to God, beseeching that wars may be extinguished everywhere, that tumults may be quelled; asking for peace and plenty, and a swift deliverance from all the ills that beset each one, publicly and privately; and he ought as much to excel in every respect all those on whose behalf he prays, as rulers should excel their subjects.”

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means we put on Christ, and are buried with the Son of God, and become members of that blessed Head [di± to}tym 1mdu|leha t¹m Wqist¹m ja· sumhapt|leha t` uR` toO HeoO, l]kg cim|leha t/r lajaq_ar 1je_mgr jevak/r]. Wherefore they might not only be more justly feared by us than rulers and kings, but also be more honored than parents; since these begat us of blood and the will of the flesh, but the others are the authors of our birth from God, even that blessed regeneration which is the true freedom and the sonship according to grace.

Because the priest has such an elevated status, he is also subject to special requirements regarding his character and morals. Absolute purity is required of him, as he is the one in the community who is dealing with heavenly powers:26 And whenever he invokes the Holy Spirit, and offers the most dread sacrifice, and constantly handles the common Lord of all, tell me what rank shall we give him? What great purity and what real piety must we demand of him? For consider what manner of hands they ought to be which minister in these things, and of what kind his tongue which utters such words, and ought not the soul which receives so great a spirit to be purer and holier than anything in the world? At such a time angels stand by the Priest; and the whole sanctuary, and the space round about the altar, is filled with the powers of heaven, in honor of Him who lieth thereon. For this, indeed, is capable of being proved from the very rites which are being then celebrated.

But the priest also needs more “earthly” skills. He has to be a good orator,27 as preaching is one of his most important duties and responsibilities,28 and he has generally to be an educated man:29

26 Sac. VI 4 (translation by Schaff, A Select Library, vol. 9, 76). Cf. Sac. III 14 (translation ibid., 52), “And apart from these things, the faults of insignificant men, even if they are exposed, inflict no injury worth speaking of upon any one: but they who occupy the highest seat of honor are in the first place plainly visible to all, and if they err in the smallest matters these trifles seem great to others: for all men measure the sin, not by the magnitude of the offence, but by the rank of the offender. Thus the priest ought to be protected on all sides by a kind of adamantine armour, by intense earnestness, and perpetual watchfulness concerning his manner of life, lest some one discovering an exposed and neglected spot should inflict a deadly wound: for all who surround him are ready to smite and overthrow him: not enemies only and adversaries, but many even of those who profess friendship.” 27 Cf. Sac. IV 5 (translated by Schaff, A Select Library, vol. 9, 66), “In short, to meet all these difficulties, there is no help given but that of speech, and if any be destitute of this power, the souls of those who are put under his charge (I mean of the weaker and more meddlesome kind) are no better off than ships continually

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Priests are the salt of the earth. … For the Priest ought not only to be thus pure as one who has been dignified with so high a ministry, but very discreet, and skilled in many matters, and to be as well versed in the affairs of this life as they who are engaged in the world, and yet to be free from them all more than the recluses who occupy the mountains. For since he must mix with men who have wives, and who bring up children, who possess servants, and are surrounded with wealth, and fill public positions, and are persons of influence, he too should be a many-sided man—I say many-sided, not unreal, nor yet fawning and hypocritical, but full of much freedom and assurance, and knowing how to adapt himself profitably, where the circumstances of the case require it, and to be both kind and severe, for it is not possible to treat all those under ones charge on one plan, since neither is it well for physicians to apply one course of treatment to all their sick, nor for a pilot to know but one way of contending with the winds. For, indeed, continual storms beset this ship of ours, and these storms do not assail from without only, but take their rise from within, and there is need of much condescension, and circumspection, and all these different matters have one end in view, the glory of God, and the edifying of the Church.

Summary The Apostolic Constitutions and the Apostolic Canons, Maximianus of Ravenna and John Chrysostom served here for exemplary approaches to the Christian office in Late Antiquity. As we can see from these examples and from further available sources, the Christian office presents itself by the beginning of the 4th century in the following way: In the period examined here, there are many different offices in the church, which are built up in a pyramidal layout. On top and reckoned as the office proper is the bishop, who is the leader of the local Christian community,30 followed by the offices of priest and of dea-

storm-tossed. So that the Priest should do all that in him lies, to gain this means of strength.” 28 Cf. Sac. V 1 and 7. 29 Sac. VI 4; translation by Schaff, A Select Library, vol. 9, 76 sq. 30 On the “monarchic” bishop, cf. Ernst Dassmann, “Zur Entstehung des Monepiskopats,” in JbAC 17 (1974), 74 – 90; Georg Schçllgen, “Monepiskopat und monarchischer Episkopat. Eine Bemerkung zur Terminologie,” ZNW 77 (1986): 146 – 151. In the 4th century (and onwards) there is also a hierarchical differentiation in the office of bishop: The head of the church in a metropolis, the provincial capital, is called “metropolitan” and has authority over the other bishops in the province. Besides these are the “chorbishops” (an office later disap-

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con31 with more specialised offices like lector, cantor, gate keeper, and grave digger below. Besides these there are some special offices for women, like deaconess, widow, and virgin, which are also subordinate to the bishop (and the priests). Most, but not all of these offices have a strong connection to worship,32 but at the same time mission, teaching, intercession, direction of the community, caring for the welfare of the community, and last but not least, administration are also highly important functions of the bishops (and by delegation also of the priests and deacons).33 In connection with the congregation there is a clear distinction between the bishop (as well as the other members of the clergy) as “priest” and “holy man” and the “laity”, which expresses itself also in clothes and phenomena like the tonsure or celibacy as well as in the episcopal selfrepresentation. These are aspects which would deserve closer inspection.34

31 32

33 34

pearing) in rural areas, who are subject to the bishop in the city and who have limited rights. Comparable to the differentiation of the office of bishop there is also an increasing differentiation of the offices of priest and deacon. Im generalizing here, as the connection of some offices to the Christian worship (and sometimes also their bare existence, especially in case of the offices for women) is dependent on time and place, cf. the titles mentioned in fn. 1. Cf. Mayer, “Patronage, Pastoral Care and the Role of the Bishop at Antioch”, 60; Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity, 23. Cf. fn. 17.

Men of Knowledge and Power: A Tentative Profile of Medieval Rabbis Robert Bonfil Knowledge, no matter whether theoretical or practical1, is an essential requisite of all kinds of culture.2 Since no one can ever acquire all the knowledge one may need to cope with specific situations which may eventually arise, everybody must accept being in a subordinate position vis- -vis the individuals who happen to know what to do in unusual problematic cases; a person refusing to accept this would be helpless. In other words, the hierarchical subordination resulting from possession of knowledge is a universal principle governing all kinds of cultural configurations of mankind. Some would even maintain that since human societies are in fact structures composed of elements variously interconnected in a number of configurations, hierarchy – not just hierarchy produced by possession of knowledge – is an essential characteristic of all kinds of human society.3 Be that as it may, since the possession of knowl-

1

2

3

“Knowledge” is here intended in the most general and neutral sense, commonly employed in everyday parlance devoid of specific epistemological or philosophical connotations. “Culture” is also intended in a most general meaning, common to most definitions collected by Alfred Louis Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn, Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions, Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University 47/1 (Cambridge, MA: The Museum, 1952). See Louis Dumont, Homo hierarchicus: An Essay on the Caste System, trans. Mark Sainsbury (London and Chicago: Weidenfeld & Nicolson and University of Chicago Press, 1970). Dumonts idea of social structure was overtly borrowed from the theory of structural anthropology of Claude Levi-Strauss. According to Dumont (p. 41), “this introduction of the idea of structure is the major event of our times in social anthropology and sociology” (in French, p. 61: “cette introduction de lid e de structure est en anthropologie sociale et en sociologie l v nement capital de notre temps”). Viewing the world as a system in fact means that focusing on individual elements will not permit to capture the nature of more complex segments in which such elements may be clustered, while focusing on the system as a whole will ultimately efface the individual elements and even the clusters of these elements. By contrast, the theoretical model set up by

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edge is universally deemed to produce hierarchies, one should logically infer that the equality of all human beings can never be absolute and must always coexist with the universal principle of subordination implied by hierarchies in general, and particularly by the hierarchy resulting from the possession of knowledge. Is there any difference between the modern age and the Middle Ages in this respect? To a certain extent, I would argue, the answer is no: at all times and in all socio-cultural frameworks everybody has the choice of remaining within the system to which he or she happens to be allocated or to get out of it. As far as such specific choice is concerned, there is no difference at all between different periods: at all times and in all socio-cultural frameworks anyone can freely decide to revolutionarily get out of the system. Kuhnian paradigms of knowledge are, in this respect, systems, and the scientific revolutions that have occurred throughout history are the result of free decisions taken by extraordinary individuals to embrace unusual new paradigms.4 Such free decisions entail, of course, different kinds of prices to be paid in order to carry them out, but once prices are paid, getting out of the system is no longer precluded. In other words, as far as the choice to stay within the system or to remove oneself from it is concerned, freedom of subjectivity existed in antiquity and in the Middle Ages no less than in modern times. Why then does the conventional belief hold that freedom of subjectivity is an essential and unique characteristic of the modern world? Because that belief is part of an inherited paradigm of knowledge based on the self-perception of the humanist intellectuals of the Italian Renaissance that they were producing a revolutionary change of the world. And, as is well known, a

4

Claude Levi-Strauss would suggest focusing on the interplay between the interconnected elements or clusters of elements, assuming that all of them are geared upon basic binary oppositions and imply not only the coexistence of opposites but also different configurations in which the binary oppositions can eventually be reversed, following quite simple rules. According to Dumont, such a model (which exhibits striking analogies with others in a variety of fields ranging from physics to literature) ultimately indicates that hierarchy is an omnipresent essential condition of mankind. Though I believe that Dumont is indeed right, I do not propose to assume that much here, for a detailed exploration of the topic would require a quite complex, yet ultimately unnecessary, discussion, since social hierarchy was universally accepted as a self-evident corollary of the essential inequality of all types of men and women during the pre-modern age. See Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 2nd enlarged ed., International Encyclopedia of Unified Science 2, no. 2 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970).

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number of intellectuals of the Reformation and the Enlightenment developed that idea in ways which included, among other things, the belief that they were experiencing the last phase of the ongoing progress of mankind and that the French Revolution, which assigned essential importance to the liberty of citizens to manifest their political and juridical equality (as proclaimed by the famous slogan libert, egalit, fraternit), was indeed finalizing that process. Finally that idea, regrettably nurtured by Hegel and his devotees5, especially by the Marxist groupies among them, engendered the mistaken presumption that the modern age displays a kind of dynamic maturation of the ideal of enlightened freedom of subjectivity in contrast to an alleged lack of similar freedom in the Middle Ages, cunningly manipulated by the representatives of powerful religious institutions.6 5

6

See Jrgen Habermas, The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity: Twelve Lectures, trans. Frederick Lawrence (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1987), especially chapter 1 (1 – 22). It should perhaps be added that the approach of Habermas very much calls to mind the above-mentioned structural approach of Dumont in Homo hierarchicus, in that it seeks to discover a global definition of modernity in which a conspicuous number of phenomena considered by previous anthropologists and sociologists (such as George Herbert Mead and mile Durkheim) as characteristic of the modern age because they implied strong manifestations of free criticism vis- -vis traditional paradigms of socio-cultural behavior and models of socialization aiming at developing the individualism of infants in terms of independent evaluation of situations. As against such views, Habermas would seek a global definition of all the interconnected processes subsequent to the Renaissance, assuming that all of them were part of a dynamic maturing of the ideal of the Enlightenment, as suggested by Hegels definition of the freedom of subjectivity as the principle of modernity. According to such an approach, the crucial historical phenomena that brought about the establishment of that principle were indeed the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the French Revolution. Though perhaps superfluous for many, it should nonetheless be recalled here that among the detrimental outcomes of the hegemony of the German academic worldviews during the last two centuries was the almost mandatory reference (still widely fashionable) to Hegels philosophical texts by both followers and critics. One really needs Ariadnes thread to find a way out of the labyrinth of connecting paths between all kinds of theories concerning the history of mankind and Hegels belief in the dynamic process of thesis-antithesis-synthesis, which almost paradoxically also merged with the positivist belief in progress achieved under the guidance of unbridled human reason and sustained the Renaissance view of the Middle Ages as an age of “backward irrational obscurantist faith” as opposed to the “modern age,” viewed as “progressive rational enlightened un-belief.” Entering that labyrinth would undoubtedly be dangerously daring for historians improperly trained for such explorations. Suffice it,

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And yet, even if that specific presumption is indeed mistaken, that does not mean that change did not take place. Historians have in the last decades thoroughly examined and described several ideological changes occurring over time.7 One of them is particularly important for our discussion: the educational ethos implied by the contemporary educational paradigm which maintains that children must be instructed to develop maximum capacity to evaluate independently the variety of specific demands for action, vis- -vis the attitude diffused by ancient and medieval ideology which maintained the opposite.8 Since this modern ethos would appear to run counter to our previous conclusion, we need to once again verify its validity – and, in fact, the double-check not only confirms it but even refines it, for even the modern educational ethos certainly does not advise unlimited independence (i. e., total lack of guidance) of pupils.9 Since then educators in both the modern and pre-modern epochs recommend control over the exercise of freedom of subjectivity, and since such freedom is present in both periods, we are redirected to explore the nature and the extent of such a recommendation. In order to be efficient, control requires effective subordination to the will of the controllers. That means that the hierarchy established between controllers and controlled must be expressed in terms of acceptance of authority. The question therefore is: Did configuration of authority change over time? The question must be phrased in that manner because, as every other concept, the idea of authority itself is a socio-cultural con-

7

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therefore, to recall here that both Hegel and Jacob Burckhardt (whose classic works of history also assumed the validity of the dynamic process of thesis-antithesis-synthesis) were faithful Christian believers. For an overview of the reception of the idea that the Renaissance evolved as antithesis vis- -vis the Middle Ages, see the standard and still definitely reliable work of Wallace K. Ferguson, The Renaissance in Historical Thought: Five Centuries of Interpretation (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1948). Although it can reasonably be argued that in the various stages of its materialization the change was connected to the process of restructuring the relationship between everyday practices and religion, commonly known as secularization, it should be obvious that secularization must not be conceived in simple terms of religious unbelief and getting out of the system implied by faith. The classic and still basic work on the change of attitudes in the early modern age toward infancy is Philippe Ari s, Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life, trans. Robert Baldick (London: Cape, 1962). Reference to the essays included in the volume edited by Richard Stanley Peters seems to me quite sufficient to substantiate such conclusion. See Richard Stanley Peters, ed., The Concept of Education (London and Henley: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967).

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struct and as such may not unreasonably be presumed to change following other changes in the socio-cultural frameworks established throughout the history of mankind. Modern anthropologists and sociologists have pointed out two basically opposed, though not mutually exclusive, modes of configuring authority at all times and in all socio-cultural frameworks. The first, which may be called the objective mode, assigns authority to utterances issued from a position of authority – for instance, the will of a sovereign or the content of a law. The second, which may be called the subjective mode, assigns authority to statements issued by a person who is authorized to make decisions on the matters at stake because that person is expected to think correctly on those matters – for instance, certified professionals or executive bosses.10 In both modes, the individuals who decide to remain within the system and to submit to authority forgo their right to act independently, although the rationale for justifying such an attitude may assume different theoretical forms. Moreover, in both modes refusal to submit to authority means leaving the system.11 But, as noted, if in the Middle Ages individuals were no less free than today to exit the system, there are no grounds to imagine that the medieval freedom to exercise independent criticism and choose or refuse to accept the implications of the hierarchy established by authority was more limited than it is today. In any case, being part of a system implying submission to authority must be considered the result of free choice, notwithstanding the fact that payment of substantially different prices may be required in order to get out of it.

10 The phrasing freely follows Karl Eric Knutsson, Authority and Change: A Study in the Kallu Institution among the Macha Galla of Ethiopia (Gçteborg: Etnografiska Museet, 1967), 21 11 Since the two aforementioned modes are not mutually exclusive, one can of course imagine various combinations of them and consequently different possibilities of referring to the right to criticize and act independently. For instance, in the case of the ruling institutions in democratic states (to which the objective mode should apply, since citizens are bound to respect the laws and ordinances issued by them), the right to criticize and act independently is nonetheless accorded to the citizens once at every election time, and appropriate institutional organs are created to enable exercise of that right in the name of the citizens (tribunals to which citizens can eventually apply against the rulers and the like); in the case of the ruling institutions in totalitarian states, such a right is greatly reduced, to the point of becoming totally virtual.

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And yet, one fundamental precondition is necessary to allow smooth operation of the system (i. e., to reduce significantly wishes to exit it)12 : trust – that is, trust that there will be no abuse of hierarchical supremacy. There is blind reliance on trusted guides. People follow the instructions of trusted technicians who supposedly know what most people dont know concerning machinery they use automatically; patients follow the instructions of trusted physicians; and so on and so forth. Should such trust be lacking, authority would shaken and the system would not function properly. Should we distrust our physician, we would not be ready to follow his or her instructions and would accordingly assume full responsibility for the fate of our health. To be sure, history is full of examples of improper manipulations of hierarchical authority and particularly of supremacy produced by hiding classified knowledge; yet, preventing access to classified knowledge is universally a built-in element of all kinds of socio-cultural systems. Jewish, Christian, and Muslim medieval thinkers overtly maintained that such a pattern is unavoidable on both practical and theoretical grounds and drew the logical corollary that modern authors rather prefer to conceal behind curtains of rhetorical arguments stemming from the above-mentioned misplaced presumption that modernity is characterized by enlightened freedom of subjectivity in contrast to the alleged lack of such freedom in the Middle Ages. That logical corollary may be phrased thus: everyone must necessarily direct her or his intellectual energies to acquire solely the knowledge indispensable for the best possible functioning of the system, for any other choice would not only be a waste of energy but also substantially detrimental – people would constantly be engaged in re-inventing the wheel and in pursuing goals actually inaccessible because of all kinds of intellectual deficiencies inherent in individual idiosyncrasies. The mistaken belief that things are different disregards both the fact that revolutions are usually carried out in extraordinary situations by extraordinary individuals and the fact that ordinary situations are likely to discourage ordinary individuals to remove themselves from the systems in which they are more or less comfortably located and act on their own.

12 For religious believers, extreme examples of getting out of the system may be heterodoxy, apostasy, and conversion to a different faith. For every living individual who feels incapable of bearing the situation in which she or he happens to be bound, suicide is almost always a way of escape.

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A proper understanding of the implications of this simple universal pattern and of its no less simple corollary is necessary to properly portray the profile of medieval rabbis as men of knowledge and power and grasp its significance for modern believers. In my opinion, such understanding will also disclose the impact of continuity between the Middle Ages and our time in shaping attitudes about the authority of experts in religious matters and their role as leaders of believers in the Word of God. And although much of what will be argued below is mutatis mutandis equally relevant for rabbis, priests, and imams, the role of rabbis seems to me more significant in this respect, for medieval rabbis generally did not have governmental force of coercion and are therefore more akin to modern religious leaders than are medieval priests and imams, who were intimately connected with the holders of political and military power.13 I propose to take Maimonides as our Virgil for this exploration, because Maimonides systematic view on these matters represents – better than any other author known to me – the medieval stance, common to Jewish, Christian, and Muslim thinkers.14 For Maimonides, only philosophic knowledge could encompass the entire range of possible knowledge underlying the cosmic system created according to Gods will. Only philosophers could therefore hope to rise to the highest rung on the ladder of humans bearing authority by virtue of their knowledge. Moreover, since for Maimonides, as for all medieval thinkers, philosophy included physics and metaphysics and therefore meant theology, perfect acquisition of this knowledge would include 13 For a slightly more detailed outline of what will be summarized below, see Robert Bonfil, “Le savoir et le pouvoir: Pour une histoire du rabbinat l poque pr -moderne” in Shmuel Trigano, ed., La socit juive travers lhistoire (Paris: Fayard, 1992), 115 – 195, 705 – 709. 14 A detailed bibliography on this point would require unnecessary burdensome digression. English readers in need of basic introduction to Maimonides thought are referred to Moses Maimonides, The Guide of the Perplexed, trans. Shlomo Pines, 2 vols. (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1963). The most relevant sections of The Guide for our discussion are Part I, 34, Part II, 33 – 35, and Part III, 51. Maimonides stance did not differ in this respect from that of Averroes, who also emphasized the epistemological necessity of appropriate use of classified knowledge commanded by the experts, nor from Saint Thomas, who codified the canonical duty of faithful Christians to follow the biblical command according to the tradition bequeathed by the Fathers of the Church and believed that all kinds of logical contradictions could be nullified through proper use of exegetical tools.

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knowledge of God and of Gods commands, which the accomplished philosopher was expected to know better than anybody else. But since ascent of the ladder of knowledge was obstructed by all kinds of natural impediments inherent in human nature, the road toward such perfection could not be open to everybody. Aspiration to climb it while lacking the necessary tools would have been dreadfully dangerous, not just to the would-be philosophers themselves but also to those who would have been misguided by the false teachings promulgated by virtue of the authority of their alleged knowledge. In order to avoid such danger, uncontrolled access to knowledge should be denied and people should be instructed according to their individual capacities, just as infants must be taught by responsible parents to avoid dangers and cannot be granted freedom to act independently until they show sufficient proficiency in the kind of expertise required by the specific situations at hand. But how could people lacking knowledge test the legitimacy of those who pretend to exercise supreme authority over them by virtue of their alleged knowledge? To that end, God provided humanity with a sort of concise “user manual,” the biblical text, through which such legitimacy could be verified: should the aspiring leaders have intended to proceed against the guidelines of the “user manual,” their instructions would have been dreadfully misguiding. Hence the Bible insistently warned to avoid following false prophets, and biblical history is replete with edifying examples of the tragic consequences of misplaced trust. But, alas, like every short “user manual,” the biblical text provided only basic instructions for frequently asked questions; any unusual problem, especially how to distinguish false prophets from true ones, would require help from experts, and that would again expose people to the danger of trial and error. The solution of the quandary according to Maimonides theory of knowledge combined, among other things, three main elements: first, the idea of the transmission of uncorrupted traditional knowledge through a continuous chain of hierarchical structures of institutional leaders to whom it was bequeathed by Moses, the sole perfect philosopher recorded in the history of mankind; second, the belief that the support granted by those holding political and military power, whose legitimacy would be confirmed by the presumed Divine support throughout history, should also be understood as supporting the legitimacy of the above-mentioned structures of leadership and of their right to supremacy; and third, the notion that beyond the actual support granted by the holders of political and military power, the legitimacy of those structures was verified by the absence of controversies among its

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members who would unanimously confirm the authority of their heads.15 The intricacies of Maimonides line of reasoning, which in any case would be of little profit to those who disagreed with the postulates it assumed as self-evident, will not retain our attention here. We will rather focus on a few elements that seem to be relevant to our purpose of reconsidering the nature and extent of the continuity between the medieval worldview vis -vis the modern and post-modern ones inasmuch as the authority of experts and their role as leaders is concerned. According to Maimonides, the duty of the uninitiated to rely on the authority of the knowledgeable and the right of the latter to keep their knowledge classified were absolutely mandatory, because the legitimacy of their authority and the certainty that they would not abuse their supremacy were firmly established by the above-mentioned three elements. But both legitimacy of authority and certainty that abuse of hierarchical supremacy would not occur could be contested once those three elements could no longer be taken for granted after the collapse of the ecumenical centers of institutional authority. Legitimacy of authority and certainty that there would be no abuse of hierarchical supremacy had therefore to be confirmed anew within the local communal structures on the basis of some kind of testing carried out on the local level. A detailed description of the variety of tactics embraced in the course of time to that end would require an elaborate perusal of the history of the Jews. It would also require going into details of both the numberless materializations of the tendencies of men of knowledge to keep their knowledge classified and their demands to project the achievements attained within the academic institutions onto society, and the equally numberless manifestations of the demands of society to have its say on the matter, given that it was society as a whole that was in the end expected to pay the bill in order to keep the system working. And yet, a common feature is nonetheless clearly present in the entire variety of such materializations: the image of medieval rabbis in the role of professional experts in Jewish law – the entire corpus of norms of life that faithful Jews view as stemming from the written Word of God in the canonical biblical text, the

15 It may perhaps not be superfluous to add here that a substantial part of Maimonides view on these matters displays striking similarities with basic elements of Arab conceptions of the law that imams were expected to apply as representatives of the caliphs.

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halakhah. 16 In other words, since the Word of God was supposed to include everything possibly relevant to human life, and since all that was also supposed to have been transmitted to those holders of power to rule appointed by the ecumenical centers in an unbroken chain of tradition, the medieval professional experts in Jewish law who could no longer rely on direct appointments from the heads of the ecumenical centers, nor could reasonably claim to be analogous to the perfect philosophers required by the Maimonidean stance, had nonetheless to be portrayed as the last rings of that unbroken chain of traditional knowledge based on the same traditional texts, above all the Talmudic text. Although admittedly less talented than their predecessors, they had to be portrayed as qualified to carry out the same tasks as were the appointed predecessors. The formulas of qualification had accordingly to reproduce the main elements of the standard ancient formula of appointment: yoreh yoreh, yadin yadin, “he will decide in case of doubts concerning religious practices and will judge.”17 And since such professional qualification was in the first place a matter of academic proficiency, it had to be dealt with in appropriate academic frameworks and procedures. At the same time, however, the men who were now empowered to impose their authority – particularly the power to excommunicate, which was an exclusive prerogative of the rabbis and was indispensable for communal organization – had to take into account the demands of the communities to have their say so as to avoid any manipulative abuse of authority, for in such case the entire system would collapse, and nobody would really wish that to happen. The image of medieval rabbis as men of knowledge and authority to rule according to Jewish law, that is, as men of power in virtue of their professional knowledge, appears in the numberless shapes reflected by 16 The rise of medieval rabbis as professional experts in Jewish law was thus analogous to the rise of medieval university “doctors of Canon and Roman law,” doctores utriusque juris. Medieval rabbis were thus referred to in Latin parlance as doctores legis hebraicae, “doctors of Jewish law.” I have discussed this detail as part of the historical process that took place in Renaissance Italy: see Robert Bonfil, Rabbis and Jewish Communities in Renaissance Italy (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization by Oxford University Press, 1990). 17 As a matter of fact, the ancient formula displayed a third element concerning qualification to decide whether first-born animals should be permitted to everybody or not (according to the biblical norms on these matters): yatir bekhorot, “he will declare first-born permitted.” Medieval formulas, for which the biblical practice was irrelevant, usually slightly modified this third element and phrased it yatir bakhurot, “he will declare young women permitted,” applying the formula to matrimonial law.

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the mirror of the history of communal organization, all of them variations of the above-mentioned Maimonidean stance of verifying the legitimacy of the authority of the experts and the certainty that abuse of hierarchical supremacy would not take place. To my mind, the image that we have thus portrayed presents a remarkable analogy with two typical situations in which Jewish, Christian, and Muslim believers constantly find themselves today. On the one hand, as members of voluntary communities of believers, they need the professional instruction of expert interpreters of the word of their God and the certainty that these experts will not take advantage of the hidden knowledge they happen to possess and finally deceive them. On the other hand, Jewish, Christian, and Muslim believers need, as anybody else, the professional instruction of all kinds of experts in fields deemed necessary to make their life comfortable: computer technicians, economists, physicians, even historians. All these experts receive qualification for their profession in appropriate academic frameworks and following appropriate academic procedures that the potential customers wish to maintain clear of ill-intentioned manipulations. All of them aspire to graduate from prestigious academic institutions, for that usually functions as an advantageous starting point on the road to professional achievement; all of them are expected to offer their services in specific circumstances, according to the position they have been able to reach on the hierarchical ladder of expertise and to the actual eventuality of being solicited by those who may need them; all of them may gain additional starting advantage from personal charisma; all of them tend to portray their knowledge as inaccessible to professionally uninitiated people and therefore ask to be trusted while they manage it in classified ways – as such, all of them are men of power in virtue of their professional knowledge. Finally, all of them must constantly be careful to avoid professional errors that might jeopardize their reputation as trusted influential experts and eventually destroy their career. Viewed from within a community of believers, no matter whether Jewish, Christian, or Muslim, the similarity between such situations should in my view stress the crucial importance of setting up a delicate balance between the natural aspirations of rabbis, priests, or imams to become men of power and impose their authority as men of knowledge, and of the communities to ensure that they are not misguided in trusting the professional knowledge of those men, for both sides are interested in the smooth maintenance of the system. From this standpoint, the history of the encounter between communal organization and the medieval rab-

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binate may therefore stand as a mirror of self-reflection for every modern community of believers confronting analogous needs of delicate balances between their worldviews and the views of men (now we should perhaps add: or women) of knowledge appointed to act among them as men or women of power.

Change or Continuity? How the Reformation Changed the Role of the Pastor Jrgen Kampmann “Illiteracy and crudeness, greed and raw sensuality, hedonism and brutal character characterize the clerical estate [at the end of the late Middle Ages]. No wonder that it was also the most hated and despised. The Reformation found so much success largely because it promised to rid society of this group of people. And still, it had to continue working with these priests if they had affiliated themselves with the new doctrine. While the most serious, the best among the Priests joined the new doctrine, it cannot be denied, though, that many dubious elements also tagged along with the turnaround: They resorted, as put once, to the gospel for the good of their stomach.”1

Paul Drews, Professor for Practical Theology in Jena, Gießen and Halle, in his portrayal of “Der evangelische Geistliche in der deutschen Vergangenheit” (“The Evangelical Clergyman in the German Past”) written about 100 years ago (1905), believed these sharp and dark contours necessary to outline the situation that could be witnessed in the days of the Reformation regarding the personnel available for the pastorate. Even if one might find evidence that Drews (possibly still influenced by the aftermath of the Kulturkampf) had resorted to rather drastic words here, his description still shows that, before the implementation of the Reformation, there had been widespread criticism regarding the estate of clergymen and pastors. The accumulation of benefices by the priests, their lack of presence at the parish caused by this accumulation, the representation of the real holder of the rectorate by badly paid “Huerpapen” (hired priests), neglect of the sermon – all these were additional complaints heard throughout the country, not to mention accusations of ethical and moral transgressions of all kinds. A multitude of caricatures from the early 16th century shows that such criticism was also made in public. In the following, it shall be illustrated to what extent the Reformation effected a change to this situation and how it also fostered and aspired a change in the understanding of the role of the pastor. The survey includes five parts: 1

Paul Drews, Der evangelische Geistliche in der deutschen Vergangenheit, 2nd ed. (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1924), 13 – 14. The first edition was published in 1905.

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1. Contraproductive Work in the Vineyard of the Lord 2. The Central Status of the Sermon in the Reformatory Churches and Its Consequences 3. Pastors: Dutifully Living as Celibates or as Husbands and Family Men? 4. The Relation to and vis- -vis the Parishioners 5. More Change than Continuity? The Changes in the Pastors Role Effected by the Reformation: Approach to a Nuanced Answer

1. Contraproductive Work in the Vineyard of the Lord Entering the heart of the Reformation at Wittenberg, namely the Wittenberg Town Church, the visitor will find an epitaph created by Lucas Cranach the younger, paid for by the children of General Superintendent and Senior Pastor Paul Eber, who had died in Wittenberg in 1569.2 It is situated behind the altar in the churchs choir. The epitaph painted by Cranach in commemoration of Eber depicts a vineyard with lots of vine dressers at work (see Fig. 1).3 The beholder familiar with the Bible will soon associate it with the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard (Matt 20:1 – 16). What makes Cranachs depiction of the parable outstanding and unique, however, is the depiction of the workers as clergymen, evidenced by their clothing. The painter precisely distinguishes between those on the left-hand side of the vineyard (seen from the eyes of the beholder), appearing in garments used in the old church, and those active on the right-hand side. The latter are wearing black Schauben (gowns) and are thus marked as Protestants.

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Paul Eber had been active in Wittenberg since his university studies. He had been a member of the Philosophical Faculty and had been its Dean since 1550. After the death of Johannes Bugenhagen, he became General Superintendent of the Electorate of Saxony in 1558 and thus also Senior Pastor at the Wittenberg City Church. A short time thereafter, he obtained a doctoral degree in theology and became a member of the Theological Faculty. Thus, he held a leading role in church and theology after Melanchthons death in 1560. See Heinz Scheible, “Eber, Paul,” in RGG4 II, 1040. See Albrecht Steinwachs, Der Weinberg des Herrn. Epitaph fr Paul Eber von Lucas Cranach d. J., 1569. Stadt- und Pfarrkirche St. Marien Lutherstadt Wittenberg (Sprçda: Pietsch 2001).

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Fig. 1. Lucas Cranach the younger, The Vineyard of the Lord, 1569.

The work that is being done in the vineyard is then presented in many details: To the left, on the old faiths side, the vineyard is being stubbed out, the vines are chipped off, their roots dug out, and everything that might have borne good fruit, is burned – even the Pope and the bishops, who should watch over of the vineyard of the Lord, the church, so that it might grow and thrive, instead lend a hand to create the havoc. And that which is left unstubbed and unburned, the bare stones, is thrown into the well, so that it might not even yield water in the future. Entirely differently, however, appears the other side: There, plants are planted, water is taken from the well, dung is being brought up and used to fertilize the ground, the filth and the stones are taken out of the vineyard. And it is certainly no coincidence that those working here so diligently bear the traits of the Protestant Reformers – Martin Luther and Philipp Melanchthon, Bugenhagen, Justus Jonas, Caspar Cruziger, Georg Spalatin and Matthias Flacius Illyricus.

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No question – Crachachs work reflects the traces of intense confessional polemic against the church that is determined and ruled by Rome, so the members of the old church are illustrated as even queuing up to accept their reward for their destructive work from Jesus Christ the Pope being the first. None of the Protestant Reformers, however, presents himself in such an impudent way as that he would ask any reward from Christ. And just in case that some viewer has not grasped the polemical intention of this presentation yet, the extensive rhymed caption will help him understand the message: Auf einer seitt Papisten sinndt, Ein gottlos, bçss und frech gesinndt. Die reissenn gottes Weinberg einn, So er gebawtt durchs wortte feinn. Den Brunn dess Lebens sie auch fln Durch Ihre Werk, gotts gnad zuhln; Verfinstern also gottes Wortt, Das lechtet klar an allem Ortt. Dagegen auff der ander seitt, stehenn viell dapffer gelarte Leuhtt, Mit ihrenn Instrumentenn all, So mann Im Weinberg haben soll. Sie remen, schneiden, binden, bawenn, Sie tilgen aus all falschen lehr. Thun trewlich fçrdern gottes ehr, Den Brunn des Lebens auch gar rein, Sie wieder thun aufreumen feinn. Unnd machenn wieder offenbar Gottes Gnad, so vor verfinstert war: Die Recht meinung O frommer Christ, dieses kunstreichenn Bildes ist. Drum danck du gott fr seine gnadt, Das er sein Wort uns wieder geben hatt.4

In summary: The representatives of the old church ruin the vineyard; they destroy the well of life, Gods grace, by their works, and darken his divine word. The gardeners on the opposite side, however, do everything to extinguish the wrong doctrine; they cleanse the well and bring Gods grace to light again. This is the message of the picture, and every Christian should be grateful for the gift of Gods word. 4

Ibid.

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It has to be stated that Cranachs depiction is also an ingeniously designed drastic rejection, even a caricature of the papal bull “Exsurge Domine” by Pope Leo X from June 15, 1520, threatening Martin Luther and his followers with excommunication. In his bull the Pope alludes to Ps 80:13, where God is fervently asked to place himself above his enemies because foxes try to destroy his vineyard and a boar is about to devastate it. Of course it cannot be the intention of our discussing the question of change and continuity as to the pastoral role in the Reformation period to simply repeat the confessional polemic of the 16th century. This picture, however, which was painted five decades after the beginning of the Reformation at a time when the process of confessional consolidation in the Lutheran Church was largely finished, focuses on central aspects of how the public and the ministers themselves saw their pastoral service – at least ideal-typically. Four aspects leap to the eye: 1. The pastoral ministry of the Protestant reformers is seen as fundamentally different from the traditional clerical work; there is no linking element between the worlds on the two sides of the borderline other than the fact that it is the one divine vineyard in which the action is set. 2. On behalf of the Protestants a clear idea had been developed of what should not determine clerical work any longer: openly striving for or going after a reward, which is seen as a misdirected effort and clearly distinguished from ones own toiling in Gods vineyard. 3. Moreover, the Protestant Church was convinced that all the water necessary for growth and prosperity in the vineyard has to be taken from a given, clearly defined well, which by no means must be filled in. This well is Gods Gospel, to be found in the Holy Bible. 4. Consequently, any wrong conviction has to be removed and taken out of Gods vineyard. In Cranachs picture these wrong ideas are expressed by the dead, infertile stones spread in all parts of the vineyards soil, on the left-hand side of the path as well as on the righthand side, among the representatives of the old church as well as among followers of the Reformation. When removing these stones, the well, Gods Gospel, must not be covered or made inaccessible. This obstruction of Gods word is brought about by the works of the traditional priests. The disagreement about the action that has to be taken by the workers in the divine vineyard obviously exceeds all outer questions – which tools

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are the most helpful and should be used, for example. What is at stake is the focus of the work in general: “Den Brunn dess Lebens sie auch fln / Durch ihre Werk, gotts gnad zuhln” (“They fill in the well of life / by their works, thus covering Gods grace altogether”). Obstructing the path toward Gods Gospel this is what the old church is blamed for. The Pope in the front position of his clerical train is stretching out his hand to receive a reward, while none of the representatives of the Reformation are queuing in for any salary or interrupting their work in the vineyard; only the donating family is kneeling, watching out for Christs arrival. To put it in a nutshell: those who do pastoral service in the Protestant Church do not hope for any personal advantages. On the contrary, the primary pastoral function in the churches of the Reformation is caring for and looking after the good well and source of the right faith, Gods Gospel. This is the Reformations communis opinio, expressed not only in illustrations like the one by Cranach. It is also emphasized in the Reformations treasury of songs, and is thus not only put in the parishioners hearts, but expressed publicly, for example when Petrus Herbert, after having studied theology in Wittenberg and becoming a pastor of the Bohemian Brethren,5 composed the choral “Preis, Lob und Dank sei Gott dem Herren” (“Praise and Thanks Shall Be Given Lord God”).6 In his song he praises God for having gathered a church on earth that he “von Anfang schçn erbauet” (“right from the start beautifully built”). In the second stanza, he illustrates the pastoral service: Der Heilig Geist darin [in der Kirche] regieret, / hat seine Hter eingesetzt; / die wachen stets, wie sichs gebhret, / daß Gottes Haus sei unverletzt; / die fhrn das Predigtamt darinnen / und zeigen an das ewig Licht; / darin wir Brgerrecht gewinnen / durch Glauben, Lieb und Zuversicht.

5 6

See Dietrich Meyer, “Herbert, Petrus,” in RGG4 III, 1641. Evangelisches Gesangbuch. Ausgabe fr die Evangelische Kirche im Rheinland, die Evangelische Kirche von Westfalen, die Lippische Landeskirche, in Gemeinschaft mit der Evangelisch-reformierten Kirche (Synode evangelisch-reformierter Kirchen in Bayern und Nordwestdeutschland), in Gebrauch auch in den evangelischen Kirchen im Großherzogtum Luxemburg (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus; Bielefeld: Luther-Verlag; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag des Erziehungsvereins, 1996), No. 245.

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[The Holy Spirit rules the Church and has installed his guards who pay attention, as it is necessary, that Gods house will not be hurt; they keep the service of the sermon and show the eternal light, wherein we gain the right of citizenship by belief, love and hope.]

2. The Central Status of the Sermon in the Reformatory Churches and Its Consequences The quoted stanza focuses on the pastors responsibility for the sermon. The central status of the sermon had already been expressed by the Lutheran Imperial Estates in Article 5 of the Confessio Augustana handed over to Emperor Karl V. in 1530: “To grant this faith, God has installed the ministry, has given the Gospel and the Sacraments, which he employs as instruments to send the Holy Spirit, who – when- and wherever he wants to – creates faith in those who hear the Gospel, which teaches that we have a merciful God not by our merits, but by Christs redemption if we believe this message.”7 And this idea was combined with a distinction: “And the Anabaptists and others who teach that we gain the Holy Spirit without the external word of the Gospel by our own preparation, thoughts our works shall be condemned.”8 These words clearly reject the contemporary idea that pastoral work in the divine vineyard might be possible for everyone who regarded himself as qualified – for example by an immediate inspiration and mission, an idea taken up in Article 14 of the Confessio Augustana stating that “no person is meant to teach or preach in the Church publicly or administer the sacraments without being properly ordained”9. This very idea had been expressed by Luther himself a decade before in the first of his socalled “main reformation writings”, published in 1520 and entitled “On the freedom of the Christian”: It was true that the person having crept out of baptism might praise himself for being ordained a priest, bishop or pope, but Luther added an essential comment, immediately following this well-known and frequently quoted idea of the common priesthood of 7 8 9

BSLK, 58 (in translation). Ibid. BSLK, 69 (in translation).

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all believers: “although it is not appropriate for everyone to perform this ministry”10. And this is the reason he puts forward: For as we are all equally priests, nobody must over-estimate himself and dare to perform without our consent and choice what we are all equally qualified for. For what is common must not be obtained without the congregations will and order. And wherever it happens that somebody has been ordained for such a ministry and is dismissed afterwards because of abuse, he would be the same as before. So the position of a priest in the Christian congregation shall not be different than the position of a civil servant; as long as he is in office, he is special; as soon as he is degraded, he is a farmer or a citizen like us. The same is true for a priest: when degraded, he is no longer a priest. […] So it can be concluded that laymen, priests, bishops and, as they call them, “clericals” and “seculars” basically have no other difference than the difference implied in their position or work, but not in their status.11

To give proof from the Bible, Luther referred to Rom 12:4 – 8 and 1Cor 12:12 – 31. This definition of the status of the cleric deviated fundamentally from the traditional one common before the Reformation period. A clerics ministry was no longer defined by his ordination.12 In Lutheran doctrine this new understanding of ministry was expressed in the concept of the “Ordo triplex hierarchicus”, consisting of the spiritual authority, in Latin status ecclesiasticus, the political authority, magistratus politicus, and the status oeconomicus, implying married life and family.13 All parishioners have got the same “heavenly” profession – but not the same secular one. The status ecclesiasticus and the magistratus politicus have the task to serve the benefit of the status oeconomicus, the family, so that life can be led in peace and order, and the seed of the Gospel can grow and yield fruit. The fact that the church classifies the different ministers and determines different ranks just serves the purpose of outward order, and the essential rights of preaching the Gospel and administering the sacraments are the same for all ordained ministers.14 10 WA 6, 408 (in translation). 11 Ibid. 12 See also Martin Luther, “Von der babylonischen Gefangenschaft der Kirche. Ein Vorspiel,” (WA 6, 564 – 565): “Priesthood is nothing else than a service.” Cf. also 1Cor 4:1. 13 See Horst Georg Pçhlmann, ed., Heinrich Schmid: Die Dogmatik der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche dargestellt und aus den Quellen belegt. Neu herausgegeben und durchgesehen, 9th revised ed. (Gtersloh: Mohn 1979), 381 – 393. 14 Ibid., 383.

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Describing the character of the ministry as a duty to guarantee the decent, adequate preaching of the Gospel and the administration of the sacraments has various consequences for the ministers. To be regarded worthy of being granted such a function, they do not have to collect diverse consecrations or be an element of a historically evident succession apostolica; thus they differ fundamentally from the law that was valid in the Roman Church, expressed in the bull Sacrae Religionis by Bonifaz IX from February 1, 1400, as well as in the decision of the Council of Florenz from 1439, which regarded the consecration of priests – who are seen as cooperators of the respective bishop – by their bishop as essential.15 The ministry as a function that refers to the congregation and is based on the vocation by the congregation has to be led autonomously. So a thorough theological study is absolutely essential to be able to adequately interpret the gracious word of God passed on in the Holy Bible as viva vox Evangelii and to administer the sacraments correctly – which means according to the institution by Christ. This is not manageable by just technically learning and reciting the Eucharist liturgy properly, but needs intense academic studies. So not only are the Protestant reformers on Lucas Cranachs Wittenberg epitaph are presented equally in the special garment of the 16th-century scholar, the Schaube, but also for the ministers the Schaube – which during the administration of sacraments is added by the surplice – represents the typical vestment corresponding to the civil scholar. The traditional consecration is replaced by the ordination; Luther himself performed such an ordination in 1525 for the first time.

3. Pastors: Dutifully Living as Celibates or as Husbands and Family Men? Another fundamental change for those who worked as pastors was the complete abolition of the forced celibacy by the Protestant reformers. The question arose in connection with the validity of monasterial vows in general – and was categorically denied by Luther during his time on the Wartburg in 1521/1522 on the basis of the biblical tradition. Monasterial vows can thus not bind the monk before God, because they are based 15 See Josef Neuner, Heinrich Roos, Der Glaube der Kirche in den Urkunden der Lehrverkndigung, eds. Karl Rahner and Karl-Heinz Weger, 13th ed. (Regensburg: Pustet 1971), 449 – 450, No. 705.

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on a fundamental misunderstanding – namely the wrong concept that man may do a good deed that will justify him before God and grant him Gods grace. And this basic misunderstanding refers to the vow of celibacy as well. As a result of this theological discussion, monasteries were left by various monks and nuns in all regions where the Reformation was introduced. Living in celibacy, which – in spite of the vow to live an unmarried life – in the early 16th century had actually been replaced by concubinage, soon gave way to marriages of the pastors. Within a few years married pastors, being fathers and breadwinners of a usually big family, became the norm in Protestant churches. In this respect the pastoral role perhaps changed most obviously. The so-called Augsburg Interim from 1548 proves impressively that for the Protestants this question was of fundamental and indispensable relevance. In this period of Emperor Karl Vs greatest display of power after the disastrous defeat of the Protestant Coalition in the War of Schmalkalden the Protestant territorial rulers and free imperial cities were forced to accept an imperial decree that also implied religious practice in their territories. In the aftermath, almost all church reforms that had been initiated in the course of the introduction of the Reformation had to be cancelled, but clerical marriage remained possible until a council would finally settle the question. It is true that the imperial, not ecclesiastical rule of the Interim did not last long; the so-called “Frstenrevolution” (“Revolution of the Princes”) in 1552 changed the political constellation in the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation in favour of the Protestant estates fundamentally, so that it was finally beyond doubt that pastors in the reformed territories could be married – and most of them actually were. Still this episode showed the relevance the issue had in practice. It is not an exaggeration to call this element a signum reformationis, for in some territories in which the Reformation had not been introduced and dictated by the local ruler (like in the Lower Rhine region, for example), and where consequently the dates of the transformation from the old to the reformed faith varied in the respective parishes, the introduction of the Reformation is connected with the marriage of the pastor or with the introduction of a married pastor; apart from this date, there is often hardly any historical information available. Due to the fact that the ministers who fulfilled their duties in the sense of the Reformed faith were normally married, they had to take over new and sustainable responsibilities, for unlike their pre-Reformation predecessors they had to care for the economic survival of a whole

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family. That meant that a steady income had to be provided for if possible, and provisions for hard times had to be made. Moreover, the childrens education had to be financed, and if possible, some property to pass on to the next generation had to be gathered. It is definitely not an exaggeration to say that Protestant pastors became more “civilized”. Or, to put it differently: they now possessed far more connections to the majority of the population, not just from their pastoral work, but also from their responsibilities for their families and the interests arising from this. This assimilation was also supported by the pastors continual integration and inclusion into society after a long period of intensely supported and demanded separation from the majority of the people. At least up to the first half of the 20th century, however, a kind of new, distinct clergy developed in spite of all clerical connections to civil society, as ministers tended to marry women who had grown up in parsonages themselves. Another element that has to be taken into consideration when analysing the changes of the pastoral role due to the parsons new marital status is the fact that it became necessary to care for the subsistence of widows and orphans left behind if ministers died before their wives or if their minor children were not able to earn their living on their own. It stands to reason that there were no model solutions available from the centuries before the Reformation. The problem for the surviving dependants of a pastor compared to the situation of other, “civil” widows and orphans – was intensified by the fact that the pastors widow had to leave the parsonage with her children soon after her husbands death, as it was not their own property and had to be handed over to the new minister. At the same time the old income was missing. As a consequence, pastors widows and orphans were threatened by massive social decline. Still, for a long time provisions remained the parsons private matter; sometimes parishes noticed the dilemma and created special homes for the parsons widows with a piece of land for gardening and agriculture to enable them to provide for their own living. In the course of the following centuries a special regional (but usually underfinanced) fund was established, from which small pensions for parsons widows were paid. No sooner than in the 19th century were these questions of provisions realized as the task of the Evangelical regional church and added to the system of parsons pensions. Up to that time there had been regulations like the one of the so-called “post-year”, guaranteeing the widow the income of her deceased husband while the pastoral service was done by the parsons of the neighbouring parishes or by candidates on the basis of minimal payment –

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with the sometimes grotesque effect that for urgent economic reasons a (young, poor) bachelor candidate married the (much older) widow of his predecessor in order to reach an economic status comparable to the one of his precursor.

4. The Relation to and vis- -vis the Parishioners Speaking about the changes of the pastoral role caused by the Reformation last but not least means speaking about the change that was clearly noticeable in public – namely, the new pastoral role in services. In contrast to the times of the old church, where a multitude of masses had to be read and the regular prayers had to be held, now sermons had to be prepared thoroughly to be delivered in a smaller number of services and ceremonies. The ministers outstanding function was no longer his sacramental but his verbal service – no matter if they went on baptizing and administering the Communion (in both kinds, according to Christs institution), of course. A variety of rites and customs that in the Reformers view had no biblical basis were no longer necessary, in particular taking part in pilgrimages and cults of the saints. What mattered in the pastoral service according to the new belief was also illustrated by so-called “Konfessionsbilder”, confessional pictures, which since the 16th century were created in a number of places. Lets have a closer look at an example from Windsheim from the year 1601 (see Fig. 2).16 These pictures show the pastors without exception in their service in direct, immediate relation to their parishioners: on the pulpit, during a wedding ceremony, listening to someones confession, baptizing, during instruction or the visitation of the organist and choirmaster teaching the students. We have to assume that real life differed from the pastoral role portrayed in these pictures. To earn his living, the pastor had to demand tributes from his parishioners – which could lead to various conflicts in everyday life and created a vast gap, sometimes even an open conflict between the minister and his parishioners, especially as he normally was not a local man. 16 Wolfgang Brckner, Lutherische Bekenntnisgemlde des 16. bis 18. Jahrhunderts. Die illustrierte Confessio Augustana (Regensburg: Schnell 2007), 29 – 34 and 212.

Fig. 2. Confessional painting from Windsheim, 1601.

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Criticism of ministers – concerning their lifestyle or their doctrine – occurred in pre-Reformation times and did not come to an end with the introduction of the Reformation. And apparently there were not only actual failures of individual ministers in their office, but also too high, if not exaggerated expectations among the parishioners. Had this not been the case, Martin Luther, for example, would not have had to write to Johann Schreiner, pastor in Grimma: Mein lieber Magister und Pfarrer. Sagt doch […] den Edelleuten und wer immer sie sein mçgen, daß man nicht kann Pfarrer malen, wie sie es gerne htten; und sollten Gott danken, daß sie das reine Wort aus einem Vorlesebuch (Postille) kçnnen buchstabiert hçren, whrend vor Zeiten unter dem Papst sie eitel Teufelsfrze und Dreck mssen haben hçren und bezahlen teuer genug. Wer kann den Edelleuten eitel Doktor Martinusse [Luther] und Magister Philipusse (Melanchthon) auf solchen Betteldienst schaffen? Wollen sie eitel Sankt Augustinusse und Sankt Ambrosiusse haben, die mçgen sie sich selbst heranschaffen. Wenn ein Pfarrer seinem Herrn Christus genugsam und treu ist, sollte billig ein Edelmann, der merklich geringeres ist denn Christus, auch zufrieden sein.17 [Tell the noble people and all the others that it is not possible to design pastors according to their wishes; they should thank God that they can listen to his word recited from a devotional book, while in times of the old church they just heard devils farts and dirt, for which they even had to pay quite a considerable sum. Who can provide Martin Luthers and Philipp Melanchthons on the basis of such beggars salary? If they want to have Saint Augustines and Saint Ambrosiuses, they should organize them on their own. If a pastor follows his Lord Jesus Christ devotedly, a noble man, who is much less than Christ, should be contented as well.]

In accordance with Luthers ideas, the church orders of the Reformation period portray a pastoral role that is limited as regards tasks and functions and that apart from the functions in services and ceremonies particularly stresses the ministers responsibility for the right doctrine and pastoral care in the parish. Thus the parson is committed not to clerical or secular authorities, but to the accordance of his words and actions with the testimony of the Holy Scripture of the salvation in Christ. So the predella of the altar of Wittenberg Town Church can be regarded as an illustrative example of this very idea, as neither the congregation nor the parson delivering his sermon – in this case Luther himself – are in

17 Martin Luther to Johann Schreiner [Wittenberg], July 9, 1537, in: Reinmar Zeller, Luther, wie ihn keiner kennt. Lutherbriefe aus dem Alltag, neu entdeckt, 2nd ed. (Freiburg – Basel – Wien 1983), 110.

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the centre, but Christ on the cross is the one and only dominant figure, pointed at by the pastor with an unmistakable gesture.

5. More Change than Continuity? The Changes in the Pastors Role Effected by the Reformation: Approach to a Nuanced Answer In answering the question “More change than continuity?” with regard to the changes of the pastoral role caused by the introduction of the Reformation, it must be stated that there are strong signs that hint at a deep and sustainable change – regardless of all necessary differentiation in detail. It is true that the object of the pastoral service remained the same. Working in Gods vineyard – to stick to the chosen metaphor – was not questioned by the Reformation; the ground that had to be cultivated was the same, but it had to be cleaned from everything that was not rooted in the testimony of the Holy Scriptures. The Reformation not only theoretically, but also publically managed to realize the idea (which in our days during ordinations and investitures is expressed in the agenda as a message to all parishioners) that by baptism all Christians are called to give testimony and to serve the world for Christs sake – and that the pastoral service as regards its nature as well as its functions goes back to Christs mission, which has to be testified towards all believers in the parish and, if necessary, vis- -vis from them. Thus the pastoral role without doubt won new autonomy in the time of the Reformation – with the way the pastors saw themselves changing correspondingly. Finally, however, an observation made by Paul Drews should be mentioned, who hinted at the fact that it is not sufficient to design just one generalizing role model of pastors marked by the Reformation. Drews emphasizes that the pastors service in towns has to be distinguished from the one in the villages: The former were the educated, academic people, the real theologians, who had a considerable, even decisive influence as town clerics and court chaplains not only on church life, but also in political questions. […] It was no exception that they acquired the grade of a doctor of theology. They formed that very central group that made great efforts to raise the reputation of Evangelical parsons in general. […] Quite different was the “secondrank” clergy, usually serving as village parsons. They had only little or no academic education at all, partly not even understood Latin and often fol-

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lowed another trade or craft. This situation cannot be explained as an effect of the change of circumstances. On the contrary, they are the mere continuation of conditions that marked pre-Reformation times.18

18 Drews, Der evangelische Geistliche, 20.

Modern Rabbinical Training: Intercultural Invention and Political Reconfiguration Carsten L. Wilke

1. Rabbis, Pastors, and Acculturation The graduation ceremony of the first American-trained rabbis by the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, though undoubtedly a crucial event in the history of rabbinic scholarship, is normally not remembered as such. It has been overshadowed by the exuberant banquet that was celebrated on July 11, 1883, in a fashionable venue overlooking the Ohio River. A Jewish caterer from Germany had included different kinds of shellfish and other non-kosher delicacies in the dinner offered in honor of the future rabbis. As Rabbi Lance Sussman writes, “Almost every violation of kashrut was in evidence – seafood, tref meat, mixing milk and meat – with the only exception of pork”.1 What came to be known as the “trefa banquet” allegedly triggered the split of American Jewry between modernists and traditionalists, though in a critical historical perspective, the scandal was “only symbolic” of a denominational schism that was already well under way.2 The presence of littleneck clams at a rabbinical ordination has yet another symbolic meaning: it comments on the thorough and successful reform that Jewish higher learning had undergone since the anti-rabbinic criticism launched by the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment. The replacing of Talmudic casuistry with Biblical homiletics and philosophy, the study of the latter before age 24 contrary to the injunction of Rabbi Moses Isserles, the analysis of the Mosaic-Talmudic corpus with 1

2

Lance J. Sussman, “The Myth of the Trefa Banquet: American Culinary Culture and the Radicalization of Food Policy in American Reform Judaism,” American Jewish Archives 57/1 – 2 (2005): 29 – 52, quote from p. 35. For a copy of the menu, see Jacob Rader Marcus, ed., The Jew in the American World: A Source Book (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996), 240 – 241. Michael A. Meyer, Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1995), 263.

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the tools of philological and historical criticism, besides other things that such modern rabbis used to have in their heads, were by traditional standards no less anathema than the frog-legs served on their plates. The establishment of modern rabbinical culture was in itself a break with tradition, a trefa banquet of the spirit, though this observation is made ambiguous by the fact that, as we will see, some of the most crucial innovations had Orthodox authors. Terms from traditional historiography, such as “assimilation” and “reform”, are insufficient to describe the broad-scale transformation that had taken place. The process culminating in 1883 has more aptly been called a “triumphant acculturation”,3 with the significant distinction introduced by this concept from cultural anthropology. If assimilation means discontinuing minority tradition, acculturation means continuing it by other means, or, more exactly, reinventing it as a subculture made of borrowings from majority culture.4 To put it simply, eating clams in a restaurant is assimilation; eating them at the Hebrew Union College is acculturation. Breaking up the false dichotomy between continuity and assimilation has been beneficial to recent research on Jewish religious culture. Historians of the early modern period have discerned the often ingenuous ways in which Jews in general and rabbis in particular have adapted cultural patterns from the Christian environment for new expressions of Jewishness.5 An arsenal of sociological terms – acculturation, embeddedness, cultural transfer, cultural translation – has been drawn upon to formulate the paradox that “assimilation” can end up becoming a genuine expression of minority traditions. The post-colonial paradigm of cultural change has introduced an aspect of power relations: political hegemony evidently pressures toward cultural adaption, but the colonized subaltern, far from being a servile duplicate, uses the appropriated elements for his own potentially subversive purposes. Many areas of Jewish religious culture, in3 4 5

Howard M. Sachar, A History of the Jews in America (New York: Vintage Books 1993), 113. David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry, 1780 – 1840 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1999), 5 – 6. Robert Bonfil, Jewish Life in Renaissance Italy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994); Kenneth R. Stow, Theater of Acculturation: the Roman Ghetto in the Sixteenth Century, (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001); Gershon D. Hundert, Jews in Poland-Lithuania in the Eighteenth Century: a Genealogy of Modernity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004); David B. Ruderman, Early Modern Jewry: A New Cultural History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010).

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cluding predication, folk customs, and rabbinic teaching, furnish a striking illustration of this process. The test case I will deal with here is the transformation of the rabbinate brought about by imitation of the Christian clergy, the academic elites, and bourgeois secular culture. The appropriation process will likewise teach us to assess the validity of the acculturation model, its underlying assumption, and its limits. Historically speaking, the analogy insinuated in the title “Rabbis, Pastors, and Priests”, which was chosen for our 2011 conference in Regensburg, does not reflect an obvious reality but makes a significant statement. Comparing rabbis to Christian clergymen has always been a performative act, expressing a claim to political and social equality and possibly a call for a reform of the rabbinate in order to make it retroactively fit its non-Jewish model. Insisting upon the functional similarity of these three professions should not let us forget the considerable historical differences between them. Those Jews and Christians who evidenced the 13th-century creation of the rabbinate did not in any way invoke an analogy with the clerical hierarchy. In medieval terminology, rabbi was translated as a doctor, magister, seizing upon terms from the field of universities and jurisprudence.6 On the contrary, the parnas, the community administrator, was called the episcopus Judaeorum, or the “Judenbischof”. In other words, the opposition between political authority and intellectual influence was in medieval perception more intensely perceived than the alternative opposition between sacred and profane spheres. The analogy of the rabbi with the clergyman only became popular with the symbolism of religious liberty from the Enlightenment. For the liberal Prussian reformers who planned in 1808 an unrealized edict on Jewish religious life, it was an axiom that “rabbis stand in the same relation as Christian preachers to the state and to their communities”.7 The equation of the rabbi with the pastor expressed a promise of equal rights, but also raised problems. It was opposed, especially in Prussia, from restoration policies wishing to maintain Judaism in an unattractive state, from zealous Christians who feared for the prerogatives of their churches, from traditionally minded Jews who, like Heinrich Graetz, objected to the 6

7

Nahman Abraham Goldberg, Ueber Entstehung und Bedeutung des Morenu-Titels: ein Wort zur Beherzigung fr Rabbiner und Gemeinden (Berlin: Driesner, 1860), 3. Ismar Freund, Die Emanzipation der Juden in Preußen, vol. II : Urkunden (Berlin : Poppelauer, 1912), 223.

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mothers donning of her daughters frivolous attire, and finally from liberal Jews who feared that their rabbis would become a sort of clerical hierarchs. With these considerations in mind, the Berlin community elder Ruben Gumpertz insisted in 1820 on the idea that a rabbi does not represent in Judaism anything comparable to a priest or pastor in Christianity: he is nothing but a supervisor of kosher meat and other ceremonial laws, a “Kauscherwchter”.8 Leopold Zunz employed in 1825 a strategy of Orientalist otherizing when he attacked Berlin chief rabbi Meyer Weyls plans to found a rabbinical seminary: “In my eyes all these rabbis and learned men are no more than Asian imams. No salvation will proceed from them”.9 Yet the Berlin community wrote in 1842 that everything about the rabbinical office was under debate, except the unanimous expectation that rabbis should serve their communities in some way or another as “spiritual guides” (geistliche Fhrer).10 Not only external discrimination, but also misgivings from within prevented modern Jewry from conceiving the rabbinical profession in the terms of the Christian clergy. These misgivings can be linked to a number of objective differences setting apart the rabbis function, authority, and education, among them his halakhic commitment, his lack of a personal intra-communal power (authority being with the halakha at large), and the peculiar character of his professional training. I will here concentrate upon the last point.11 The training of higher religious officials in medieval and early modern Judaism differed in several aspects from that in Christian churches, and early 19th-century Jewry was under pressure to fill these gaps. First and foremost, the yeshiva (Talmudic academy) does not, strictly speaking, offer any professional training, as the Christian theological fac8 “Das Gumpertzsche Gutachten ber die gegenwrtige Stellung der Rabbiner zu den Gemeinden,” Zur Judenfrage in Deutschland 1 (1843): 213 – 216. 9 Nahum N. Glatzer, Leopold Zunz: Jude, Deutscher, Europer. Ein jdisches Gelehrtenschicksal des 19. Jahrhunderts in Briefen (Tbingen: Mohr, 1964), 138. 10 Andreas Brmer, “Der Rabbiner als Geistlicher: Eine Kontroverse aus der Zeit der Emanzipation,” in Michael Brocke et al., eds., Neuer Anbruch: Zur deutschjdischen Geschichte und Kultur (Berlin: Metropol, 2001), 263 – 291, see 264. 11 The intra-communal position of the rabbi has been studied by Andreas Brmer, Rabbiner und Vorstand: Zur Geschichte der jdischen Gemeinde in Deutschland und sterreich 1808 – 1871 (Wien: Bçhlau, 1999). On the changing importance of halakha for the modern rabbinate, see Andreas Gotzmann, Jdisches Recht im kulturellen Prozeß: die Wahrnehmung der Halacha im Deutschland des 19. Jahrhunderts (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997); Jacob Katz, Divine Law in Human Hands: Case Studies in Halakhic Flexibility (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1998).

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ulty does. It teaches talmud torah (religious learning) for its own sake, in fulfillment of a religious precept that every male Jew is bound to perform. The anti-professionalism of Jewish higher learning has religious, but also historical reasons, as the various educational and social institutions committed to the talmud torah ideal existed long before the rabbinate appeared on the scene. A second aspect concerns the peculiar relation between Jewish learning and Jewish practice. Talmud torah should lead to the practice of the commandments, but once defined as a commandment in its own right, it does not have to be useful. Whereas the Christian seminaries had a foremost practical focus, the yeshiva program did not offer any courses in preaching and teaching and little systematic introduction to legal practice. The shiur, the lecture, focused on the Talmudic text, be it applicable to diaspora life or not, whereas the exam preceding ordination was entirely dedicated to practical issues of ritual law. This separation between the aspects of textual initiation and of professional training created an ethos of free discussion, which found its most notorious expression in the pilpul, the highly sophisticated legal fictions that were invented in order to harmonize contrary positions expressed in the sources. By its broad textual base and numerous non-practicable subjects, Talmudic study obtained a limited scope of scholarly freedom. The third difference concerns the textual corpus. Christian theology considers itself a synthetic system integrating a number of subsidiary non-Christian sources, either from Jewish or Greek antiquity or from contemporary secular science. In contrast, the legal paradigm of the yeshiva identifies itself with a single and limited body of sacred texts acknowledged by Jewish tradition. Until the early 19th century, yeshiva teachers usually forbade their students to study anything but sacred books in Hebrew or Aramaic. Fourth, the scientific approach privileged in Jewish tradition is exegetical and juridical and does not in general favor a speculative or historical take on the sources, though some advanced students cultivated these areas in private. Discussion of the dogmatic content and the historical stratification of rabbinic texts was nevertheless developed in some commentary and teaching traditions of the early modern period, such as the school of the “High Rabbi” Loeb ben Betsalel of Prague or the school of the “Vilna Gaon” Elijah ben Solomon. A final contrast concerns the relation to the public powers. Christian theological faculties were state institutions; Talmudic academies were community institutions or independent pious foundations, which the

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state ignored in the best case and repressed in the worst. State protection for educational infrastructure was not even expected, and when the Maskilim sought after it for the first time, the Berlin rabbi objected that the care for rabbinical schools is not part of the ethical commandments the Talmud assigns to Gentile humanity.12 The reform of rabbinical training in the 19th century consisted in part in the effort of filling these gaps separating Talmudic study from the accepted standards of theological study; in other words, it stood before the challenge of making rabbinical scholarship professional, practical, universal, scientific, and public.

2. Emergence Historians used to consider the substitution of one type of institution by another as the main event in the modernization of rabbinical training. Rabbi Meyer Kayserling, speaking rather about the Austro-Hungarian monarchy than about Germany, wrote: “With the establishment of rabbinical seminaries, the yeshivot in Germany and Bohemia-Moravia gradually extinguished, and the Talmud was, besides its study according to the traditional method, also explored in a scientific manner”.13 In other words, a modern institution emerges, the rabbinical seminary, and takes over the functions of a declining traditional institution, the Talmudic academy. This concentration upon institutions is expressed in 19th-century historiography, but also in a number of recent studies, most straightforwardly in those by Julius Carlebach and Simon Schwarzfuchs.14 The fact 12 Juda-Loeb Maimon, Sare ha-meah: reshumot vezikhronot, vol. I (Jerusalem: Mossad ha-Rav Kook, 1956), 46. 13 Meyer Kayserling, “Die jdische Literatur von Moses Mendelssohn bis auf die Gegenwart” [1896], in Jakob Winter and August Wnsche, eds., Die jdische Literatur seit Abschluß des Kanons: eine prosaische und poetische Anthologie mit biographischen und literargeschichtlichen Einleitungen, vol. III (Hildesheim: Olms, 1965), 721 – 901, see 762. 14 Julius Carlebach, Wissenschaft des Judentums @4LM= NB?;: Anfnge der Judaistik in Europa (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1992), 21 – 85, see also p. VII: “Diese doppelte institutions- und geistesgeschichtliche Perspektive ist wichtig. Lassen sich doch auf diese Weise ideologische und institutionelle Wechselwirkungen rekonstruieren. Die Kenntnis der einzelnen Lehranstalten, einschließlich ihrer sozialen und finanziellen Grundlagen, ist daher unentbehrlich fr ein Verstndnis der Wissenschaft des Judentums”; Simon Schwarzfuchs, A Concise History of the Rabbinate (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), 86 – 109.

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that seminary institutions appear first in France, Italy, and the Netherlands justifies the conclusion that the institutional change moved in a west-east direction.15 Appearing at a later stage, German Jewish institutions realized their distinctive profile in accordance with their respective founders.16 In a seminal article, Ismar Schorsch has challenged this institutioncentered view. He showed that in Germany, a new scholarly milieu and a new professional personality, the Doktorrabbiner, preceded and prepared the emergence of the first rabbinical seminaries.17 Schorsch places Prussia and, more precisely, Berlin in the eye of the storm, while giving less attention to the state-controlled rabbinate of the other German and non-German countries.18 Cultural change was not implemented by institutions, but basically responded to the general assimilatory pressure individuals felt under the conditions of retarded emancipation and the specifically Prussian state disinterest in the rabbinate. State intervention, informal teaching experiments, and students individual career planning are the activities I have focused upon in my own study, inserting the French as well as the Prussian innovations inside a wider West Ashkenazi context that received its decisive stimuli from the premodern centers in Bohemia and Franconia.19 The important ques15 Schwarzfuchs, A Concise History, 87. 16 Michael A. Meyer, “Differing Views on Modern Rabbinical Education in Germany in the 19th Century” (Hebr.), World Congress for Jewish Studies: Proceedings 6 (1973), division B: 195 – 200. 17 Ismar Schorsch, “Emancipation and the Crisis of Religious Authority: The Emergence of the Modern Rabbinate,” in Werner E. Mosse, Arnold Paucker, and Reinhard Rrup, eds., Revolution and Evolution: 1848 in German Jewish History (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981), 205 – 247, see especially 227: “If the modern rabbinate was operating widely in Germany by the 1840s, then it is self-evident that the Breslau Rabbinical Seminary, opened in 1854, must be seen as the consequence and not the cause of the development. […] In brief, the modern rabbinate is not the creation of a school but the product of a milieu”. 18 These have been treated with more detail in regional studies; see for instance Claudia Prestel, Jdisches Schul- und Erziehungswesen in Bayern 1804 – 1933: Tradition und Modernisierung im Zeitalter der Emanzipation (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989); Siegfried Dschler-Seiler, Auf dem Weg in die brgerliche Gesellschaft: Joseph Maier und die jdische Volksschule im Kçnigreich Wrttemberg (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1997); Gabriele Olbrisch, Landrabbinate in Thringen 1811 – 1871: Jdische Schul- und Kultusreform unter staatlicher Regie (Kçln: Bçhlau, 2003). 19 Carsten L. Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant: Rabbinerausbildung an der Schwelle zur Moderne (Hildesheim: Olms, 2003). See also Carsten L. Wilke,

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tion of rupture and continuity in Jewish learning at the beginning of modernity can certainly not be reduced to an institutional turn from yeshiva to seminary, even less to a “smooth transition”20 between both. Chronologically, there is a gap of as much as one generation between the end of the old and the start of the new system of rabbinical institutions. The closure of the major yeshiva in Germany, that of Frth, preceded by a quarter of a century the foundation of the Breslau seminary. This absence of a direct transition does not mean that yeshiva culture was without influence on the modern rabbinate. On the contrary, the first generation of modern rabbis was yeshiva trained for most of its Jewish learning; they all bore the stigma of “modernized bahurs”.21 Their new scholarly preferences, akin to those of the “Science of Judaism”, were prepared by long-term trends that lead already at the older yeshivot towards some extent of a profession-oriented, text-centered, theological, bilingual education. Many of these innovations started as didactical and autodidactical experiments inspired by the Maskilic extensions of Talmudic scholarship during the first half of the 19th century.22 In the course of the centurys second decade, the three alternative models of modern rabbinical learning manifested themselves: let us call them the “integrative”, the “parallel”, and the “academic” model.23 The integrative model endeavored to include secular subjects into a new and more comprehensive institution of rabbinical training, whereas the academic model, inversely, strove to-

20

21 22

23

“Lehrsttten und Laufbahnen moderner Rabbinerausbildung in Deutschland vor der Grndung der Seminare,” Transversal 5/2 (2004): 22 – 38; Carsten L. Wilke and Andreas Brmer, “Die Ausbildung fr den Rabbinerberuf,” in Frank-Michael Kuhlemann and Hans-Walter Schmuhl, eds., Beruf und Religion im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, KuG 26 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2003), 71 – 85. Andreas Gotzmann, Eigenart und Einheit: Modernisierungsdiskurse des deutschen Judentums der Emanzipationszeit (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 52. Gotzmann postulates a continuous activity of yeshivot until the second half of the 19th century (ibid. p. 45 – 55) mainly as an argument for his claim that objectively speaking, German Jewry did not undergo any crisis of modernity. See his “Verlust: ein Mißverstndnis der deutsch-jdischen Geschichte,” Babylon 22 (2007): 118 – 146; Jdische Autonomie in der Frhen Neuzeit: Recht und Gemeinschaft im deutschen Judentum (Gçttingen: Wallstein, 2008), 7 – 9. Orient (1850): 10; Achawa (1865): 152. Carsten L. Wilke, “Eine Frther Haskala: David Ottensoser, Heimann Schwabacher und die Mendelssohnianer an der Talmudschule,” Franconia Judaica 5 (2011): 157 – 210. Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 286.

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wards including rabbinical studies fully into the canon of the secular university. The parallel model pursued both paths separately (either simultaneously or successively) in their original frameworks. The first could refer to Jewish tradition, the second to the non-Jewish example, while the third demanded the least material investment. The integrative approach, saving the unitary character of rabbinical culture but moderately favoring the adoption of new content, generally led to projects of rabbinical schools where everything relevant to the profession would be taught in a synthetic curriculum: Hebrew and Aramaic, Bible, Talmud, Jewish thought and law, and some amount of secular studies. Its usual name of “seminary” was borrowed from the Christian precedents but could refer to widely divergent institutional patterns. The episcopal seminary of counter-reformatory Catholicism, the preachers seminary of German Protestant pietists, and the teachers seminary of Enlightenment secular pedagogy represented alternative models on which Jewish reformists drew simultaneously, though in different proportions. The first plan for a Jewish seminary, proposed by Isaak Euchel in a memorandum to the Danish king, written in Kçnigsberg in October 1784, imagined such a self-sufficient institution in loose connection with the University of Kiel in Holstein.24 Another early plan was developed by David Friesenhausen from Franconia in a Catholic environment: in Pest, Hungary, he submitted in 1806 a detailed seminary project to the Habsburg archduke but met with staunch opposition from the traditional Jewish authorities. When Napoleonic church reforms gave Jewish communities political representatives, a rabbinical seminary of this kind opened in Kassel in 1810 for the ephemeral kingdom of Westphalia. Projects in this sense were widely popular in the first decades of the 19th century, because they offered the indebted communities a legitimation for using foundations earmarked for Talmudic study in order to finance modern denominational schools, only by adding a “rabbinical” class. Such institutions opened in Padua (1829) and Metz (1830), with more ephemeral foundations appearing during the 1820s in Berlin, Dessau, Frth, Mannheim, and Warsaw. Seminaries accepted school-age students for two years of theoretical and two years of practical training, with parallel secondary school studies. The first rabbi trained in a seminary was apparently Lelio Cantoni, who graduated in Padua in 1832 and became rabbi in 24 Shmuel Feiner, The Jewish Enlightenment, trans. Chaya Naor (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 235 – 236.

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Turin.25 Salomon Ullmann, the first to graduate from the Metz seminary in 1834, owed all of his secular education to this institution. However, all the attempts undertaken in Germany in this direction remained short-lived. This failure was obviously due to the problem of authority that such an institution would have exerted over the Jewish communities in the midst of the religious controversies of the time. Whereas the seminaries in Italy and France, as well as those that were to emerge later on in Amsterdam (1839) and in London (1855), were submitted to a centralized community authority, any German rabbinical seminary would have become a source of religious hegemony in itself. Whenever an Orthodox undertook the foundation, as Berlin chief rabbi Meyer Simon Weyl did, the liberals blocked his project;26 and when one of the latter took the initiative, conservative forces voiced concerns about “creating sinecures or even empowering their very adversaries”.27 The actual innovation of rabbinical studies took place according to an alternative model, the parallel one, exploring largely informal ways under the guidance of private teachers and through students experiments. Since the late 18th century, the yeshivot had shrunk considerably and privileged a concept much more focused on practical halakha and the rabbinic duties. Students strove for extra-Talmudic knowledge initially by way of secret readings, then by taking private lessons with mostly non-Jewish teachers, and finally by formally entering academic institutions. Their Talmudic-academic curriculum was made extremely precarious by the material misery of most of these students, who had to exploit their physical and mental forces to the extreme if they wanted to cumulate the qualifications and the cultural profiles of the Talmud scholar and the high school student, while earning their livelihood with tutoring. However important the amount of private initiative, these students itineraries were not devoid of institutional backing. In keeping with productivity and military policies, the authorities of their hometowns controlled their itineraries, as did the universities, which had to grant generous dispensation in terms of immatriculation formalities and tuition fees. Finally, all rabbini25 Maddalena Del Bianco Cotrozzi, Il Collegio Rabbinico di Padova: unistituzione religiosa dellebraismo sulla via dellemanzipazione (Florence: Olschki, 1995), 277; Gadi Luzzatto Voghera, Il prezzo delleguaglianza: Il dibattito sullemancipazione degli ebrei in Italia (1781 – 1848) (Milan: Franco Angeli, 1998), 147. 26 Andreas Brmer, Leistung und Gegenleistung: Zur Geschichte jdischer Religions- und Elementarlehrer in Preußen 1823/24 bis 1872 (Gçttingen: Wallstein, 2006), 175. 27 Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 643.

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cal students had to be supervised by some religious mentor lest their reputation be in danger. The blueprint of a successive study in secular and rabbinical institutions has existed since 1781, when Naftali Hirz Wessely claimed in his Words of Peace and Truth that rabbis should first acquire a secular elementary school education with religious instruction before starting their Talmudic study.28 In Southern Germany, state laws asked for rabbis with a “German proficiency and general scientific culture”, as it is formulated in the royal Bavarian edict of 1813; and in the same year, the Kingdom of Wrttemberg realized the first state examination of a rabbinical candidate, a practice introduced in Bavaria, Hessen, and several smaller states.29 Talmudic students first took university classes in 1816, in Wrzburg, under the supervision of the old rabbi Abraham Bing. The city became for two decades the center of rabbinical education, already focused on the areas that would become staple elements of the rabbis curriculum: philosophy and Oriental languages. The parallel studies at Bings yeshiva and the philosophical faculty had the result of cumulating both sources of knowledge without ever merging them.30 Isaac Bernays, who became the rabbinical substitute (“Chacham”) in Hamburg in 1821, was the first rabbi trained according to this curriculum; and in 1824, Abraham Wolff from Darmstadt in Hessen, another one of Bings students, became the first person to combine the philosophical doctorate with the rabbinical degree.31 Shortly afterwards, the universities of Bonn, Heidelberg, Marburg, and Munich likewise counted Jewish students of theology, but the preference of the candidates shifted by the 1840s to university cities with big Jewish communities: Berlin, Breslau, Prague, and Vienna. In some of these places, the community rabbi or the personnel of the bet midrash provided evening lectures for the future rabbis. These classes could present themselves as Talmudic readings in a traditional vein, but they assumed in some cases a more modern approach. Already in March 1819, Leopold Zunz published pseudonymously his idea of a Jewish “seminary” that would offer philosophical, philological, exegetical, and historical lec28 Mordechai Eliav, Jdische Erziehung in Deutschland im Zeitalter der Aufklrung und Emanzipation, trans. Maike Strobel (Mnster: Waxmann, 2001), 51 – 54. 29 Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 441 – 489. 30 Ibid., 302 – 322. 31 Carsten L. Wilke, Die Rabbiner der Emanzipationszeit in den deutschen, bçhmischen und großpolnischen Lndern, 1781 – 1871 (Mnchen: Saur, 2004), vol. I, 188 – 189; vol. II, 911 – 912.

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tures on an academic level in connexion with the general university studies.32 During the winter term of 1834 – 1835, he gave in Berlin an exegetical lecture cycle on the Psalms, thereby starting the teaching of Jewish theology in a scientific mold that emulated Schleiermacher and the German philologists.33 This modern form of tutoring rabbinical candidates flourished in the 1840s simultaneously in various big university cities. Classes in Prague and Vienna continued as exegetical exercises, albeit in a more and more philological way, whereas those in Breslau and Berlin gave introductory lectures that aped the magisterial style familiar from the local university auditoria. Houses of learning with regular lecture programs, addressed to university students as well as to the general Jewish public, made their appearance in all four cities, as well as in Pest, between 1856 and 1863, due to the initiative of rabbis, the reconversion of old study funds, and new donations by the urban bourgeoisie.34 Integrating not only the contents and methods, but the very institutional framework of Christian theology was the basic thrust of a third option of modern rabbinical training, which I have called the academic one. By the 1840s, several German universities had became accustomed to the presence of rabbinical candidates, their often uncommon scholarly itineraries, and their specific economic, cultural, and scientific needs. By accepting doctoral dissertations on rabbinic matters and by granting frequent exemptions from the high school diploma, the philosophical faculties consciously accepted their function of defining and legitimizing a specific profile of rabbinical qualification.35 At a time in which Talmudic study circles dwindled and closed themselves to all but the most Orthodox youngsters, a few rabbis drew even their Jewish learning from person32 Lazarus Hellwitz, Die Organisation der Israeliten in Deutschland. Ein Versuch (Magdeburg: Rubach 1819), 58. 33 On Zunzs sources, see Giuseppe Veltri, “Altertumswissenschaft und Wissenschaft des Judentums: Leopold Zunz und seine Lehrer Friedrich August Wolf und August Bçckh,” in Reinhard Markner and Giuseppe Veltri, eds., Friedrich August Wolf: Studien, Dokumente, Bibliographie (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1999), 32 – 47; Wout J. van Bekkum, “Leopold Zunz schleiermachert in jeder Beziehung: eine Skizze,” in Gçrge K. Hasselhoff, ed., Die Entdeckung des Christentums in der Wissenschaft des Judentums (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 19 – 32. 34 Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 604 – 608. 35 Carsten L. Wilke, “Rabbinerpromotionen an der Philosophischen Fakultt der Universitt Halle-Wittenberg, 1845 – 1895,” in Giuseppe Veltri and Christian Wiese, eds., Jdische Bildung und Kultur in Sachsen-Anhalt von der Aufklrung bis zum Nationalsozialismus (Berlin: Metropol, 2009), 261 – 315.

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al readings and university classes in Biblical exegesis and Oriental philology. Michael Sachs, who later became a rabbi in Berlin, gives an example showing that such cultural modernists could be religiously traditional. Sachs passed the high school program without ever attending a Jewish institution of higher learning. Though he was aware of the lacunae in his rabbinical education, he looked down with hubris from the heights of his classical philology upon the “bahurim and [theological] candidates” among his fellow students.36 The project of making Jewish theology a part of academia, just as Christian theology was, first occurred to non-Jewish state reformers in reaction to the 1819 riots. Such an institution, they believed, would be the tool for a thorough modernization of the Jewish religion and should best replace Talmudic studies with Biblical dogmatics. Ferdinand Schubert, a memorialist in Cologne, launched in 1819 the slogan of the “Jewish theological faculty”; Johann Georg Diefenbach, a pastor in Hessen, and Johann Baptist Graser, a Bavarian supervisor of schools developed detailed programs for such an institution.37 The Austrian and Bavarian projects found some Jewish supporters from the reformist as well as the modern Orthodox camps, both hoping to institutionalize the religious vision they believed in. Building up a regular Jewish faculty meant finding state authorities committed to the principle of religious equality, unifying a large Jewish population behind a common institution, raising the necessary funds, and replacing traditional authority by a contemporary understanding of science – four difficult battles of persuasion that in Germany had to be fought simultaneously. In France, where unification had been achieved by Napoleon, the seminary in Metz received financial support from the state starting in 1831. In Bavaria, state-initiated negotiations of Jewish regional synods about the faculty project ended in 1836 when the lack of a central authority, a religious consensus, and a sufficient budget could not be overcome. At the same time, Abraham Geiger called for the creation 36 Margit Schad, Rabbiner Michael Sachs: Judentum als hçhere Lebensanschauung (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 2007), 25 – 26, 33. 37 Ferdinand Schubert, Geschichte, Religionsgrundstze und staatsbrgerliche Verhltnisse der Juden. Ein Noth- und Hilfsbchlein fr die gegenwrtige Zeit (Kçln: DuMont-Schauberg, 1819), 121; Johann Georg Diefenbach, Jdischer Professor der Theologie auf christlicher Universitt, eine Aufgabe fr christliche Staaten (Gießen: C. G. Mller, 1821); Johann Baptist Graser, Das Judenthum und seine Reform als Vorbedingung der vollstndigen Aufnahme der Nation in den Staats-Verband (Bayreuth: Grau, 1828), 137 – 143.

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of a free association named in honor of Maimonides, by which Jews from all German states would contribute to the funding and organization of a Jewish theological faculty, which should then be offered to a university in a liberal German state, preferably in Baden.38 The initiative was propagated in 1837 by Ludwig Philippson in his recently inaugurated journal and again in 1845 by the Rabbinical Assembly, but in its effort to avoid the involvement of the state as well as the Jewish parties and elites, it failed to bridge the religious, economic, and political rifts inside German Jewry of the time. A contemporary project hoped to integrate the Science of Judaism into the philosophical faculty according to a non-theological formula on which Leopold Zunz insisted in particular.39 Since 1847, he applied unsuccessfully for the creation of such a chair at Berlin University.40 At the same time, Prague University defined a teaching position in Jewish religion and rabbinic literature for the jurist Wolfgang Wessely, who became a regular supervisor of the rabbinical candidates studying in the Bohemian metropolis. He was backed by the non-Jewish colleagues in the university but was unanimously condemned by Jewish authorities, rabbis and secular alike.41 If rabbinical training stopped short from creating the institution that in the perspective of Abraham Geiger would have been its keystone, contemporaries as well as historians have pointed at the discrimination of the Jewish communities in the distribution of public funding or the unwillingness of certain countries, mainly Prussia, to give the Jewish religion and its officers a recognized status. However, the weakness of the faculty option cannot be explained by external obstacles alone. It is obvious that in the competition for modern rabbinical training, informal frameworks in most cases outdid the more formalized ones:42 the reformed rabbinical seminary in Frth withered 38 Abraham Geiger, “Die Grndung einer jdisch-theologischen Facultt, ein dringendes Bedrfnis unserer Zeit,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift fr jdische Theologie 2/1 (1836): 1 – 21; see Carsten L. Wilke, “Abraham Geigers Bildungsutopie einer jdisch-theologischen Fakultt,” in Walter Homolka and Christian Wiese, eds., Abraham Geiger (Berlin: de Gruyter, forthcoming). 39 C line Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande et tradition juive: le parcours intellectuel de Leopold Zunz (Paris: Cerf, 1998), 134 – 140. 40 Ismar Schorsch, “The Religious Parameters of Wissenschaft: Jewish Academics at Prussian Universities,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 25 (1980): 15 – 16. 41 Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 595 – 596. 42 Ibid., 689 – 690.

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away at the very time the informal tutoring of university students by the Wrzburg rabbi florished. The South German state exam system, which conferred the rabbinical diploma after yeshiva studies, the philosophical triennium, and a sophisticated exam, was displaced by the tradition of the philosophical doctorate, a surprising legitimation born as a reaction to the non-recognition of the rabbinate in Prussia. Plans for public seminaries and faculties never materialized as long as the parallel system seemed to function, and when finally the German rabbinical seminaries arrived on the scene, they had the character of private institutions, not as theological faculties ruled by the state. The controversy about the direction to be given to rabbinical culture did not simply pit reformist against traditional conceptions of the Jewish religion. Even traditionalists agreed that the pursuit of secular studies was legitimate for a rabbi, that it could claim much of the students time and effort formerly reserved for Jewish learning, and that it could occupy a chronological precedence in scholarly biographies. A consultation by Rabbi Abraham Bing in Wrzburg shows that already in 1825, this major Orthodox authority was willing to reduce the demands of halakhic expertise for a majority of his students in order to let them acquire modern knowledge and skills.43 The same conclusion was all the more evident for reformers. “Why are there in our time so many rabbis who have not reached as far as their predecessors in Hebrew and Talmudic learning?” asked Phçbus Philippson, whose brother Ludwigs imperfect rabbinical knowledge was proverbial.44 He answered the question emphatically: “Because they study Greek, Latin and other sciences, and must study them, because the time demands it! the profession demands it!”45 The differentiation how the demands of acculturation should be met cut through the religious camps. Disagreement essentially was about the strategies by which three consensual, but disparate values were to be obtained: authenticity, relevance, and coherence. The yeshiva offered an authentic and coherent way of study, but most of its halakhic matters were not considered to be relevant any more for the modern Jew, and even less for the social environment and political authorities to which he felt accountable. The seminaries taught all relevant matters in a coherent outline, but indirect teaching on the basis of digests and extracts was con43 Ibid., 320. 44 See the mockeries quoted in Wilke, Die Rabbiner der Emanzipationszeit, 705. 45 Phçbus Philippson, Biographische Skizzen: Moses Philippson, Joseph Wolf, Gotthold Salomon (Leipzig: Leiner, 1864), 204.

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sidered to be less authentic than the study of the Talmud at a yeshiva and the study of the sciences at a university. The successive or parallel attendance of a yeshiva and a university met the demand of authenticity on both sides and produced competitive graduates who could measure their qualification simultaneously with mere academics and mere talmudists. But they asked for an enormous investment of effort and time, as much subject matter had to be studied that was irrelevant for the rabbinic office and only served a legitimation strategy. Most importantly, parallel studies did not lead in general to any coherent result. In the best case, the outcome was a more or less coherent management of cultural incoherence, and in the worst case, as Philippson wrote, it led “to a confusion beyond remedy of the student […] He learns what he does not need, and whatever he needs he will never learn”.46 Such was the dilemma that presented itself to the testamental executors of Jonas Fraenckel, who, at his death in Breslau in 1846, bequeathed the funding for a seminary for the training of rabbis and religious teachers. He had thought about a seminary of an integrative kind, incorporated into a community school. The trustees, however, in December 1852 approved the more ambitious idea, suggested by the journalist Joseph Lehmann, that the planned seminary should become a supraregional center on an academic level.47 The nominated seminary director Zacharias Frankel, a Prague-born rabbi who had held the community rabbinate of Dresden, filled this project with life when he noted in early 1853 a concise didactic memoir48 taking up the challenge of transmitting jointly Talmudic learning, modern science, religious legitimacy, and professional training. His curriculum architecture reduced the seminary program to 16 weekly hours but stretched it to a long curriculum of seven or nine years, in order to synchronize it with high school and university studies. Bible, Talmud, and Jewish law were taught on the basis of text study, supplemented by systematic classes in Hebrew and Aramaic grammar, Jewish history and literature, homilet46 Protokolle und Aktenstcke der zweiten Rabbiner-Versammlung, abgehalten zu Frankfurt am Main vom 15ten bis zum 28ten Juli 1845 (Frankfurt/Main: Ullmann, 1845), 373. 47 Markus Brann, Geschichte des Jdisch-Theologischen Seminars (Fraenckelsche Stiftung) in Breslau. Festschrift zum 50. Jubilum der Anstalt (Breslau, n. p., 1904), 7 – 64; Andreas Brmer, Rabbiner Zacharias Frankel: Wissenschaft des Judentums und konservative Reform im 19. Jahrhundert (Hildesheim: Olms, 2000), 318 – 341; Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 669 – 681. 48 Brann, Geschichte des Jdisch-Theologischen Seminars, Beilage I, pp. I–XII.

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ics, and pedagogy. Concerned with the legitimacy of his alumni, Frankel took the traditional demand of the comprehensive knowledge of the Talmudic text and method very seriously, while insisting on the idea that textual knowledge and sagacious hermeneutics (the two pedagogic foci known as beqiut and harifut at the yeshivot) stood in an elective affinity to primary text study and source criticism of university philology, so that traditional Talmudic dialectics and the historical method of modern science could be pursued in unison. Opened in 1854 as a private foundation, the Breslau Seminary intervened like a deus ex machina in the deadlocked situation of rabbinical training. Its foundation was called a “leap into the void”,49 not only because it was the first attempt of its kind, but also because it had no institutional backing in the Jewish community. First reactions in the denominational press were limited to polemical campaigns or purposeful ignorance.50 The seminary rested upon Jonas Fraenckels 100,000 thalers, an innovative idea, and some well-qualified teachers who, like Heinrich Graetz, expressed a strong sense of independence from party interests. Frankels guidelines rejected “one-sidedness”; it insisted upon parallel studies at university and seminary and accepted the incoherences between them. The division of the curriculum into theoretical and practical, exegetical and historical classes resulted in conveying to his students a large body of texts irrespective of their professional relevance, thereby stimulating their research ambitions. Frankel was thus decidedly syncretical in his method, but only a very narrow extract of the subjects taught at the seminary reappeared in its final exams, which were first held in March 1862. Candidates had to answer in writing five questions “from the area of ritual” and prove orally their deeper understanding of the sources and “spirit” of the Talmud, with an exact knowledge of the legal codes.51 In other words, Frankels procedure was akin to that of the yeshivot: he oriented his curricula towards free exploration of a textual corpus, whereas exam topics responded to traditional claims of rabbinic professionality. At the ordination of his three successful graduates on April 3, 1862, Frankel allowed himself the remark that the planned “mutual interpenetration of theological 49 Ibid., 16. 50 Brmer, Zacharias Frankel, 336 – 341, 356 – 359, 364 – 381. 51 Zacharias Frankel, “Entlassung dreier zu Rabbinen herangebildeten Hçrer des jdisch-theologischen Seminars zu Breslau,” MGWJ 11 (1862): 161 – 174; see 161 – 162.

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study and science” had been successfully achieved and the dreaded “onesidedness” avoided. “Jewish theology had to be, without any loss in its volume and subtle dialectical procedures, transformed into a scientific discipline; this endeavor was relentlessly pursued and the goal has now come in sight”.52

3. Second Period: Expansion Free from any party considerations, the Breslau Seminary trained its students according to offer and demand. It achieved a prompt success because the flexible, but basically conservative cultural profile of its alumni met the needs of the German Jewish communities for whom the threat of schism was more of a concern than abstract principles. The Breslau Seminary had about 750 students, one-third of which successfully entered a rabbinical career. One of the graduates highlighted the classical values of relevance and coherence when praising his institution as “the only school in Germany where everything necessary to the rabbi is simultaneously and publicly taught”.53 Those of his rivals who had still visited yeshivot could only pride themselves of the more authentic way that had led them to knowledge, insisting upon having “acquired their Jewish learning not in seminaries, but drawn from the source”.54 Critics from both the right and left of the mainstream found more grievous flaws in the Breslau education. Whereas the Orthodox side objected to the historical criticism and alleged religious opportunism of the institution,55 Geigers liberal camp had strong feelings about the halakhic character of the exam subjects, which revealed the Breslau party as “men of intellectual ossification” or, at best, “hypocrites who teach the Middle Ages in fashionable suit”.56 In a word, Geiger attacked the irrelevance and the Orthodox the inauthenticity of the teaching, while both highlighted the inconsistence of Frankels synthesis. 52 MGWJ 11 (1862): 57. 53 Jakob Immanuel Neubrger, 1868; quoted in Carsten L. Wilke, “Talmudschler, Student, Seminarist: Breslauer rabbinische Studienlaufbahnen 1835 – 1870,” Aschkenas 15/1 (2005): 111 – 125, see 111. 54 Jakob Hamburger, 1874, quoted in Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 689. 55 Israelit (1871), 799 – 800: “Die Halbheit, die Hohlheit, Mantelhngerei, die verderbliche Zweideutigkeit in Lehre und Leben”; see Mordechai Breuer, Jdische Orthodoxie im Deutschen Reich 1871 – 1918: Sozialgeschichte einer religiçsen Minderheit (Frankfurt/Main: Jdischer Verlag, 1986), 26; Brmer, Frankel, 407. 56 Jdische Zeitschrift fr Wissenschaft und Leben 11 (1862): 172 – 173.

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Whatever their dissatisfaction with the Breslau pattern, the more ideology-driven camps to the left and to the right of the mainstream had been pursuing independent trends in rabbinical scholarship for decades and intensified their denominational networking in the age of German nation-building. While most Orthodoxies in the Ashkenazi West subscribed to the religious legitimacy of secular studies, the teaching circles of Rabbi Seligmann Br Bamberger in Wrzburg and Samson Raphael Hirsch in Frankfurt adhered to the parallel acquisition of Talmudic socialization and a controlled literary acculturation. The new competition from Breslau, however, pushed towards the conclusion that Orthodox rabbinical training had to include secular knowledge in a more organic way. Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer (1820 – 1899) from Halberstadt was convinced that Orthodox scholarship had to extend its thematic offer and modernize its methods in order to resist the innovators. He could realize some of his plans when he was nominated in 1851 as rabbi of Eisenstadt in the Hungarian Burgenland. With the help of his communities and a transnational network of correspondents, he set up a yeshiva in which he also taught high school disciplines and theological and philosophical subjects. After the Austrian government recognized his school in 1857, Hildesheimer began teaching some 150 students at a time.57 Convinced of the urgency of his task, he declared the establishment of a seminary a vital necessity for Orthodox Jewry, but this argument appeared hardly convincing in a country where traditional yeshivot, above all that of Pressburg, flourished unabated. Hildesheimer accepted in 1869 a call to the Bet Midrash Society of Berlin, which became the nucleus of the secessionist Orthodox congregation and of the “RabbinerSeminar fr das orthodoxe Judenthum”, which opened in 1873 under his direction.58

57 Mordechai Eliav, “Das çffentliche und erzieherische Wirken Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimers in Eisenstadt,” in Shlomo Spitzer, ed., Beitrge zur Geschichte der Juden im Burgenland, 1994, 55 – 61; Brigitta E. Gantner, “Die Hildesheimersche Jeschiwa in Eisenstadt,” Mnemosyne 27 (2001): 154 – 162. 58 David Ellenson, Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer and the Creation of a Modern Jewish Orthodoxy (University of Alabama Press, 1990); Mordechai Eliav, “Das orthodoxe Rabbinerseminar in Berlin: Ziele, Probleme und geschichtliche Bedeutung,” in Carlebach, ed., Wissenschaft des Judentums, 59 – 73; Mordechai Eliav and Esriel Hildesheimer, Das Berliner Rabbinerseminar 1873 – 1938: seine Grndungsgeschichte, seine Studenten, trans. Jana Caroline Reimer (Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 2008).

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Not unlike Frankel, Hildesheimer invoked the free dialectic play of the old yeshivot in order to defend his scientific reformulation of Talmudic studies, but he strived for an alternative to the historical-critical approach. He likewise demanded a parallel study at the university from all of his students but gave clear rules to maintain religious discipline. Students had to dedicate around half of their course load to the Talmud and stay away from ideas contrary to the divinity of the Mosaic and Rabbinic traditions.59 The supervision of the religious reliability of all students and graduates went so far as to annul the rabbinical degree of any graduate accepting an engagement in a community where an organ was in use in the synagogue on the Sabbath.60 Hildesheimer knew that the success of his seminary would be judged by his Orthodox colleagues not only on the level of proficiency achieved in the Talmudic classes, but also on the very ethos of Jewish scholarship. Though most of his students aspired towards a rabbinical career, self-representation of the Rabbinerseminar conformed to the talmud torah ideal.61 Understandably, an institution based on professionalism and academic integration could not entirely discard the reserves of its critics on the right, though Hildesheimer aimed to reproduce in a new form the commitment to tradition, the intense master-disciple relationships, and the unity of learning with life that were common in the old yeshivot. After the other religious currents had established institutions of higher learning, the Reform rabbinate sensed a grave problem of succession.62 Rejecting informal, autonomous, and “ghettoized” teaching, its members had dedicated their efforts either to the university inclusion of Jewish theology or to pure scientific research. When a synod of Reform-minded community representatives assembled in Leipzig in 1869, it proclaimed the project of “an institution of higher learning for the Science of Judaism” and added the Geigerian idea that “its importance should not 59 Assaf Yedidya, “Orthodox Strategies in the Research of the Wissenschaft des Judentums,” European Journal of Jewish Studies 5/1 (2011): 67 – 79. 60 David H. Ellenson, “The Rabbinerseminar Codicil: An Instrument of Boundary Maintenance,” in Through Those Near to Me: Essays in Honor of Jerome L. Malino (Danbury, CT: United Jewish Center, 1998), 200 – 207. 61 Esriel Hildesheimer, “Rede zur Erçffnung des Rabbiner-Seminars,” in JahresBericht des Rabbiner-Seminars fr das orthodoxe Judenthum pro 5634 (1873 – 1874) (Berlin: Driesner, 1875), 84 – 89. 62 Meyer, Response to Modernity, 191; Herbert A. Strauss, “Die letzten Jahre der Hochschule (Lehranstalt) fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums, Berlin: 1936 – 1942,” in Carlebach, ed., Wissenschaft des Judentums, 36.

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limit itself to educating young men to be rabbis, preachers and teachers of religion, but that it must also be a place where free scientific knowledge is cultivated”.63 The “Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums”, which was founded in 1872 in Berlin as the result of this manifesto and a substantial donation, stood thus between several ideals: Geigers earlier vision of a theological faculty debating relevant religious issues and exerting religious authority; the synods hope for a secular and unbiased framework for the “Science of Judaism”; and finally the students demand for professional training as rabbis and teachers. The Hochschule opted for an ethos of pure science in contradistinction to theology. Rabbis were excluded from participation on its board and even among the faculty, the only exception being Geiger himself.64 Posterity was thus mistaken when it linked the Hochschule to his initiative in the way the Breslau Seminary had indeed been Frankels creation and the Rabbinerseminar Hildesheimers. Similar to an academic institution, the Hochschule did not ask from its candidates any previous religious commitment or qualification beyond the high school degree. It had, however, to make concessions to the professional needs of its students by offering a preparatory class in Jewish rituals, which extended the curriculum to five years. However, students did not arrive easily at a rabbis professional level in this way except for immigrants from the East who brought a decent preparation with them. Rabbinical candidates from abroad, especially from the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, made up a significant proportion of the students at all three German seminaries.65 The academic level and institutional independence of the German seminaries gave them a transnational student enrolment quite different from the similar institutions created earlier in Italy, France, Holland, or England. But a geographical expansion of the Breslau model of Jewish intellectual culture had started almost immedi63 JZWL 7 (1869), 166: “daß deren Bedeutung sich nicht darauf beschrnken darf, die Heranbildung junger Mnner zu knftigen Lehrern und Verkndern der Religion (Rabbinern) zu erzielen, sondern daß sie zugleich eine Pflegesttten der freien wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis sei”. 64 Hermann Vçlker, “Die Grndung und Entwicklung der Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums,” Trumah 2 (1990): 24–46; Irene Kaufmann, Die Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums (1872 –1942) (Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 2006), 14. 65 Hugo Weczerka, “Die Herkunft der Studierenden des Jdisch-Theologischen Seminars zu Breslau 1854 – 1938,” Zeitschrift fr Ostforschung 35 (1986): 88 – 117, see 109.

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ately after its foundation, when scholars who had studied in Germany reformed most of the foreign seminaries in the ways they had been familiarized with.66 A peculiar case of Breslaus impact was Hungary, a country deeply divided as to its rabbinical culture. While the German Reform movement had made inroads in its urban centers, vibrant yeshivot maintained themselved in the Northern provinces. Under these circumstances, the state support promised since 1849 for the foundation of a rabbinical seminary benefitted the mainstream modernists, the Neologs, akin in their religious outlook to the Breslau school, and the “Landesrabbinerschule” opened in 1877 in Budapest marked by their outlook. While operating according to the Breslau pattern, the seminary insisted upon cultivating Hungarian besides German as a language of Jewish research. It also developed a number of original scientific interests, of which the study of historical and contemporary Jewish folklore stands out in particular. The Budapest seminary is an example of an institution benefitting from state subsidies, but nevertheless identified with a particular religious party, the Pressburg yeshiva having acquired the public recognition as “Landesrabbinerschule” already in 1859. Reacting to the end of the Bohemian-Moravian tradition of Talmudic teaching, Austrian Jewry opened in 1893 its seminary under the name of the “Israelitisch-Theologische Lehranstalt”. The institution was similar to the Breslau seminary in its scholarly tradition, embodied by Adolf Schwarz, its first rector, but it received state support similar to its Hungarian sister institution, while covering a wider compromise between divergent religious standpoints among its board, faculty, and students than any of the other seminaries.67 Austro-Hungarian seminaries had, like their West European counterparts, a fundamental commitment with the community and the state; the founders of the Budapest seminary went so far as to name it after Emperor and King Francis Joseph. The German seminaries stood out by their isolation: all three were founded and run by their own foundations and anxiously defended their independence. As to the Hochschule, the first article of its statute excluded any sort of state or community intervention; 66 I am referring to the activity of Jozef Hirsch Dunner in Amsterdam, of Isaac Tr nel at the seminary of Metz, then transferred to Paris, of Michael Friedlnder at the “Jews College” in London, or later of Samuel Hirsch Margulies in Florence; see Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant, 400. 67 Peter Landesmann, Rabbiner aus Wien: ihre Ausbildung, ihre nationalen und religiçsen Konflikte (Wien: Bçhlau, 1997), 162 – 163.

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and Hildesheimer, in reaction to the Hungarian seminary projects, rejected the same eventuality from an Orthodox standpoint. Even in case the government would not pursue its own agenda, it could not be expected to be an expert in Jewish religion and would inevitably be misled by the bias of its Jewish advisers.68 American rabbinical seminaries started with a similar concern for autonomy, but lost it progressively to the various Jewish denominations. Isaac Mayer Wise vindicated neutrality in the party conflicts for the Hebrew Union College, which he had founded in 1875; and the Jewish Theological Seminary, founded in 1887 in New York as its more traditionalist antithesis, started with a vague commitment to “the knowledge and practice of historical Judaism”. Only the developments of the early 20th century made the seminaries into the scholarly arms of the Reform and Conservative denominations, while the Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary (1897) in New York assumed similar functions for the Orthodox. When at the turn of the 20th century, the Alliance Isra lite Universelle founded ephemeral Sephardi seminaries in Istanbul and Tunis, the Jewish world had become neatly divided between seminary and yeshiva spheres. These geographical borders were important for Eastern European rabbinical authorities, who maintained close relations with the Berlin Orthodox seminary but opposed intentions to create seminaries in the East. In 1933, after the coming of Hitler to power, the Rabbinerseminar was about to be moved from Berlin to Palestine, but as the yeshiva leaders protested against this unwanted competition to their yeshivot, the Berlin seminary abstained from the move that would have saved it.69 Unter the national socialist tyranny, the rabbinical seminaries assumed teaching activity in fields of general knowledge for Jews who had been excluded from academic life. This was in particular the task of the Hochschule, now downgraded to a mere “Lehranstalt”. Its intellectual resistance had to be hidden from the Gestapo by mixing the additional lectures into the Jewish program and by giving rabbinical training as their purpose. The Lehranstalt thus became the only institution in Nazi Germany that, however clandestinely, was still committed to academic freedom. It continued its work until the deportations of 1942, after the three other German-language seminaries had already been closed in 68 Jdische Presse (1872): 190; see Wilke, Lehrsttten und Laufbahnen, 35. 69 Christhard Hoffmann and Daniel R. Schwartz, “Early but Opposed, Supported but Late: Two Berlin Seminaries Who Attempted to Move Abroad,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 36/1 (1991): 267 – 304.

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November 1938 and their property confiscated. After the German invasion of Hungary in March 1944, the Budapest seminary was turned into a prison but resumed its activity at liberation one year later. Among the religious values lost in the Holocaust were most of the intellectual and liturgic traditions of all three traditions of modernist Judaism on German soil.

4. Third Period: Reconfiguration The reconstruction of Jewish life in Europe took place in an Orthodox key, and the other currents have only slowly grown since the 1980s. For this reason, the present age of rabbinical culture presents a more variegated institutional landscape than had been the case before the catastrophe. This pluralism is largely due to the fact that the prewar hegemony of the seminaries over rabbinical training was not resumed after the war. Orthodoxy has widely returned to the yeshiva. This trend has its roots in the years following the First World War, when young Orthodox rabbis even in the West explored the more traditional forms of Talmudic study. Symbols of this development are the appearance of yeshivot in Frankfurt and in Hamburg, and especially the election of Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg in 1924 as a yeshiva teacher at the Rabbinerseminar, of which he became the last rector shortly before the closure.70 But the return of the yeshiva is mainly due to developments in Israel, where the yeshivot, encouraged by generous state support, are more numerous than at any time in Jewish diaspora history.71 Meanwhile, the American seminaries not only defended themselves in the non-Orthodox Jewish denominations, but were also augmented 70 Mordechai Breuer, “Rabbinerseminar als Jeschiwa?”, in Miryam Gillis-Carlebach, ed., “Den Himmel zu pflanzen und die Erde zu grnden”: Jdisches Leben, Erziehung und Wissenschaft. Die Joseph Carlebach-Konferenzen (Hamburg: Dçlling und Galitz, 1995), 145 – 157; Marc B. Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, 1884 – 1966 (London: Littman Library, 1999). 71 Carlebach, ed., Wissenschaft des Judentums, p. IX; see also Mordechai Breuer, Oholei Torah (The Tents of Torah): The Yeshiva, Its Structure and History [Hebrew] (Jerusalem 2003), 483: “It is a fact that the lower and higher yeshivot of Israel, without even taking into account the different institutions of the high school yeshiva type, have more students at the beginning of the 21st century than could be found in all the analogous institutions in Europe at the eve of the Holocaust”.

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by new branches and entirely new institutions such as the Academy for Jewish Religion in New York and the Leo Baeck College in London, both founded in 1956. The two foci of contemporary Jewish life, Israel and America, thus have engendered a duality of two models of rabbinical scholarship, the opposition of which became irreducible after the first women rabbis were ordained at the Hebrew Union College in 1972 and, after a memorable controversy, at the Jewish Theological Seminary in 1985.72 The coexistence of two models of training can be seen in an exemplary manner in Germany. There are now (2010) 118 communities with a total of 72 rabbis, three-quarters of whom belong to one of the Orthodox observances. Most of the Orthodox rabbis were trained at yeshivot in Israel; none of them has felt a need to obtain the legitimation of the prewar German-style rabbi, the philosophical doctorate. In contrast, most of the 18 non-Orthodox rabbis graduated from a rabbinical seminary, mainly from Leo Baeck College in London, and nine of them continue in the Doktorrabbiner tradition.73 Compared to the solid success of Israeli yeshivot and American seminaries, the existence of their European sister institutions seems more precarious. Only the cole rabbinique de France, a private institution recognized by French law, works on a similar basis to the prewar years. Some of its sister institutions, as those in Amsterdam and London, have suspended their rabbinical programs and concentrate on teachers education and secular Jewish studies. In Germany, Hungary, and Italy, the situation is largely determined by government support, more readily available than in the past and less linked to cultural dirigisme. The Rabbinical College of Italy offers rabbinical, pedagogical, and scientific degrees recognized by the state.74 The Budapest Rabbinical Seminary, which has found a place inside the Conservative movement, is now endowed with the rank of a private university under the name of “Jewish Theological Seminary – University of Jewish Studies”. In Germany, the new option of a public regime similar to the model of the Christian theological faculty created an unprecedented situation for Jewish scholarship. 72 Pamela S. Nadell, Women Who Would Be Rabbis: A History of Womens Ordination 1889 – 1985 (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998). 73 “Jdische Gemeinden in Deutschland,” in JNF-KKL Taschenkalender 5771 (Dsseldorf, Jdischer Nationalfonds e. V. Deutschland, 2010). 74 http://sif.bethalimoud.com (France), http://moked.it/collegiorabbinico (Italy), http://www.lsjs.ac.uk (UK), http://www.niseminarium.org (Netherlands).

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The Hochschule fr Jdische Studien in Heidelberg, a state-sponsored institution founded in 1979 under the aegis of the Central Council of Jewish Communites in Germany, has been unsuccessful in its efforts towards rabbinical training, the latest of which had been announced in 2009.75 Its degrees are scientific and pedagogical. To be sure, academic Jewish studies and rabbinical training present a considerable degree of thematical overlapping, but both belong to separate institutional profiles, just as an art history department would differ from an academy of fine arts. It is all the more remarkable that Germany has nevertheless been the site of a revival of rabbinical training. The Abraham Geiger College, a Reform Jewish institution opened at Potsdam University in 1999, undertook in 2006 the first ordination of rabbis in Germany after the Holocaust. The Colleges curriculum builds upon the traditional double career of academic studies at the university and practical and theological studies at the seminary. But unlike all former and existing institutions of rabbinical training, this one was from the outset an integral part of Potsdam University and has since won the support of the American Reform Jewish organizations and the Central Council. The involvement of state authorities in rabbinical training is certainly not new, but it goes new ways by renouncing the demand of religious unification that since the days of the Napoleonic Sanhedrin of 1807 was normally considered to be its precondition. Whether or not the College will one day acquire the title of a Jewish theological faculty, it is already an institution sui generis; reflecting partly the state-backed university theology of Christian churches and partly the denominational structure of the American Jewish seminaries, it has no clear model in German-Jewish history, except perhaps Abraham Geigers non-realized faculty based on an interaction between the state and a free association. Our question of whether the absence of Jewish theological faculties is due to external obstacles or to basic incompatibility should thus be asked with a historical nuance.

5. Conclusion When the social and ideological changes of the Enlightenment and Emancipation periods provoked the search for new models of Jewish learning and leadership, German Jewry started to impose academic standards first on its scholars and later on some of its scholarly institutions. 75 See Kathie Thielitz, Die Zeit, 2009/40 (Sept. 24, 2009): 56.

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From the inauguration of the Jewish Theological Seminary of Breslau in 1854 until the Holocaust, seminaries of scientific pretentions trained the great majority of rabbis active in the Western hemisphere and took the leading part in defining the Liberal, Conservative, and modern Orthodox denominations. In recent times, the seminary model has maintained and extended its position in the American rabbinate, whereas Israeli Judaism mostly rejected it. In post-Holocaust Europe, seminary-trained rabbis now share their work with colleagues of very different cultural backgrounds, a diversification that here as well as in America is enhanced by the important number of “second career” rabbis looking back to successful careers in other professions. My sketch has thus avoided any depiction of the modernization process as a linear fatality, but tried to recognize its share of historical relativity. The embattled birth of modern rabbinical training in the years between Naftali Hirz Wesselys provocation and Frankels seminary plan, the more steady progression from there to Leo Baecks time, and the cultural segmentation that can be observed today are parts of the constant change in Jewish intellectual history that hardly knew periods of quiet reproduction. The premodern trends epitomized by the French Tossafists, the late medieval pilpulists, and the early modern schools of Prague and Vilna anticipated the incisive transformations of the Emancipation era. Historical analysis shows how non-Jewish patterns of scholarship were then appropriated, how an invention became a tradition, how informal intercultural experiments were gradually institutionalized and solidified as links in the Jewish chain of transmission. It thereby proves the creativity of intercultural risk taking and the possibility of innovation. Acculturation is, to be sure, limited by the age-old traditions in Jewish and Christian education of religious scholars. But these traditions are less due to an eternal essence of both religions than to creative moments of lasting historical impact, always intersecting with simultaneous evolutions in other cultural environments. The modernization of rabbinical training in the 19th century, for example, accompanied and reflected the turn from idealism to historicism at the universities. Modern rabbinical training has remained an intercultural enterprise, based on exchange between disparate cultures of knowledge, far from Geigers pursuit of a faculty offering a modern faith of one piece (“aus einem Gusse”).76 The balance between the demands of authenticity, relevance, and coherence has never been permanent and needed to be renegotiated in each generation. 76 Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift fr jdische Theologie 1 (1835): 291.

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Compared with the French and Austro-Hungarian contemporaries, classical German Jewish modernity assigned its rabbinical culture to a markedly specific political configuration, characterized by informal curricula transmuting into cautiously independent seminaries. While insistently attempting acculturation, this teaching system differed strongly from the church-state symbiosis of Christian faculties and the state-protected Jewish institutions in the neighboring countries. I intend to suggest here that not only political discrimination, but also the internal power structure of German Jewry motivated this quest for autonomy. The recent appearance of faculty-like solutions thus appears as an unprecedented novelty from a diachronic perspective. Yet a comparative approach may decipher the present relations between the Jewish scholarly institutions and the state as a track to normalization, confirming the end of the German rabbinates Sonderweg.

Rabbis as Preachers, 1800 – 1965: Regensburg Conference Lecture Marc Saperstein In two learned articles, Professor Alexander Altmann argued that the modern Jewish sermon was a repudiation of the traditional derashah – focused on exploring and resolving exegetical challenges in traditional Jewish texts – in favour of a new style of pulpit discourse, the central purpose of which was the cultivation within the listeners of Erbauung, edification, and Andacht, religious devotion. The new sermon was intended to present the timeless truths of Judaism as understood by modern thinkers, ideally to be connected with selected passages from Bible and rabbinic midrash.1 This might include a defence of Jewish doctrines in comparison with those of Christianity or an emphasis on the contributions to world culture made by the Jewish religion. An additional function of the sermon was to provide education and instruction about their tradition to Jews who were no longer the products of a traditional curriculum based on classical Jewish texts. I am in awe of the breadth and depth of Altmanns mastery of medieval and modern Jewish sources, producing works like his magisterial biography of Mendelssohn. And I certainly would not deny that this function of the sermon to edify and instruct was highly valued by 19th-century Jewish preachers and expected by the congregations they would service.2

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Alexander Altmann, “Zur Frhgeschichte der jdischen Predigt in Deutschland: Leopold Zunz als Prediger,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 6 (1961): 3 – 59, analysing sermons delivered by Zunz fortnightly at the New Synagogue of Berlin from 1820 – 1822; “The New Style of Preaching in Nineteenth-Century German Jewry,” in Studies in Nineteenth-Century Jewish Intellectual History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1964), 65 – 116. For example, Leopold Zunz in the preface of his Gottesdienstlichen Vortrge der Juden (Berlin: A. Asher, 1832): “Hence the stirring and ardent desire for verbal instruction, and hence the frequent call for rabbis and teachers who are competent to deliver instructive and edifying discourses to children at school and to adults at the synagogue” (cited in W. Gunther Plaut, The Rise of Reform Juda-

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Nevertheless, I would argue that Altmanns classical article presents an incomplete picture and fails to recognize two critical aspects of the modern rabbis role as preacher. This is perhaps because Altmann approached this material with a special interest in philosophy, in the ideas that the sermons expressed and the sources of these ideas in the works of Kant or Hegel or Schleiermacher or their colleagues. My own approach is primarily that of a historian, and I find myself attracted to texts that Altmann neglected: texts in which the preacher is concerned with the timeless values of Judaism as explicitly applied to events of immediate concern; texts which could not be given twenty years or even one year later, because the issues they addressed were so contemporary.3 I would like address two categories of such preaching: 1) the preacher representing his people in response to events of importance not only to Jews but to the general society in which they lived, and 2) the preacher confronting his people with controversial positions taken on issues of social justice. New significant occasions arose for Jewish preaching in the modern period, actually preceding the emergence of Reform Judaism in the early 19th century.4 Many of these were occasions in which Jews participated alongside their Christian neighbours. In these cases, not the differences from Christianity but the solidarity with Christian neighbours in moments of crisis was paramount. A prime example would be days of national prayer proclaimed by the government as a religious response to especially troubling unusual events.5 Thus Isaac Nieto delivered a sermon in Spanish at the Bevis Marks synagogue in London on Friday February 6, 1756, a day of National

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ism: A Sourcebook of its European Origins [New York: World Union for Progressive Judaism, 1963], 110). An obvious example of this category is the sermon delivered in times of war, many dramatic examples of which can be found in my book Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 1800 – 2001 (Oxford: Littman Library, 2008). I will focus on other such events in the present article. For a quick review, see Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 4 – 12. For the broader context of such days in 19th-century Britain, see Philip Williamson, “State Prayers, Fasts and Thanksgivings: Public Worship in Britain 1830 – 1897,” Past and Present 200 (2008): 121 – 174, a fine article in which, unfortunately, only a single sentence is devoted to Jewish material (161 – 162). Also John Wolffe, “Judging the Nation: Early Nineteenth-Century British Evangelicals and Divine Retribution,” in Kate Cooper and Jeremy Gregory, eds., Retribution, Repentance, and Reconciliation (Woodbridge: Ecclesiastical History Society, 2004), 291 – 300.

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Fast and Penitence because of the “Catastrophe” of the Lisbon Earthquake and the kings concern that “our Neighbours should oblige him to declare War.” As a consequence of the royal proclamation, “the illustrious Rulers of the Synagogue have ordered me to ascend the Pulpit, and perform the Duties of the Day.” Nieto said that “I do not deny that there may be natural Causes for Earthquakes, proceeding either from the Compression of the Air, Rarification of the Waters, or Eruption of Volcanos, or perhaps from all three, or by any other Causes of which I am ignorant, and may be unknown even to Philosophers.6 But what I affirm is that he who guides, rules, orders and governs these Causes is the Omnipotent and Infinite Being who created them, and to him alone should be attributed their Effects, and to no other, since he is the effective Cause of all Causes.” The text was translated into English by the preacher and published in Spanish and English.7 Plagues and epidemics were also occasions for national days of fasting and prayer. On March 21, 1832, David R. Brandon, also at Bevis Marks, preached about “the disease, in its malignant shape, whose appearance amongst us we have now to deplore”: an epidemic of cholera plague.8 6

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On the natural causes of earthquakes as understood in mid-18th-century England, see Matthias Georgi, “The Lisbon Earthquake and Scientific Knowledge in the British Public Sphere,” in Theodore E. D. Braun and John B. Radner, eds., The Lisbon Earthquake of 1755: Representations and Reactions (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 2005), 81 – 96, especially 93 – 96. Isaac Netto (Nieto), A Sermon Preached in the Jews Synagogue, on Friday, February 6, 1756, Being the Day Appointed by Authority for a General Fast (London: Richard Reily, 1756), 2, 9 – 10. Dozens of Christian sermons delivered on that day were similarly published in pamphlet form. For a review, see the article cited in the previous note and Robert G. Ingram, “The Trembling Earth Is Gods Herald: Earthquakes, Religion and Public Life in Britain During the 1750s,” in Braun et al., The Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, 97 – 115. Nietos approach of recognising the natural causes of earthquakes as understood by scientists, but insisting that God was the Primal Cause who used these secondary phenomena for a divine purpose, is identical with the message in the overwhelming majority of these sermons. Neither article mentions Nieto, though his sermon appears in the books bibliography. David Brandon, A Discourse Delivered at the Spanish and Portuguese Jews Synagogue … on the Day of the National Fast … 21st March 1832 (London, 1832), 4. For context, see Robert John Morris, Cholera 1832: The Social Response to an Epidemic (London: Croom Helen, 1976), chap. 7: “Religion and Morals”; Richard J. Janet, “Providence, Prayer and Cholera: The English General Fast of 1832,” Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church 51 (1982): 297 – 317.

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Similarly, Isaac Leeser in Philadelphia spoke on August 3, 1849, a public “Day of Humiliation, Fasting and Prayer” proclaimed by President Zachary Taylor because of the plague of Asiatic cholera, a “fearful pestilence … spreading its ravages throughout the land.”9 I will speak in more detail about events in two crucial mid-19th-century years. In 1847, Ireland was suffering from an acute “Potato Famine” with implications far beyond its borders. On Wednesday, March 24, a week before Pesach, the British government declared a “General Fast and Day of Humiliation on account of the Dearth now Unhappily Prevailing”, and the Rev. David Aaron de Sola delivered a sermon devoted to this theme at the Bevis Marks Synagogue. Typically for contemporary Jewish as well as Christian preachers on all such occasions, the crisis is perceived in a providential context, and sermons delivered were expected to include a significant element of rebuke and calls for repentance. De Sola passes quickly over the sins of modern society in general: “the unceasing, the all-engrossing, and insatiable pursuit of wealth by all classes, and the lax morality and vices it has induced.”10 Instead of lingering on the broader context, the preacher says he will focus specifically on shortcomings of the Jewish community. Here he notes that “I am aware that I am treading here on tender ground; but the paramount sense of this my duty silences all other considerations.” Some of his criticism is directed against the tendency toward reform, manifest in the Frankfurt Rabbinical Assembly of 1845 and perhaps the West London Synagogue closer to home.11 But he also condemns the expression of “blind zeal and superstition” in response to the reformers, resulting in causeless enmity against fellow Jews. And, here within a specifically Jewish context, the preacher decries again the worship of the “golden calf of 9 Isaac Leeser, Discourses on the Jewish Religion, 10 vols. (Philadelphia: Sherman, 1866 – 1868), vol. 8, 189; as in the two other cases mentioned, many Christian sermons delivered on the same date were published in pamphlet form. Leeser returned to this topic, speaking about the end of the plague, on November 27 (vol. 8, 261). 10 This is a formulation that would appear to be almost formulaic and conventional but may reflect real issues in the society. Fourteen years earlier de Sola had attacked from the same pulpit those who “worship the golden calf of filthy lucre, to which religion and every good principle are but too often readily sacrificed” (David Aaron de Sola, Consolation of Jerusalem: A Sermon Delivered at the Synagogue Bevis Marks on July 27th, 1833 [London: Wertheimer, 1833], 17). 11 Several British Christian preachers on this day interpreted the famine as a judgment on Roman Catholicism and British toleration of “Romanism”: Wolffe, “Judging the Nation”, 295.

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filthy lucre” and the pursuit of “business, all engrossing business” leading to neglect of fundamental mitzvot: tefilin and tsitsit, and even the Sabbath.12 Seven months later, a national “Day of Thanksgiving for the Abundant Harvest” was proclaimed in England for Sunday, October 17. After explaining that his congregation was honouring the royal command a day earlier, on the Sabbath, David Woolf Marks of the recently established West London Synagogue of British Jews evoked for his listeners the spirit on the National Day of Prayer proclaimed the previous March 24 (the date of the De Sola sermon) when “at almost the same hour there ascended to Heaven a voice of supplication and prayer from every church, chapel, and synagogue in the land.” He praises the spirit of philanthropy which partially compensated for the famine in Ireland and the dramatic rise in food prices at home. Then, in a passage not without contemporary resonance, Marks notes that in the interim an unforeseen economic disaster (known as the Panic of 1847) occurred. No one had imagined in the previous March that in the commercial world was awaiting us an alarming crisis, which would sweep away the possessions not only of individuals but of large classes of men; which would hurl many merchant princes from the thrones of eminence that they had so long occupied, into the abyss of ruin and despair; which would paralyze public credit, arrest the action of the mill and the spinning-jenny, and turn out of employment many thousands of our opera-

12 David Aaron de Sola, A Sermon Delivered at the Spanish and Portuguese Jews Synagogue on Wednesday 7th Nisan (24th March) 5607, the Day Appointed by Her Majesty as a General Fast (London: Colin & Co., 5607 [1847]), 10 – 14. Compare the powerful response to the economics of famine by Isak Noa Mannheimer in Vienna one week later on April 1, 1847, the first day of Pesach. A severe famine had led to unscrupulous price gouging and unreasonably high interest rates on loans. Toward the end of the sermon, Mannheimer said, “Here in this holy place and at this sacred hour I call down a curse upon everyone who misuses the distress and inflation in order to enrich himself from the marrow of the land and the misery of the poor; the curse of God upon everyone who gains the profits of usury from the wretchedness of the hungry …” (Isaak Noa Mannheimer, Die Erlçsung: Predigt gehalten im israelitischen Bethause zu Wien, am ersten Tage des Pesachfestes den 1. April 1847 [Wien 1847], 14 – 15, cited by Michael A. Meyer, Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 150 – 151; German original: Antwort auf die Moderne (Wien: Bçhlau, 2000), 222.

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tives who were wont to find a market for their industry in our leviathan manufactories.13

The practical implications are spelled out at the end: thanksgiving is manifest not only through prayer but though alms-giving to the poor, and anyone in the congregation who might be thinking that because of economic losses recently sustained they should preserve their own resources rather than making charitable donations should recognize that charity is especially valued by God when it entails an element of self-sacrifice.14 Following the preaching challenges of famine and commercial crisis in 1847, 1848 became an even more dramatic year, which might indeed be seen as a turning point in the role of the modern rabbi. As many Jews began to participate actively in domestic and international politics, their religious leaders also began to emerge beyond the synagogues of their specific communities into the public arenas, and their pulpit messages transcend the timeless teachings of Judaism and begin to address the specific challenges of their political environment.15 In his studies of the Revolution of 1848 and its impact, Salo W. Baron reports that a correspondent for the German Jewish weekly Der Orient – possibly the rabbi and theologian Salomon Formstecher – complained about Rabbi Moritz Goldstein in Poznan/Posen, charging that he had transformed his pulpit into a political tribune: “He pleases the audience because his speeches are tinged with reddish, rather than black and white colors.”16 To the south, Baron writes that the “festive occasions connected with the granting of equality to Jews in the various Italian states were celebrated by appropriate sermons delivered by the rabbis before mixed audiences of Christians and Jews.”17 Holiday discourses were given special contemporary resonance. In a sermon delivered on Shabbat Zakhor immediately preceding Purim, March 18, 1848, Isak Noa Mannheimer of Vienna expressed his commitment to constitutional freedom and civil rights for Jews, optimistically seeing in the March uprisings evidence that the age of Amalek, 13 David Woolf Marks, Sermons Preached on Various Occasions at the West London Synagogue of British Jews, vol. 1 (London: R. Groombridge and Sons, 1951), 127. 14 Ibid., 130 – 131. 15 Salo W. Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848 on Jewish Emancipation,” Jewish Social Studies 12 (1949): 220 – 221. 16 Salo W. Baron, “Aspects of the Jewish Communal Crisis in 1848,” Jewish Social Studies 14/2 (1952): 110 – 111. 17 Ibid., 115.

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Haman, and more contemporary oppressors was coming to end. However, he insisted that the struggle on behalf of freedom and equal rights for all people should at present precede a specific Jewish agenda, which would come later.18 The following month, on the first day of Pesach (April 18, 1848), the sermon delivered by Lçw Schwab in the Israelite Temple in Pest reflected the realization that the goals would not be so easily attainable as they seemed at the beginning of the revolt, as the forces of reaction were demonstrating their power and anti-Jewish riots had broken out during Easter week in Pressburg (Bratislava) and Pest: “Let us not become discouraged through the days events, however saddening. Let us consider them the last flicker of an extinguishing flame, as the last effort of the dark medieval spirit which finally must give way before the bright sunlight of truth.”19

18 “Erst das Recht als Menschen zu leben, zu atmen, zu denken, zu sprechen, erst das Recht des Brgers, des edlen freien Brgers in seiner Berechtigung, in seiner wrdigen Stellung – nachher kommt der Jude! Man soll uns nicht vorwerfen, wir denken immer und berall und zunchst an uns”: Moses Rosenmann, Isak Noa Mannheimer: Sein Leben und Wirkung (Wien – Berlin: R. Lçwit Verlag, 1922) 144; Adolf Kober, “Jews in the Revolution of 1848 in Germany,” Jewish Social Studies 10 (April 1948), 139 – 140, citing Der Orient (1849): 4; Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 220 – 221. This strong emphasis on the priority of a universalistic agenda may have been driven by tactical considerations, as a premature emphasis on Jewish Emancipation and equal rights had produced a reaction with an upsurge of anti-Jewish pamphlet publications; see Michael Lawrence Miller, Rabbis and Revolution: The Jews of Moravia in the Age of Emancipation (Stanford: University Press, 2011), 192 – 193, 194, 204, 232 – 233. A parallel, though in a very different context, can be seen in a sermon by David Woolf Marks delivered on April 19, 1859 called “The Passover and the Emancipation Act.” This was an appreciation of new legislation which finally ended all disabilities pertaining to Jews. But he continues to apply this ideal to the broader society: “As the object of the Passover was to proclaim liberty as the birthright of man, let us avail ourselves of the means which our newly-acquired civil rights confer upon us, to stand forth in every instance, as the staunch advocates of freedom, as the friends of all who are oppressed, and as the earnest supporters of every measure that tends to promote knowledge, to enlarge the sphere of human action, and to secure the well-being of all classes of our fellow-countrymen” (David Woolf Marks, Sermons Preached on Various Occasions, vol. 2, 234 – 235). 19 Salo W. Baron, “The Revolution of 1848 and Jewish Scholarship,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 20 (1951): 94 – 95. On the antiJewish riots: Raphael Patai, The Jews of Hungary: History, Culture, Psychology (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996), 279; Michael Lawrence Miller, Rabbis and Revolution, 193. In this context, the preacher called not for stronger

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On the same first day of Pesach, Ludwig Phillipson, preaching in Magdeburg, addressed the question “how we can unite religion and life, in the wild conflagration, the storm and upheaval of our time, so that religion may take root in our lives.” The text of this sermon was not preserved, but he referred back to it in his sermon on the seventh day of Pesach, on the topic “What place shall the Jew take and how must he behave in his new era?” Placing the present in counterpoint with the Israelite ancestors standing by the shore of the Red Sea in newfound freedom from their former oppressors, he insists that contemporary Jews must see themselves as a religious association, a faith community, no longer as a separate people – with the consequence that if France and Germany should go to war, Jews will fight on opposing sides.20 Funeral services for victims of the uprising who had died in the cause of freedom became major occasions for public oratory. Together with Protestant and Catholic clergy, Mannheimer in Vienna officiated and gave an address at the funeral service for five students, including Carl Heinrich Spitzer, a Jew, killed on the barricades of Vienna during the March uprisings and buried four days later in a common grave.21 Similarly in Berlin: both the Liberal rabbi Leopold Zunz and the more traditionalist rabbi Michael Sachs delivered public orations in honor of the victims of the March uprisings at their burial.22 In Prague, Austrian rabbi and Orientalist scholar Saul Isaac Kmpf, who had succeeded Michael Sachs two resistance to the end, but for a repudiation of all unscrupulous business behaviour that might arouse disdain for the Jewish religion and the Jewish people. 20 “Die Stellung des Israeliten in dieser neuen Zeit,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums, May 1, 1848, 269 – 272. I am grateful to Derek Penslar for this reference. 21 Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 194, 214; Michael Lawrence Miller, Rabbis and Revolution, 220 – 222; text in Moses Rosenmann, Isak Noa Mannheimer, 137 – 139. 22 Adolf Kober, “The Jews in the Revolution of 1848”, 141, 160; Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 214 – 15; Baron, “Aspects of the Jewish Communal Crisis of 1848”, 131. Texts: “Der Hinterbliebenen des Mrzhelden Berlins: Ein Wort des Trostes von Dr. Zunz,” in Leopold Zunz, Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1875), 301 – 302, originally published as a pamphlet, with “proceeds to the bereaved and wounded”); Segens-Spruch des Rabbiner Dr. Michael Sachs ber die Opfer des 18. und 19. Mrz, an ihren Srgen gesprochen den 22 Mrz 1848 (Berlin: Julius Sittenfeld, 1848); this was printed together with a similar brief address by the Christian chaplain of St. Hedwig, with proceeds to the widows and orphans “on both sides.” Leopold Zunz delivered a memorial address on November 6, 1849, the first anniversary of execution in Vienna of the revolutionary martyr Robert Blum.

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years earlier, delivered a funeral oration in the Temple Congregation, sounding a stirring call to solidarity with Bohemian neighbours: Are we not all citizens of one city, children of one country, subjects of one king? Are we not all equally filled with love for our dear fatherland, with loyalty to our hereditary ruling dynasty, with obedience to the laws! … Regardless of whether we are descended from Germans or from Slavs, from Semites or from Japhetites – we are all Bohemians! … As long as … a son of this opulent region has his arms chained, his legs shackled, his strength crippled – … the noble blood that has flowed for freedom will not have been appeased, nor will the souls of the heroic victims find peace, for their victory will only be half a victory, incomplete and uncertain. But if you seriously wish to settle the great debt with those who have died … then demand freedom for everyone, everyone without exception! … Then will the blood of the heroes who gave their lives be appeased, their ashes will rest in peace, and good fortune and well-being will live among us and our descendants.23

Yet most of the Jews in Prague identified with German culture and were resistant to Czech nationalism. Baron reports that preachers in all but two churches in Prague began to deliver their sermons in the Czech language, but Jewish preachers continued to use German.24 In Hungary, the environment was somewhat different. When a Jewish volunteer named Tauber was killed by Hungarian soldiers (June 11 – 12, 1848), Lçw Schwab, who had introduced the German-language sermon into Moravia in 1835,25 now preached in Hungarian at Taubers funeral, praising the victim for his desire to demonstrate “that the Jew neither recognizes nor loves any other fatherland than that which is recognized and loved by his compatriots of other faiths,” and condemning the soldiers who, “sworn to carry arms for the Fatherland, had become murderers.” Leopold Lçw, Schwabs son-in-law, the first rabbi to preach in Hungarian, also delivered a patriotic oration, in Hungarian, at Taubers grave and 23 Saul Isaac Kmpf, “Rede, gehalten bei der am 23. Mrz 1848 im israelitischen Tempel zu Prag stattgefundenen Todtenfeier fr die am 13. d. M. in Wien als Freiheitsopfer gefallenen Studirenden”; translation in Wilma Abeles Iggers, ed., The Jews of Bohemia and Moravia: A Historical Reader (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1992), 145. 24 Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 242; cf. Hillel Kieval, Languages of Community: The Jewish Experience in the Czech Lands (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 31 – 32. 25 This was a eulogy for the emperor Franz I; the subsequent publication in Vienna reportedly created a “great sensation”: see Miller, Rabbis and Revolution, 85, 106 – 107.

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continued preaching in a number of Hungarian communities to which he was invited. Lçw became a chaplain who accompanied troops to the battlefront and addressed the National Guard in the open.26 On Yom Kippur of that fateful year (October 7), Mannheimer was unable to deliver his sermon because of battles raging in Vienna, which caused the emperor and the Reichstag to relocate temporarily, but he continued to reflect on the events in November when regular worship was again possible.27 In the United States, Sabato Morais, an Italian Sefardi immigrant to Philadelphia whom we will encounter again soon, looked back wistfully, yet with pride, at 1848 in a 1852 American Thanksgiving Day sermon: “It was the same spirit of liberty that pervades the institutions of Moses that called to arms multitudes of our brethren when the hour of redemption for the enthralled nations of European seemed to have struck.”28 On all such occasions, there was a clear expectation that the rabbi would respond publicly and appropriately to circumstances of critical importance not only to Jews but also to non-Jewish fellow citizens. Especially on national days of prayer or thanksgiving mandated by the 26 Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 95, 98 – 99; Patai, The Jews of Hungary, 246. 27 Baron, “Aspects of the Jewish Communal Crisis,” 102 – 103; Rosenmann, Isak Noa Mannheimer, 183 n. 2: regular services did not resume until November 4. In his sermon for November 11 on Va-Yera, he referred back to his sermon on the same parashah from the previous year, 1847, in which – with no clue of what was to lie ahead – Mannheimer compared the model of Sodom to Vienna: “einer verderbten Stadt, in der die Rechtlosigkeit, Zuchtlosigkeit, Sittenlosigkeit und Gottlosigkeit bis zu einer Hçhe gedrungen war, dass der Schrei auf zum Himmel drang” (Rosenmann, Isak Noa Mannheimer, 184). Elected to the Austrian Parliament and identified with parties of the left, following the victory of the forces of reaction, the communal board suspended him from preaching for several weeks (Baron, “Aspects of the Jewish Communal Crisis”, 112; Baron, “The Impact of the Revolution of 1848”, 221 n. 21). 28 Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 166 bottom; my emphasis. Contrast the more traditional providential view of recent events expressed in London on the Sabbath of Repentance, 1849, by David Meldola of Bevis Marks: “And what was the blight on food and partial famine in a neighbouring country? What the disturbances and wars which have raged in Europe? What the disease which has been prevalent, but the fulfilment of the threatened punishment for infidelities?” (David Meldola, The Divine Judgments Improved: A Discourse Delivered at the Spanish and Portuguese Jews Synagogue Bevis Marks, London, on the Penitential Sabbath, 6th Tishri, 5610 [London: R. Grubb, 1850], 10; reprinted in The Occident and Jewish Advocate 9/1 [April 1851]).

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government, the rabbis delivery of sermons expressing solidarity with fellow citizens of different religious backgrounds was enthusiastically supported by the lay leadership of their congregations. Writing about French Jewry in the 19th century, Jay Berkowitz notes that “in addition to his traditional role, the rabbi was expected to represent Judaism to the general public, and in so doing, to improve the image of French Jewry. Lay leaders envisioned the modern rabbi as an expositor of French Jewish culture and identity.”29 This same expectation applies to rabbis in many other countries well into the 20th century, which is why so many of the texts of sermons delivered in times of crisis were given to Jewish or general newspapers, published in ephemeral pamphlet form, or incorporated into collections of sermon texts. I will pass now to the second theme, that of social justice, often pertaining to contentious political matters and affecting not just the Jewish community but also the disadvantaged in the broader society: slavery and racial discrimination, working conditions and the rights of laborers to strike, capitalism and socialism, and treatment of aliens. As I have written a brief study of social justice preaching by leading figures of Anglo-Orthodoxy in the late 19th and 20th centuries, I will focus here on the context of American Reform Judaism preceding the civil rights movement, about which much has already been published.30 The right of the rabbi to address such topics from the pulpit of his congregation was by no means self-evident to the wardens who were responsible for paying his salary. Indeed, we find many examples (as will be noted below) of preachers introducing their discussion of a topic they know will be controversial with a defence of their right to speak in this manner. Isaac Leeser, not a rabbi, was the first to preach regularly at an American congregation and the first to publish the texts of his sermons in English.31 But he was opposed to discussing political topics from the pulpit. Alluding to the European uprisings of 1848 in a sermon delivered at 29 Jay Berkowitz, “Patterns of Rabbinic Succession in Modern France,” Jewish History 13 (1999): 74 – 75 30 See the brief survey in Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 60 – 64, and especially the essays in Mark K. Bauman and Berkley Kalin, eds., The Quiet Voices: Southern Rabbis and Black Civil Rights, 1880s to 1990s (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1997). 31 Isaac Leeser, Discourses, Argumentative and Devotional, on the Subject of the Jewish Religion, 2 vols. (Philadelphia: Haswell and Fleu, 1837); eventually eight more volumes of Leesers Discourses were published.

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the beginning of 1849, he said, “Religion has no part to play in the mighty and terrible dramas which have late been enacted; at least it has no business to interfere actively and visibly in public affairs.” Sixteen years later, in a eulogy for the fallen President Lincoln, he said that “politics is not the province into which a minister of religion should enter.”32 Isaac Mayer Wise was probably the most influential American Jewish leader in the second half of the 19th century. In an article entitled “No Political Preaching” that Wise published in The Israelite, which he edited, he wrote, “Not one single word have we, as yet, said in the pulpit on the politics of the day. Fifteen years we have preached in this country … we never said one word on politics,” clearly taking pride in this assertion.33 When David Einhorn had to flee from his home in Baltimore for the safety of Philadelphia because of his outspoken opposition to slavery, the New York rabbi Samuel Myer Isaacs wrote in the Jewish Messenger, “It seems that he has been mistaking his vocation, and making the pulpit the vehicle for political invective…. A Minister has enough to do, if he devotes himself to the welfare of his flock; he can afford to leave politics to others.”34 Yet this view – which is still held if not by rabbis than at least by some influential laymen in our own time35 – was being challenged in the middle of the 19th century. David Einhorns position on slavery, deemed so inappropriate for pulpit discourse by his New York Orthodox colleague, was unambiguous: “Is it anything else but an act of ruthless and wicked violence, to reduce defenceless human beings to a condition of merchandise, and relentlessly to tear them away from the hearts of husbands, wives, parents, and children?”36 His sermon, “America, Whither Are You Going?” delivered on July 4, 1876, the hundredth anniversary of American inde32 Leeser, Discourses, vol. 8, 89 (January 26, 1849); vol. 10, 134 (April 15, 1865). 33 Sefton D. Temkin, Isaac Mayer Wise: Shaping American Judaism (Oxford: Littman Library, 1992), 173. 34 Bertram Korn, American Jewry and the Civil War (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2001), 28, citing Jewish Messenger, May 3, 1861: 133. For Isaacs sermon on a day of national fast and prayer during the war, see Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 178 – 91. 35 See, for example, the opinion piece entitled “Rabbi, You May Bore Us but Stay Out of Politics” published by Jenni Frazer in the Jewish Chronicle, August 14, 2009, 30: “I do not want my rabbi to express any political opinions whatsoever.… I have no problem with my rabbi actually having political opinions. But I do not want my rabbi to express those opinions from the pulpit.” 36 David Einhorn, “War With Amalek,” Parashat Zakhor, Philadelphia, March 19, 1864; see Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 211.

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pendence, shows that his passion and courage were by no means limited to the issue of slavery but applied to economic social justice as well: Where is your equality? Anyone who steals bread for the purpose of satisfying his hunger is severely punished; on the contrary however, he who steals millions is entertained royally in what is apparently a prison and finds a hundred ways to escape the arm of justice…. Right in this Centennial Year and in the Centennial City [Philadelphia] that Know Nothing Party, which wishes to take away from non-natives the right to hold state offices, is again enjoying a powerful upsurge, whereas in actuality America owes its prosperity to immigration and sends thousands of its young people to European academies in order to be educated.37

This is certainly not someone who accepted the premise that no topic of political significance had a place in the pulpit. Einhorns Philadelphia colleague Sabato Morais also refused to accept an arena of public life that the pulpit should never address. Though conservative in religious sentiment, his politics were openly liberal. Although the leadership of his Mikve Israel congregation tried to muzzle him on more than one occasion, he spoke out fearlessly on such controversial issues as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and the exploitation of immigrant labourers by wealthy employers who “begrudged the scanty loaf ate by men and women and children herded together” in conditions unfit for human habitation.38 During the last two decades of the 19th century and the first few of the th 20 , a number of American Reform rabbis, many of them preaching at weekday services on Sunday morning to large audiences of Christians as well as Jews, set a new standard for courageous social justice pulpit oratory—undoubtedly influenced by Protestant colleagues of the Social Gospel movement.39

37 David Einhorn, “America, Whither Are You Going? A Centennial Sermon,” American Jewish Archives (April 1976): 22 – 23; cf. Naomi Cohen, Jews in Christian America: The Pursuit of Religious Equality (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 75 – 76 on a different part of this sermon. 38 See, especially, Alan D. Corr , “Sabato Morais and Social Justice in Philadelphia, 1858 – 1897,” in Alan D. Corr , ed., The Quest for Social Justice II (Milwaukee: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), 19 – 35; Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 56 – 57. 39 On the Social Gospel movement, see the studies noted in Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 58 n. 180; on its relationship to American Reform Judaism, see Egal Feldman, “The Social Gospel and the Jews,” American Jewish Historical Quarterly 58 (1969): 308 – 322, and Darren Kleinberg, “Reform Juda-

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Henry Berkowitz, one of first graduates of the Hebrew Union College, was also one of the first rabbis to address labor issues from the pulpit. In Kansas City, Missouri, near the beginning of his rabbinic career, he made his position clear: “It has been said … that the question I have undertaken to present to you … was out of place in the Jewish pulpit, or, for that matter, in any pulpit…. But so firmly convinced was I of the opposite opinion that when I was told that no Jewish minister had ever yet spoken out authoritatively on this subject, it became to me an overwhelming duty and necessity to do so.”40 In a Sukkot sermon from the mid-1890s, Emil G. Hirsch of Chicago took a similar position on the rights of labor and the responsibility of the rabbi to address and defend them. If you are the controller of labor, give to labor its dues. If you are in a position to fight against the iniquity of our social organization, fight it. If all houses were agreed in a certain line of business which I cannot mention here, they could put an end to the sweat-shops…. This may be bold talk, for all I know or care, but if the minister to-day cannot plead for the poor, … if he cannot plead for the weak and the down-trodden, then, indeed, there is no use for him, and should the day ever dawn when the muzzle is put on us, I for one would rather go into the street and earn my living in any manner whatsoever, honourable, than to be dishonest in an enforced defection from the prime duty of my calling.41

This confrontational tone almost seems to be daring the leadership of his congregation to arrange for him to experience what it would really be like going “into the street.” J. Leonard Levy, in one of his Sunday morning sermons, described going with four other (Christian) clergy 20 years earlier to meet with President McKinley in 1896, in order to register support for an “Equitable Tariff” that would protect American labor from unfair competition from cheap labor abroad. As a result, the Baptist minister was forced to ism and the Jewish Social Gospel,” The Reform Jewish Quarterly (Fall 2009): 119 – 134. 40 American Israelite, November 21, 1889, cited by Naomi Cohen, What the Rabbis Said: The Public Discourse of Nineteenth-Century American Rabbis (New York: NYU Press, 2008), 20. Berkowitz moved in 1892 to Rodeph Shalom Congregation of Philadelphia, where he served for 30 years. 41 Sermons by American Rabbis (Chicago: Central Conference Publication Committee, 1896), 111; partly quoted by Cohen, What the Rabbis Said, 28 – 29. For more sermons by Hirsch and a review of his public activities regarding such issues as industrial unrest, see Myron A. Hirsch, ed., The Jewish Preacher: Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch (Naples, FL: Collage Books, 2003).

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resign, after being told that the church was for “preaching Christ and Him crucified” – and not for preaching about tariffs. Levy continued, “Friends advised me to hold my peace, and to cease advocating such economic reforms, on the ground that they had nothing to do with Judaism…. I do believe with all my soul that a Rabbi is under the greatest obligation to discuss economic themes with his congregation, that it is his unavoidable duty so to do…. For, if there is a religion which sought to apply its high standard of ethical principle to the business life, it is Judaism.”42 Stephen S. Wise, speaking in New York about “The Social Ideals of the Prophets” in February 1910, took a position that moves from the biblical prophets to social justice to an apparent endorsement of socialism: As disciples of the prophets, it remains for us the sons and daughters of Israel to-day to hold up without fear or flinching the ancient and unaging, because, alas, untried, ideals of social justice. The Jew ought to be one of the captains in the armies now waging peaceful war on behalf of social equity and social righteousness. And he has been, and is in the lead! It is heartening to the Jew to recall that the modern leadership of the socialist movement rested with two sons of Israel, truant to the fellowship but loyal to the larger faith of Israel, which above all bids us pursue justice. Whatever our belief touching the economic validity of socialism, it is inspiring to recall that millions have been awakened to a new hope and a new idealism by the summons of two sons of Israel.43

42 “The Butterfly (Economics and Euconomics),” (December 3, 1916), in J. Leonard Levy: Prophetic Voice, ed. Solomon B. Freehof and Vigdor W. Kavalar (Pittsburgh: Rodef Shalom Congregation, 1970), 199. Levy introduced this passage with the following statement: “There are those who hold that such subjects should not be discussed in the pulpit. The public forum, and the professorial chair, may be adapted, they say, to this and similar themes; but the synagogue or church is not adapted to the discussion of economic questions. In my own experiences I have found that many are opposed to this use of the pulpit” (198). 43 Free Synagogue Pulpit, II, 40. Wise was apparently referring to Marx and Ferdinand Lassalle. Cf. Jewish Chronicle, November 24, 1899: “Karl Marx and Ferdinand Lassalle, of whom the German socialists sing, Der Bahn, der khnen, folgen wir, die uns gefhrt Lassalle.” A very different take on socialism was described in an article of the Jewish Chronicle quoting from a sermon by Hermann Adler, then son of the chief rabbi, and a supporter of trade unions for sweated labourers. Against those who criticized discussing socialism at all from the pulpit, “he would declare that every subject, whatever its character, which affected the happiness of the lives of the people, was holy enough for the pulpit, that if a warning note were needed the pulpit was the proper medium to teach the people.” Adler then proceeded to a powerful attack on “the pernicious doctrine that the socialists circulated” repudiating the right to private property, reminding his listeners that “Socialism had been tried in France, and

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Here is Joseph Krauskopf of Keneseth Israel in Philadelphia, speaking in April 1920 about the Treaty of Versailles. He recalls that when the Great War came to an end, President Woodrow Wilson was viewed as a messianic figure because of his Fourteen Points speech. Since then, the disillusion had been devastating. At Versailles, Wilson turned out to be no match for Clemenceau and Lloyd George. “While he was theorizing and dreaming, they were busy, hatching out a treaty, the like of which the world had never known for cruelty, a treaty so unprecedentedly inhuman, so insanely vengeful, so cataclysmal, so calamitous to the people of them that made it as well as to the people against whom it was made, that, were the execution of it possible, it would set the world-clock a thousand years back.”44 Three weeks later Krauskopf, referring to the analysis of the Cambridge economist John Maynard Keynes who had resigned from the Peace Commission and published a strong condemnation of the Treaty, predicted that its results would be an economic catastrophe for Germany. “Millions of German people will seek refuge in emigration. Millions of others will die of starvation. And this will be the end of Germany. But her going down will be like that of the giant Samson. She will drag down with her a large part of the worlds peace and prosperity…. These cries will merge with yet other cries, until the whole earth will reverberate a thunderous shout of rebellion against the tragic blunders of the perpetrators” – “the perpetrators” being the leaders of England and France! “With Bolshevist Russia alongside of them, with millions of men and abundance of means there to build up mighty armies and armaments, with common grievances to avenge, what new war, or wars, may

the Commune was the result, the Commune with its bloodshed, its persecution, and its horror by sword and by fire. Heaven forfend, a repetition of the horrors which were then perpetrated in the name of equality” (Jewish Chronicle, February 22, 1889, 7). 44 Joseph Krauskopf, “For World-War or for World-Peace?”, Part 1, Our Pulpit: Sunday Discourses 33/23 (April 4, 1920): 185, 192 – 193. John Maynard Keynes, whom Krauskopf cites in the sermon discussed below, writes that when Wilson left Washington for Paris, “he enjoyed a prestige and a moral influence throughout the world unequalled in world history” and that “the Allied peoples acknowledged him not as a victor only but almost as a prophet” (The Economic Consequences of the Peace [first published in 1919], in The Collected Writings of John Maynard Keynes [London: Macmillan, 1971], vol. 2, 24). Krauskopf adds to this encomium the language of messianism.

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not be called forth by both of these peoples?”45 There is something hauntingly poignant in these words, with “prophetic Judaism” taking on a new meaning – although his vision did not extend to the recovery and flourishing of Germany after the catastrophe of Nazism. I could continue this way for some time with other examples before me: A sermon delivered in Pittsburgh on February 5, 1928, by Samuel Goldenson describing his visit to observe the wretched living conditions in the mining district 20 miles from Pittsburgh during a major “Coal Strike.”46 A sermon delivered by Harry Levi at Temple Israel of Boston on March 3, 1929, the day before the inauguration of President Herbert Hoover, in which he outlines his disagreements with the policies of the outgoing President Calvin Coolidge and condemns the low level of discourse in the president campaign, especially the attacks on the Democratic candidate Al Smith because of his Catholic faith.47 A sermon by William B. Silverman delivered on March 28, 1958, following the dynamiting of the Nashville Jewish Community Center and threats against the rabbis synagogue and himself, reporting with disdain what was said to him during the previous week: “The Rabbi should stick to religion, to Judaism and the Bible.”48

45 Joseph Krauskopf, “For World-War or for World-Peace?”, Part 3, Our Pulpit: Sunday Discourses 33/26 (April 25, 1920): 209 – 210, 213. John Maynard Keynes cited in his book a report by the German economic commission concluding, “Those who sign this treaty will sign the death sentence of many millions of German men, women and children,” to which John Maynard Keynes adds, “I know of no adequate answer to these words” (Collected Writings, vol. 2, 145 – 146). 46 “Am I My Brothers Keeper – With Special Reference to the Coal Strike Situation” (Sunday, February 5, 1928), in World Problems and Personal Religion: Sermons, Addresses, and Selected Writings of Samuel H. Goldenson (Pittsburgh: Rodef Shalom Congregation, 1975), 163 – 173. Goldenson also preached on “What Does the Coal and Iron Police Situation Mean” in 1929: Walter Jacob, Pursuing Peace Across the Alleghenies: The Rodef Shalom Congregation, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 1856 – 2005 (Pittsburgh: Rodef Shalom Press, 2005), 41. Goldenson does not specify the mining town that he visited; the most famous strike of early 1928 was in Rossiter, Pennsylvania, which had an official visit by a group of American senators in February 1928, but this is some 80 miles from Pittsburgh and could not be the place to which Goldenson is referring. 47 “Our Duty,” in Harry Levi, The Great Adventure and Other Addresses (Boston: Temple Israel, 1929), 66 – 69. 48 David J. Meyer, “Fighting Segregation, Threats, Dynamite: Rabbi William B. Silvermans Nashville Battle,” American Jewish Archives 60 (2008): 99 – 113. In the printed text of the sermon, the statement is in bold capital letters. Cf. Rabbi Louis Rabinowitz of South Africa, citing in 1953 a letter by a congregant

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A Rosh Hashanah 1965 sermon by Roland Gittelsohn of Bostons Temple Israel, one of the very first open critiques on American policy in Vietnam by any religious leader (Jewish or Christian) of a major congregation.49

But I think there has been enough to make my case about the power and the courage of modern rabbinic preaching in previous generations on social justice issues. My subjective impression is that this kind of preaching – addressing specific issues of social justice with the conviction and eloquence and passion of the prophetic literature – is out of fashion today, for various reasons that this is not the occasion to specify. In discovering and studying some of the texts I have shared, I feel both admiration for the men – and unfortunately in this period they were only men – who spoke so eloquently and courageously from their pulpits, and a lingering sense that our congregations deserve something similar today. Not every week, but when it is needed. Some of our people may indeed be upset by what they hear if it challenges their own assumptions or their economic interests. But I believe that most will respect a rabbi who is unafraid to take a stand rooted in his or her understanding of Jewish values, to defend it both thoughtfully and passionately, and to demonstrate by words and actions that the idea of “prophetic Judaism” is not an anachronism and need not be an empty slogan from the past.

written to the council of his synagogue asking them to forbid him to speak about the native issue, “but to confine myself to Jewish ethics!” (Sparks from the Anvil: Sermons for Sabbaths, Holy Days and Festivals [New York: Bloch, 1955], 198). 49 Saperstein, Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 492 – 500. Martin Luther Kings sermon in which he openly criticized American policy in Vietnam did not come until April 1867, a year and a half later.

The Professionalization of the American Rabbinate Lawrence A. Hoffman What, exactly, is a “rabbi”? Whatever our ancestors of the Talmud may have been, “sages” (as we like to think) or “holy men” akin to Zoroastrian magi, rabbis are hardly that. A common enough term nowadays is “teachers,” but rabbis bear little relationship to teachers in normative schools and universities. They may still be relative experts in Jewish law (halakhah), but most are not, and even those who are spend relatively little time making legal pronouncements. Rabbis represent Jewish values, certainly, but it is no easy task saying what those values are. They are clergy, of course, but that only begs the question of what, indeed, American clergy are. Since Max Weber, at least, the preferred term for clergy has been “calling”, Beruf, but rabbis resist that term as “unJewish”. More and more rabbis define themselves as “professionals”. We should not take that designation for granted. It was hardly in the mind of Isaac Mayer Wise, who founded the Hebrew Union College and who described his ideal curriculum for American Jews by saying, “The principal subjects of the College shall be the Bible, with its Commentaries and Paraphrases, the Talmud and its Commentaries, the Jewish philosophical literature, all in their respective original tongues, the Theology, Ethics, and History of the Hebrews, together with the various disciplines of Hermeneutics, Exegetics, Homiletics, Criticism, and Semitic philology.” Nor was professionalism in the mind of Sabato Morais, who founded the Jewish Theological Seminary of America on the model of the seminary in Breslau, and which had a great deal to say about the same set of disciplines.1 Where then, did the notion of professionalization come from, and why did it become so prominent in the first place? To understand this changing landscape of rabbinic definition we need a discussion of secularization theory followed by a summary of the sociological understanding of professions. I will then examine the evolution of the Professional Development curriculum at the Hebrew Union College 1

Cited by David Ellenson and Lee Bycel, “A Seminary of Sacred Learning: The JTS Rabbinical Curriculum In Historical Perspective,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed., Tradition Renewed, vol. 2 (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1997), 531.

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in Cincinnati, the seminary that has, arguably, over time, been at the cutting edge of the rabbinates flirtation with modernity. I conclude by returning to Americas uniquely religious history and its current moment, to analyze the present state of the rabbinate as it struggles to be a profession, without losing its sense of calling.

1. The Secularization Debate Classical secularization theory goes back to such 19th- and 20th-century giants as Karl Marx, Emile Durkheim, and Max Weber; it was enlarged by a second wave of observers such as Peter Berger, David Martin, and Thomas Luckman. Its most significant claim, for our purposes, is Webers observation that modernity brings rationalization of the social order and demystification of the natural one. Wondering how society manages to cohere altogether, Weber looked at different forms of authority and control. Premodern societies had depended on traditional or charismatic leaders. Modern societies, however, which require predictability for the development of economic life, establish rationalized structures with predictable roles into which individuals fit themselves, most particularly, as members of a bureaucracy. This rationalized social structure disempowers the clergy and challenges traditional religion because it demystifies the universe, positing immutable scientific laws in place of such vagaries as the power of prayer and the will of God. In premodern times, societies functioned as integrated wholes, making religion what Peter Berger memorably names a sacred canopy that oversees all areas of societys activities (think of the Talmud as a premodern document doing just that). With modernity, religion is split off from other functions, to become just one of many alternative provinces of reality. The result is functional specialization and differentiation of realms – leisure, work, school, family, and so on – making religion its own self-contained and separate area of human pursuit. Other forces too are unleashed: relativism, personalism, the affirmation of free choice in developing ones own authentic life style, and specialization in the work place, for example. Some early theorists went so far as to predict the demise of religion altogether. The pioneering wave of theorists were usually armchair philosophers whose ideas flowed from evolutionary theories of historical development wed to organic and mechanical models of nature that they applied to an encyclopedic knowledge of world literature and a limited body of primary

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research by early anthropologists. By the 1960s, however, a second wave of investigators began insisting on empirical data, the goal being a universal theory of secularization that would account for differences in social systems worldwide. Most interesting, for our purposes, is British sociologist Steve Bruce, who wondered why religion had disappeared in Europe but not (or not yet) in some other industrial and post-industrial countries. His most intriguing claim was that religion succeeds in modernity not on its own merits but because it successfully accomplishes something else. Polish Catholicism, for example, remained supreme as long as it had to sustain Polish nationalism under USSR hegemony. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the concurrent birth of contemporary Polish independence, Catholicism began to fail. Another case might be French Canada, where Roman Catholicism successfully underscored French separatism until the Quebecois political revolution guaranteed it anyway, at which time Catholicism began to decline, except for outliers still rooted in the old way of life, largely rural and premodern in temperament. To be sure, the Bruce theory can be faulted on the grounds that religion has always done something other than what religion calls religious. Think, in Jewish history, how religious ideology supports alternative social structures and movements – Palestinian Karaism, say, that fought geonic hegemony in Babylonia; or, in general history, how the pope used religious ideology to fight the feudal nobility and, later, to wage Crusades. Perhaps, there is always at least some latent “secular” element to the sacred canopy of religion. The opposite may be true as well. In our time, the sacred canopy has become a secular canopy, in which there may frequently be an implicit religious impulse like the search for meaning that we hear so much about and that I will return to at the end of my account.2 How can Bruce so easily differentiate religion from secular? What counts as “doing something other than religion”? Was the papacy of the High Middle Ages religion or power politics? Is Karaism a religious or a political phenomenon? How are these different from Polish or French-Canadian Roman Catholicism? 2

An entire spate of books has appeared of late on “the meaning of life,” e. g., Terry Eagleton, The Meaning of Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Julian Baggini, Whats It All About? (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004); John Cottingham, On The Meaning of Life (London: Routledge, 2003). Cf. the work of Edward Bailey demonstrating the religious nature of secularity, e. g., The Secular Quest for Meaning in Life: Denton Papers in Implicit Religion (Lewiston: Edwin Mellon Press, 2002).

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Bruce might successfully respond by taking a page from Berger and noting that the canopy of society was religious back then and it is not so now. At the very least, religion has suffered the significant defeat of being rolled back to its own differentiated realm where it must appeal to individualism and fight blatant and ostensive non-religion.3 In the past, religion did indeed perform political or other tasks as well, but the emphasis should be on “as well.” Today, religion just disappears if those other tasks are not required by its adherents. The worldwide rise of religious Islam seems at first a denial of the Bruce hypothesis,4 but Bruce can easily explain Islamization as a case of religion doing “something else” in that it supports pre-modernist hegemonic rulers and societies. More troublesome, perhaps, is Bruces prediction of the collapse of religion even in America, where, until recently at least, religion has seemed to be rising, not waning. The rise, however, has characterized conservative religion alone, which Bruce can say sustains the old order against abortion on demand, same-sex marriage, and other indices of liberal secularity. These conservative religious forces now have considerable political clout, but that will lessen, in Bruces view – its demise may already have begun in fact, as we shall see. Certainly, liberal religion, which has nothing “non-religious” to accomplish, has been failing for some time. Once the majority of Americans, these mainline Protestants fell to only 28 to 29 % of the population in the 1970s (the period when conservative Protestantism began to burgeon) and have “plummeted steadily … to 13 % by 2008.”5 Finally, a third wave of theory has emerged, influenced particularly by Talal Asad, who argues that secularization is a response not to world religion at all, but to Protestantism per se; it exists only as an ideological 3

4

5

See also Victor Turners distinction between liminal and liminoid. Victor Turner, Dramas, Fields and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1974); idem, “Liminal to Liminoid in Play, Flow and Ritual: An Essay in Comparative Symbology,” Rice University Studies 60/3 (1974): 53 – 92; and idem, “Frame, Flow and Reflection: Ritual and Drama as Public Liminality,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 6/4 (1979): 491 – 494. Cf. Matthew Defiem, “Ritual, Anti-Structure, and Religion: A Discussion of Victor Turners Processual Symbolic Analysis,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 30 (1991): 1 – 25. And was presented as such. See, e. g., Peter Berger, ed., The Desecularization of the World: Resurgent Religion and World Politics (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1999). Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell, American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2010), 104.

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move within Protestantism – side by side with it. It faultily treats religion as a (Protestant) thing of the mind, and as (Christian) belief, as if faith is what makes a religion what it is.6 Non-Christian religions (Islam and Judaism, for example) identify religion as a lot more than faith. Secularization, which defines how beliefs have changed, is the white Western Protestants way of forcing non-Western religions into a Protestant mold. It is, at best, a selective narrative of modern life, and a suspicious one at that. Some Jews are attracted to Asadian theory because it extricates Judaism from having to be a faith-centered Protestant-like religion. Halakhically inclined Jews can welcome it for affirming the authenticity of a religion rooted in law; secularists can applaud it because Judaism becomes religion without God or halakhah, but with peoplehood or ethnicity at its center. Modernization need not spell the end of religion as Jews practice it, then, no matter what it may connote for Christians. I find myself unconvinced. The Enlightenment forced all religions to declare themselves as such – regardless of what they may historically have been. Insofar as they came under the purview of the modern nation state, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism – it doesnt really matter – all fell into modernitys category of religion. With the division of traditional society into competing provinces of meaning, life became a process of negotiating ones relationship with work, education, home, and religion. As just one more province rather than an overarching canopy, religion became liminoid, Victor Turners word for the realm of human behavior that best approximates play.7 Religion became optional, that is, one of the things we do with our free time. The theoretical notion that only Christianity is about faith, and, therefore, about the lack of it, is irrelevant to the reality in which Judaism, Protestantism, Catholicism, Islam, and so on, must all become religions in order to find acceptance in the modern state – at least, in the modern state as defined by European experience and, by extension, in America, our topic here. As I turn to the rabbinate then, I return to religions harshest critic, Bruce, who predicts that religion will decline to the point of disappear6

7

Talals prime example is Clifford Geertz, who defined religion as a matter of conceptions (Interpretation of Cultures), that is: “(1) a system of symbols which acts to (2) establish powerful, persuasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men [sic] by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that (5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.” See above, note 3.

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ance once it has nothing non-religious left to do in order to justify its continued existence. Under such a circumstance, we can expect modern rabbis to be constantly waging a defensive struggle against the negative impact of the secular state whose very nature is to render religion obsolete. Rabbis will constantly be demonstrating religions value – the “something else” that permits religion to retain its uneasy existence. Rabbinic curricula will display continued efforts to teach rabbis how best to justify religion as worthwhile – not according to its own lights, of course, not, that is, because it is God-given, or because God wants it, or because it provides life after death, a world to come, or any of the other promises inherent in religion itself; but because the secular Jew in a secular society needs it or because, also, the secular society itself is better off with religion than without it. The route to such utilitarian justification is what gives us rabbinic professionalization.

2. Rabbis as Professionals Modernity differentiated work as its own alternative province but then further subdivided areas of work into disparate categories, including what we call the professions. Here too, early sociologists left us a legacy that deserves consideration. The three classic names that stand out are Max Weber, Emile Durkheim, and Herbert Spencer. Weber never did isolate professionals sufficiently. Professionals were subsumed under his larger category of Beruf, whose original meaning had been “a task set by God,” best exemplified by the calling of a medieval monk. Secularized, it became “an obligation which the individual is supposed to feel and does feel toward the content of his professional activity.”8 This “duty in calling” is the basis of capitalist society. Weber thus used Beruf as both calling and profession – and even occupation, insofar as the work one does furthers the modern capitalist spirit. Weber has been summarized as holding that “a person can be described as having a vocation [or calling, beruf] when that individual attaches a very strong sense of purpose to his or her work.”9 “Strong purpose”, “duty”, and “inner calling” are central to Webers professionalization. 8 9

Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1904 – 1905), trans. Talcott Parsons (New York: Charles Scribners Sons, 1958), 54. Richard Swedberg, The Max Weber Dictionary: Key Words and Central Concepts (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005).

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Durkheim too made little headway in the realm of defining professionals. His lifetime contribution lies in the way he saw modernity replacing natural (or as he called it, “mechanical”) with arbitrary (or “organic”) solidarity. The former is Durkheims account of Bergers all-embracing sacred canopy, undifferentiated social life such as that reflected in the Talmud. The latter is modernitys state of functional differentiation into finite provinces of meaning. How, Durkheim asked, could social life cohere, given the breakdown in a unifying sense of social solidarity? His answer came first in a classical study of the division of labor but was adumbrated specifically with regard to professions in a posthumously published work entitled Professional Ethics and Civic Morals. 10 Throughout his life, Durkheim emphasized the role of law in holding social life together, a remnant, perhaps, of his childhood education under the tutelage of his grandfather, a prominent rabbi in Alsace. (He was slated to become a rabbi himself, and, no doubt, studied Talmud at some time in his childhood.) But how does law arise? It can hardly emerge, he thought, with individuals who (following classical economic theory) would necessarily pursue their selfish interests only. It must, therefore, emerge from the social group, whence also comes the very notion of morals. Law and morals require sanctions, however, so Durkheim sought evidence of structures with power enough to guarantee sanctions. The power of sanctions varies with the intensity of the social bonding within the group doing the sanctioning. Professionals band together in groups with strength enough to set standards of professional behavior, whereas merchants and manufacturers do not, says Durkheim. He went so far as to label this essentially “amoral character of economic life” as “a public danger”.11 Despite the suspicion that mercantile associations would merely “mean replacing individual egotism with corporate egotism”, however, he held out hope for the professionalization of business too, a matter of the greatest moral urgency, in his view.12 10 Emile Durkheim, Professional Ethics and Civic Morals (1958; reprint ed. Memphis: General Books, 2010). 11 Ibid., 31. 12 Ibid., 36, 43. Part of Durkheims optimistic, even messianic, hope, rooted in the notion of moral progress that he saw illustrated in his beloved Third Republic. “We have not yet reached the day when man can love all his fellow-creatures as brothers, whatever their faculties, their intellect, or their moral values.… On the other hand, it is certain that the depth of feeling of human fraternity will go on increasing.… As we go on, charity, in its true meaning, becomes ever more significant and so it ceases, as it were, to be optional … and becomes

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From Weber, then, we get an accent on duty and calling; from Durkheim, the notion of self-policing institutions determining the moral obligations inherent in professional responsibility. Finally, there is the legacy of Herbert Spencer, who is wryly remembered these days as generally not being worth remembering. “Who now reads Herbert Spencer?” asked Harvard sociologist Talcott Parsons back in 1937, on his way to affirming, “Spencer is dead.”13 Of the three, however, it may be Spencer who gives us most to think about – despite his social Darwinism, which earned him such calumny that if he is remembered at all, it is “mainly for what his colleagues objected to”.14 His commitment to evolution led him to justify laissez-faire capitalism alongside Englands colonial hegemony as an evolutionary stage that was not just inevitable but also desirable. Committed to LaMarckian, rather than Darwinian, theory, however, he believed the necessary traits for survival by the fittest could be transmitted from generation to generation. However objectionable all of this may seem today, both scientifically and morally, Spencer was a genius who had much to say about professionalization. Spencer divided social institutions according to whether they sustain, distribute, or regulate human life. Sustaining institutions refer to modes of production; distributive institutions organize exchange, trade, and commerce; the regulatory sphere orders and coordinates these other functions. Premodern life is marked largely by “militant” societies marked by centralization, hierarchy, rigid state control, and a domineering regulatory system. Such societies lack incentive for economic innovation and risk taking, however, so they evolve into “industrial” societies that favor individual voluntarism and interdependence of the citizenry in common pursuit of financial well-being. As sustaining and distributive powers grow, however, the regulatory system weakens. As a result, religion becomes important as a source of regulatory morals. In and of itself, none of this requires professions, but the higher form of civilization that industrial democracies provide allows room for a higher-order search for meaning, what Spencer calls the task of “augmenting life.” Doctors, lawyers, artists, and especially clergy arise as bearinstead a strict obligation, that may be the spring of a new institution.” See 163 – 164. 13 Talcott Parsons, The Structure of Social Action (New York: McGraw Hill, 1937), 1. 14 Philip Abrams, cited in Robert Dingwall, Essays on Professions (Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing, 2008), 86.

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ers of expert knowledge, with the self-professed task of enhancing life beyond the elemental chore of satisfying basic human needs of safety and sustenance.15 To Webers emphasis on (1) internalized duty and Durkheims discussion of (2) obligation-producing professional organizations, we can now add Spencers recognition of professionals as (3) life-enhancing holders of (4) specialized knowledge, all of which forms the bedrock of classical sociological theorys understanding of what makes professionals stand out as a unique economic pursuit within the world of work. Yet European sociology never focused on these modest beginnings.16 The true study of professionalization came from two Americans, Talcott Parsons and Everett Hughes. We have already met Parsons, as the dismisser of Spencer. It might equally be said, however, “Who now reads Talcott Parsons anymore?” Isnt Parsons also “dead”? Parsons was a highly theoretical molder of structural functionalism, a variant of the school of thought based loosely on Durkheim, which sought to explain social structures by their ability to preserve the coherent functioning of society. As a primary interpreter of Weber, Parsons stresses the professionals internalization of duty, without which one lacks “integrity”. Like Spencer, he sees professionals specializing in the technical delivery of knowledge, and like Durkheim, he thinks professions offset the disorienting impact of bureaucratic commercialism, which seeks self-interest and establishes class divisiveness (all of this is part and parcel of Parsons overall emphasis on social structure and the need for social order). 15 For discussion of Spencer, cf. Dingwall, Essays, 85 – 94; and Robert Dingwall and Michael D. King, “Herbert Spencer and the Professions: Occupational Ecology Reconsidered,” Sociological Theory 13 (1995): 645 – 659. 16 It “both neglects and resists any focus on professions at all, let alone one that attributes grand social consequences to this particular set of occupations. Not a single continental language either before or after World War II developed indigenously a term synonymous with or generally equivalent to the English term profession. Rather, the terms closest in German, French, and Italian all refer to broader socio-economic and socio-cultural formations. Even today, instead of studying professions in particular, continental sociologists typically study middle classes (Brgertum, bourgeoisie, borghesia) or cultivated middle classes (Bildungsbrgertum, bourgeoisie a talents, borghesia umanistica). They also study middle class callings, those occupations in civil society or positions in the state administration to which middle class people devote themselves (in German, Berufe, Beamte, Stnde).” David Sciulli, Professions in Civil Society and the State (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 27.

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Parsons adds however, the notion of (5) professional selflessness. “Encouragement of the professions is one of the main effective ways of promoting disinterestedness in contemporary society.”17 Professions assume “fiducial responsibilities, an impersonal trust” – that is, they take responsibility for client well-being; or, in academic fields, they advance knowledge with objective concern for the general good. So selfless are they that they are widely seen as taking over tasks once entrusted to family: managing social conflict, treating illness, and so forth.18 We can see why rabbis are particularly enamored of being professionals. Religious life internalizes Webers sense of duty. Rabbinic organizations obey Durkheims demand for professional establishment of norms and obligations. Rabbis are uniquely suited to provide Spencers regulatory morality; they traffic particularly in augmenting life. And they revel in Parsons idealized higher calling, fiduciary trust, primary care for the congregant, and utter selflessness in the face of an economic system that rewards the opposite. Everett Hughes, at the University of Chicago in the early 20th century, furthered the notion of professional trust. Professions, he held, enjoyed not only license to do what they do – every occupation has that – but also (6) the “legal, moral and intellectual” mandate to define what counts as proper conduct in carrying out their work.19 Professions perform critical work for society: healing our bodies, embalming them when we die, listening to the secrets that we tell in therapy, and keeping us out of jail. Trusted with such intimate detail, they claim the privilege of becoming expert in (7) “guilt knowledge,”20 the crimes we commit, our bodi17 Cf. Talcott Parsons, “Remarks on Education and the Professions,” International Journal of Ethics 47 (1937): 365; and idem, “A Sociologist Looks at the Legal Profession,” (1952); reprinted in Talcott Parsons, Essays in Sociology (New York: Free Press, 1954), 374. 18 Talcott Parsons, The Social System, chapter 10. Parsons established this theory as early as 1937 (The Structure of Social Action), and then again with a paper in 1939, where he modified his position so as to integrate it into his general structural-functional perspective. However professions differ, they coalesce with other modes of employment in that they tend to display “rationality, specificity of function and universalism” (“The Professions and Social Structure,” Social Forces 17 [1939]: 467). He returned to the topic briefly in 1951 (The Social System) but had largely abandoned the line of thought by then. A final study of professionalism appeared nonetheless in 1973 (see Talcott Parsons and Gerald M. Platt, The American University [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973]). 19 Everett Hughes, Men and Their Work (Glencoe: Free Press, 1958), 79. 20 Ibid. 80.

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ly addictions, the things we do or think that cause us shame. Rabbis, we may say, are experts in sin. For all of this, they build up a store of trustworthiness. Here too, we see a clear rationale for the claim that rabbis are professionals. Rabbis too hear peoples secrets, trade heavily on peoples trust, and are empowered to intervene in the most intimate details of peoples lives. In sum, then, sociological theory positions rabbis as natural subjects for professionalization. They are, if you like, nothing short of professionals waiting to happen: selfless holders of arcane knowledge, a natural balance to the economics of self-interest, consumed with duty, organized institutionally, self-policing, and increasingly engaged in the intimate detail of their congregants lives. Indeed, the history of modern rabbinic education is replete with efforts to make rabbis over into professionals, as we see from at least one seminary, my case in point here, the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati.21

3. “Professional Development” as a Category of Rabbinic Education My source for studying the rabbinic professional curriculum at the Cincinnati branch of Hebrew Union College (HUC) is a series of catalogues listing courses and descriptions from the 1930s on. The college had been established there by Isaac Mayer Wise in 1875. We saw above how Wises recipe for rabbinic training omitted all reference to the word “professional”. Of the various disciplines nowadays recognized as professional training, only “Hermeneutics, Exegetics, Homiletics” are included by Wise alongside traditional textual subjects on one hand and scientific or theological methods for studying them on the other. But “Hermeneutics, Exegetics, Homiletics” were nothing new. Sermons had been central to Israel Jacobsons 1810 reforms in Westphalia, and their propriety was a subject so hotly debated by traditionalists and reformers that in 1832, Leopold Zunz dedicated an entire book to justifying the sermon as a le21 For curriculum of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, see Ellenson and Bycel, “Seminary of Sacred Learning”, 526 – 591. On Hebrew Union College more generally, see Samuel E. Karff, ed., Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion at One Hundred Years (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1976).

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gitimate part of synagogue services from antiquity on. It comes as no surprise, therefore, to find Israel Bettan, a Cincinnati professor of homiletics and midrash, offering not just one but four courses on sermons in 1930, the opening date for our survey. The faculty had yet to conceptualize preaching as purely professional, however. In addition to courses on “how to” preach, Bettan offered seminars on “Jewish sources for the sermon” and “Jewish preachers of the 16th and 17th centuries” – extensions, that is, of text courses in which Talmudic sources remained probative. Professionalization appears, nonetheless, in such novel offerings as elocution, which included instruction in such things as “training in pantomime, gesture, reading, mechanism of the voice, tone, color, rhythm, and pitch”. Students with “a serious defect of speech” were expected to enroll for private tutorial. An additional field already represented in 1930 was education, well in place by Professor Abraham Franzblau. We saw how homiletics was at least partially cast as a traditional extension of the age-old practice of interpreting Torah. Education too had obvious Jewish precedents, but unlike preaching, it was presented purely as a modern professional discipline: its courses featured exposition of “organizational procedures”, “basic problems of organization, administration and supervision” and “educational psychology and method.” Homiletics had arisen in Germany – prior to the Americanization of the rabbinate and the consequent adoption of professionalization as the new rabbinic raison dÞtre. Education, by contrast, was an American invention, and the paradigm for professional training rather than an extension of rabbinic studies from the past. By 1935, a seminar was being offered specifically for students “who plan to devote their ministry to Jewish educational work.” And by 1939, a special seminar was required of all students holding student congregational positions. Another sign of professionalism in 1930 was the course entitled “Jewish Social Studies”, which introduced rabbis to a broad array of social problems. Abraham Cronbach had delivered a series of lectures on the subject in 1920,22 and already in 1922, it had become a “field” of its own, duly recognized by the appointment of Cronbach as “Professor of Social Studies.” The 1939 – 1940 catalogue describes the course as including

22 “The Ministry of the Jewish By-Ways,” Hebrew Union College Monthly (1921).

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… family welfare, child welfare, refugee aid, public assistance, institutions for defectives, dependents, and delinquents, transiency, foreign benevolences, social hygiene, social security, the social approach to health, housing, recreation, and vocational fulfillment, industrial relations, civil liberties, communal organization (including public relations, fund raising, and anti-defamation) and the religious approach to problems of social amelioration (including those of marital adjustment and of institutional chaplaincy).

A sure sign that the new field was considered “professionalism” rather than (like preaching) an appendage of traditional rabbinical training is the note that the course would feature “lectures … delivered by Dr. Louis A. Lurie,” a specialist in “mental hygiene.” Lurie was an established psychiatrist at Cincinnati General Hospital and the Jewish Hospital there as well. One of his medical papers was carried in the 1919 Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry, for example.23 By 1942, Lurie had joined the HUC faculty as “Instructor in Social Hygiene.” By then, counseling (sometime called the chaplaincy and pastoral training) was on its way into the curriculum as yet another area in which expectations of the rabbi seemed to demand professionalization. In 1939 – 1940, counseling and education were combined in a course by Franzblau on “childhood and youth guidance.” It offered “methods of personal guidance and the fields in which it can be applied in church [!] work”, and was offered “at the request of the Cincinnati Christian Educators Association … open only to ministers and professional [!] religious workers.” The clear breakaway of professionalism from traditional Jewish subjects can be deduced from the fact that the course in question began as a church-sponsored phenomenon and that it was offered “for graduate credit in the School of Education, University of Cincinnati,” a completely secular (and professionalized) milieu. We should wonder how it is that new fields like education and counseling are born. Clearly, they must respond, somehow, to felt needs in the environment. But they owe something also to the people offering them. At one extreme, we imagine a need expressed by the times, for which an instructor is then found to satisfy the need. At the other extreme, we observe a professor bringing a vision of new courses to the seminary even before the need for them is apparent to the rest of the faculty and administration. Even there, however, we must imagine the professor re23 Louis A. Lurie, “Pernicious Anemia with Mental Symptoms: Observations on the Varying Extent and Probable Duration of Central Nervous System Lesions in Four Necropsied Cases,” Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry 2/1 (1919): 67 – 109.

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sponding to the times. Education represents the first option: it had become a concern long before Franzblau arrived on the scene, even though Franzblau did so much to explode it into maturity. Spiritual counseling, however, seems more likely to be the brainchild of Cronbach, whose personal history made him likely to be in touch with spiritual issues – a child of a small Midwestern city, he had early on been moved by love of God and hymns as an expression of that love.24 Another issue is the extent to which professional courses represent specifically Jewish versions of offerings already represented in Christian seminaries. To the extent that professionalism is a trend affecting all religions in modernity, seminaries of all religions should be touched by the necessity to respond similarly. In some cases, we can trace the market need to these general social forces. Religious education had come about as a response to the generational conflict facing immigrants whose second-generation children threatened religious continuity. With the imposition of public-school education and the absence of religion from the public domain, American synagogues were saddled with the mandate of transmitting Jewish culture using modern methods of pedagogy. The case for counseling is more complex. The original course, announced, in effect, by Cronbachs lectures of 1920, was also a response to the Great Migration. Cronbach sought ways for rabbis to respond to those needs, and Luries appointment as “Instructor in Social Hygiene” shows how little there was even an accepted term for the field at the time. Psychology had yet to establish itself as a necessary tool for rabbis dealing with average congregational affairs. That was to come only after the war, as part of the social dislocation that occurred with the Jewish move to suburbia. The particularly Jewish aspect to that move arose from the fact that suburbia had been alien territory where Jews were not wanted. Outright anti-Semitism, which was common prior to the war,25 virtually ceased upon discovery of Hitlers excesses. But under the radar screen, Jews were still not welcome. In 1947, novelist Laura Hobson explored the theme in a best-seller entitled Gentlemans Agreement, which became a successful movie as well.

24 Cf. Abraham Cronbach, “Autobiography,” American Jewish Archives 11 (1959): 8 – 11. 25 In broadcasts by Catholic priest Father Coughlin and further recrimination by his Protestant equivalent Gerald L. K. Smith.

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The stresses of suburbia, however, were not strictly Jewish alone. Suburban families, in general, were reeling from the fact that husbands now commuted long distances to city employment, leaving mothers of large baby-boomer families abandoned to handle the home front. As we shall see in more detail later, this was the Cold War era, in which President Eisenhower urged all Americans to fight “godless Communism” by joining religions of their choice. So suburban Jews built and joined synagogues which (given the absence of the fathers) catered to children and their mothers. Synagogue architecture specialized in huge school wings, social halls, and sisterhoods, which served as support groups for the women. Precisely then did psychological counseling emerge as a tactic, especially for mothers under pressure or for their children, who were customarily slotted into sessions with therapists. In 1946, the year before Hobson wrote her expos of latent anti-Semitism, another book appeared on the American scene: a best seller by a liberal rabbi, a graduate of Hebrew Union College, in fact, named Joshua Loth Liebman, entitled Peace of Mind. The minute it came out (1946), nearly every educated American was devouring it. It quickly made it to the New York Times best-seller list and stayed there, as did Baptist minister Harry Emerson Fosdicks On Being A Real Person (1943) and, somewhat later (1953), Methodist minister Norman Vincent Peales The Power of Positive Thinking. All three men were liberal religionists at war with their more conservative colleagues for whom psychology was godless Freudianism. Works such as these popularized psychology as a legitimate pursuit for middle-class Jewish (and Christian) families. No wonder rabbis of the 1950s were being trained in psychological counseling. As early as 1942 – 1943, with the war still on but psychoanalytic theory already a hot topic among religionists, Cronbach introduced a course on “The Psychology of Religion”. By 1948, Franzblau, already “Professor of Jewish Religious Education”, was named “Professor of Pastoral Psychiatry” as well, and by 1949 – 1950, a new course, offered at the University of Cincinnati by psychiatrist Dr. Henry D. Lederer and entitled “Abnormal Psychology”, was opened to HUC students for elective credit. Lederer was hired the next year as a full-time HUC faculty member. In the ultimate nod to professionalism, courses like this one no longer even had rabbis teaching them. A second example from the same year is a seminar directed by the associate professor of psychiatry at the Cincinnati Medical College, and a social worker with the Jewish Family Service Bu-

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reau of Cincinnati; sessions were “conducted by staff members of various social agencies and of the Central Clinic (psychiatric) of the Cincinnati General Hospital.” We see a pattern here: new professional disciplines make their way tentatively into the curriculum but then take up more and more space within it, attracting new faculty appointments and adjunct instructors, who then add more classes still. To this day, homiletics, education, and counseling retain pride of place in the training of rabbis at Hebrew Union College. The pioneers who began them are gone, but others have taken their place. New fields are like colonial outposts in a foreign land: they inevitably grow with time, competing with longtime residents (in this case, the standard disciplines) and with each other for space and attention. Counseling courses, renamed, generally – “Human Relations”, for example – responded in the 1960s to such novel social concerns as the military chaplaincy (during the Vietnam War), sexual ethics (in the era of “free love”), and sensitivity training (the period of small group work and experimental communes). By the 1970s, courses turned to medical ethics (including a response to Kbler-Rosss enormously influential book On Death and Dying), marriage counseling, and the self-understanding of rabbis. It takes no great foresight to realize that curricula must inevitably become overloaded with what rabbis are presumed to have to know as professionals. As time passes and new needs are intuited, other colonists stake out territory in what becomes known as a department for rabbinic professionalization: “Professional Development” itself.26 The latest in a series of developments is the discovery of “leadership” and “organizational development.” The first reference to leadership in Cincinnatis catalogues occurs back in 1950: a “Supplementary Course Required of Candidates for Ordination” intended to provide “methods of improving leadership and participation in panels and round-table discussions.” This is hardly what we now mean by leadership, however. We now think of it as tied firmly to the area of directing organizations. By 1973, students were instructed to take practica in the fields of “education, human relations/community organization, and homiletics.” But again, what we have here is hardly organizational leadership. Only in 1997 do we find a separate category named “Management Theory and Skills”, offered by Professor Samuel Joseph – another instance where an environ26 First noted in 1982 – 1984 catalogue; prior, the preferred term had been “Rabbinical skills”.

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mental need is hastened by the appearance of a faculty member who pioneers the field within the college curriculum. Organizational leadership has become a ubiquitous topic in America. Bookstores stock shelf after shelf on the subject – the only parallel example being self-help and spirituality, which is just now inundating rabbinic education. We shall turn to it shortly, but for now, we can sum up our curricular research by linking management concerns to the decline of liberal religion and of synagogue centrality in America, a trend predicted by Bruce, as we saw. I shall return to the threat to liberal religions longevity, but first, let us complete our analysis of rabbinic professionalization by noting that redefining rabbis as professionals does solve the rabbis need to be of consequence to moderns, even though it provides as many problems as it solves.

4. Professionalization Revisited To the classical claims adduced above for qualifying as a professional, we can add others: that professionals are uniquely assumed to know what is best for the client, for example. By that standard, librarians have been denied professional status insofar as their work requires no moral compass – if, that is, they supply what the client wants without regard for an objectivized view of their own best interest. Reading the wrong book is not the guilt-knowledge demanded by Hughes.27 True professionals, by contrast, “dictate what is good or evil for the client.… The premise is that, because he lacks the requisite theoretical background, the client cannot diagnose his own needs.”28 Alternatively, a profession is “an occupation based upon specialized intellectual study and training, the purpose of which is to supply skilled service or advice to others for a definite fee or salary.”29 Or maybe it requires “possession of (1) a basis of systematic theory, (2) authority recognized by the clientele of the professional group, (3) broader community sanction and approval of this authority, (4) a code of ethics regulating relations of professional persons with clients and with 27 William Goode, “The Librarian: From Occupation to Profession?” The Library Quarterly 31/4 (1961): 306 – 318, reprinted in Howard M. Vollmer and Donald L. Mills, eds., Professionalism (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1966), 34 – 43. 28 Ernest Greenwood, “Attributes of a Profession,” Social Work 2/3 (July 1957): 44 – 55; reprinted in Vollmer and Mills, Professionalism, 10 – 19. 29 A. M. Carr-Saunders, Herbert Spencer lecture given at Oxford in 1928; reprinted in Vollmer and Mills, Professionalism, 4.

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colleagues, and (5) a professional culture sustained by formal professional associations.”30 According to the Oxford Dictionary, professionalism is simply “a profession or calling, especially one that involves some branch of advanced learning or science.”31 Are any of these enough? How does one negotiate ones way through the maze of requirements laid down by this social scientist or that one? Recognizing the pitfalls in deciding who was a professional and who not, Hughes himself had already backed away from proposing a necessary and sufficient definition, leading later scholars to suggest that defining a professional is akin to Webers arrival at an ideal type, a package of preferred characteristics that we may never completely attain, “an empirical ideal which can only exist in a Platonic heaven.”32 There may even be no acid test of professional status whatsoever, as Hughes recognized when he asked, quite famously now, of real estate agents, “Are they professionals?” and jettisoned the question as misleading. To announce who or what you are is always to arrive with “a price tag and a calling card”, so that “professional” is a “symbolic label for a desired status, the claim to be someone of worth.”33 It is a claim to social standing and recognition, more than it is an actual thing to which we point in order to denote an actual genus of work. Perhaps, then, the very question of what makes a rabbi a professional is poorly chosen; we might better ask why rabbis want to claim professional status in the first place, especially given the fact that rabbinic professionalization runs counter to the traditional understanding of rabbinic ordination. Rabbis do have professional organizations that provide the moral mandate most theorists require, but they claim divine origin for that mandate – they do not, that is, refer it back ultimately only to themselves, and they cannot withdraw rabbinic ordination the way doctors or lawyers withdraw a license to practice. They also do not give necessary priority to their congregants best interests. Rabbis typically urge the performance of commandments (mitzvoth); they urge social justice even when acting justly conflicts with self-interest – their audience is not a customer who is always right, but also not a client or patient who assumes 30 Greenwood, “Attributes of a Profession”, as summarized by Vollmer and Mills, Professionalism, 9. 31 Graham Cheetham and Geoff Chivers, Professions, Competence and Informal Learning (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2005), 3 – 13. 32 Philip Elliott, The Sociology of Professions (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), 3. 33 Hughes, Men and Their Work, 42 – 45.

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rabbis know what is best for them and whose very arrival in the rabbis office implies the desire to do whatever the rabbi suggests. Professional schools prepare their charges for the attainment of “credentials, a career ladder, upward mobility, [and] organizational and cultural power”,34 hardly what the Rabbis of antiquity had in mind when they instructed, “Do not use the Torah as a spade to dig with.” These internal conflicts should be problem enough for the rabbinic claim to professionalization. To make matters worse, however, a strain of revisionist sociological research questions the entire stream of thought that treats professionals so royally.35 What Parsons saw as social stability may more likely be the ideological excuse for social control. The vaunted professional absence of self-interest can hardly be maintained when professional organizations establish monopolies as much as they protect the quality of service providers – Weber himself recognized professional training as “the desire for restricting the supply for these positions [professions] and their monopolization by the owners of educational certificates”.36 Professionals jockey for position in a crowded ecological field, “struggling among themselves to carve out a niche in the field of work”, so as to gain their own unchallenged “jurisdiction” over a piece of occupational territory and avoid more menial work that can be left to others.37 Sciulli concludes his survey by citing George Bernard Shaw from The Doctors Dilemma: “All profes34 Eleanor Meyers, “A Sociology of Ministerial Preparation,” in James P. Wind, Russell Burck, Paul F. Camenisch, and Dennis P. McCann, eds., Clergy Ethics in a Changing Society (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991), 232. 35 Cf., e. g., Eliot Friedson, The Profession of Medicine (New York: Dodd Mead, 1970); Frank Parkin, Class Inequality and Political Order (New York: Praeger, 1971); Terence Johnson, Professions and Power (London: Macmillan, 1972); Magali S. Larson, The Rise of Professionalism: A Sociological Analysis (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977); Randall Collins, The Credential Society: An Historical Study of Education and Stratification (New York: Academic Press, 1979); Paul Starr, The Social Transformation of American Medicine: The Rise of a Sovereign Profession and the Making of a Vast Industry (New York: Basics Books, 1982); and Andrew D. Abbott, The System of Professions: An Essay in the Division of Expert Labor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). 36 H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills, From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology (New York: Galaxy, 1958), 241. 37 Cf., e. g., discussions in Dingwall, Essays on Professions, 94 – 96; Keith M. Macdonald, The Sociology of the Professions (London: Sage Publications, 1995), 8 – 11; and David Sciulli, Professions in Civil Society.

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sions are conspiracies against the laity.” What we say about the marketplace goes for professions as well: Caveat emptor. In part, the revisionists go too far. Professions may indeed suffer from more self-interest than classical theory recognized, but they are not on that account altogether venal. Rightly or wrongly, professions are perceived, anyway, as objectively based, scientifically oriented, and good for people. All the reasons I cited earlier for rabbis to see professionalism as their next and most natural evolutionary step still hold; if professional status also redounds to its holders best advantage, all the better. But professionalism is not without its conflicts, so the question still stands: why have clergy in general, rabbis in particular, been on a 60-year long mission to see themselves as professionals? To answer lies in a return to the secularization theory of Bruce, coupled with the uniqueness of the American spiritual marketplace, a subject to which we now turn.

5. The American Anomaly I alluded before to the possibility that America is an anomaly. Unlike Europe where religion has largely faded away (except, pace Bruce, where it manages to do something else), America has remained religious to its core. In the wake of World War II, just as Europe was entering its most secular era, America was redefining itself as a religious country. “Our form of government,” Eisenhower announced, “has no sense unless it is founded in a deeply felt religious faith, and I dont care what it is.” He carefully avoided defining faith in a way that might offend anyone. Rather, he described it loosely as “honesty, decency, fairness, service, that sort of thing”38, but he did call on people to be religious. And religious they were. “Among young adults in their 20s in the 1950s … weekly church attendance skyrocketed from 31 % in February 1950 to an all-time record for young adults of 51 % in April 1957.”39 38 See Jon Meacham, American Gospel: God the Founding Fathers, and the Making of a Nation (New York: Random House, 2006), 176 – 177. Eisenhower also was the first president to invite Billy Graham to the White House, and it was under Eisenhower also that the words “under God” were added to the pledge of allegiance. For the original Bellamy version of the pledge and the altered version under Eisenhower, see James P. Moore, Jr., One Nation Under God: The History of Prayer in America (New York: Doubleday, 2005), 337. 39 Putnam and Campbell, American Grace, 14.

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America had actually looked positively upon religion from the very beginning, neither supporting it nor wiping it out, but setting it free to succeed or fail according to market forces. Several theorists, Lawrence Iannaconne and Rodney Stark, for example,40 believe that American religion survived, and was even strengthened, precisely because its leaders were forced to compete for the free market. By contrast, Caesaropapist churches (as they have been called)41 – churches, that is, that are tied to governmental support and to old-guard political interests (Anglicans in England, Catholics in Italy, Lutherans in Germany) had trouble sustaining themselves in the wake of opposition to conservative interests. (The most noisy case was the French Revolution itself.) By being freed from politics, American religion was left to stand or fall on its own, and stand it did, insofar as churches demonstrated the necessary market competence to redesign their religious product as performing what its market deemed desirable. Combining the Stark-Iannaconne market theory with Bruce, we can say that where religion is inextricably tied to politics, such that it receives governmental help in sustaining itself regardless of public opinion, it tends not to compete in the market and fails to convince people to join it. Where religion must fend for itself, it manages to find things to do, including non-religious things, to justify its own survival. Professionalization is the preeminent way in which American Judaism redesigned itself as an appropriate “something else” that it could do. As Americans felt the successive needs for modern education, handling social problems, providing counsel and solace, and (most recently) redesigning failing institutions (most notably, synagogues) by strong and farseeing leadership, rabbinic curricula have responded appropriately. This is not as crass as it sounds – it need not be a case of pandering, much less of prostitution. Indeed, the market-driven quality of American religion may be its strength, not its weakness, especially today when the market is driven by a thirst for spirituality, a genuinely religious product, after all. This American thirst for spirituality goes to the very essence of America itself, for American history is awash in spiritual awakenings. The chal40 See, e. g., the summative account, Robert B. Ekelund, Jr., Robert F. H bert, and Robert D. Tollison, The Marketplace of Christianity (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2006). 41 Jos Casanova, Religions in the Modern World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994).

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lenge appeared full-blown in 1743, when, as part of the “first spiritual awakening”, parish ministers who charged itinerant preachers with poaching on their territory convinced the Connecticut state legislature to direct constables to escort “vagrant ministers” out of the colony.42 A century or so later, Weberian routinization set in as independent spiritualists settled down to form new churches – the Campbellites, Disciples of Christ, and so on. But with regularity, new awakenings would occur, most recently in our own time, when, again, mainstream religion has been under attack for being aspiritual. William James chronicled the story, as he saw it, in his 1901 – 1902 series of lectures that got published as Varieties of Religious Experience (1902) – still mandatory reading for an understanding of American religion. He celebrated the Transcendentalists and independent spiritual seekers like himself, as opposed to established churches, which he branded “religions wicked practical partner, the spirit of corporate dominion” and its “wicked intellectual partner” as well, “the spirit of dogmatic dominion.”43 Churches, he thought were corporate, imperial, dogmatic, and deadening to the essential religious impulse. One hundred years after James, Charles Taylor pronounced James prescient of our own time, when, again, privatization and spiritual search are the norm.44 James also identified another phenomenon associated with the antichurch revolutions: healing – in his case, the mind-cure movement (as he named it)45 and even the theosophic ramblings of Madame Blavatzky, among others, which proved attractive. In our time, we find spirituality as “self-help”, and an accent on even the clergy making sure that they take care of their inner spiritual selves. The distinctively American pattern of pitting organized church against privatized spirituality is once again at a high. We find relatively little secular denunciation of the religious enterprise, much less plunking for atheism, despite the recent spate of literature arguing atheisms case.46 42 Martin E. Marty, Pilgrims in Their Own Land: 500 Years of Religion in America (1984: New York: Penguin Books, 1985), 120. 43 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902: Modern Library Edition, New York: Random House, 1994), 280. 44 Charles Taylor, Varieties of Religion Today: William James Revisited (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002). 45 “A psychic type to be studied with respect.” William James, Varieties, 110. 46 See, e. g., Sam Harris, The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason (New York: W. W. Norton, 2004); Daniel C. Dennett, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon (New York: Penguin, 2006); Richard Dawkins,

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Americans are insufficiently intellectual to care much for that sort of thing. They vote with their feet, staying away from church and synagogue, but seeking meaning in Ashrams, meditation, hiking, and the arts. Jews are cultural enough to love the arts, physical enough to enjoy hiking, and exceptionally well represented in mainstream alternatives like yoga; most of them still stop short of ashrams, and even those who like music, hiking, and yoga have had trouble associating themselves fully with being “spiritual”. Nonetheless, even in Jewish circles, although Madame Blavatzky is history, healing services have returned, and it is quite common to find meditation services side by side with standard worship, even in more traditional milieux which focus on the equally traditional worship style known as davening. Perhaps the most successful experiment in post-graduate rabbinic education today is the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, which has begun to offer courses, at least in the New York branch of Hebrew Union College, and which takes record numbers of rabbis and cantors to workshops marked by silence and by study of Hasidic texts that explore ones interiority. Spiritual seekers are equally likely to be found in the Jewish Renewal Movement, a m lange of Jewish tradition and new-age practice;47 in experimental worship by an “adventure rabbi” who begins with the claim that “gone are the days when Jews felt obligated to belong to a synagogue” and then promises “a cutting edge model of synagogue life” with wilderness trips into mountain and desert as “the spirituality of the great outdoors”;48 and in designer-variety life-cycle rituals offered in such experiments as Denvers “Judaism Your Way”, the opportunity for Jews to plan, develop, and celebrate rites of passage without belonging to synagogues.49 The God Delusion (Great Britain: Bantam Press, 2006); Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (New York: Twelve, Hachette Book Group, 2009). 47 Its website, https://www.aleph.org/, describes itself as offering “meaningful learning rooted in Torah and tradition, Kabbalah and Hasidism combined with a modern consciousness that is politically progressive, egalitarian and environmentally aware”. 48 See http://www.adventurerabbi.org/about.htm. 49 Its website, http://www.judaismyourway.org/about-us-2/history-mission-vision/, markets itself to “those not affiliated with existing institutions; those otherwise disengaged from active Jewish life; interfaith couples and families; LGBT individuals, couples, and families; Jewish plus individuals and families, that is, those who spirituality and identity encompasses more than Judaism; and individuals and families of all financial means”.

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We are witnessing an overall shift in American Jewish identity: a movement from ethnicity to spirituality. Prior to the current generation now reaching maturity, Jews of North America took their cues from the culture they inherited out of Eastern Europe. Their parents or grandparents arrived with pride in being Jewish and strong identification with Jewish peoplehood, but a weak sense of anything religious beyond the traditional ethnic folkways and sensibilities. They were Jews because Jewish history made them so; they claimed a fierce loyalty to Jewish continuity in the face of the Holocaust, an intense pride in Israel as homeland and state, and a sense that the world was inevitably divided between “us and them”, a divide that could not be breached in any case. These, however, were attitudes that began disappearing in the 1960s, when, for a variety of demographic reasons,50 Jewish solidarity declined, intermarriage increased, and ethnic memories grew dim. Less and less the question was, “How shall we be Jewish?” More and more it became, “Why should I be Jewish altogether?” The result has been a search for spiritual moorings, for that inner and deepest form of identity that philosopher Charles Taylor calls our “moral space”. The most telling evidence of the shift came from a study of Jewish spirituality conducted in 2009.51 The study utilized questions already correlated to spirituality scores in the general, largely Protestant, population and was able to arrive at five indices of spiritual engagement: a Spiritual Inclination Scale, a Spiritual Mentorship Scale, an Involvement with God Scale, a Religion and Prayer Scale, and a Spiritual Experience Scale. To no ones surprise, Jewish respondents scored significantly lower on all five scales. Much of the problem, however, is linguistic – a lack of authentically Jewish language to discuss issues of God, prayer, and (with the exception of halakhic practice) religion generally. Secular Jews do not use sentences such as the survey inquired about: Have you devoted effort to a spiritual life in the last twelve months? Do you talk with a clergy person about spiritual concerns? Is relating to God important to you? Is regular worship or prayer important to your religious or spiritual life? This was, as I say, expected.

50 See Robert Wuthnow, The Restructuring of American Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988). 51 Steven M. Cohen and Lawrence A. Hoffman, “How Spiritual Are Americas Jews? Narrowing the Spirituality Gap Between Jews and Other Americans,” www.Synagogue3000.org (March 2009, number 4).

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What was not expected, however, was the differential between generational responses. On all five scales, Jews of lower age scored higher than their elders.52 More significantly we subdivided these younger Jewish respondents into three categories: Orthodox, children of two born Jewish parents, and children of fewer than two born Jewish parents (one or both were born non-Jewish, generally Christian). The second category (having two born Jewish parents) corresponds most closely to the average attendees of Conservative day schools, but still in the Conservative camp. They scored low, akin to their elders. The third category is most represented in Reform or unaffiliated circles, and they scored higher, as did Orthodox respondents (who scored the highest).53 Jewish secularism is faltering, while Jewish religiosity of a new and different kind is burgeoning. That new and different kind takes three forms: (1) a return to tradition, usually through the revival of Orthodoxy; (2) new-age technique and experiential Jewish striving on the communal margins; and (3) a creative search for spirituality in non-Orthodox synagogues willing to experiment with ritual and with God. The outer limits of the actual Orthodox revival are uncertain – how many Jews will master the necessary expertise and abide by Orthodox communal regimen of halakhah, after all? And one wonders also how many Jews will be moved to attain the Hebrew competence that traditional davening requires. The growth market for the liberal spirituality search, however, to some extent fueled by intermarriage with Christians who expect Judaism to be a religion, not just a form of ethnicity or secularity, is potentially quite large indeed – and growing. I return then to the current changes in rabbinic education, the addition of leadership and spirituality to the curricula – patent efforts to respond to the threat to our Jewish institutions as we know them, synagogues first among them. Several recent studies of congregational life support the Bruce hypotheses even for America, where there is mounting evidence that churches and synagogues are in serious difficulty. Even the 52 The relative numbers according to age group: Spiritual Inclination scale – 14 (over age 65), 21 (age 35 – 60), and 28 (under age 35); Spiritual Mentorship scale – 19, 22, and 28; Involvement with God Scale – 32, 36, and 42; Religion and Prayer Scale – 19, 22, and 27; Spiritual Experience Scale – 20, 22, and 25. 53 The relative numbers according to category: Spiritual Inclination scale – 14 (two born Jewish parents), 32 (less than two born Jewish parents), and 47 (Orthodox); Spiritual Mentorship scale – 19, 28, and 57; Involvement with God Scale – 32, 41, and 70; Religion and Prayer Scale – 18, 21, and 75; Spiritual Experience Scale – 18, 26, and 45.

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growth of right-wing mega-churches, the success story of the 1980s and 90s, has slowed down; all the more so do liberal churches and synagogues find themselves in difficulty. Sociologist Mark Chaves has been quoted as holding that denying the long-term disappearance of religion in America is like denying the long-term impact of global warming. He contends that “no indicator of traditional religious belief or practice is going up”.54 Putnam and Campbell concur: a generalized scale for intensity of religiosity relative to age finds the highest positive score for people over age 65 and then a steady decline until you reach the lowest negative score, for those under 35.55 A 2010 Pew study discovered that “Americans ages 18 to 29 are considerably less religious than older Americans. Fewer young adults belong to any particular faith than older people do today. They also are less likely to be affiliated than their parents and grandparents generations were when they were young,” and while it may be that religiosity will increase with age, it is more probable that we are watching a trend: older Americans were raised to be religious and younger ones are not – and may continue that way.56 At the same time, however, the search for spirituality remains alive and well, especially among young people, where “almost 20 % of people under 40 now describe themselves as spiritual but not religious, up from about 10 % in 1998.”57 We are back in the era of William James, but now the churches (and synagogues) are on the defensive. The question before us is whether the rabbinate can rise to the occasion and transform synagogues into bastions of spiritual energy. It will take more than professional development to accomplish this. At least equal in importance will be the readjustment of rabbis and of the synagogues they lead to the spiritual malaise that constitutes the current American temperament. It will mean redirecting congregational energies beyond the purely ethnic and cultural agendas that have constituted synagogue life for close to a century. It will necessitate expanding rabbinic education to appreciate ways in which Jewish tradition can speak meaningfully to Jews and to non-Jews, who seek meaning in their lives. And it will take leadership of the sort suggested by Max Weber, 54 Mark Chaves, American Religion: Contemporary Trends (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011). Italics his. 55 Putnam and Campbell, Amazing Grace; see chart, p. 25, and discussion, p. 25. Since the 1970s, Americans have slowly become less observant (p. 25). 56 “Religion among the Millennials,” The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, February 17, 2010. 57 Mark Chaves, American Religion, 40.

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that indefatigable critic of modernity who first gave us the notion of Beruf, a “calling” or “vocation” – still, perhaps, the best understanding of what the rabbinate uniquely entails. It was Weber who predicted the routinization of modern life and its containment in the interlocking structures of bureaucracy. There was much to recommend this bureaucratization and the consequent enshrinement of legal/rational authority, as opposed to the vagaries of traditional and charismatic authority which had been the two primary modes of power prior to the onset of the modern condition. From Weber, however, we get also a deep suspicion of bureaucracy as what we might now call “management without leadership.” True leadership, Weber continued to insist, derives only from vision, and vision is unlikely to come from the “iron cage” (as Weber described it) of bureaucracy. Recent studies of congregational life have emphasized intentionality and vision emanating from clergy who step outside the bureaucracy and level a prophetic critique upon church and synagogue policy.58 To be sure, successful clergy leaders need to work closely with the bureaucratic mechanism of boards, committees, and all the other paraphernalia of modern decision-making. To be sure also, they need professional skills to negotiate their way through the process that traditionally based rulers and charismatically gifted demagogues did not have to worry about. But charisma, as Weber understood it, need not entail demagoguery. It could be something quite benign, albeit effective – akin to what Christian usage implies by describing someones charism. “The charismatic leader is always a radical”, however, “who challenges established practice by going to the root of the matter.”59 Rabbis who succeed in transforming their synagogues have been shown to display a kind of “soft charisma”60 fully in tune with the best facets of democratic modern life. If synagogues are successfully to meet the needs of our time, they will require rabbis with soft charisma, able to address the current condition and committed to letting Jewish tradition speak with a newfound spiritual accent. 58 Cf., Diana Butler Bass, The Practicing Congregation (Herndon, VA: Alban Institute, 2004); Lawrence A. Hoffman, “Transforming Congregations,” CCAR Journal (Winter 2009), 26 – 40; Isa Aron, Steven M. Cohen, Lawrence A. Hoffman, and Ari Y. Kelman, Sacred Strategies: Transforming Synagogues from Functional to Visionary (Herndon, VA: Alban Institute, 2010). 59 Reinhard Bendix, Max Weber: An Intellectual Portrait (Garden City, NY: Anchor Books 1960), 300. 60 Aron et al., Sacred Strategies, 188.

The Protestant Pastoral Office: Its Self-Understanding and Its Challenges Today Eilert Herms The Protestant pastoral office is an institution in any case.1 Institutions are de facto always the product of a goal-oriented interaction by thisworldly, real-life persons.2 Thus, whoever desires to understand institutions must understand them on the basis of their own self-understanding,3 whereby “to understand” them means to grasp them and deal with them.4 This is true also for the institution of the Protestant pastoral office. The self-understanding of institutions and the consensus among the interactive agents that supports them can be implicit, not explicit, as in all informal institutions in daily life. On the other hand, an explicit selfunderstanding and an explicit consensus lie at the root of all formal institutions, a consensus that – precisely because it is a consensus between persons – is built upon and is preserved only through explicit communication. This, too, is true for the Protestant pastoral office. The communicative maintenance of the explicit consensus, which is necessary for the existence of formal institutions, demands an objective symbolic representation of that consensus that is to be maintained communicatively as its nucleus over generations. This, too, is the case with the Protestant pastoral office: the objective symbolic representation of 1 2 3

4

Cf. Eilert Herms, “Institution,” in Evangelisches Soziallexikon (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001), 748 – 752. Cf. Eilert Herms, “Person, fundamentaltheologisch, dogmatisch, ethisch,” in RGG4 VI, 1123 – 1129. This is true also for every attempt at an understanding “from outside” in the relevant, non-theological social sciences, for example sociology: They can do justice to their object only when they in each case include an effort at understanding oriented toward the self-understanding of the Protestant pastoral office and its result, that is, in each case their understanding of the self-understanding of the pastoral office. On this use of “understanding” following Heidegger, cf. Eilert Herms, “Zusammenleben im Widerstreit der Menschenbilder. Die christliche Sicht,” in idem, ed., Zusammenleben im Widerstreit der Weltanschauungen (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 102 – 117.

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the consensus to be maintained communicatively in regard to the Protestant pastoral office is present in the relevant statements that are made about the pastoral office in the confessional texts from the Reformation century as they are recorded in the preambles of all the current church orders in Protestant churches as their current valid confessional basis.5 For this reason, I will proceed so that, first of all, I trace out the consensus on the pastoral office contained in the confessional texts (1), then provide some indications of the difficulties and results of the communicative appropriation of this consensus in history and the present (2), and turn finally to the challenges facing the Protestant pastoral office under the conditions of the modern day (3).

1. The Reformation Consensus on the Pastoral Office The Reformation consensus on the pastoral office appears in two prima vista clearly defined forms: in its Wittenberg (that is, Lutheran) form and in its Genevan (that is, Calvinist) form. The clear prima vista difference exists in the fact that the consensus on the pastoral office along the Wittenberg line appears as an implication of the dogmatic consensus in ecclesiology, but along the Genevan line as a direct repristination of an understanding of the office adopted directly from the New Testament. But, this difference is only a prima vista difference: Looked at more closely, the reference to the witness of the biblical canon is not a proprium only of the Reformed doctrine of the office, but rather a basic feature of Genevan theology in general, and the biblicistic doctrine of the office in the Genevan tradition is to be understood in the framework of this pronounced biblicism present throughout the Genevan Reformation as an implication of its likewise biblicistic ecclesiology. Conversely, the formation of Wittenberg doctrine, which orients itself directly on the nature of the matter – that is, on the constitution of the belief in Christ, which is decisive for salvation and, namely, eschatologically justifying, and which originates from the churchs witness of faith and revelation – is, for its part, inspired by the conviction that it must hold fast to the view of the nature of the matter also against the resistance 5

As an example: the most recent basic order of a member church in the Evangelische Kirche Deutschlands (EKD; Protestant Church of Germany), namely, the Evangelische Kirche in Mitteldeutschland, and the basic order of the EKD itself.

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of the bishops true to Rome for precisely the reason that this view coincides with the view of the biblical scriptures, which, for the Reformers, are considered to be the decisive – and also, if necessary, critically applicable against the teaching of the Bishop of Rome – canon of the original tradition. Seen in this way, the difference between Wittenberg and Geneva is rather a difference in the understanding of Scripture than in the understanding of the church and the office. This had the result that the latter, the understanding of the office, then is seen as objectively identical also in the Leuenberg Concord, which since 1973 is decisive for the determination of the relationship between the two Reformation traditions6 : the understanding of the office is objectively an implication of the understanding of the church, which for its part stands in the context of Reformation fundamental theology, that is, in the context of the Reformation understanding of the constitution of the eschatologically justifying faith in Christ through the external word of the proclamation of the Gospel and through the Spirit of truth that makes this external word accessible, or, in short, in the context of the Reformation understanding of the constitution of the faith in Christ through “the Gospel as the power of God” (Rom 1:16). As a result, the following view can be considered today as a general Reformation understanding: The faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ, the Messiah, who reveals the truth about the Kingdom of God, that is, about the lordship of the Creator over the creation; or expressed in Johannine terms, the faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the incarnation of the logos of the Creator, that is, of the eternal meaning of creation – this faith bestows a share in eternal life because it, through the light of the paschal appearance of the Crucified as the Resurrected One exalted to the right hand of God, makes that communion transparent that took up Jesus among human beings as that which it was from the beginning, but which, before Easter, could not be recognized as being: namely, as the irrevocable communion with God Himself, in which God Himself has taken up human beings to Himself, in which He Himself reconciles them with Himself, and in which He lets them live beyond death in Him and with Him in eternal perfection. The faith in Christ gives a share in eternal salvation because it is a specific assurance of communion: namely, the assurance – created through the Spirit-produced view of the Crucified as the Resurrected One – that 6

Wilhelm Hffmeier, ed., Konkordie reformatorischer Kirchen in Europa (Leuenberger Konkordie), trilingual edition (Frankfurt/Main: Lembeck, 1993).

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we, in the historically real communion with Jesus Christ that comprehends the entirety of our being as real, fleshly persons, are taken up ipso facto with the fleshly entirety of our being as historical persons into that communion with the Creator Himself and that we exist in that communion with the Creator Himself, in which the Creator reconciles us with Himself and takes us up into His eternal life through and beyond death. And because the faith in Christ is the assurance among human beings of the existence of the entirety of their fleshly existence in that fleshly communion that has taken up God Himself into humanity through His incarnated logos, this faith also exists only in the fleshly communion of those who find themselves taken up together into the saving communion with God Himself through the historical communion with Christ granted to them. The faith in Christ as the assurance about the historical communion with Christ that grants eternal salvation also exists only in the historical communion with him, that is, only in the historical communion of faith in Christ. It exists only in the church. Thus, the following applies: That revelatory event that makes evident and effective the true nature of the historical communion that took up Jesus Christ among human beings as the saving historical communion with the Creator Himself creates, at the same time, the historical communion of this assurance in that it creates the assurance of the salvation character of this historical communion (as communion with God) at the location of every member of the communion granted by Jesus. The historical communion of this assurance is the creation of the historical Christ event, which attains its goal desired by God eternally and achieves its God-desired effect in that the Creative Spirit itself brings it about that, on the side of the addressees of the Christ event, the Crucified is revealed not as the Accursed,7 but rather as the eternal Logos of the Creator Himself sent by God Himself for our reconciliation and salvation. This is the concrete meaning of that formula that is known as the fundamental ecclesiological formula of the Reformation, and which says that the church is creatura verbi, namely and more exactly, creatura verbi incarnati. 8 But the church is this creation of the historical Christ event only in that it is at the same time also the instrument of the historical Christ 7 8

As in Deut 21:23 (quoted by Paul in Gal 3:13). On this, cf. Eilert Herms, “Wort und Kirche im Verstndnis der Reformation,” in idem, ed., Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug des Evangeliums (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010), 59 – 112.

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event. In that the Christ event creates the church, that is, the communion of being certain of the historical communion with Christ (and precisely of that communion of salvation with God Himself mediated through it), it also creates for itself ipso facto the instrument through which it reaches every later historical future, that is, all the following historical generations, with its salutary power of creating the certainty that we are taken up into the saving eternal communion with God Himself through the historical communion with Christ.9 Thus, in that the communion of this certainty is created and preserved through the certainty-creating Christ event, the historical mission of this communion is at the same time established: its mission as the instrument of the historical Christ event, through which this event itself with its spiritual10 power for creating the salutary certainty of the assumption into the reconciling and saving communion with God Himself extends to all the historical future. And, indeed, the communion of certainty created through the spiritual power of the historical Christ event is the instrument of the historical Christ event, and fulfills its historical mission, precisely because of the fact that it is the historical witness of the self-creating and self-preserving Christ event and its spiritual power active in creating the certainty of faith. Being the witness of the historical Christ event (the witness of its power active in creating faith, that is, active in creating the certainty of communion with God) – this is the historical mission of the church. This is its office. The office – the mission, the commission – of the whole church. Confessio Augustana V speaks explicitly of this office of the whole church: Ut hanc fidem consequamur, institutum est ministerium docendi evangelii et porrigendi sacramenta. Nam per verbum et sacramenta tanquam per instrumenta donatur spiritus sanctus, qui fidem efficit, ubi et quando visum est Deo, in his qui audiunt evangelium scilicet quod Deus non propter nostra merita, sed propter Christum iustificet hos, qui credunt se propter Christum in gratiam recipi.11 9 Thus, as the “power of God”: Rom 1:16. 10 To the historical Christ event belongs the work of the Spirit of Truth (the Spirit of the Creator) itself. 11 “To attain such faith, God instituted the preaching office, gave the Gospel and the sacrament, through which He, just as if through instruments, gives the Holy Spirit, which brings about the faith, wherever and whenever He desires, in those who hear the Gospel, which itself teaches that we, through Christs merit and not our own, have a merciful God, as long as we believe such.”

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The office spoken about here is the office of the entire church. It is its office, through all of its historical existence as a witness in the world, to let the word of the Gospel reaching all its addressees from the outside, that is, the fleshly word of the Gospel (the witness to the historical Christ event reaching the addressees from the outside, that is, the fleshly witness, as a mediation of the saving communion with God) become manifest in real fleshly clarity. Through this proclamation (through this witness), the Spirit of Truth belonging to the historical Christ event itself then creates, where and when it seems to God to be good (ubi et quando visum est Deo), among the addressees of this witness, too, the certainty that the communion of God reconciling them and saving them beyond the bounds of death into eternal life is bestowed upon them in the historical communion with Christ that is mediated to them through the historical witness of the church in the power of the Spirit of Truth. This instrumental existence as a witness is the office of the church as a whole. It must bear this witness, thus, on the one hand, on the level of all its members through all of its individual members, as well as, on the other hand, at the same time, on the level of its existence as a communion. But, it can do the latter only when it does so in an ordered manner. And, three things are indispensable for this ordered manner of the life of the church as a witness of the Christ event: 1. First, that it, as a communion, entrusts individuals from among its members, in an orderly calling procedure, with the duty to avail themselves of this office of witness, and no other, belonging to the entire church in a particular manner, namely, on behalf of and in the name of the communion, that is, publicly12 – that is, always whenever and wherever the communion as a whole appears in the world and before the world. This is first and last the Christian worship service comprising the celebration of the meal instituted on Maundy Thursday, the communions celebration of which was made possible first of all upon the basis of the paschal revelation of the communion guaranteed by Jesus Christ as the communion with God Himself, in turn guaranteed by God Himself. This celebration, for this reason, is also in itself, in its execution as a commanded celebration and in the interpretation in the sermon of its salvation significance as expressed in the words of institution, the testimony, that is, the proclamation, of the death and resurrection of the Lord (1Cor 11:26). This sermon interpreting the words of institution is the 12 “Publicly” as defined as “on behalf of and in the name of the communion”, not, for example, as through certain situations.

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preaching of the Gospel, because the words of institution are in themselves the sum of the Gospel.13 In addition, there are instructional duties (preparation for confirmation), duties in connection with the direction of the congregation (not simply: direction of the congregation14) and pastoral care (which, however, also can and should be practiced mutually by all Christians). The necessity for such a formal calling to this particular exercise of the office belonging to the entire church, namely, on behalf of and in the name of the communion, is stated explicitly in Confessio Augustana 14: No one should act as a witness on behalf of and in the name of the communion, and in this “publicly”, who has not been called to do so in an established form (rite) by the communion.15 The circumstances and occasions on which a public witness, that is, a witness on behalf of and in the name of the communion, is necessary vary with the historical situations. Thus, the instances of calling pastors must accommodate themselves to these situations and can turn out to be quite different according to the concrete assignment. 2. Of course, there is one assignment the delegation of which through an orderly calling the communion cannot forego in any conceivable historical situation. This is the assignment to carry out the office belonging to the whole church in a particularly qualified manner on behalf of and in the name of the church: namely, so that, in this exercise of the office, care is taken that the whole church exercises its office in exact fidelity, in exact correspondence, to those original historical events to which it owes its historical existence and its historical mission, and which has created for itself precisely the church as an instrument for its work in all of history – that is, in fidelity to the historical Christ event itself. To whatever exercise of the office of the church, on behalf of and in the name of the church, the church – prompted by the challenges of the times – may call some of its members, it also must always call human beings in an orderly manner for the purpose of observing the office of the church on behalf of and in 13 So Martin Luther, “Ein Sermon von dem Neuen Testament, d. i. von der heiligen Messe (1520),” in WA 6, 373,31 – 374,9. 14 The congregational order of the Protestant Landeskirche in Wrttemberg says, for example, that the congregation is led by the pastor and the church board (thus, not simply by the pastor alone). 15 “De ordine ecclesiastico docent, quod nemo debeat in ecclesia publice docere aut sacramenta administrare nisi rite vocatus” – “In regard to church government, it is taught that no one should teach publicly or preach or distribute the sacrament in the churches without an orderly calling”, BSLK 69.

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the name of the church in such a way that they exercise the episkop just indicated.16 This particular exercise of the assignment to bear witness, the witness belonging to the whole church and encompassing the episkop, is already historically verifiable at the turn of the 1st to the 2nd Christian century. At the turn from the 2nd to the 3rd century, then, we meet with the fixing of the standards of compliance with the origins with which the orderly exercise of the episkop is bound: with the regula fidei and with the canon of the liturgical readings in which the original witness to Christ made by the original Christian congregation is fixed.17 Therewith, the form for the execution of the episkop is also established: It takes place as an officium externum 18, that is, as an act of keeping watch that, in each case, the externally clear literal meaning of the current witness of the communion does not fall into contradiction to the literal meaning of the regula fidei and to the literal meaning of the witness of the biblical canon. This episkop, to be sure, includes the right and the duty to apply the canon of the liturgical readings as a criterion for distinguishing between traditions true to the origins and those obscuring the origins (which includes the determination of an objective sense of the texts of this collection), but not the right to obligate faith to the recognition of new dogmas. By taking responsibility for this particular assignment, the pastoral office does not compete with the “priesthood” of all the faithful. It itself, namely, does not have any “priestly”19 character at all. It also does not compete with the Christian competency of judgment reserved for all church members,20 but rather serves exactly this competency of judgment 16 The basis for the progressive process of understanding in these questions is the text “Ordnungsgemß berufen. Eine Empfehlung der Bischofskonferenz der VELKD (Vereinigte Evangelisch-lutherische Kirche in Deutschland) zur Berufung zu Wortverkndigung und Sakramentsverwaltung nach evangelischem Verstndnis,” Texte aus der VELKD 136 (2006). Cf. also the commentary on this text: Eilert Herms, “Das Amt der Kirche und die ordnungsgemße Berufung zur Wahrnehmung des Amtes der Kirche im Auftrag und Namen der Kirche,” in idem, ed., Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug, 194 – 206. 17 Fundamental is: Hans von Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten, 2nd ed., (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1963). 18 Fundamental on this is: Martin Luther, “De servo arbitrio (1525),” in WA 18, 653,23 – 35. 19 He does not mediate between God and the human being. Christ alone does this. 20 Fundamental on this is: Martin Luther, “Daß eine christliche Versammlung oder Gemeine Recht und Macht habe, alle Lehre zu urteilen und Lehrer zu berufen,

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exercised by the entire mass of the faithful. It requires the power of discernment of the whole congregation.21 It not only allows the judgment of the entire congregation, but also demands it. The church leads itself (this is a major difference with Catholic church law). To be demanded is merely an effective veto right against decisions, of which it is not certain without any doubt that they do not offend against the canon of what is true to the origins.22 The calling to this special exercise of the office of the church – able and obligated to exercise the episkop – in the name of and on behalf of the church is the calling to the pastoral office. Following the traditional linguistic usage in the Western church, it is called “ordination”. The calling to the episkop expressed in the ordination takes place through the calling to the pastoral office. The episkop is graduated and organized hierarchically according to different areas. Its commission, however, is on all levels the same. For this reason, at the conferment of responsibility for a more extensive area of supervision (the appointment of a “superintendent” or of a “bishop”), a new calling is not carried out, but rather only a new installation. 3. The calling has to follow a rite, that is, to take place so that, in the process, a certain form and rule are followed. This form and rule, in any case, must ensure that what occurs has to do with a calling that follows through the authority of the Christian communion, and for which the communion is responsible. This responsibility of the communion, in turn, includes the principle that, in each case, only such people are called who are suitable for the commission conferred upon them through an orderly calling. The suitability for the exercise of the officium externum that is to be carried out by the pastoral office able and obligated to execute

ein- und abzusetzen, Grund und Ursach aus der Schrift (1523),” in WA 11, 408 – 416. 21 To be compared in regard to all of these questions is the now standard monograph: Harald Goertz, Allgemeines Priestertum und ordiniertes Amt bei Luther (Marburg: Elwert, 1997). 22 The most recent Protestant church order in Germany provides that the regional bishop (Landesbischof), in conjunction with all the superintendents, can, with reference to the confession, effectively veto resolutions of the Synod that concern the confession or are not compatible with it: Verfassung der evangelischen Kirche in Mitteldeutschland vom 5. Juli 2008, Artikel 70 IV, Satz 5. On the matter as a whole, cf. Eilert Herms, “Das Lehramt in den Kirchen der Reformation,” in idem, ed., Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug, 271 – 302.

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the episkop is acquired through the study of theology and is demonstrateed by examination at the conclusion of this study.23 The calling is an act carried out in the spiritual authority of the church, an act that, as such, is also the authorization for the fulfillment of a spiritual office: (a) to act on behalf of and in the name of the church (in worship and proclamation) and (b) precisely the exercise of the episkop and the passing of the judgments that belong to it. The calling through the church into the pastoral office able and obligated to exercise the episkop endows the holder with a specific authority: They are those who are in a position to maintain the canon in the congregation as a critical counterpart to the congregation and its practice of witness. The office of the episkop grounding in the congregation, to be nurtured in the congregation, and standing in the congregation maintains the canon as the critical counterpart to the congregation.24 Essential differences to other offices and employment relationships (in the areas of politics and economics) are rooted in this interaction between congregation and office. The holders of the pastoral office are not employees of the congregation. Thus, the explicit Reformation consensus on the pastoral office, how it operates objectively on the horizon of the Reformation consensus on the church and its place in the constitution of saving faith, and how it found its objective fixing in those confessional texts, which are claimed to be valid in the preambles of the various church orders.

23 Cf. “Grundstze fr die Ausbildung und Fortbildung von Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrern in der EKD (1988),” in Michael Ahme and Michael Beintker, eds., Theologische Ausbildung in der EKD. Dokumente und Texte aus der Arbeit der Gemischten Kommission / Fachkommission I zur Reform des Theologiestudiums (Pfarramt und Diplom) 1993 – 2003 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005), 11 – 68. 24 This is to be asserted against the view that the office stands in a position over against the congregation. Rather, the office stands in the congregation as that authority through which the communion maintains the canon as its critical counterpart.

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2. The Communicative Appropriation of the Reformation Consensus in History and the Present The Reformation consensus objectively fixed here is, of course, really effective only if, as far as, and according to the manner by which it is communicatively appropriated and preserved in validity over the generations. And precisely in this communicative appropriation of the Reformation consensus, fixed in the confessional texts, on the office of the whole church and on the special significance of the pastoral office for the possibility of exercising this office belonging to the whole church in a manner true to its origins, there have been considerable fluctuations in the history of the Protestant churches. In any case, for the European churches – and here especially, but not exclusively, the German churches – one can and must distinguish roughly two phases in the history of the communicative appropriation of this Reformation consensus on the pastoral office: one older phase marked by the tendency toward state church or near state church circumstances (1), and a most recent phase that is characterized by the end of such tendencies (2). 1. For large parts of Western Christianity, the end of the communion with Rome was in no way brought about through the princely theft of the churches (so actually only in England), but rather through the fact that the bishops beholden to Rome refused to go along with the inner ecclesiastical reform movement.25 This abdication by the bishops gave cause for carrying out the reforms of church life and church order following the insights of Reformation theology and supported by the “principua membra” of the congregations inclined to reform, and supported by the Christian authorities friendly to the Reformation: the sovereign princes or magistrates.26

25 Exemplary is the case of Luther himself: Essential for the course of the indulgence dispute is the fact that the responsible bishops, who were concerned at first with the matter and who were implored by Luther to provide a solution, did not take up the matter but immediately passed it on to Rome. Cf. Martin Brecht, Martin Luther: Sein Weg zur Reformation 1483 – 1521 (Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag, 1981), 187 – 197. 26 Basic for this is Luthers request in the spring of 1527 of the Saxon elector for the conduct of a visitation in accordance with the provisional imperial legal authorization given the imperial estates for carrying out ecclesiastical reforms the year before at the Reichstag in Speyer: “Vorrede zu Melanchthons Unterricht der Visitatoren,” in WA 26, 195 – 201.

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If this resort to such support on the part of the congregations inclined to reform at first followed everywhere from genuinely Christian motives, there was, however, no guarantee that the exercise of the responsibilities for the ordering of the churches by the secular authorities remained true to, and were limited by, these genuinely Christian motives over the generations. On the contrary – and this, by the way, especially clearly in the urban Reformation in Switzerland27 – tendencies toward the consideration and application28 of ecclesiastical rights as a part of developing national or urban sovereignty and as an instrument in the formation of the ideological-ethical development of the population of the principality or city made themselves felt immediately.29 This development is in no way limited to the Reformation sphere, but is to be observed likewise in the parts of Europe that remained Catholic (especially in Austria and France). This development retained its special character by virtue of the fact that the religious-ideological pluralization of the public, effectively introduced by confessional formation in the 16th century, was recognized legally only on the international level, while internally, in contrast, the old demand (rooted in antique and medieval traditions) for religiousideological, and thereby also ethical, homogeneity was retained. These circumstances everywhere included, at first, the aspect of the reduction of religious freedom to the right of emigration, but not so that the self-understanding of the regional Reformation churches was encroached upon. Rather, the majority of the regional church orders of the 16th and 17th centuries committed churches and schools to the consensus objectively fixed in the Reformation confessions and obligated them to its communicative appropriation and mediation. This, in turn, led to an exercise of the pastoral office over an entire contiguous area in the sense of a guardianship over the life of the congregations – and this 27 On the course of the Reformation in Zrich, cf. Alfred Schindler, “Zrich,” in TRE 36 (2004), 744 – 754; Volker Leppin, “Zwingli,” in TRE 36 (2004), 793 – 809. On the course of the Reformation in Geneva, cf. Robert M. Kingdon, “Genf,” in TRE 12 (1984), 368 – 375. The state-church structure of relationships is clearly obvious in the Genevan church order of 1541 (resp. 1561, cf. Peter Barth and Wilhelm Niesel, eds., Tractatus theologicos minores ab anno 1542 usque ad annum 1564 editos continens, vol. 2, J. Calvini opera selecta (Mnchen: Kaiser, 1952), 325 – 385. 28 This view has found expression in the model of the “territorial system” in church law. On this, cf. Christoph Link, “Territorialsystem,” in RGG4 VIII, 156 – 166. 29 For the development between the Religious Peace of Augsburg of 1555 and the Peace of Westphalia, cf. Martin Heckel, Deutschland im konfessionellen Zeitalter (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1983).

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means the social life of the entire population – oriented on the standards of the dogmatic and ethical orthodoxy. Of course – along the lines of the spirit of the times – this was less in the interest of a maturation of the Christian public than in the interest of a uniform shaping of the regional public. Result: The exercise of the pastoral office did not take place as a service to and stimulation of the maturity of all the faithful, and also was not so experienced as such, but rather occurred in the sense of an instruction of the public that aimed at the preservation of the monopoly of the office and could take on the form of a know-it-all paternalism experienced by the educated public as intolerant (if not even as a control of morality through the institution of church discipline, not only, but especially, in areas subject to Genevan tradition). The consequences are obvious: external adaptation, rebellion against the pressure of public opinion, and religious criticism expressed as criticism of the clergy striving for power.30 This one-way direction in the communication between the pastoral office and the congregation also persisted in those situations increasingly more frequent since the 18th century in which the religious-ethical pluralism began to make itself felt even within the sovereign territories. The classic example for this is the Prussian national church.31 After Friedrich Wilhelm I had promoted Pietism as an aid to the moral education of the population,32 his son, Friedrich II, followed a policy of religious freedom and supported the Leibniz-Wolff philosophy for the ideological-ethical education of the ruling elite, which later was succeeded in this role by Kantianism, and then still later by nationalism. Following this conferral of the ideological-ethical formation of the population on philosophy, the program of an interpretation of the Christian view of God, the world, and the human being in the sense of a general human rational religion, emanating from the University of Halle, found wide dissemination beginning in the 1740s. An increasing number of pastors understood their 30 Still indispensable for the history of the status of the Protestant pastor is Paul Drews, Der evangelische Geistliche in der deutschen Vergangenheit, 2nd ed., (Jena: Eugen Diederichs Verlag, 1924). 31 On this, cf. Erich Foerster, Die Entstehung der preußischen Landeskirche, 2 vols. (Tbingen: Mohr, 1905 – 1907). Still impressive as an example for the critical view of the holders of the pastoral office from the vantage point of the enlightened educated class: Friedrich Nicolai, Sebaldus Nothanker, 3 vols. (Berlin: 1773 – 1776). 32 Cf. the classic monograph by Carl Hinrichs, Friedrich Wilhelm I. Jugend und Aufstieg (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt, 1941).

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task of the ideological-moral education of the people now as the task of interpreting Christianity for them as a – nevertheless excellent – historical variation on rational religion – which, of course, did not occur without a re-interpretation of a considerable number of traditional points of doctrine. In certain areas of the study of theology, direction was given for just this purpose. In the course of this movement, known in the historiography of theology as “neology”,33 it was then logically also demanded that the doctrinal pledge made by the pastors to the Reformation confessional texts be abandoned officially. The successful assertion of this demand (which was raised not only, but with special zeal, by one of Friedrichs military chaplains34) would have meant that the self-understanding, and the exercise, of the Protestant pastoral office would have been blotted out completely from the horizon of a communicative appropriation of the Reformation consensus fixed in the confessional texts. For, with the whole of Reformation doctrine, the understanding of the church as the body of Christ belonging essentially to this whole, and the whole of the Reformation understanding of office and ordination anchored (sketched out) in it, and thereby also the foundation of the Reformation understanding of the pastoral office able and obligated to execute the episkop, also would have been inapplicable anywhere. In place of the interpretation of the church as the body of Christ, the collegial35 notions, along the lines of neology, of the church as a religious association constituted through the convention of individual believers would have taken effect everywhere and, accordingly, also the notions connected with this, that is, those considering the pastoral office as a position for an employee – whether of the Christian cultic association or of the state – with the assignment of fulfilling the religious needs of the association members or carrying out the civic education of the citizens on behalf of the state. This view of the pastors as instruments in the hand of state authority with the purpose of the internal shaping of the population persisted in leading circles to the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century.36 33 Still basic: Karl Aner, Die Theologie der Lessingzeit (Halle: Niemeyer, 1929). 34 Namely by Friedrich Germanus Ldke. On the incident, cf. Aner, Theologie der Lessingzeit, 254 – 270. 35 Cf. Christoph Link, “Kollegialismus,” in RGG4 IV, 1482 – 1483. 36 The classic example for this: The guidelines, always following exactly the prevailing political line, issued by the “Preußischer Oberkirchenrat” to the pastors in regard to the “social question”: After the Kaisers initiative in spring 1890, for intensifying state social policy, emphatic encouragement was addressed to the

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Nevertheless, the detachment of the self-understanding of the Protestant pastoral office from its Reformation core through surrender (or loosening) of the bond with the confessional texts, in spite of sympathies extending into the highest state church agencies already in the 18th century, was not successful everywhere. From the end of the 18th century, a counter-movement arises from the midst of theology and the congregations. The beginning is formed by the Wçllner Religious Edict of 1788.37 It was denounced by the supporters of neology (and their friends to the present) as a muzzling of the liberal spirit of the Enlightenment by the clerical thirst for power aided by political authority.38 This judgment, however, is misleading. The fact is that, to be sure, the Edict urged, against pastors to become active in social policy. Then, after the Kaisers about-face in 1895, drastic efforts were undertaken promptly to limit this involvement in favor of the formation of Christian civic virtues. Cf. on this Gnter Brakelmann, Kirche, soziale Frage und Sozialismus, vol. 1 (no further volumes were published) (Gtersloh: Mohn, 1977), 10 – 49. The Kaisers change of opinion is expressed drastically in his telegram to Privy Councilor Hinzpeter on February 28, 1896: “Stoecker is finished, as I predicted years ago. Political pastors are an absurdity. Whoever is a Christian is also socially-minded; Christian-social is nonsense and leads to self-presumption and intolerance, both running dead counter to Christianity. The Pastoral Gentlemen should care for the souls of their congregations, practice the love of the neighbor, but forget about politics, because its none of their business” (Brakelmann, 193). Already in December of the previous year, the Protestant Chief Ecclesiastical Councilor had written to the pastors in the same vein in a circular decree: “All attempts to make the Protestant Church the authoritative participating factor in the daily political and social disputes must divert the church itself from the goal set it by the Lord of the Church: creation of the salvation of souls.” Further: “The task of the church and of the individual servants of it is, through forceful proclamation of the divine Word, through faithful administration of its treasures of grace, through devoted care of the souls entrusted to it, to fulfill [sic, E.H.] all the members of the church without regard to their social standing with the spirit of Christian love and discipline to such an extent that the standards of Christian moral law become part and parcel of the blood and flesh of the people and thereby the Christian virtues are generated [sic, E. H.], which form the foundations of our communion: fear of God, loyalty to the King, love of neighbor” (Brakelmann, 192). 37 Text in: Akten, Urkunden und Nachrichten zur neuesten Kirchengeschichte, vol. I (Weimar, 1789), 461 – 479. 38 So still in Emanuel Hirsch, Geschichte der Neuern Evangelischen Theologie im Zusammenhang mit den allgemeinen Bewegungen des europischen Denkens, 2nd ed., vol. V, (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagsanstalt, 1960), 8, where the Edict is spoken of as an expression of the “orthodox nature struggling on behalf of the restoration of what is past”.

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neology, the validity of the confessional texts and, therewith, the validity of the Reformation consensus on the Christ event, the church, the office conferred through an orderly calling and, therewith, also the pastoral office. But, this occurred demonstrably not out of motives of a clerical contention for power, or with the intention of demanding blind obedience to the formal authority of ecclesiastical doctrine, but rather just the reverse: with the intention of protecting the congregations from surrender to the power of the holders of the pastoral office who used this office without scruple for the dissemination of their own personal rational reshaping of the traditional consensus in faith. The Edict was confirmed and welcomed by none other than the leading biblical scholar of the Enlightenment, namely Johann Salomo Semmler,39 who, as an authority on the history and the liberal motives of the Reformation, insisted that the holders of the pastoral office be obligated to distinguish between the traditional doctrinal consensus (including the traditional consensus on the church and the office) and their own personal ideas and convictions. Not that the latter were illegitimate; not at all, he wrote, but it was not those convictions, but rather the ecclesiastical consensus, that belonged in the pulpit; only that, he thought, preserves for all congregational members the right and the possibility for them to think their own thoughts about this traditional material and to enter into their own process of appropriation – and not to be ravished by the opinion of the pastor. The fixed ecclesiastical consensus, and the respect for it, is the indispensable nucleus of a free communicative practice of appropriation that is open for all church members and that involves all church members. Where this nucleus is lacking, the opportunity for the free communicative appropriation of this tradition by the entire church public also is lacking. In its place appears the bickering of “official” interpretations, each claiming validity. This multitude of interpretations is tolerable only when what is to be interpreted – the canon and confession – is recognized in its fixed form as the authoritative object of interpretation – and when every interpretation does not take the place of this object of interpretation, but rather is nothing other than an invitation and encouragement addressed to 39 Cf. on this the introductory chapter, devoted to Semmlers position, in Martin Ohst, Schleiermacher und die Bekenntnisschriften (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989), 10 – 20. See also: Tilman M. Schroeder, “Aufklrung im Zwielicht – Die preußische Kirchen- und Religionspolitik unter Kçnig Friedrich Wilhelm II. (1786 – 1797),” in Jrgen Kampmann, ed., Preußische Union: Ursprnge – Wirkung – Ausgang (Bielefeld: Luther Verlag, 2011), 19 – 43.

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everyone to venture their own interpretation and to introduce it into the brotherly and sisterly discussion of the interpretations. This insight expressed by Semmler and standing behind the Wçllner Edict had been advocated against neology before Semmler (namely, early in the 1770s) by the Superintendent of Bckeburg, Johann Gottfried Herder,40 and was then later given lasting impact by no one other than Schleiermacher.41 He was the one who, on the one hand, firmly held fast to the doctrinal consensus of the Reformation, including the consensus on the church as a communion that is constituted not through the convention of individual pious persons, but rather through the historical Christ event, which creates this communion and maintains itself as the instrument of its impact in the present, and including the consensus contained in it on the ministerium verbi conferred through an orderly calling.42 And he was the one who, at the same time, through his own actions proved and demonstrated how this office is to be exercised – through the fact, namely, that it presents an exemplary interpretation of the traditional biblical and Reformation material, which clarifies the empirical reality of which this traditional material speaks and which thereby invites everyone to find themselves and their own lives again in the event here confirmed, and to appropriate the traditional testimonies to this event as testimonies to the fundamental movement of their own lives and the lives of all human beings. It lies in the nature of the matter that this enlightened effort on behalf of the renewal of the Reformation doctrinal consensus, including precisely the consensus on the church and the office, the most significant representatives of which in German theology were Herder and Schleiermacher, also coincides with the beginning of a persistent effort to regain the independence of the church over against the state. One can also say: for the liberation of the church from its captivity as a state religion.

40 Johann Gottfried Herder, An Prediger. Fnfzehn Provinzialbltter (Leipzig, 1774) (SW [ed. Supan] VII, 225 – 312), against the text indebted to neologicalstate church convictions by Johann Joachim Spalding, ber die Nutzbarkeit des Predigtamtes und deren Befçrderung (Berlin: Voss, 1772). 41 On this, see the monograph by Martin Ohst, Schleiermacher und die Bekenntnisschriften. 42 Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, Der christliche Glaube nach den Grundstzen der evangelischen Kirche im Zusammenhange dargestellt, 2nd ed., (Berlin: 1831), §§ 127 – 147 (“Die wesentlichen und unvernderlichen Grundzge der Kirche”), there especially §§ 133 – 135 (“Vom Dienst am gçttlichen Wort”).

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This effort then runs through the entire history of the Protestant church in Germany in the 19th century. Small steps in the direction of this goal definitely could be taken. But, the view that the ecclesiastical organization and its administrators, that is, the holders of the pastoral office, are the means desired and furthered by political authority for the moral education of the entire population, and, to be sure, for the uniform moral education of the entire population, remained predominant in the different varieties of Protestant theology, in the church public, and, for this reason, also in the pastoral body.43 2. A fundamental change in the situation in Germany became possible only with the end of church rule through the sovereign in 1918. The independence over against political authority, the constant goal of the Protestant churches in the 19th century, but never really achieved, was realized radically overnight. The churches had absolutely no choice but to make sure of the actual fact of this independence by resorting to its self-understanding as laid down in the confessions of the 16th century, including the consensus on its office contained in them. The written constitutions and the valid law of all Protestant churches in Germany demonstrate the fact of this resort to the Reformation consensus on the church and the office.44 The question, however, is whether this consensus, taken over by all the constitutional texts and placed before them, also really has been appropriated communicatively in the churches, whether it determines the churchs self-understanding and its self-understanding of the office, and whether Protestant theology has made its own contribution indispensable to this purpose. All these questions are to be answered in the negative. To be sure, the Kirchenkampf makes clear that the resort to the Reformation consensus possesses an eminently practical significance. But, first of all, it brings this significance to bear only one-sidedly (against the idolization of nation and state; consequences for internal church 43 On this, see again the example of the development in the Prussian national church, in Johann F. Gerhard Goeters and Joachim Rogge, eds., Die Geschichte der Evangelischen Kirche der Union, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 1992, 1994). 44 Exemplary here is the preamble of the Basic Order of the EKD. The Protestant church constitutions since 1919 thus continue a tradition that can be traced back to the “Introduction” that, in 1855, was placed before the “Rhenish-Westphalian Church Order” prevailing since 1835 within the Prussian national church (§§ I – III; text in: Alfred Uckeley, ed., Die Rheinisch-westflische Kirchenordnung, Kleine Texte fr Vorlesungen und bungen 104 [Bonn, 1912], 5 – 6).

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order are not drawn), and second, it takes such a course that it leaves behind an ecclesiastical and theological public that is disintegrated into camps unable to communicate with each other (here Barthians oriented toward the Council of Brethren, there Lutherans). The Kirchenkampf and its result do not convey the experience that resorting to this consensus contributes something toward understanding the historical reality of the church and its office; it does not convey the experience that it contributes toward understanding the churchs nature, toward recognition of the specific characteristics of its situation in the present; and it does not convey the experience of being a great aid in mastering the challenges connected with this situation, and especially not the experience that there must and can be a fundamental reform, and this through the reshaping of the relationship of office and congregation in the light of the deepened appropriation of the Reformation consensus. For this reason, the result was, to a great extent, an abandonment by the younger generation of the dispute triggered by the resort to the confession, an abandonment of the schools of thought prevailing to that time. Since the 1960s, there has been a new approach – especially in practical theology. Characteristic of this approach are the following: -

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an historicizing of the Reformation consensus in doctrine (including the consensus on the church and the office; the doctrine of the church has played practically no role in the renewed reflection upon the church and the pastoral office in practical theology since the 1960s), as well as attention to the empirical situation of Christian life, the churches, the congregations, and the office using the conceptual tools of psychology, sociology, and economics, the central categories of which are taken over for the most part unexamined.45

45 The key phrase “empirical turn”, which is suitable as a characterization of the entire process, goes back to Klaus Wegenast, “Die empirische Wendung in der Religionspdagogik,” EvErz 20 (1968): 111 – 125. For the interest in the inclusion of the social and behavioral sciences connected with this, the following is representative: Arnd Hollweg, Theologie und Empirie. Ein Beitrag zum Gesprch zwischen Theologie und Sozialwissenschaft in den USA und Deuschland (Stuttgart: Evangelisches Verlagswerk, 1971). An impression of the breadth of the upheaval – above all in practical theology – is conveyed by Henning Schrçer, “Praktische Theologie,” in TRE 27 (1997), 190 – 220, esp. 206 – 208, 210.

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The results obtained therefrom were transferred directly into reform recommendations or reform programs for the church and for the pastoral office.46 Unexamined remained the question whether these reform programs correspond to the historical nature of the church as it was understood in the traditional doctrinal confession or not.47 The accompanying reform programs for the pastoral office failed to verify whether they correspond at all to the actual historical nature of the relationship between congregation and pastoral office. A traditional stock of basic services performed by the pastor for the congregation is accepted as given (worship service, instruction, pastoral care, direction and development of the congregation), and then it is asked how the fulfillment of these tasks can be improved through the use of psychological, pedagogical, communications-theoretical, and finally economic insights and techniques. The reform efforts in regard to the pastoral office, to a large extent, assume the form of the subjection of the pastors to functional training and the stimulation of their activity through the use of personal management techniques. The pastors are trained to perform without being told who and what they are as holders of the pastoral office, as distinct from managers, MBAs, pedagogues, psychotherapists, or teachers. Increase of the demands placed on professional performance with a concurrent weakening of professional identity results. But, performance demands make sense only when it has been made clear beforehand what constitutes the professional identity of the pastor. But this, according to common Christian and Reformation insight, results alone from the special characteristic of the ecclesiastical communion, the nature of which is that it of its own accord 48 demands the full-time service of the pastor according to its unmistakable nature. Who and what the pastor is cannot become clear where it is unclear what distinguishes the ec46 Cf. Rdiger Schloz, “Kirchenreform,” in TRE 19 (1990), 51 – 58. 47 The fact that the consideration of church and office in the whole debate about the reform since the 1960s up to the present was not governed by the basic concepts contained in the traditional doctrinal confession in the Protestant church recently was established correctly by Jens Schlamelcher, “konomisierung der Kirchen,” in Jan Hermelink and Gerd Wegner, eds., Paradoxien kirchlicher Organisation. Niklas Luhmanns frhe Kirchensoziologie und die aktuelle Reform der evangelischen Kirche (Wrzburg: Ergon, 2008), 160. 48 Cf. Eilert Herms, “Wort und Kirche im Verstndnis der Reformation,” in idem, ed., Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug, 59 – 112, esp. 86 – 95.

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clesiastical communion from every other kind of community and which service this communion sui generis needs. These experiences with the historization of the Reformation consensus and with the empirical turn could lead to a re-orientation and to new efforts focused on development and the appropriation of the objective insights contained in the Reformation consensus on the church and the office. The ecclesiastical communion with its unmistakable character exists, after all, and its desire for the specific service performed by pastors also exists. A clear self-understanding about both realities could be attained through appropriation of the Reformation consensus and its objective insights.49

3. Challenges to the Pastoral Office under Present-Day Conditions The beginnings of the conscious appropriation of the doctrinal consensus of the Reformation, including the inherent consensus on the church and the office, are to be found in the concept of “theological competence”. This has been a topic of discussion since the mid-1980s and marks, above all, the overall church order valid today for the theological education of female and male pastors. In the “Principles for the Education of the Male and Female Pastors of the EKD” from 1988,50 this theological competence, the foundations of which are to be established in both phases of education and which then in the practice of the office – accompanied by continuing education – is intended to grow and mature, is summarized as follows:

49 On this, cf. Mareile Lasogga et al., eds., Zur Qualitt pastoraler Arbeit. Eine Konsultation der Vereinigten Evangelisch-Lutherischen Kirche in Deutschland (Hannover: VELKD, 2010). On an understanding of the Protestant pastoral office on the basis of the Reformation consensus, cf. Eilert Herms, “Was heißt theologische Kompetenz?” in idem, Theorie fr die Praxis – Beitrge zur Theologie (Mnchen: Kaiser, 1982), 35 – 49, as well as Herms, ed., Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug, esp. the chapters “Das Amt der Kirche und die ordnungsgemße Berufung zur Wahrnehmung des Amtes der Kirche im Auftrag und Namen der Kirche”, 194 – 206; “Das evangelische Pfarramt als Leitungsamt”, 207 – 229; “Die Frage nach der Gte der Arbeit im Pfarramt vor dem Hintergrund der reformatorischen Sicht von Amt und Auftrag der Kirche”, 230 – 270. 50 Ahme and Beintker, eds., Theologische Ausbildung in der EKD, 11 – 67.

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“Theological competence is the ability, in the light of the appropriated ecclesiastical doctrine, to grasp the given situation of the office, to recognize its current tasks (problems), as well as to design and to carry out solutions”.51 What does this mean in detail? 1. What does appropriation of ecclesiastical doctrine mean? Not the learning of ecclesiastical doctrine by heart, but rather gaining ones own view of the reality that is described in the Reformation doctrinal consensus. This reality is the historical character of Christianity and its significance for the natural life shared by human beings – including the original distinctive character of the Christian communion as the communion of salvation with God granted by God Himself through the Christ event, the witnessing office of the whole church, and what is the prerequisite for the exercise of this office of the communion in accordance with its origin, the prerequisite established through the origin of the communion itself: precisely the calling of individuals by the communion to the exercise of the entire congregations service of witness in the name of and on behalf of the whole, including the calling of suitable individuals to the pastoral office able and obligated to exercise the episkop. The demand of the “appropriation of ecclesiastical doctrine” addressed to the ordinands thus means: The ordinands, the future male and female pastors, should gain their own view of the historical reality of the ecclesiastical communion as that communion that is granted by God, the Creator of heaven and earth, Himself, namely as a communion in that unparalleled clarity about Gods own nature, will, and work, for which all people by their very nature yearn and which God Himself has granted to those moved by it through the sending and incarnation of His Son, that is, through the Christ event. They themselves should catch a glimpse of what the character of the historical reality of the church is: To be the communion granted by God Himself through the Christ event in the inner-historical unparalleled clarity about the Creators will and work that aims at the reconciled and perfected communion of all human beings with Him and among themselves. But, this also includes the necessity that they themselves should realize what belongs essentially to this historical reality of the ecclesiastical communion: the reality of the office able and obligated to exercise the episkop conferred by the congregation itself through an orderly calling, and its specific task, which is first, namely, to take the Christ communion at its word in this, 51 Ibid.

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its real historical character (die Gemeinde bei dem behalten, was sie geschichtlich ist), and then also to help it – the communion – in the fulfillment of its historical assignment, its historical mission (thus, the assignment and mission of the congregation). First, a few remarks on the phrase “to take at its word”, then on “to help”, and, to be sure, in this order, because helping is dependent upon the act of taking something at its word. The Christian communion, as I have said, is the communion with God, the Creator of heaven and earth, in that unparalleled clarity about Gods own nature, will, and work, for which all people of their own nature yearn, the communion that God Himself has granted through the sending and incarnation of His Son, that is, through the Christ event, to those human beings moved by this event. As this communion, it is that first and last, comprehensive, absolutely reliable and sustaining communion that shows all other communions in which human beings otherwise must live – the communions of friends, love, blood relationship, the family, the profession, the law, and so on – their own special character, their specific achievement, their specific necessity, but also their specific limits. The Christian is able alone in this communion with the Creator of heaven and the earth, which the Creator Himself has opened and granted to him, to recognize the character of all other communions in which he finds himself as an this-worldly person and to devote himself to them with a commitment, but without making absolutes out of them, without making idols out of them, without expecting the complete fulfillment of his life from them. To take the communion of faith at its word in regard to its character means the following: First, to celebrate it, that is, to celebrate it as an historical communion that is founded historically through the Christ event. This celebration is for this reason the celebration of the Christ event itself in the form established by the Christ event itself: namely, as the past-paschal fulfillment of the celebration of the meal as commanded on Maundy Thursday, through which the reconciling love of God Himself revealed in Christ remains present and effective in history. The pastor is not intended to be the guide for the saints. But, he should perform the service for the congregation upon which the congregation necessarily is dependent for the celebration of its holy origins (namely, of the Christ event sanctifying us) and of its holy nature (precisely as the communion of those made holy by it), and to the fulfillment of which the congregation has called him.

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He is to perform for the congregation the service that it needs for its celebration of the sacrament of the Christ event. Second, what also belongs to the act of taking the Christian communion at its word in regard to what it is – namely, the historical living communion with the Creator Himself mediated through the historical Christ event – is that the celebration of its origins and of its nature also becomes the proclamation of this origin and of this nature, which is not possible without the explicit intellectual and linguistic acquisition and representation of this origin and this nature of the Christian communion as communion with God mediated through the historical Christ event. The pastor should take the congregation at its word in regard to what it is by helping the congregation – the whole congregation and all of its members – to achieve an explicit intellectual acquisition and linguistic representation of its celebrated origin and nature through the interpretation of its celebration of the origin and the nature of the communion. His preaching and his teaching should be such that all the celebrants themselves also understand and can articulate what is celebrated by all. Third, what also belongs to the act of taking the Christian communion at its word in regard to what it is through the celebration of its origin, including the clear intellectual acquisition and linguistic representation of it, is then taking the congregation at its word in regard to the mission that is already present in its celebrated origin and nature, that is, in its very being, and that consists of this: throughout its whole life – on the level of the communion and on the level of all its individuals – to bear witness to that freedom that is given to us through the revelation of the heart of the creating omnipotence, of the intima of God, of His own nature, will, and work, a revelation that is oriented only toward our reconciliation, to our reconciliation with our non-divinity, and through our witness to invite52 all people to participate in this reconciled freedom and therewith (through this invitation) to serve all people. To take the congregation at its word in regard to what it is means that it is charged with nothing other than to be consciously and with determination what it is, that is, to exist in the freedom to which it is freed.53 Fourth, this taking the congregation at its word in regard to what it is addresses itself to the real existing congregation that is, and not to an ideal 52 On this, see the text originating from the work of the Chamber for Theology of the EKD: Hans Christian Knuth, ed., Von der Freiheit: Besinnung auf einen christlichen Grundbegriff (Hannover: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 2001). 53 Gal 5:1.

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congregation. The historically real existing congregation is to be taken at its word in regard to what it is. This is the real local communion of all the baptized, concretely represented by its core: the core congregation as the core of the whole. This real congregation is also to be helped to fulfill the mission contained in its being. The core congregation is there to be helped, because through it the whole congregation is helped, and through this the whole society. The help given is always oriented toward the goal of the fulfillment by the whole congregation of the mission that is contained in its being.54 Thus, two mistakes are to be avoided: Mistake 1: the transfer of the burden of the congregation to the pastor. The pastor does not help the congregation when he provides it services other than exclusively those that it needs in order as a congregation to celebrate its origin and its nature, to grasp both intellectually and to portray both linguistically in explicit clarity, and to recognize and to fulfill itself the mission contained in its being. Mistake 2: the misapprehension and neglect of the core congregation, the members continually present and ready to take on voluntary work. Woe if the pastor does not take seriously these continually present members, this core, also as the real center of energy in the concrete local congregation. From the liveliness of this core, of its celebration, its reflection, its consciousness of mission flow the vivifying impulses impinging upon the whole. If the local congregation is the life center of the church, then those present in the worship service, those gathered around the Word and the sacrament, are the life center of the local congregation. The positive basic rule is this: The goal of the help provided by the holders of the pastoral office in the congregation is that the members of the congregation become able to let the celebrated and understood communion with God become the decisive horizon for a realistic perception of all other communions vital to them, to shape on their own all of these communions realistically against the background of the communion with God, and to classify them realistically. This help can be provided only when, in the process, response is made to the real concrete challenges to which life in all these social dimensions 54 Cf. Eilert Herms, Kirche in der Gesellschaft (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011); esp. the chapter “Das Evangelium der Freiheit: Die Bedeutung der Kirche fr die Demokratie,” 1 – 32. – See, by the way, Eph. 3:10: “The manifold wisdom of God is to be made known to the powers and authorities through the church”.

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is exposed. Service in the pastoral office cannot consist of mastering these challenges for the congregation, but it must consist of helping the members of the congregation in understanding these challenges and in letting the ecclesiastical communion become an encouragement for all its members to take on these challenges and to attempt to master them. The true purpose of human existence is recognized alone in the communion with God, and this purpose is also realized alone in the communion. But, of course, this is not done heedless of life in all other communal relationships. For this reason, these other communal relationships are to be observed constantly and critically in the light of the communion with God. And, it is thereupon to be asked of them whether the impositions emanating from them fit with the original determination of life recognizable and realizable only in the communion with God, or whether they compete with this true determination of the human being and stand in the way of its achievement or perhaps even hamper or hinder knowledge of it. A constant critical diagnosis of the mesh of communal relationships in which we live and of the challenges presented by it is necessary in the light of the determination of our life grounded in the communion with God and realized only in it. The holders of the pastoral office have to be of help in this critical reflection upon social circumstances in light of the communion with God and of the determination of the human being grounded in it. The social-ethical judgment of the present social situation is an essential part of the proclamation of the Gospel.55 The existing Sitze im Leben for this are definitely the existing preaching opportunities, but beyond these also instruction, counseling accompanying official acts, and pastoral care.56 Their task is to name – but, above all, also in friendly cooperation – individual circumstances that, through their claims upon human beings, hinder these human beings in recognizing their determination lying in the communion with God and in living in it. This task remains, even when these circumstances cannot be changed through direct action by the congregation as such (the congregation is not a political party, but 55 This is to be asserted clearly in definite contrast to the programs from the Wilhelminian period noted in note 36 above. 56 Cf. Reinhard Brandt and Dorothea Wendebourg, eds., Traditionsaufbruch. Die Bedeutung christlicher Institutionen fr Gewißheit, Freiheit und Orientierung in der pluralistischen Gesellschaft (Hannover: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 2001), esp. 89 – 214.

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all its members obligate themselves in their localities to take an active part in politics and economics as long as these comply with the determination of the human being granted in the communion with God). Of course, some cases are conceivable in which certain areas of social life are weakened or hindered in the fulfillment of their vital functions by these circumstances and in which the congregation as such is able to offer support in mastering this difficult situation. In the present, this is primarily life in the community of the family. The community of the family, under present circumstances, is hampered to an extreme degree in the fulfillment of its essential tasks – primary socialization and the support of the sick and the ill. Here, possibilities for effective support exist through the local congregations. The holders of the pastoral office must help their congregations so that they provide such support for the families. The pastor helps the congregation by practicing “conditioned direction” of the congregation in regard to its self-government and its decisions about its own path. This means he does not make all the decisions by himself and alone, but rather accompanies the decision-making process. He counsels in and prepares the decisions and ensures that they move within the corridor established by the original mission of the congregation. Necessary for this is that the congregation acknowledges that authority of the pastoral office that it desires in the orderly calling into the pastoral office and that it grants to and confers upon its holders through ordination (precisely the exercise of the office of the church capable of the episkop on behalf of and in the name of the church) and also that the pastors do not disappoint or abandon their congregations by either refusing to assume the authority given them and the competence expected of them or by misusing it by not strengthening the congregation (beginning with the core congregation), but rather by magnifying themselves and their own charisma.

Whom Does the Priest Represent? The Theology of the Ordained Ministry Following the Second Vatican Council (1962 – 1965) Erwin Dirscherl

1. Hermeneutical Introduction: Ministry as Sacramental Reality and Relationship in the Communion of the Church The ministry of the church is, even if we want to understand it as ministry, a relative thing, because it is settled in many relationships that are a part of its importance and that comprise the context of its realization. Ministry cannot be understood without people who are ready to become ministers and without God, who calls people into His service and who wants to realize salvation for all people. Ministry finds its aim, as does the church as whole, in universal mission, in bringing salvation to the entire world. Ministry must serve the people. Without these relationships, there exists no ministry, because ministry is not an absolute or abstract medium. The task of the ministry is the representation of these relationships, which are necessary for its sacramental task. The scene of ministry is the church in the world. This is the important accent of the Second Vatican Council, which looked not only for an “aggiornamento” of faith, but also understood the whole world as a room of presence for the disciples of Jesus Christ. You will understand this theoretical orientation if you read Gaudium et spes, the pastoral constitution of this Council, and if you look at the dogmatic constitution Lumen Gentium: “Since the church is in Christ like a sacrament or as a sign, both instrumental of a very closely knit union with God and of the unity of the whole human race, it desires now to unfold more fully to the faithful of the church and to the whole world its own nature and universal mission” (LG 1). In order to serve the unity of mankind, the Council stressed that all people must have the right to choose their own religion in freedom, and it encouraged ecumenical and interreligious dialogue. The relationships of the church have not only a synchronic, but also a diachronic di-

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mension. The unity of mankind in history cannot be reached without the diachronic dimension and that means the infinite opening of time in relation to God. If the infinite God has a relationship to human beings in time, time cannot be understood as a closed area, but only as an infinite openness. Pope John Paul II coined the formulation that the way of the church in time is the human being. So, the ministry of the church is related to God and human beings, and ministry is bound to the community of the church and is obligated to enable the unity of the church and humankind, which cannot be understood without plurality, as Cardinal Walter Kasper has stressed. Unity can be reached only through dialogue and communication.1 Ministry cannot be performed without the ability of communication, and this becomes more important when it is recalled that the proclamation of the word of God is one of the most important tasks of this ministry. Leading the local congregations cannot be done without this competence. The sacramental reality of the church cannot live without the word of God, which can present this reality only if it is pronounced, heard and done by people. St. Augustine spoke about the visible word and understood the sacraments of the church as real-symbolic functions, in which the effect of the word of God can be experienced. The relationship to the word of God becomes real not only in the relationship to the neighbor and to creation, but also happens in the heart and in the conscience of human beings. In Christian theology, this effect is understood in a trinitarian sense. God the Father communicates Himself in His Son, who is seen as the incarnated word, and He communicates Himself in His breath, in His inspiring Holy Spirit. The trinitarian revelation of God is understood as a self-communication in love, which happens according to the understanding of human speech. The Second Vatican Council stressed that revelation happens by the word of God, while He is talking to us. Thus, the word of God has a historical dynamic.2

1

2

Walter Kasper, Wege der Einheit. Perspektiven fr die kumene (Freiburg: Herder, 2004), 250; cf. also Walter Kasper, Katholische Kirche. Wesen – Wirklichkeit – Sendung (Freiburg: Herder, 2011), 226 – 230. Knut Wenzel, Kleine Geschichte des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils (Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 146. Concerning the understanding of revelation as self-communication of God, see Helmut Hoping, “Theologischer Kommentar zur Dogmatischen Konstitution ber die gçttliche Offenbarung Dei Verbum,” in Peter Hnermann and Bernd Jochen Hilberath, eds., Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil, vol. 3 (Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 695 – 831, here 776.

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Church and ministry are not the sovereigns of the word of God; they are the preachers of this word, which became man in Jesus Christ. The sacramental thinking of the church is founded in Christology and can be called “incarnational thinking”. Jesus Christ and the church both can be understood as sacraments in an analogue manner. Jesus Christ is the origin of the sacraments, because in His person the presence of God is given in time. The church, thus, is able to represent Jesus Christ in history by following Him, who remains in the people of God by the Holy Spirit. The famous German theologian Karl Rahner talked about the so-called “historical permanentness and presence of Jesus Christ” in such a way that the church can be understood as a sign and instrument of this presence. Everyone who belongs to Gods people participates in this sacramental reality; everyone who is baptized becomes able to represent the word of God and realizes the functions of the church: Martyria, Leiturgia und Diaconia. This means witness, liturgy and service to the neighbor. The ministry of the priest cannot be understood without understanding its relationship to the Triune God, its relationship to the whole church and to the “sacerdotium commune” of all baptized people, without its relationships to the ministry of the bishop and the deacon and to all the other ministries of the church. This context is given in the documents of the Second Vatican Council. If the church changes the understanding of revelation and church, which focuses the dynamic of the word of God, this must have consequences for the theology of ministry. A fundamental change in speaking about God concerns lex orandi and lex credendi in the church. This means that the doctrine and the prayer of the church depend on each other. If revelation is now understood as the self-communication of God, the consequence is the understanding of the church as a community. Every person who serves in the ministry of the church has a unique responsibility, which only can be realized in the relationships between the ministries and the common priesthood of all baptized people.

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2. Common Priesthood and Ministerial or Hierarchical Priesthood: Fundamental Dignity and Special Vocation The term “priesthood” means not only the special ministry of priesthood, but refers to all baptized people. This is the consequence of the theology of the communion of the church, which enables the participation of all people in the self-communication of the Triune God. The decree about the ministry and the life of priests refers to 1Pet 2:4 – 10 and argues that everyone who believes in Christ belongs to the one, holy and royal priesthood. The task of the priesthood is to praise the benefits of the Lord, who leads human beings out of the darkness into His light (Presbyterorum Ordinis 2).3 The task of sanctification is marked by preaching the word of God and by spiritual sacrifices. Sacrifice means prayer and love of the neighbor. All baptized people are enabled by the sanctification through the Holy Spirit, which inspires human beings to witness for God, to participate in the mission of the church. The constitution of the church Lumen Gentium 10 refers to Rev 1:6 und 5:9 – 10 and speaks about the new people of God as a kingdom and priesthood, also referring them to 1Pet 2:4 – 10. Though they differ from one another in essence and not only in degree, the common priesthood of the faithful and the ministerial or hierarchical priesthood are nonetheless interrelated: each of them in its own special way is a participation in the one priesthood of Christ. (2*) The ministerial priest, by the sacred power he enjoys, teaches and rules the priestly people; acting in the person of Christ, he makes present the Eucharistic sacrifice, and offers it to God in the name of all the people. But the faithful, in virtue of their royal priesthood, join in the offering of the Eucharist. (3*) They likewise exercise that priesthood in receiving the sacraments, in prayer and thanksgiving, in the witness of a holy life, and by self-denial and active charity. (LG 10)

This text describes the understanding of spiritual sacrifice and shows that priests need to educate and lead the people, and therefore enjoy a sacred power that is given to them in the sacrament of ordination, which is one of the seven sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church. The difference between common and hierarchical priesthood cannot be found in the sense of quantity (more or less dignity) but is a difference in function and in vocation. Pope Pius XII used this formulation to stress the sacred power of the priest in the pre-conciliar period and to underline the differ3

This decree is abbreviated in the following as PO. So Lumen Gentium (LG) and other documents.

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ence between the common and the special ministry and to show that this power has its roots not in the common priesthood, but in a special calling by the Lord.4 The Second Vatican Council represents a new orientation and intends to show the fundamental unity of all baptized people in the common priesthood. It makes clear that the ministry of the priest is ministry in the common priesthood of God. The baptized man is enabled to represent Jesus Christ and His three ministries as priest, king and prophet. Priesthood is one of the three aspects of ministry, which also includes the prophetic, preaching and governing dimensions.5 The relationship between the common and the special ministry is characterized by unity in difference.

3. A Short Look Back: Sacerdos or Presbyter? We have to remember that the preparatory commission of the Council presented a text concerning the theology of priesthood that was focused on the dispensing of sacraments and the sacerdotal tasks of the priests. The Fathers of the Second Vatican Council did not agree with the medieval and clerical content of this text. The tone of triumphalism, of clericalism, and of juridicalism in the documents was rejected and called for the emphasis upon the church as a community among the people of God instead of the hierarchy, upon the general priesthood of all Christians, upon the fatherhood of the bishop and the sacrificial work of the priest.6

The members of the Council did not want juridical documents with ontological impact, but rather documents that deal with reality and questions of modern times. The same reactions were aroused when the first preparatory texts of Lumen Gentium became public, which were dominated in a certain way by so-called Roman or Vatican theology.7 The participants at the Council criticized the centralistic view of these texts and succeeded 4

5 6

7

Jerzy Kochanowicz, Fr Euch Priester, mit Euch Christ: Das Verhltnis von gemeinsamem und besonderem Priestertum (Frankfurt/Main: Knecht Verlag, 2000), 144. Kochanowicz, Fr Euch Priester, 144. Piotr Pasterczyk, Theologie des kirchlichen Amtes: Das priesterliche Amt in den Dokumenten des 2. Vatikanischen Konzils und in der nachkonziliaren Theologie (Frankfurt/Main: Hnsel-Hohenhausen Verlag der Deutschen Hochschulschriften, 2002), 64. Ibid., 62 – 67, with reference to Paul J. Cordes.

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in rejecting this kind of Roman theology. It is very interesting that the first version of the text about the priests was titled “De clericis” and that this title, because of the discussions of the Council, was changed to “De vita et ministerio sacerdotali”. The final version was “De ministerio et vita Presbyterorum”. The change of the words from “sacerdos” to “presbyter” is very important, as is the fact that the term “vita et ministerio” was changed to “ministerio et vita”. Ministry means to serve the people of God. And the ministry of the presbyter is characterized by sanctification, preaching and government and is understood as a representation of the triune ministry of Jesus Christ as priest, prophet and king. The ministry of the priest is related to the order of the church, for a priest has the task of governing the communion and preserving the unity of the church. This accentuation in the understanding of ministry provoked the resistance of a small group led by Archbishop Lefebvre. Lefebvre wanted to repeat the sacerdotal medieval understanding of priesthood and to emphasize the difference between the common and the hierarchical priesthood. He also criticized the new orientation of the Council, that is, the idea that priesthood should now be understood as service of the word of God, that priesthood means preaching.8 Lefebvre thought that this understanding of ministry is a functionalistic one and that the dimension of the holiness of the priest is lost. We know today that this minority, in the form of the Brotherhood of Pius X, is present in the life of the church in a very ambivalent and destructing manner and is not ready to accept the important theological reforms and doctrines of the Second Vatican Council. The teacher of church law Hubert Mller wrote: The Second Vatican Council expanded the churchs doctrine of sacramental ordination and the spiritual office, which in the last centuries was determined almost exclusively by the theological approach of Trent, by adding several aspects that originally were present in the teaching and the life of the Early Church, but then in medieval theology and above all in the theology of the Counter-Reformation were neglected. The Vatican church assembly led the doctrine of the sacrament of ordination out of cultic-sacerdotal constriction into the original expanse of participation in the offices of Jesus Christ (VatII LG Art. 21b) and integrated it into the doctrine of the church.9

8 9

Ibid. Hubert Mller, “Die Ordination,” in Handbuch des katholischen Kirchenrechts, eds. Joseph Listl, Hubert Mller and Heribert Schmitz (Regensburg: Pustet Verlag, 1983), 715 – 727, here 715.

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The understanding of the church as a sacrament and communion, as the people of God and the body of Christ, as the house of the Holy Spirit is the background for the theology of ministry. This has the consequence that ordination, too, must be understood in a dynamic manner as mission by the Holy Spirit, who enables the participation in the ministry of Christ. Hubert Mller stresses that ordination may not be understood in a static and ontological sense, but in this dynamic dimension as participation in the ministries of Jesus Christ.10 The medieval theology of ministry was concentrated on the sacerdotal function of the priest, who was no longer understood as preacher and leader of the communion according to the biblical tradition and the old church, but in possession of the so called “sacra potestas”, holy authority, which enables the priest to celebrate the sacrifice of the sacrament of the Eucharist and to transubstantiate bread and wine into the blood and the body of Christ in a symbolic manner.11 Thus, the dignity of the priest became the focus of the ordination. Thomas Aquinas understood the Eucharist as the center of all sacerdotal functions, so that the difference between bishop and priest could not be found in the ordination or sacramental character.12 He was confronted with the problem of a certain distinction between a dogmatic and a juridical character of the sacrament of ordination. The so-called “officium” was understood as a ministry of jurisdiction. So the bishop received his own status in the triune ordo, that is, in the structure of ministry, “because the bishop possesses powers over and beyond those of the presbyter for the purpose of his hierarchical activities that do not have a direct relationship to the true body of the Lord, but rather to his mystical body, the church.”13 The difference between bishop and priest was found in the juridical subordination of the presbyter under the bishop. In reference to the sacrament of the Eucharist, understood as corpus Christi verum, both ministries have the same power or authority, but in reference to the corpus Christi mysticum, which is the church, the distinguishing mark is the higher authority of the bishop. As a consequence, the potestas ordinis, given by ordination, and the potestas iurisdictionis, given by the authority of the church, that 10 Ibid., 715. 11 Gisbert Greshake, Priester sein in dieser Zeit (Freiburg: Herder, 2000), 30 – 31. 12 Matthias Fallert, Mitarbeiter der Bischçfe: Das Zueinander des bischçflichen und priesterlichen Amtes auf und nach dem Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil (Wrzburg: Echter Verlag, 2007), 35 – 36. 13 Ibid., 37.

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is, by the bishop or the Pope, were divided in the following theological developments. The Council of Trent (1545 – 1563) was confronted with several problems, especially with the movement toward reformation led by Martin Luther, which required a reaction. The Council made a distinction between presbyter and bishop, because the bishop has the authority to dispense the sacraments of confirmation and ordination and because he is placed at the top of the hierarchia ordinis. 14 During very controversial debates, which referred also to the relation between the Pope and the bishops, the consensus was found in a sacerdotal-sacramental understanding of ministry.15 This understanding of the priests already was given in the practice of the church because of the so-called “private masses”, which means that the priest celebrates the sacrament of the Eucharist without the congregation of people. Thus, the priest can celebrate the Holy Mass by himself for the salvation of living and dead people and for dispensing the gifts of grace.16 Because of this practice, the priests were understood as “angels” or “gods”, as it is written in the catechism of the Council of Trent – this excessive understanding of the ministry is not acceptable.17 The priest was defined by consecration and this formed the center of the triune ordo, with its distinction between bishops, priests and deacons. The bishop became the “summus sacerdos”, and the priest became the “sacerdos secundi gradus”.18

14 15 16 17 18

Ibid., 46 – 49. Greshake, Priester sein, 34 – 35, referring to Josef Freitag. Ibid., 30 – 31. Ibid., 35. Gerhard Ludwig Mller, Katholische Dogmatik. Fr Studium und Praxis der Theologie (Freiburg: Herder, 1995), 742.

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4. Back to the Present: The Presbyterial Participation of the Triune Ministry of Jesus Christ as Representation of Christ and of the Church 4.1 The Relationship between Bishop and Priest as Servant of the Word and Shepherd of the Congregation: The New Orientation of the Second Vatican Council as Unsettling Challenge The fullness of the sacrament of ordination is represented by the ministry of the bishop (LG 26). This is the doctrine of the Second Vatican Council, and Cardinal Walter Kasper noticed that this is a “Copernican turn”19 in comparison to the medieval tradition. This turn strengthened the influence of the bishops and of the local churches. The bishop stands at the head of the dioceses; the priest participates on a lower level in the triune sacrament of ordination (deacon – priest – bishop) and becomes the cooperative partner of the bishop. Cardinal Karl Lehmann criticized that this tendency results in an exaggerated episcopalism in the debates and the texts of the Council, which restricted the immediacy of the relation between the priest and Christ.20 Walter Kasper summarizes: Not only the re-orientation in the understanding of the bishops office, but just as much the emphasis upon the participation of the laity in the mission of the church, created a new situation for the priests. It means taking leave of “Reverend” and a new understanding of the priest as a brother among brothers. Both developments led to an uncertainty, indeed a crisis of identity, among many pastors. They asked themselves: Who are we? Not bishops, not laymen? What then?21

This insecurity was strengthened by the new ministries – for example the so-called “pastoral assistants” or “congregational workers” in Germany, which were introduced after the Second Vatican Council and which enabled non-ordained men and women to participate in the preaching of the word of God. These ministries were intended to help the priests in times of a lack of priests, but also produced an irritating competition. But, lets have a closer look at the doctrine of the Council. The bishop is understood as a representative and legate of Christ (LG 27). The pro19 Kasper, Katholische Kirche, 330. 20 Karl Lehmann, “Das dogmatische Problem des theologischen Ansatzes zum Verstndnis des Amtspriestertums,” in Franz Heinrich, ed., Existenzprobleme des Priesters (Mnchen: Kçsel Verlag, 1969), 121 – 175, here 153. 21 Kasper, Katholische Kirche, 334.

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clamation of the word of God is part of his outstanding tasks (LG 25) when he practices the ministry of sanctification, doctrine and government in community with the other bishops and the Pope (LG 21). The bishops, thus, have taken over the office of ministry in the communion together with their helpers, the priests and the deacons. They preside over the flock, of which they are shepherds, in the place of God, as teachers in instruction, as priests in the holy cult, as servants in the leadership. But, as the office, which was conferred exclusively upon Peter, the first among the Apostles, by the Lord and is intended to devolve upon his successors, is intended to continue, so also does the office of the Apostles, that is, to shepherd the church, continue and must be exercised for ever and ever by the holy order of the bishops. For this reason, the Holy Synod teaches that the bishops, on the basis of divine institution, have taken the place of the Apostles as shepherds of the church. Whoever hears them hears Christ, and whoever rejects them rejects Christ and the One who sent Christ (cf. Luke 10:16). (LG 20)

In his ministry, the bishop represents God, Christ and the ministry of the Apostles. As the leader of a particular church, he also represents his dioceses within the universal church, and as a part of the community of the worldwide congregation of bishops, he represents the universal church in his particular church (LG 23 and 27). He possesses the “potestas ordinaria propria immediata” and is the leader of the dioceses in regard to the spiritual authority of consecration and the juridical authority of jurisdiction. He is the leader of every celebration of the Eucharist (LG 26). This formulation shows that the priest as the leader at the celebration of the Eucharist acts in a close relationship with the bishop. Gerhard Ludwig Mller denotes bishops and priests as servants of the word of God who preside over the communion and are shepherds in the name of Christ for unifying the church in faith and tradition.22 This very short view shows that while the presbyter as cooperative partner of the bishop does not occupy the highest degree in the sacrament of ordination and depends in his vocation on the authority of the bishops (LG 28), nevertheless, they are bound together with them in the priestly dignity and by virtue of the sacrament of ordination according to the image of Christ, the highest and eternal priest (Heb 5:1 – 10; 7:24; 9:11 – 28), ordained to preach the Good News, to serve as shepherds for the believers, and to celebrate the worship service, and thus genuine priests of the New Covenant. At the level of their ministry of service, they have a portion in the office of 22 Mller, Katholische Dogmatik, 618.

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the one Mediator, Christ (1Tim 2:5) and proclaim to all the Word of God. Most of all, they exercise their holy office in the eucharistic celebration or assembly, whereby they act in the person of Christ and proclaim His mystery, unite the prayers of the faithful with the sacrifice of their Head, and visualize and offer the only sacrifice of the New Covenant, namely the sacrifice of Christ Himself, who offered himself once and for all to the Father as an undefiled gift (cf. Heb 9:11 – 28) in the sacrifice of the Mass until the return of the Lord (cf. 1Cor 11:26). (LG 28)

The Council speaks about the tasks of the priest in a way that the proclamation of the word of God also takes on an outstanding importance. The priests also participate in the triune ministry of Jesus Christ and represent Him in His communion, especially during the celebration of the Eucharist, which is the central point of sacramental life in the church. We find the formulation that the priests act in the person of Christ: “in persona Christi agere”. The priest as well as the bishop represents Jesus Christ before the communion, and both represent the communion of the church, because they preside over the prayers of the people. This representation of the church and of Christ is intended to show the unity and the difference between Jesus Christ and His people. But, now, we can find another kind of representation: In the individual local congregations of the faithful, they in a certain sense make the bishop present, with whom they are bound in trusting and magnanimous conviction; they, for their part, assume his ministerial tasks and his care, and place themselves daily in their service. Under the authority of the bishop, they sanctify and lead that portion of the Lords flock entrusted to them, make the entire church visible at their locality, and make an effective contribution to building up the entire body of Christ (cf. Eph 4:12). (LG 28)

Thus, the priest represents the bishop of his diocese and therein the universal church in his particular congregation. Joseph Ratzinger wrote a humorous comment on this in 1968: Even if one definitely concedes a “hierarchical connection” with the bishop, the first half of the sentence already appears rather problematic. The average priest probably will ask himself here why he is supposed to have anything to do with the bishop when he baptizes, anoints the sick, or celebrates the Eucharist. But, it will be even more unfathomable to him when it is said that in such doings he makes the bishop “somehow” present. What is that supposed to mean, he will ask himself. Should the priest then really make the bishop present, or not much more Christ, whose role the priest may

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just as well assume as the bishop does in dispensing the sacraments? Has one not fallen prey here to a really odd sort of Romanticism?23

Ratzinger criticizes that many people will not understand that the priest represents the bishop in a certain way (quodamodo). He discovers the sense of this doctrine in the opening of the autarchic communion, which is settled in the worldwide communion of the church. Because the church is understood as a unity in plurality, the collegial relationship between priest and bishop represents the relation between the local communion and the universal church.24 Ministry and church are complex realities that depend on relationships and relatedness. In the decree Presbyterorum Ordinis, the Council teaches that, by the participation in the ministry of the bishop, the ministry of the priest also participates in the authority of Christ leading His church (PO 2). Through ordination, the priests represent the triune ministry of Jesus Christ, but they need a so-called “missio canonica” in order to be able to exercise this triune ministry led by the authority of the bishop.25 But it must be stressed that the presbyterial representation of Jesus Christ is not derived from the ministry of the bishop, but means an immediate relationship, which should be considered in regard to the representation of the church by the priest. The ministry of the priest is not only an emanation of the ministry of the bishop, because Jesus Christ is the original minister of the sacraments.26 Thus, the priests act in relative autonomy and on their own responsibility.27 They are settled in the congregation of priests under the government of the bishop and they act “in persona Christi”. Subordination and co-operation are characteristics of the relationship between the presbyter and the bishop. The hierarchical communion is based on the sacrament of ordination, which enables in a different way the participation in the triune ministry of Jesus Christ.28 There was a discussion about whether the mission of the priest by the bishop can be understood as a kind of medium, appointed by Christ for 23 The citation from Joseph Ratzinger, “Zur Frage nach dem Sinn des priesterlichen Dienstes,” GuL 41 (1968): 347 – 376, here 367, is found in Fallert, Mitarbeiter, 307. 24 Fallert, Mitarbeiter, 309. 25 Ibid., 189 referring to Hubert Mller. 26 Kasper, Katholische Kirche, 332 – 333. 27 Ibid., 333. 28 Fallert, Mitarbeiter, 197. Fallert shows that the ministry of the bishop and the priest “is localized at the intersection of the dimensions of communio and missio” (210).

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getting close to the people.29 According to Hubert Mller, the priests have a so-called “potestas propria”, their own authority, because, in the decree about the bishops from the Second Vatican Council (Christus Dominus), the priests in their function as leaders of the communions are called “pastores proprii”.30 And Gisbert Greshake talks about the area of tension between the poles of autonomy and heteronomy, where the priest is confronted with his relationship to God and, in an analogous way, to the bishop and his communion. The obedience of the priest has to serve these relationships and does not mean submission. Greshake talks about a functional obedience that should serve the pastoral care of souls.31 God and not the bishop is the last and highest authority of clerical obedience. Obedience can only succeed if it enables community and freedom. The presbyterial ministry has to represent all the relationships necessary for the life of the whole church. This means the most important and basic relationship to Christ as head of the church, which can be compared with the fundamental importance of the Holy Scripture. This means the relationship to the bishop as the witness of the apostolic succession, which can be compared with the importance of tradition in the interpretation and preaching of the word of God. Here, we can discover the consequences of the understanding of revelation in the Second Vatican Council: The word of God is given and can be heard in the word of human beings, and the text of Holy Scripture always must be interpreted in a new way, according to the tradition and to the actual time in which people live. But according to Walter Cardinal Kasper, the Council did not find a convincing new concept of presbyterial ministry.32 29 30 31 32

Ibid., 189 referring to Ottmar Fuchs (also 197). Ibid. Greshake, Priester sein, 320. Kasper, Katholische Kirche, 333. He takes seriously the “sacra potestas” of the priest, who is authorized to lead the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrament. The authority “that the priest has in common with the bishop is transferred to the priest in regard to the concrete local congregation … to the bishop, on the other hand in regard to the larger and, in the end, universal communio of the church and its unity, which is the real meaningful goal of the Eucharist. It is a matter here not of a participation more or less in the one office, but rather of two dimensions, belonging to each other, of the one Eucharist and the one office in the one church, which is present in different ways, but in ways belonging to each other internally and essentially, in local congregations, in local or individual churches as well as in the universal church” (333).

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4.2 The Profile of the Presbyterial Ministry in Church Law Church law states, in can. 369 of the Codex Iuris Canonici (1983), that the bishop shepherds his diocese in co-operation with the presbyterium, so that the whole church of Christ is present in each particular church. Here, we have the possibility for understanding the ministry of the bishop and the priest as common church leadership that takes seriously the synodal structure of the church as an important element complementing the monepiscopal and pontifical principles of the constitution of the RomanCatholic Church. But, we also have the possibility of understanding this formulation as a limitation of synodal polity, because of the authority of the bishop, who has the decisive responsibility in his diocese.33 Can. 495 §1 reads as follows: In each diocese a presbyterial council is to be established, that is, a group of priests which, representing the presbyterium, is to be like a senate of the bishop and which assists the bishop in the governance of the diocese according to the norm of law to promote as much as possible the pastoral good of the portion of the people of God entrusted to him.

Thus, the synodal structure is respected, but, of course, there exist problems and tensions in the everyday practice, depending on the personality of the bishop. The bishop is the one who has to decide, and the “senate” has only a consulting function. Nevertheless the priest has to proclaim the word of God in his parish; “he is to take care that the lay members of the Christian faithful are instructed in the truths of the faith, especially by giving a homily on Sundays and holy days of obligation and by offering catechetical instruction” (can. 528 §1). He has to care for social justice and education. In his responsibility for the celebration of sacraments, the presbyter is to see to it that the Most Holy Eucharist is the center of the parish assembly of the faithful. He is to work so that the Christian faithful are nourished through the devout celebration of the sacraments and, in a special way, that they frequently approach the sacraments of the Most Holy Eucharist and penance. (can. 528 §2)

In can. 529 §1, we find the statement that the priest has to share his life with the people by visiting families and showing particular diligence on

33 Concerning the debate in church law, see Fallert, Mitarbeiter, 211 – 223, esp. 215 – 216.

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behalf of the poor, the afflicted, the lonely. Thus, he is able to follow Christ by accompanying the people in their happiness and in their sorrow.

4.3 A Short Look at the Theological Debate after the Second Vatican Council: Identity and Spirituality of the Priest as Relationship between Proximity and Distance The understanding of revelation as the self-communication of God, who comes into our time through His Word, is the basic concept of theology and ecclesiology. Bernd Jochen Hilberath distinguishes two dimensions when he speaks about the mission of the church: the church does not live for itself, because God wants to be close to all people in the world, and it does not live from out of itself, because God preserves the life of the church.34 Gisbert Greshake compares the mission of the church with the mission of the Trinity. As the communion of God becomes mission, because God the Father sends His Word and His Spirit into time, so the church has to go to the people to preach and live the Word of God for all. The church is understood in a certain way, as the image of the Trinity, because of its life of dedication.35 The consequence for the concept of ministry is as follows: The very first task is to point out the fundamental dependency upon Jesus Christ. The ordained ministry must point out to the congregation (and, therein, to itself) constantly and publicly in the congregation that the congregation does not live from out of itself, but rather from that which God in Jesus Christ has done for it and for all people, and from that which God continues to make present for everyone in the Holy Spirit.36

The center of the church is given in God, so that the difference between the church and God is to be represented as well as the proximity of both. We have to deal with the tension of immanence and transcendence. God is present in the church, but He is also different from the church. The proximity of God is given in the difference, so that the difference be34 Bernd Jochen Hilberath, Zwischen Vision und Wirklichkeit: Fragen nach dem Weg der Kirche (Wrzburg: Echter Verlag, 1999), 101 – 102; cf. Greshake, Priester sein, 221, who understands communio as missio: “Authentic, succeeding, successful communio of the church exists on all levels precisely in the missio, namely in the communally discerned responsibility for the world and its mission in the world” (222). 35 Greshake, Priester sein, 222. 36 Hilberath, Vision, 120.

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comes the “room” for an encounter between God and the human being. The difference is an enabling relationship; difference is the “room” between us, a space of time opened by God. Unity between God and man cannot be given without difference and plurality. This is also the doctrine of the Council of Chalcedon in the year 451, where Jesus Christ is understood as God and man, but so that God and man are inseparable and unmixed in Jesus Christ. The Council thinks of a relationship between God and man in Jesus Christ; both are not mixed. In Christology, we also have to deal with a unity between God and man in the difference between God and man. Thus, the ministry of the church has to refer to God; it has to show the relationship to Him.37 The representation of God is not possible without the difference between the person who represents God and the represented God. The priest participates in the mission of Jesus Christ if he follows Him and fulfills the will of God.38 Fulfilling the will of God is the way of representing the Lord. To act in persona Christi then means to let oneself be grasped completely by this event, to be drawn in completely into the relationally-occurring diajom_a of pure pro-existence instituted from the perspective of Christ.39

Sander shows that ministry can find its identity only in the context of relationships, which enable a plurality and a responsible freedom of “proexistence”. The unity of the church is not static; unity becomes reality in relationships, in a space of time, which is opened by the Creator at the beginning of the world. Thus, unity is both: gift and task, a present and a responsibility. It is interesting that in the English language the understanding of “present” in the sense of “gift” and “present” in the sense of “presence” are closely related. Is the presence of God or the presence of another human being in our life a present, a gift? The Bible shows, not only in Gen 1, that we are able to live because life is a gift. And the relationships in which we live, the relationships to other human beings, to God and to the creation are also presents, because we are not the origins of these relationships that enable our life. And presence is also a gift, because God presents the space of time for our life. Thus, we have to talk about grace. For this reason, Ottmar Fuchs understands the ministry of the church as a service to the grace of God, which is related to the service to the 37 Ibid., 121. 38 Stefan Sander, Gott begegnet im Anderen: Der Diakon und die Einheit des sakramentalen Amtes (Freiburg: Herder, 2006), 246. 39 Ibid.

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neighbor. Ministry has to represent the unconditional love of God, His mercy and charity, and therefore ministry is a sacrament, because the love of God can be experienced in the sacraments. Ministry is also a gift of grace, if it becomes transparent for the mercy of God. Ministry has to represent the unconditional grace of God for the communion of the church, and this insofar as there are certain people who assume responsibility in the realm of the church so that Gods grace is never forgotten, never suffocates in legality, is not destroyed in revolting structures, but rather that it shines forth in the church, its institutions and texts, its legal instructions, and in its pastorals, and that no communicative and structural obstacles … are set against this grace.40

Ministry has to remember that the life of the human being and the life of the church find their origin in the grace and love of God. So the priests task is to open spaces of time for the encounter with the infinite God. He must help people to discover the presence of God in their lives, a presence that is already given when you find it. Grace means that the presence of God precedes. All we can do, we do because God enables our acting and our freedom and responsibility. Thus, the priest has to enable every person in the church to find his or her own way in following the Lord in fulfillment of the will of God. In Presbyterorum Ordinis 15 – 17, the Second Vatican Council deals with the counsels of perfection, obedience, celibacy and poverty. Michael Schmaus wrote in his commentary concerning Presbyterorum Ordinis: “If the Council, in ascetic intensification of the situation, does not demand contempt for the world from the priest, then therein is a human trait displayed.”41 This is a very important remark, because it is distinctive of the theology of the ministry that the priest is shown as a human being. The “supernatural” dimension of the sacrament of ordination may not erode the human aspect of the ministry.42 We can read in Presbyterorum Ordinis 3: The priests are taken from the ranks of human beings and are appointed for the sake of the concerns of human beings with God, in order to make offer40 Ottmar Fuchs, Im Innersten gefhrdet: Fr ein neues Verhltnis von Kirchenamt und Gottesvolk (Innsbruck – Wien: Tyrolia Verlag, 2009), 50. 41 Michael Schmaus, “Kommentar zu Artikel 17 – 22,” in Lexikon fr Theologie und Kirche. Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil. Dokumente und Kommentare III, 2nd ed., (Freiburg: Herder, 1968), 222 – 237, here 223. 42 Ibid., 223.

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ings and sacrifices for sins; for this reason, they encounter everyone as their brethren.

The anthropological turn in Roman Catholic theology in the 20th century is concerned, thus, with the theology of ministry. This prevents an ideological understanding of the priest. The priest has to realize his vocation in the world, together with the people. In his love for the people, he may find God, without, however, thereby considering the people and the things, consciously or unconsciously, only as an opportunity for the love of God, and losing sight of their own worth.43

Michael Schmaus draws a conclusion from the belief in the incarnation: As God comes to human beings in Jesus Christ, the priest must come to the people. And he knows the importance of those two commandments that belong close together in Jewish and Christian thinking: You cannot love God without loving your neighbor.

43 Ibid., 224.

The Protestant Pastor and the Communication of the Gospel: Public Ministry in the Present Protestant Church Ulrike Wagner-Rau

1. Centre of Professional Identity: The Communication of the Gospel In the Protestant understanding, the pastoral role and profession is integrated within the priesthood of all believers: There is no spiritual difference between the pastor and the other members of the church. They are all called to preach the Gospel in their lives. And everybody who is baptized has the same potential to do so. This is the basic assumption. But the church as a social body needs organization and guidance. This is the reason for public ministry: Certain believers are assigned to be theologically educated and personally trustworthy and become responsible for public preaching and the administration of the sacraments. They have a special function in the church.1 This functional understanding of the pastoral profession is more or less standard in the present Protestant Practical Theology. The tension between the priesthood of all believers and the special function of the pastor makes it difficult to differentiate exactly between pastors and socalled “lay-people”.2 However, this tension is also a productive factor in the self-understanding of a Protestant pastor: The function of guidance supports his or her specific position and responsibility, yet simultaneously the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers criticizes it. This means the concept supports theological guidance but is critical of authority. That is true even though history has shown both the structural and personal au1

2

Wilfried Hrle, “Allgemeines Priestertum und Kirchenleitung nach evangelischem Verstndnis,” in Marburger Jahrbuch Theologie VIII Kirche (Marburg: Elwert, 1996), 61 – 81. Strictly speaking, this term does not exist in a Protestant understanding of the ministry.

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thoritarian regime of Protestant pastors. The structures have changed, but even today parishioners tend to give their pastor an outstanding position. From a psychoanalytical perspective, one could understand this as a kind of spiritual transference. In order to handle this with care, it is still important to keep in mind that pastors themselves need spiritual guidance from other Christians and that they rely on the same gift of faith despite their special function and responsibility. Supporting and developing the communication of the Gospel is the main task of the pastor. Within the Christian community – characterized by Schleiermacher as a place in which believers are constantly exchanging their convictions, their reading of the Bible and their lives in a religious perspective – the pastor is the theological expert. Furthermore, he or she is the facilitator, hopefully a person of inspiration, someone who is able to differentiate and to criticize especially in theological issues.3 His or her power is mainly the power of word and persuasion: sine vi humana sed verbo (CA 28, 21). The pastor is the theologically educated interpreter of the biblical text for the present situation. He or she is preparing contexts which support religious communication in the church and in society. Sometimes he or she also has the responsibility to interrupt this communication when it seems to be necessary theologically.4 Most Protestant theologians would probably agree with this identification of the pastoral profession. Even so, the dominating issue in Pastoral Theology in the last 200 years has been the issue of the pastors unclear identity.5 Due to modern developments in society, especially the process of social differentiation, the pastoral ministry has lost its clearcut contours. Its main responsibilities and tasks have lost their distinct character. The parish situation has shown a broad variety in the last 150 years. Especially the migration to the cities in the 19th and early 20th centuries raised hitherto unknown problems and needs in German churches. A for3 4

5

Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, Praktische Theologie, ed. Jacob Frerichs (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1850), 65. Jan Hermelink, Die kirchliche Organisation und das Jenseits des Glaubens: Eine praktisch-theologische Theorie der evangelischen Kirche (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2011), 258 – 261. Uta Pohl-Patalong understands Pastoral Theology as a theory of crises because its most productive moments is when pastoral identity becomes a problem. Uta Pohl-Patalong, “Pastoraltheologie,” in Christian Grethlein and Helmut Schwier, eds., Praktische Theologie. Eine Theorie- und Problemgeschichte (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2007), 515 – 74, here: 515.

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mative input was the parish reform initiated by Emil Sulze in Dresden at the end of the 19th century.6 It changed the organization of the parish in analogy to a sort of club. The aim was to create small units and communities in order to reach the isolated inhabitants of the growing cities. For the pastors, this resulted in a lot of new responsibilities compared to the traditional tasks. Now they had to initiate and guide the different groups which met in the newly built parish houses. Besides this structural change, the process of individualization challenged the pastoral profession deeply because the pastors personality and authenticity became a characteristic attribute, thus an indicator for his or her qualities. This was a significant issue in the Pastoral Theology during the rapid process of modernization around the turn from the 19th to the 20th century. Martin Schian, teaching Practical Theology in Gießen, analyzed the situation in 1913/1914 as follows: The pastors acceptance is in decline. The need for a pastor is not at all self-evident in modern culture. Especially the educated groups in society become critical and independent with regard to religious issues. In all areas of society one can observe the dissolution of traditional order and ethical orientation. According to Schian, all the phenomena call for a pastors strong and convincing personality because the Christian message needs to be adapted personally and also the communication with others needs personal authenticity.7 Schians diagnosis sounds rather adequate also to describe the situation in late modernity. But the differentiation of society, the individualization and pluralism regarding religion have become much more intensive, and the existence of other religious beliefs is self-evident in everyday life. The past decades have shown the churches effort to keep up with a changing society. In addition to conventional parishes with their various demands, functional ministries started developing in the 1960s. Unclear pastoral identity is a result. Probably this is an unavoidable result, considering our complex modern society. One can see it not only as a lack of clarity but also as a chance for creative freedom. Communication of the Gospel is an open description for what pastors have to do in different social contexts. Also, if we consider the main tasks of worshipping and preaching, teaching and counseling, a lot of questions remain. For which groups and individuals are you mainly responsible? How do you spend your time? To which needs do you respond and 6 7

Emil Sulze, Die evangelische Gemeinde (Gotha: Perthes, 1891). Martin Schian, Der evangelische Pfarrer der Gegenwart wie er sein soll, 2nd ed., (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichsche Buchhandlung, 1920), 5 – 7, 14 – 24.

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how? How do you focus on your work amid manifold reasonable possibilities? It is a basic demand to create ones own structure in a professional self-understanding, to set priorities, to say yes or no – the latter normally a difficult thing for pastors. You need not only a well-organized and reflected personality, but also one that is faithful and trustful. You have to be faithful to hold ministry within the limits of your possibilities as a human being, and you need trust and hope to believe that what you are able to do is enough.

2. Reciprocity – Interdisciplinary – Dialogical Identity Ernst Lange was the practical theologian who created the concept of communication of the Gospel as the centre of pastoral work at the end of the 1960s.8 This concept displaced that of the pastor as a witness. Against the lonesome authority of the witness who is responsible for the proclamation of the Word of God – thus the concept of dialectical theology – Langes concept of communication was one of reciprocity. The pastor is integrated into a dialogical situation not only in a vertical but also in a horizontal perspective. To understand the churchs life basically as communication of the Gospel is a democratic theological way of understanding, because it expects the interaction of self-reliant religious subjects.9 Preaching in all its forms is not a one-way communication but an open dialogue which sets up the context of the pastor as theological expert.10 But the concept of communication is also a reaction to the growing complexity of pastoral work. The main issues and engagements of this work are to be found in dialogue with the needs and questions of the specific context the pastor is situated in. Even though every pastor leads worship and most of them teach and counsel, his or her specific work might have a quite different character and shape. The difficult orientation between the freedom 8 The centre of the concept is the understanding of the homiletic act as a communication of the Gospel. Ernst Lange, Predigen als Beruf: Aufstze zu Homiletik, Liturgie und Pfarramt, ed. Rdiger Schloz (Mnchen: Christian Kaiser, 1982), 9 – 51. 9 This is also the intention of Henning Luthers writings. Henning Luther, Religion und Alltag: Bausteine einer Praktischen Theologie des Subjekts (Stuttgart: Radius, 1992). 10 This insight is related to complex models of communication and the Aesthetic of Reception.

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of the profession on the one side and the growing variety in the expectations of church members on the other, according to Lange, makes it impossible to find a role that is generally accepted; someone is always complaining.11 Whether the pastor has to bring together the parish and the church institution or different groups of church members, the structural situation of the pastors role is full of tension. Furthermore, there is a great tension on the theological level. The pastor is the preserver of past traditions, the meaning of which, however, lies in future promise. Like Schian, Lange promoted the pastors educated subjectivity and understood his or her principal quality to be an authentic personality. Communication of the Gospel means interaction between text and context, between scripture and current cultural challenge. This interaction needs the pastors subjective perspective. Being a pastor, according to Lange, is a profession that is orientated towards the needy human being. This also makes the pastor him- or herself more human.12 The opening of Practical Theology towards the dialogue with social science and the humanities is the scientific context of Langes writings. Communication of the Gospel is theologically defined with regard to its genuine subject, but the conditions of communication need the insight of other scientific subjects like sociology, psychology, communication theory, semiotics, organization theory, and so on.13 This opening towards interdisciplinary perspectives creates an opening of pastoral knowledge and skills at the same time – with ambiguous results. On the one hand, the modern pastor has a much wider range of methodically supervised possibilities to reflect on his or her work than did former generations. He or she can find a lot of specific further training offered and supported by the churches. The pastors awareness of the situation, their knowledge about communication and their methodical possibilities have improved during the last 30 to 40 years. This is probably one reason for the satisfaction which was figured out by empirical studies about the situation of German pastors in different churches during the last years. Self-understanding as a communicator of the Gospel is wide11 Ernst Lange, “Die Schwierigkeit, Pfarrer zu sein,” in Lange, Predigen als Beruf, 142 – 166. 12 Ibid., 164 – 165. 13 Wilfried Engemann, “Kommunikation des Evangeliums als interdisziplinres Projekt: Praktische Theologie im Dialog mit außertheologischen Wissenschaften,” in Christian Grethlein and Helmut Schwier, eds., Praktische Theologie: Eine Theorie- und Problemgeschichte (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2007), 137 – 232.

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spread among pastors, and it seems that the pastors are well integrated in the parishioners communication.14 On the other hand, the requirements for the modern pastor have increased. The parish pastor is a generalist. He or she has many different fields of work which need quite different personal, theoretical and methodical competences. The effort of bringing ones own professional capacity to perfection may easily lead to excessive demands. Ernst Lange thought of the pastor as the “professional neighbour”.15 He considered valuable that pastors have lost much of their traditional prestige to other professions like doctors, psychologists and teachers. He thought this made pastors more vulnerable and yet more involved. However, during the following decades the pressure on pastors became stronger because the churchs situation became less dominant regarding the religious life of society. The development of professional competences became a dominant issue, especially in the second part of pastoral education. And nobody would deny that pastors play a decisive role in the process of change the church has to go through.

3. Demand for a Theological Profile The end of the 20th century brought the religious and theological issue in all areas of Practical Theology to the fore. It can also be observed in the theories of pastoral profession. Theory and conditions of communication remain important. Yet, more emphasis was placed again on the specific religious character and the theological profile of pastoral communication which are significant for professional identity. Behind this development one can make out two reasons: Firstly it represents a return to the centre after two decades of concentrating on discoveries in foreign areas. The dialogue with humanities and social science had brought up a lot of new and inspiring perspectives and insights. After excursions to other academic worlds, the original theological basis and its specific character became interesting again. Of course, the interdisciplinary dialogue continues. But the familiar perspective has become more important again. 14 See the empirical studies of the Institut fr Wirtschafts- und Sozialethik (IWS) Marburg: http://material.kirchenreform.de/material_pfarrerbefragungen.html. 15 Lange, “Die Schwierigkeit”, 165.

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Secondly the religious landscape in Germany changed dramatically during the last decades of the 20th century. The emphasis in the late 1960s and 70s was on the conflict with authoritarian structures and with repressive forms of religion, which had shaped a lot of Christian biographies in the first half of the century. But eventually, the possible decay of Christian religious tradition at all, especially of Christian churches in Western Europe, became an issue. Today, most children grow up without learning much about Christian religion in their families. Knowledge of the Christian tradition is in decline. Many are interested in religious questions and competent to speak about their religious convictions.16 The media are effective new agents of religious socialization, shaping more eclectic forms of religion.17 Yet, an increasing number of people are not bound to a church and do not know much about the specific character of the Christian faith and culture. This is also true for a lot of church members themselves. If evidence of the Christian-educated culture is vanishing, the pastors theological competence becomes more important. That is why Albrecht Groezinger speaks of the pastors “Amt der Erinnerung”18 – ministry of memory. The pastors task is interpreting the biblical tradition and reminding the people that its texts still offer meaningful and beneficial perspectives for modern life. To do this in a convincing and plausible way is his or her most important task. In a similar context, Manfred Josuttis speaks of the pastor as “Fhrer zum Heiligen”19 – one who leads to the holy. He looks at the pastor as a mystagogue who knows of the techniques for getting into contact with the holy. His books were read by many pastors because he accentuates spirituality as an important dimension of ministry, a dimension many pastors long for. But Josuttis role model does not fit properly into the Protestant tradition of ministry and its characteristic academic education. It is not least inspired by the model of the lonely shaman, whereas the Protestant 16 Armin Nassehi, “Erstaunliche religiçse Kompetenz: Qualitative Ergebnisse des RELIGIONSMONITORS,” in Bertelsmann-Stiftung, ed., Religionsmonitor 2008 (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2007), 113 – 132. 17 Hubert Knoblauch, Populre Religion: Auf dem Weg in eine spirituelle Gesellschaft (Frankfurt/Main – New York: Campus, 2009), 197 – 198. 18 Albrecht Grçzinger, Die Kirche – ist sie noch zu retten? Anstiftungen fr das Christentum in postmoderner Gesellschaft (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 1998), 134 – 141. 19 Manfred Josuttis, Einfhrung in das Leben: Pastoraltheologie zwischen Phnomenologie und Spiritualitt (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 1996).

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pastor is integrated in the church community as one among other “ministers”. Stressing spirituality, however, is an important reminder. The pastor is supposed to be a spiritual personality, but the other believers can be as spiritual as he or she is. Isolde Karle – whose concept was probably the most influential in the recent years – understands the pastorate and its theological responsibility in terms of the systemic-profession-theory.20 The special character and task of a classical profession is communication and support in dimensions of life which are especially relevant for the individual and the whole of society. The pastor represents professional knowledge of religious and theological communication. Karle emphasizes that, even though the existential character of religious questions needs personal interaction, the pastor can relate to the professional knowledge and skills of former generations. That is why, in her view, personal authenticity is not the most important quality of a pastor – on the contrary, to stress this could result in excessive demands. It is rather theological knowledge and the reliable answer to the parishioners expectations which are most important. Karles concept is cogent insofar as the concept of profession joins the objective and the subjective aspect of the pastoral role. What the pastor needs is not bare individuality but a sort of professional “broken” authenticity which is related to the theological subject matter.21 Nevertheless, the need to work on ones personality remains important for pastors. Religiosity in late modernity is inevitably subjective. That is why the pastors theologically reflected and personally differentiated religious subjectivity is the most important medium of the communication of the Gospel. Theological knowledge and reflexivity on the one hand and personal development and competency in relationships on the other are likewise important in pastoral education and work.

20 Isolde Karle, Pfarrberuf als Profession (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2001). 21 Michael Meyer-Blanck, “Inszenierung und Prsenz: Zwei Kategorien des Studiums Praktischer Theologie,” in Wege zum Menschen 49 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), 2 – 16.

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4. Changing Structures In the present situation there are two aspects of structural change that have had a strong impact on the pastoral profession. The first is the change in gender relations and private way of life; the second is demographic change.

4.1 The Change in Gender Relations and the Pastors Private Way of Life In the last centuries, the Protestant pastorate represented the ideal of the civic, educated family. Especially the development of the classical professions in the 19th century was related closely to the modern differentiation of gender roles. The autonomous male individual became the typical representative of such elite positions as doctor, judge or clergyman. The professionals wives were complementary partners who were responsible for the private sphere. Profession and private life were constructed specifically in the house of the doctor, of the judge and especially of the clergyman, and this construction was related to a specific gender arrangement.22 In particular the vicars wife did not only look after the family and the household. She also helped her husband with his professional duties, expanding her caring activities to the church members. Even today, pastors and their families are often confronted with similar expectations. The modern differentiation between professional and private life in ministry is not the same as in other sections of society. Although pastors try to shield their families and their private lives from the demands of their work today more than former generations had done, they agree that their professional situation is not a job but a calling which demands their whole life. But the gender arrangement has changed in the pastorate as well as in the society as a whole, and the traditional construction of life and work has become outdated. There are not only women pastors – 33 % in the EKD-churches in 2009 – but the pastors private life has been transformed into a lot of different arrangements. Today, you still find the pastors family in the traditional sense. But besides this, there are families with both partners working – being pastors in the same or in different par22 Regine Gildemeister and Gnther Robert, “Die Macht der Verhltnisse: Professionelle Berufe und private Lebensformen,” in Martina Lçw, ed., Geschlecht und Macht (Wiesbaden: Verlag fr Sozialwissenschaften, 2008), 47 – 80.

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ishes or one of the couple in another profession – and there are single pastors, divorced pastors, gay and lesbian couples living together. Correspondingly, there is a growing variety in structural conditions: Most pastors still live in their specific house which is centered in the parish. However, pastors in functional ministries have neither the duty nor the possibility to live in a rectory. If two pastors are a couple, one of them is freed from living in the parish. Some parishes sell their rectory because they need the money. And pastors without a family are not very keen on living in an old house with more rooms than they need. These changes in the structural conditions of the pastors private life also changed the understanding of the professional role. The pastor is still aware that church members expect an exemplary lifestyle, and he or she is generally willing to accept this. But the answer to this expectation can no longer be given in the traditional way because all developments and conflicts of the modern intimate relationship are also found in the pastors house. Also the pastors family experiences the difficult need to combine profession and family life in a new construction. As the private life of the Protestant pastor is integrated into the social developments, societal problems affect the profession, too. Martin Luthers whole house, which combined family and economic life, turned into the exemplary household and family of the educated middle-class society in the period following the Enlightenment. Today, the notion of a pastors life is changing once more, its status not yet foreseeable. It remains to be figured out what kind of pastors presence is necessary in the parish and what kind of exemplary existence he or she can put into practice.23

4.2 Demographic Change and Change of Church Structures A second fundamental change for the church structure, and at the same time for the pastors existence, is the actual and the predicted demographic development in Germany.24 Especially the population decline in the economically less developed rural parts of Germany raises problems. 23 Ulrike Wagner-Rau, “Lebensfhrungsfragen in der Supervision,” in Michael Klessmann and Kerstin Lammer, eds., Das Kreuz mit der Kirche: Supervision in Kirche und Diakonie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchner-Verlagshaus, 2007), 145 – 154. 24 Gabriele Doblhammer, Caroline Berghammer and Rico Jonassen, “Demographie,” in Thomas Klie, Martina Kumlehn and Ralph Kunz, eds., Praktische Theologie des Alterns (Berlin – New York: de Gruyter, 2009), 7 – 34.

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Most urgent is the question if the church can remain present in all regions. The parochial system, for hundreds of years the basis of German church life, is at risk. At the moment, one can observe processes of regionalization. Parishes are forced to merge. The regions of pastors responsibilities are growing. Up to now there have not been enough empirical studies about this process. Yet we know that pastors feel stressed due to the growing quantity of work. Long hours of driving time dominate their days if their parish is situated in the countryside. It becomes even more difficult to focus on the most important aspects of their responsibility. Is it reasonable to spend a lot of time on three and more worships every Sunday with three or four people in attendance? Is it effective to be a member of different parish councils because the single parish needs to stay self-reliant and to go on in its regional tradition? Does it make sense that the pastor is the administrator of day-care centres for children and of cemeteries? And how far is it possible to motivate volunteers in a church which is concentrated traditionally on pastoral initiatives and authority? Which competences do pastors need to support volunteer activities? Which activities should be taken over by volunteers at all? In this area one can observe a lot of development which has to be analyzed empirically and considered theologically. For example, the ways of worship are changing. There are models of parish liturgies, printed texts which make it possible for groups to worship without an ordained leader. The number of lay preachers is growing. They not only lead Sunday services but also baptize and lead mourning services and weddings. The teaching of the priesthood of believers offers opportunities for sharing responsibilities. This is an advantage of the Protestant ministry. However, this makes it even more important to decide what the main pastoral duties are in a specific local context and how they relate to the other full-time and volunteer collaborators activities. The basis for this differentiation of functions has to be the theological competence of the pastor. But it cannot be applied everywhere in the same way. The parochial situation in the German churches has become more diverse. In some parts you find the established “Volkskirche”. On the other hand, there are parishes consisting of only a few members, living spread over a wide area. You find flourishing parishes in the well-off quarters in towns, and you can visit empty churches in other parts of the same town on Sunday even though the pastor is an engaged and gifted preacher. The growing pluralism in the different church situations calls for different key aspects of activity. What does communication of the Gospel

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mean in the rural area where one pastor is responsible for ten or thirteen villages and their churches? What does it mean for the pastor in a large hospital or in educational work, among young families in the city where, besides the pastor, several other employees work for the parish? The pastoral answers cannot be always the same. Everywhere the pastor needs basic theological and communicative competences. But each situation asks for special field competences as well. It is an open question whether the parochial structure will remain the dominant model everywhere. The communion around the Word of the Gospel and the sacrament can gather under various structural conditions. The church, according to Confessio Augustana VII, is an open structure.25 And it seems that the German churches are in a historical situation where more or less severe structural changes may become necessary.

5. The Need for Networking Although the church bell-towers still mark the geographical centre of local communities, the local Christian community and its pastor are no longer at the center of attention. The institutional character of the church is weakening, and the personal and material resources decline. The pastor cannot primarily count on the traditional importance of his or her ministry and parish life. It becomes more important to transcend the familiar forms of parish life and pastoral work. It is necessary to broaden the horizon and to become aware of the local needs, conflicts and public discourses. It is important to look for ways of communication with other players in the regional society. The self-understanding of being in the centre has to be converted into a perspective of networking among equal partners with particular possibilities, interests and resources. The church becomes needy. This is a spiritual issue. This may be the opportunity to see the value of the other more clearly. It can be motivating to look for cooperation and interaction with non-church partners in the region. In the 1960s and 70s, there were concepts of the integration of church activities in community work. Again Ernst Lange and his Ladenkirche in Ber-

25 Uta Pohl-Patalong, “Gemeinde: Kritische Blicke und konstruktive Perspektiven,” in Pastoraltheologie 94 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), 242 – 257.

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lin come to mind.26 He had the vision of a church much more integrated into everyday life. In the last 30 years these concepts of political, social and cultural participation have been forgotten. Nowadays, they seem to be becoming important again.27 Networking is an activity that needs both clear awareness of ones own identity and a respect and appreciation of the other. In this regard, Eberhard Tiefensees ideas are important. The Catholic philosopher reflects on the cultural stance of religious indifference as an interdisciplinary challenge.28 According to Tiefensee, religious indifference has the character of a non-phenomenon in the main cultural perspective of central Europe. The dominating assumption is that of religiosity as a fundamental part of the human character. Only after the peaceful revolution in 1989 did it become peremptory that this assumption might be wrong. Having grown up in the socialist regime of the GDR, a great number of people from Eastern Germany lacked religious interest and bent. This calls attention to the fact that there are non-religious people in other cultural contexts as well. It is necessary to shift ones perspective to understand this phenomenon in an adequate and respectful way. Tiefensee differentiates the model of deficiency from the model of alterity. The first model is normative. Its main question towards the other is: What is missing? The second model is descriptive and focused on the question: What differs? To ask this second question affords the opportunity to discover aspects which enrich ones own point of view. Tiefensees differentiation is born out of the specific dialogical situation in East Germany. But it is valuable for many situations of networking and dialogue the church is involved in. The model of alterity offers a much wider range of possibilities of contact and reciprocal enrichment than the model of deficiency. Its aim is not to overcome diversity but to cooperate in diversity. Tiefensee favours a theological point of view that is aware of its limits and dependence on other perspectives. Even so he does not give a skeptic relativism. 26 Ernst Lange, “Aus der Bilanz 65,” in Ernst Lange, Kirche fr die Welt: Aufstze zur Theorie kirchlichen Handelns, ed. Rdiger Schloz (Mnchen: Christian Kaiser, 1981), 63 – 160. 27 So Christian Mulia, Kirchliche Altenbildung: Herausforderungen – Perspektiven – Konsequenzen (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2011), 352 – 359. 28 Eberhard Tiefensee, “Religiçse Indifferenz als interdisziplinre Herausforderung,” in Gert Pickel and Kornelia Sammet, eds., Religion und Religiositt im vereinigten Deutschland: Zwanzig Jahre nach dem Umbruch (Wiesbaden: Verlag fr Sozialwissenschaften, 2011), 79 – 102.

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Pastors have an important influence on how far the church opens its doors. They are important public representatives. They are in constant contact with those who do not belong to the inner circle of church life. Their theological education combines the insight that our knowledge is limited with the belief that the absolute transcends everything we can know. The pastor can be a mediator between different kinds of religiosity within the church, between different religious traditions and between religious and secular culture. So it seems important that public ministry is not only focused on the church but also open for the dimension that the church is one player among others in civil society.

6. Between Limitation and Openness Protestant churches are becoming smaller in Middle Europe. They are losing resources and influence. Even so, they are still important, not because they remain rather influential and rich – though this is true, too – but because they offer an essential perspective on reality, the perspective of faith. Pastors have become less important, too. They are no longer the unquestioned authority in the parish. Sometimes they really struggle to be seen and to be heard. Even so, their theologically educated religous voice is important not only in the church but also in society where a theological and religious expert opinion is needed. But the limitation of power makes the verbo sine vi humana more existential: You have to convince other people and interest groups that it is worthwhile to listen to you, to speak with you. You have to find a language which is understood also by those who do not know much about the Christian tradition. You have to be respectful of other opinions and aware of the deep doubts that grow out of modern thinking.29 Today, there are no longer any non-religious reasons for being religious, as Luhmann says. This is a challenge which is not easy to answer. In the situation of transition and growing diversity it is not possible to give a simple answer to the question of the pastors identity. The communication of the Gospel is the frame for different understandings of pastoral work. Three aspects seem to be of special importance: 29 Albert Grçzinger, Toleranz und Leidenschaft: ber das Predigen in einer pluralistischen Gesellschaft (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2004), 20 – 24, notes the importance of preaching for the “strange guest” as the implicit listener.

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The pastor conveys an exemplary Christian understanding of life in late modernity by word and deed. He or she represents a theologically educated, as well as subjective, personal perspective, being able to articulate theological essentials and, at the same time, knowing about the limitation of personal insight. He or she is a competent dialogue partner in religious issues, who accompanies people with theological and human competence in their existential questions and conflicts. Pastors have to struggle with new limitations in their professional existence today. At first glance this seems wholly negative. But one can also focus on the opportunity it brings. Being aware of the brokenness and limits of possibilities and resources of life is a basic assumption of Christian anthropology.30 The church is, with increasing urgency, forced to face loss, limitation and uncertainty. However, this is true not only for the church but for the whole of society. Limitation and neediness of life are a basic theological concern and also an existential and political concern of modern life. Is it possible to accept limits without losing trust and hope? The church should be a place where there is evident awareness of and space for this existential question. Pastors deal with this question in their daily work and allow an open space for it. Dealing with limitations should not be taken as a reason to close the door. On the contrary, pastors should be the advocates of an open dialogue which transcends the limits of communication. The hope of the Gospel is that Christ is the name of transcending, reconciling love. That is why the church gathers different cultures of religiosity and must not be afraid of encounters with what is foreign. Parishes tend to concentrate on their own inner life. It is up to the pastors to question this inward focus and to support hospitality. They have to communicate in different languages and milieus. That is why I think that the pastors most important position is “at the doorstep”31: in the place of passage and exchange, in the border zone between inside and outside. He or she should have good relationships in the parish, but should not be totally identified with it. On the contrary, the position “at the doorstep” creates a distance that allows critique, intercommunion and new ideas. Caring for the en30 Henning Luther, “Identitt und Fragment: Praktisch-theologische berlegungen zur Unabschließbarkeit von Bildungsprozessen,” in Religion und Alltag: Bausteine einer Praktischen Theologie des Subjekts (Stuttgart: Radius, 1992), 160 – 183. 31 Ulrike Wagner-Rau, Auf der Schwelle: Das Pfarramt im Prozess kirchlichen Wandels, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2012).

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counter with the unfamiliar “other” – on a theological and on a human level – is an essential task of the pastorate today.

A Female Rabbi Is Like an Orange on the Passover Plate. Women and the Rabbinate: Challenges and Horizons Dalia Marx I wonder what its like to be a Jew. I have been close to Jews all my life; Ive eaten with them, eaten and even cooked their kosher food. Ive drunk their kosher wine and said “amen” to their blessings. Ive dressed up and gone to their synagogues on Sabbaths and holydays. Ive even fasted on their fast days. Ive given money that I have earned to their charities. Ive read their books and learned to read, from right to left, their holy tongue. Ive watched them at their prayers, their Bible chanting, their Torah carrying. Im beginning to wonder why Im here, Because Im only Jewish … and Jewish is to Jew as greenish is to green. Almost, but not quite. A Jewish Woman1

Although the following story is relatively new, its variations are many. The most common variation speaks of a rabbi (a male rabbi, of course) who rebuked a woman when she asked whether women can serve as rabbis. He dismissed her question by saying that women had as much place on the pulpit as an orange had on the Passover seder plate. As an act of

1

Yocheved (Eunice) Scheinbok Welber published this poem in 1973 in the newsletter she herself edited for her synagogue, Kehillat Bet Torah of Mount Kisco, NY, after her daughter was denied an egalitarian ceremony to celebrate her forthcoming marriage. I thank her for allowing me to cite her poem and for her many editorial and other helpful suggestions for this article. I also thank her granddaughter, my friend Rabbi Chaya Rowen Baker, for bringing the poem to my attention. Thanks also to Taffy Sassoon for additional editing.

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defiance, many liberal families now add an orange to the ritual seder plate on their Passover table.2 This paper is dedicated to an examination of the topic of women in the rabbinate. After a short history of the subject, I shall discuss some of the unique aspects of women rabbis: what they bring to the rabbinate, what special challenges they face, and how they have changed the profession. I will address the special case of women rabbis in Israel and will conclude with a consideration of the immediate as well as the far-reaching consequences of increasing numbers of women in the pulpit.

1. A Brief History of Women in the Rabbinate There are a few salient examples of women who served as leaders in ancient Israel (such as the prophetesses Deborah and Huldah), in the Middle Ages (such as Asenath Barzani, 1590 – 1670, in Iraq) and in the Chassidic communities of Eastern Europe from the 18th century onwards (such as Edel, daughter of the founder of Chassidism, HaBaal Shem Tov).3 In recent times women have become active members of their synagogues, engaged in cooking, serving, cleaning, fund-raising, committee work, and so on. These functions have been done on a voluntary basis, usually without any formal recognition. This paper, however, deals specifically with women who strove to become rabbis and with others who actually succeeded in achieving an institutional or private ordination. According to Pamela Nadell, author of Women Who Would Be Rabbis,4 the question of whether women can serve in the rabbinate was first asked over 120 years ago. She cites a short story written in 1899 by the journalist Mary M. Cohen, a member of the traditional Philadelphia synagogue Mikveh Israel. Entitled “A Problem for Purim”, the story was prominently published on the front page of The Jewish Exponent. The issue posed by the story is whether women could help American Judaism 2

3 4

Susannah Heschel, considered to be the source of this story, later explained that it was not accurately told and that the reason for including an orange was to express solidarity with Jewish gays and lesbians as well as with other marginalized groups in the Jewish community (http://www.jweekly.com/article/full/17548/ orange-on-seder-plate-tale-is-flawed-feminist-says). Renee Goldberg, “Hasidic Women Rebbes from 1749 – 1933” (rabbinical thesis, HUC-JIR, 1997). Pamela Nadell, Women Who Would Be Rabbis: A History of Womens Ordination 1889 – 1985 (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998).

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thrive by becoming rabbis. The storys protagonist is a promising young man, Lionel Martinez, who is preparing for the rabbinate. A few days before Purim, he invites a group of friends to discuss Jewish affairs. The topic for discussion is “Ministers and Their Work” and initially the talk revolves around sermons and the possibility of exchanging pulpits in the hope that this might offer “some vitalizing influence”. Then a young woman, Dora Ulman, superintendent of a local sewing school, speaks up, warning that her words “will shock you considerably”: She blushed a little, then made a desperate plunge into her subject. “Could not – our women – be – ministers?” All but Lionel were struck dumb. Even Jacks boasted calmness had taken flight; he sate [sic] in open eyed surprise. Martinez said quickly: “Will you explain your idea or plan, Miss Dora?” He was, however, secretly a little astonished: he had not expected anything from her until later on, and then, “views” on sewing schools. “It seems to me”, said Dora in response, “that there are trails in the lives of women that men do not and cannot understand. About these our sex could probably preach and teach better than men could. At present men minister to both sexes and why should women not do the same? Of course I do not mean that women should supercede men in the pulpit […] but the profession should be opened to women too.[…]”5

Dora continues by explaining her idea to the astonished gathering. Questions are asked to which she gives clear and forceful answers. The mens objections are important for our purposes (and are still familiar to us). No fewer than six arguments are raised against Doras appeal: (1) There are few if any women suitable for the pulpit; (2) doubt that women can see sufficiently beyond their “circumstances and horizons” to become engaged; (3) fear that “our people” are not ready for this; (4) it “constituted too severe a break with the past”6 ; (5) fear that womens ambitions to become rabbis will meet with ridicule, “people would laugh openly to see a woman at the pulpit”; (6) fear of what we would today call the feminization of the profession, a phenomenon that would diminish the professions status. Interestingly, these arguments would be heard again and again with regard to the ordination of women, all the way up to the present time. Cohen responds to these objections through Doras mouth and concludes by citing an anonymous Christian clergyman who wrote that

5 6

Mary M. Cohen, “A Problem for Purim,” The Jewish Exponent, March 15, 1889. I thank Prof. Nadell for sending me the complete text. Nadell, Women, 4.

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“the pulpit will never reach its sublimest power until Woman takes her place in it as a free and equal interpreter of God”.7 It may not be coincidental that Cohen chose to publish her story just before Purim, the feast of masquerade and light-headedness, when in traditional yeshivas (houses of study) a special role-reversal game takes place. One of the students, typically a bright and independent-minded one, is elected to serve as “Purim Rabbi” for the day, in order to embody the Purim concept of venahafokh hu (let us turn it upside down). The Purim Rabbis task is to create a humorous mood in an institution which is usually dedicated to very serious study. By her choice of the storys title and date of publication, Cohen may have been alluding to Queen Esther, the orphan who saved the Jewish people from extermination. While couching her revolutionary idea in a topsy-turvy Purim context, Cohen may not only have been warning people not to take her too seriously, but she may also have been using parody as a safe way of expressing unconventional truths that otherwise could not be tolerated.8 Indeed, Cohens arguments reveal a climate of rising expectations for changing female roles in American Judaism. This was the time of what the historian Jonathan Sarna calls the “great awakening” in North America in general and in Jewish America in particular.9 Many of the changes affecting womens roles and place (literally and symbolically) occurred “from the bottom up” and were accomplished by young people, some of them women. Rabbis praised womens sincere religiosity, encouraging them to attend the synagogue; mixed choirs were founded in many communities; girls participated in confirmation classes and were confirmed together with boys.10 The confirmation ceremony itself was a novelty in Judaism, enabling both boys and girls to ascend the bimah (pulpit) and address the congregation. But for girls it was a once-in-a-lifetime experi-

7 Ibid., 3. 8 With regard to the social and psychological function of organized subversion in the context of carnival, see the classical work of Mikhail Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, trans. Helene Iswolsky (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1968). 9 Jonathan Sarna, A Great Awakening: The Transformation That Shaped Twentieth-Century American Judaism and Its Implications for Today (New York: Council for Initiatives in Jewish Education, 1995). 10 Klaus Herrmann, “Jewish Confirmation Sermons in 19th-Century Germany,” in Alexander Deeg, Walter Homolka and Heinz-Gnther Schçttler, eds., Preaching in Judaism and Christianity: Encounters and Developments from Biblical Times to Modernity (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 91 – 112.

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ence, whereas for boys it could be merely the first step toward public Jewish careers. Some Jewish women did get public recognition as community leaders and preachers. Before the 1930s there were several in the US who received the title “first female rabbi”. Although none of them was actually ordained, they paved the way for womens ordination. I will mention a few. Ray Frank (1861 – 1948), “girl rabbi of the Golden West”,11 was a Sabbath school principal. In 1890 she agreed to preach in Spokane, Washington, after learning that there was no rabbi in the congregation. These were the first sermons she delivered and the first religious services she led. At that time a few Protestant women pastors were in office; Elisabeth Blackwell is considered to be the first of them. Frank studied for some time at Hebrew Union College (HUC), the Reform rabbinical seminary in Cincinnati. She wrote about what she would do if she were a rabbi, but she explicitly declared that she did not desire to become one or even to seek a formal theological education.12 Frank is considered by many to be the first Jewish woman functioning without formal ordination as a rabbi. She was followed by a number of other women, most of them from the liberal branches of American Judaism, who fulfilled rabbinic roles without having been ordained.13 Henrietta Szold was the first woman to be admitted, after a long struggle, to the Jewish Theological Seminary, the rabbinical seminary of the Conservative Movement in New York, where she studied in 1903 – 1906.14 A scholar and Zionist leader, she was ambivalent about the issue of womens ordination and occasionally expressed negative attitudes toward it.15 The issue seemed to wane, but it regained vitality within the debate about modernizing Judaism in the 1920s. Five women studied in rabbinical schools long enough to become eligible to receive ordination. Apparently none of them was aware that womens ordination had been a contentious issue 30 years before their admission to seminaries.16 Martha Neumark, daughter of an HUC professor, began her studies there in 11 Reva Clar and William M. Kramer, “The Girl Rabbi of the Golden West,” Western States Jewish History, 18 (1986): 91 – 111, 223 – 236. 12 Nadell, Women, 41. 13 Ibid., 30 – 117. 14 Ibid., 53 – 59. 15 Ibid., 54, 57 – 58. 16 Ibid., 61.

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1922. The HUC faculty and the Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR) proclaimed in that year, in response to Neumarks application to the school: “Women cannot justly be denied the privilege of ordination.” Despite this historic declaration, it took over 50 more years before the first woman was ordained at HUC.17 Neumarks admission was described by Jacob Z. Lauterbach, a prominent HUC professor, as “a very bad investment,” since women are expected to get married and she would probably decide to answer her calling of “mother and home maker”, thus causing the college to train and support her “eight years for nothing”.18 Neumark was the only woman in her class of 100 students. In fact, she did not complete her studies but left after seven and a half years to get married. But she was the first woman to receive the degree of “religious school superintendent”.19 Neumark and a handful of other women who wanted to become rabbis sought, as Martha Neumarks daughter Rey Montor stated, “to be taken seriously as an intellect and at the same time to be taken seriously as a woman”.20 Some of them were daughters of rabbis or scholars, or married to rabbis, but most of them were isolated individuals encountering powerful forces of resistance by those in power, all of them men: seminary faculty members, boards of governors, and classmates. Even some of the most openly supportive rabbis and leaders of womens quest for equality showed a great deal of ambivalence and hesitation when it came to actually ordaining women. For example, Rabbi Isaac Meir Wise, founder of HUC and the Central Conference of American Rabbis, expressed enthusiasm for and genuine appreciation of the female students at his institution, and at the same time hesitated to grant them rabbinic ordination. Some faculty members believed that only an exceptionally outstanding candidate could compel such a radical departure from tradition. However, Nadell shows that these gatekeepers revealed their hesitation by bestowing honor grades on female students for their work while simultaneously claiming that they were “average” or even “poor” students. (It

17 18 19 20

Ibid., 62. Ibid., 65. Ibid., 72. Ibid., 92. The quotation is ascribed to R. Montor, Origins: How I Got Here and Whats in My Baggage, 7.

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should be noted that these women were not entitled to scholarships or any kind of institutional help.)21 The Great Depression further hindered the possibility of womens entrance into the rabbinate, as well as into other professions. Furthermore, the 1930s brought to the US a large number of rabbis fleeing Germany, and women did not want “to take the place of a young rabbinical graduate, or perhaps a refugee, anxiously awaiting a call”.22 Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, Regina Jonas was ordained in Germany in 1935. This historic event took place without the knowledge of her contemporaries in North America, in fact unbeknown to the general Jewish public until very recently.23 Born in 1902 to a traditional family, Regina Jonas studied in the Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums, the rabbinical seminary in her native Berlin. The topic of her thesis, which would have been a requirement for ordination, was “Can a Woman Be a Rabbi according to Halakhic [Jewish legal] Sources?” She answered her own question in the positive, based on a thorough examination of Biblical, Talmudic and rabbinical sources.24 Her request to pursue ordination was rejected by the Talmud professor of the institute. She then turned to Rabbi Leo Baeck, the leader of German Jewry, who also refused her request, arguing that the ordination of a female rabbi would cause massive intra-Jewish problems with the Orthodox rabbinate in Germany. Eventually, Jonas received a private ordination from Rabbi Max Dieneman, a Reform rabbi, in Offenbach. Jonas served as a preacher and chaplain in various Jewish social institutions and communities but never had her own congregation. As mentioned above, many rabbis were emigrating at the time from Nazi Germany, and many communities, especially small ones, were left without a rabbi. Ironically, while the emigration of German rabbis to the US hin21 Ibid., 96. 22 Ibid., 99. These words are ascribed to Helen Levinthal, a leading candidate for ordination, after she received a masters degree in 1939 from the Jewish Institute of Religion in New York. 23 Regina Jonas has recently received a significant amount of public attention thanks to a biography written about her by Elisa Klapheck, Frulein Rabbiner Jonas: The Story of the First Woman Rabbi, trans. Toby Axelrod (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004). Information about Jonas became available after the re-unification of Germany in 1990 and the subsequent opening of the East German archives. 24 Elisa Klapheck, ed., Frulein Rabbiner Jonas: Kann die Frau das Rabbinische Amt Bekleiden? (Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 1999).

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dered the entrance of women to the rabbinate there, it may explain the relative ease with which Jonas was accepted into rabbinic positions, albeit without a pulpit of her own. In November 1942 she was deported with her mother to Theresienstadt concentration camp, where she continued her work. One of her tasks was to receive Jews who were transported to the camp and help them to adjust to the difficult reality awaiting them. She was sent to Auschwitz in October 1944, where she was murdered two months later at the age of 42. Although many of the people who knew her and her work survived the Holocaust, including some of her colleagues, Regina Jonas was all but forgotten for more than six decades. This case of “communal amnesia”25 deserves a separate discussion.26 It is sui generis in that it took place against the background of the extreme situation in Nazi Germany and therefore does not reflect the normal course of events that gradually brought about the ordination of women. It took another 37 years for Sally Priesand to receive rabbinic ordination from Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion (HUCJIR) in Cincinnati in 1972. She became the first ordained woman rabbi in North America and the first woman ever to be ordained by a rabbinical seminary. Her dean, Rabbi Kentor Roseman, described her as a “good B student and a leader in our student body” but admitted that she was not accepted as “one of the boys” and she was not invited to join “when they go out for a beer”.27 The new wave of American feminism continued to surge, and one after the other, all the liberal rabbinical seminaries began to ordain women. Sandy Eisenberg Sasso was the first woman to be ordained, in 1974, in the Reconstructionist Movement.28 The Reconstructionist Rabbinic Association had begun accepting women into the rabbinical program from its establishment in 1968. One year after Sassos ordination, the first woman rabbi was ordained at Leo Baeck College in London in 1975. It took a further decade and a fierce debate that threatened to split the Conservative Movement before the Jewish Theological Seminary 25 This phrase was coined by Sybil Sheridan in her article “History of Women in the Rabbinate: A Case of Communal Amnesia,” 1999 (http://www.bet-debora.de/jewish-women/history.htm). 26 Sheridans article (see previous note) offers some possible answers. 27 George Vecey, “Her Ambition Is to Become a Rabbi – and a Housewife,” New York Times, March 1972. I thank Rabbi Mindy Avra Portnoy for sending me this article along with many important documents regarding women in the rabbinate. 28 The Reconstructionist Movement, then the liberal wing of the Conservative Movement, which later became an independent movement of its own.

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in New York ordained Amy Eilberg, the first Conservative woman rabbi, in 1985. In Israel, progress has been slower. The first woman rabbi there, Naama Kelman, who had applied to HUC-JIR in 1981, was ordained in HUCs Jerusalem seminary in 1992. The following year, Valerie Stessin was the first Masorti (Conservative) rabbi ordained in Israel. Last but not least among the “first” liberal female rabbis is Alina Treiger, who was ordained in Germany in 2010 at the Abraham Geiger College. As the first post-war female rabbi in the cradle of Reform Judaism, her ordination received much media attention. The focus is now on Orthodox women. While there is no longer any significant formal public discussion of the right of women to receive rabbinic ordination in the non-Orthodox movements, a heated debate is raging in modern Orthodoxy on this issue. Rabbi Avraham Weiss, head of Hebrew Institute of Riverdale and founder and dean of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, both in New York, ordained Sara Hurwitz in 2009 with the new title of MaHaRaT (Morat Halakha Rabbanit Toranit, a female rabbinic law instructor),29 thus making her the first woman to be an Orthodox rabbi.30 A year later, Weiss announced that Hurwitz would be known by the title of Rabba (the accepted term for a woman rabbi in the Reform Movement and to some extent also in the Conservative Movement). However, shortly afterwards, he withdrew this designation due to severe criticism from his fellow Orthodox rabbis.31 Time will tell how the question of the ordination of Orthodox women will be resolved. The following table presents the proportion of female to male rabbis in the Central Conference of American Rabbis (Reform):

29 Before Hurvitz, another woman, Haviva Ner-David, was privately ordained in Israel, but she decided to forgo her ordination when she realized that she did not identify with Orthodox Judaism anymore. Haviva Ner-David, Life on the Fringes: A Feminist Journey toward Traditional Rabbinic Ordination (Needham, MA: JFL Books, 2000). 30 See Sara Hurwitz, “Orthodox Women in Rabbinic Roles,” in Elyse Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2009), 133 – 143. 31 Ben Harris, “Amid Furor, Weiss Backs Away from Rabba Title for Women,” JTA, March 9, 2010 (http://www.jta.org/news/article/2010/03/09/1011006/weissbacks-away-from-rabba-title-for-women).

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Members of the CCAR

32

Ordination classes 2010 – 2011

Total

Male rabbis

Female rabbis

2042

1453 (72 %)

589 (28 %)

72

20 (28 %)

52 (72 %)

This table shows a dramatic reversal from the relatively low number of women rabbis to their becoming an overwhelming majority among those most recently ordained. According to Tanya Sperling, Assistant to the Director of Rabbinic Placement in the CCAR, 42 of the 52 women rabbis ordained in 2010 – 2011 are currently working in congregations, while ten are doing non-congregational work such as Hillel director on university campuses, military chaplain, or other leadership positions.

2. How Have Women Changed the Rabbinate? Women rabbis, like their male counterparts, are not a monolithic group. Some are fiery feminists, while others dont define themselves as feminist at all; some are very traditional, even conservative (with a lowercase “c”); some are social-justice warriors, while others are fervent spiritual leaders. Nevertheless, it is hard to take issue with Rabbi Laura Gellers statement “Women rabbis have changed the face of Judaism.”33 When the topic of women rabbis is discussed, one often hears statements (meant positively or negatively) such as “What a novelty, a woman rabbi after thousands of years of exclusively male rabbis!” One must remember, however, that the rabbinate as a profession is a relatively new phenomenon in the Jewish world. Before the 19th century, rabbis served as communal leaders, teachers and halakhic authorities, but often they had another occupation as well. Todays profession of congregational rabbi did not exist. This by no means belittles the revolution inherent in womens ordination; on the contrary, the mere concept of women as leaders of congregations, let alone as formally ordained rabbis, is a revolutionary one. 32 The information is updated to September 16, 2011. I thank Tanya Sperling, Assistant to the Director of Rabbinic Placement of the CCAR, for it. 33 Laura Geller, “From Equality to Transformation: The Challenge of Women Rabbinic Leadership,” in Tamar M. Rudavsky, ed., Gender and Judaism: The Transformation of Tradition (New York – London: New York University Press, 1995), 244.

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However, the understanding that women bring something essentially different to the profession spread rather slowly. The first women rabbis tried to do everything their male predecessors did; they were not looking to be revolutionaries.34 They did not have role models to inspire them, and many of them wanted to maintain a low profile with regard to gender matters or to work together with men to raise awareness for womens issues. For example, with regard to maternity leave, Rabbi Laura Geller reveals that back in the early years of female ordination, women rabbis were advised “to handle the situation as individuals” and to postpone raising the subject until they had “a solid and sure relationship with the congregation or community”.35 It took almost two decades after the first women were ordained in the US before they began celebrating the unique aspects they bring to the pulpit.

2.1 Balance, Intimacy and Empowerment Rabbi Janet Marder, who later became the first female president of the CCAR (2003 – 2005), wrote in 1991 that women rabbis share a commitment to three fundamental values with regard to their rabbinate: balance, intimacy and empowerment.36 By “balance” Marder means greater equality between professional and personal life. The rabbi is no longer in his/her office from morning until late at night, being “on call” for congregants all day, every day (and night). Many women rabbis choose to work part-time in order to tend to their families, while others find a modus vivendi by working in small- or medium-size congregations. (I will return to the question of community size later.) Seeking jobs that would allow them to strike a balance between their career and their personal life, women are willing to take jobs considered less prestigious, like hospital chaplains, Hillel directors and teachers. In this way, they contribute to a broadening of the rabbinate as a profession. Awareness of the need for flexible work hours, as well as frequent indepth conversations about leadership and work style, benefits a wider circle than women rabbis alone. In many cases, women rabbis have become 34 Ibid., 244 – 245. 35 Ibid., 248. 36 Janet Marder, “How Women Are Changing the Rabbinate,” Reform Judaism 19/4 (1991): 5.

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role models for their congregants, both male and female, of how to lead healthy, balanced lives. Their example also gives legitimization and encouragement to men rabbis and other professionals to reconsider their own priorities and to create work environments that allow them to dedicate significant time to personal and family life. Unlike more traditional rabbinical models, in which the rabbi depends on his rebbetzin (rabbis wife) to cook, bake and play hostess while he teaches and converses with congregants, most female rabbis (and some modern male rabbis as well) have to bake and serve their own cookies while engaging in profound learned discussions with their guests. By “intimacy” Marder means women rabbis efforts to develop close relationships with congregants and their commitment to creating a warm sense of community. According to a 1995 study by Rita J. Simon and Pamela S. Nadell, women rabbis understand themselves to be less formal, more approachable, more egalitarian, more likely to reach out to touch and hug, less likely to intrude their egos, and less likely to seek center stage. They asserted that they perform rites of passage differently.37

While women rabbis have an easier time establishing intimacy and a sense of community, at least in theory, they sometimes have difficulty establishing intimate relations with life partners. In 1995, Sylvia Barack Fishman asked rabbis ten years after their ordination about spousal relationships: 33 % of the women had never married, compared with only 2 % of the men, and 46 % of the women had no children at that point, while only 8 % of the men were childless.38 By “empowerment” Marder means the stress on greater “shared responsibilities, privileges and power” with their colleagues and congregants. Women rabbis have less of a need than do men for hierarchical structures, both in their professional staff and with their congregants.39 The very presence of women in the rabbinate forces congregants to approach the Divine in different ways. Geller maintains that for some Jews there is “an unconscious transference that they make between their rabbi and God”.40 Having a female rabbi on the pulpit or in the 37 David J. Zucker, “Women Rabbis: A Novel Idea,” Judaism 55 (2006): 112. 38 Ibid., 111. See also Emily H. Feigenson, “Female Rabbis and Delayed Childbearing,” CCAR Journal (1997): 74 – 76. 39 Jacqueline Koch Ellenson, “From the Personal to the Communal,” in Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism, 125 – 132. 40 Geller, “From Equality to Transformation”, 245.

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chaplains office prevents them from making this unconscious identification and transference and forces them to experience Divinity and holiness in creative and personal ways. Approaching this issue from a different angle, the American Orthodox feminist leader Blu Greenberg said that women have helped “demystify the rabbinate”. Greenberg, herself married to a rabbi, explained that women rabbis “have assumed more earthy roles than men. They do not put on airs. They are not as apart from their congregants as previous rabbis – male rabbis – have been”.41

2.2 Liturgy and Ritual Innovations Women rabbis have had a profound impact on Jewish liturgy and ritual on at least four levels.42 In this context there are differences among the various liberal religious movements: while many Reform, Reconstructionist and Jewish Renewal rabbis are apt to make liturgical and ritual innovations and changes, Conservative rabbis are generally more reluctant to do so. The following is a short description of the four levels of female innovation in this field:43 They have introduced more inclusive language, such as a choice between male and female pronouns and verbs. For example, in the earlymorning prayer “I thankfully acknowledge,” the feminine form “modah ani” is added next to the male form “modeh ani”. They have added representative female figures to the male ones found in the liturgy. For example, the matriarchs (Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel) are now mentioned along with the patriarchs (Abraham,

41 Arthur J. Magida, “How Are Women Changing the Rabbinate?” Baltimore Jewish Times, August 8, 1986, 57. 42 Many of the early feminist liturgists suggesting an entirely innovative liturgical language based on gender inclusiveness were lay women, such as Marcia Falk. See Marcia Falk, The Book of Blessings: New Jewish Prayers for Daily Life, the Sabbath and the New Moon Festival (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1996); idem, “Notes on Composing New Blessings: Toward a Feminist-Jewish Reconstruction of Prayer,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 3 (1987): 39 – 53. However, it was women rabbis who eventually encouraged the incorporation of such changes into the liturgy. 43 For a detailed discussion of this topic, see Dalia Marx, “Gender in the Israeli Liberal Liturgy,” in Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism, 206 – 217; idem, “Influences of the Feminist Movement on Jewish Liturgy: The Case of Israeli Reform Prayer,” Sociological Papers 14 (2009): 67 – 79.

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Isaac and Jacob) in the Amidah, the central prayer of every formal service. Women rabbis have reclaimed and adapted old rituals, like those for Rosh Hodesh (the New Moon) or weaning a baby. They have also created new rituals and ceremonies, for example, for baby-girl naming, healing from loss or illness, miscarriage, divorce and, in Israel, the beginning of military service. Women rabbis, especially from the Reform, Reconstructionist and Jewish Renewal movements, are engaged in creating gender-balanced, gender-inclusive and gender-diverse metaphors for God, addressing the Divine in new and creative ways. In addition to the traditional barukh ata Adonai (praised are You, O Lord), they have proposed a variety of addresses, such as “Fountain of Life”, “Spirit of the Universe” and others. Arguably, the greatest challenge is altering the pronounced gender specification of the Hebrew language. Women are very active in creating new liturgies, prayer books and commentaries. Some of the monumental creative works of liberal Judaism have been written and edited by women. The new American siddur (prayer book) Mishkan Tfilah (New York: CCAR Press, 2007) was edited by Rabbi Elyse Frishman44 ; The Torah: A Womens Commentary was edited by Rabbi Andrea Weiss and Dr. Tamara Eskenazi (New York: URJ Press, 2008)45 ; and four Israeli Reform rabbis edited Parashat Hamayim: Immersion in Water as an Opportunity of Renewal and Spiritual Growth (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuhad, 2011, in Hebrew). All these projects were team efforts which incorporated many contributions, especially those of women rabbis.

2.3 Challenges to Overcome Many of the problems confronting women in the rabbinate are not essentially different from those encountered by other professional women, but given the nature of the task, some of the problems are unique. The diffi44 See Elyse Frishman, “Entering Mishkan Tfilah,” CCAR Journal (Fall 2004): 56 – 67. 45 See also Elyse Goldstein, ed., The Womens Torah Commentary: New Insights from Women Rabbis (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2000); idem, The Womens Haftarah Commentary: New Insights from Women Rabbis on the 54 Weekly Haftarah Portions, the Five Megillot & Special Shabbatot (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2004).

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culty of balancing work and family is especially intense for them because the busiest times for a rabbi are precisely those that other people devote to family and personal affairs: evenings (committees, meetings, visiting), Shabbat and holidays. In her novel A Place of Light, Rhonda ShapiroRieser describes the fictional Rabbi Lynda Kleins struggle, saying: [T]here was no time. The congregation waited, a jealous lover. Hundreds of people wanted her to inspire them, to lead them to God, or prayer, or to their own souls.46

The desire for balance leads many women rabbis to seek part-time jobs, to work in smaller congregations and to shy away from serving as senior rabbis in larger congregations. Marder refers to it as a cognizant choice of an “alternative” path to that of their male colleagues.47 But it is a choice which leads to salary discrepancies, less public exposure and fewer opportunities for influence. Laura Geller challenges Marders approach, asking whether women rabbis are indeed freely choosing the “different voice”.48 She refers to the glass ceiling impeding women, not only due to discrimination against them in the rabbinate but also because women are having “difficulty imagining being a senior rabbi because there are no models of women senior rabbis”.49 Many women believe, says Geller, that the reason they are hired as assistant rabbis more readily than men is that male senior rabbis assume that women are “more docile and easier to manage”.50 Geller herself has been the senior rabbi at Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills, California, since 1994, which makes her the first woman ever to lead a major metropolitan synagogue. Today, six of the 51 largest American Reform congregations (defined as 1,000 or more families) have a woman as their senior rabbi.51 It is increasingly apparent that women have been changing the professional language of the rabbinate. Some 650 women now serve as Reform rabbis in the United States, out of a total of 1,800. Rabbi Jackie 46 Rhonda Shapiro-Rieser, A Place of Light (New York: Poseidon Press, 1983), 242 – 243, cited in Zucker, “Women Rabbis: A Novel Idea”, 110. 47 Janet Marder, “How Women Are Changing the Rabbinate”, 5. 48 Laura Geller refers to Carol Gilligans book In a Different Voice (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982). 49 Geller, “From Equality to Transformation”, 246 – 250. 50 Ibid., 149. 51 Information provided by Tanya Sperling, Assistant to the Director of Rabbinic Placement of the CCAR.

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Koch Ellenson, head of the American Reform Womens Rabbinic Network (WRN), notes that women rabbis are inevitably having an influence on their male counterparts. She argues that many male rabbis, “bolstered by their women colleagues ability to conceptualize and combine work and family/personal life in a humane way […] have happily adopted some of the alternative rabbinic models that women created”.52 At the same time, many women rabbis report that people often interact with them “in vastly different ways” than they do with male rabbis.53 In and of itself, this is not a negative thing (as noted above), but informality sometimes contains or leads to inappropriate remarks, many relating to physical appearance. (“Look what a cute rabbi I found for you,” said a father to his bar-mitzvah son when I met the family for the first time.) Some people wrongly interpret womens accessibility and lack of formality. (“Is it okay to kiss a rabbi?”) While I dont have firm data, I believe that women rabbis are much more often touched, kissed, patted, and so on, by congregants and colleagues than male rabbis are.54 The question of women rabbis dress code falls within this area of uncertainty. Many female rabbis complain about the elusive professional dress code expected of them. They are expected to be elegant and feminine without being overdressed or sexy. Questions of fashion (suit or dress on the pulpit? academic robe or traditional kittel? can I wear trousers? what are proper colors? how short can a skirt be?) are often discussed among female rabbis and may reflect a broader lack of clarity with regard to women in the rabbinate. Last but not least of the challenges is what is sometimes referred to as “male flight”.55 The increase in the number of women seeking the pulpit and the relative normalization of the phenomenon has been accompanied by a decrease in the number of men who want to become rabbis or be active in Jewish affairs in other ways. As early as 1978, HUC-JIR sociology professor Norman Mirsky said that “the actual existence of a woman rabbi may serve once and for all to confirm the adage that being a rabbi is no job for a Jewish boy”.56 A few years 52 Koch Ellenson, “From the Personal to the Communal”, 131. 53 Irit Printz, “Women in the Conservative Synagogue,” in Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism, 188. 54 Geller, “From Equality to Transformation”, 150. 55 Sylvia Barack Fishman and Daniel Parmer, Matrilineal Ascent / Patrilineal Descent: The Gender Imbalance in American Jewish Life (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University, 2008); Magida, “How Are Women Changing the Rabbinate?” 56 Magida, “How Are Women Changing the Rabbinate?”, 61.

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later he added that women may not have driven men out of the profession, “but they panicked the men who were already in doubt about their own masculinity”.57 Mirskys assessment in 1986 has become a very present reality in our times. Men shy away from the liberal synagogues because of what one male congregant called “the feminine vibe” in the temple. Another said that in the synagogue he feels that “moms in charge”. Liberal Jewish men withdraw not only from the synagogue but also from Jewish youth movements and summer camps, causing anxiety among Jewish leaders.58 Women are often blamed for this situation, implicitly or even explicitly. (Recall the young mens responses to Dora in Mary Cohens 1899 Purim story.) A separate discussion is required to deal with this challenge and its possible solutions. Here I will only mention Rabbi Joseph Meszlers article “Where Are the Jewish Men?” in which he suggests that the re-engagement of men “requires the help of Jewish Women”.59 He proposes separate mens study groups, in which men would feel free to discuss spiritual and emotional issues with other men. Lately, in its conventions and conclaves, the Reform Movement has held separate prayer services for men, many of whom have felt (as many women still feel) that they need “a room of their own” to express their religiosity and spirituality.

3. Women Rabbis in the Holy Land60 Many of the challenges that women rabbis in Israel face are not essentially different from those confronting their colleagues in North America. One would also expect that due to the traditionalist and even macho nature of their society, Israeli women rabbis would encounter more discrimination and suspicion. Its been said that the best Israelis can do is 57 Ibid. 58 See, for example, Joseph B. Meszler, “Where Are the Jewish Men? The Absence of Men from Liberal Synagogue Life,” in Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism, 165 – 174. 59 Ibid., 170 – 171. Interestingly, he cites Nelson Mandela in this context (p. 174): “The oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed.” 60 I thank my colleagues Rabbis Judith Edelman-Green, Rabbi David Ariel-Joel, Rabbi Ilana Bird, Rabbi Naama Kelman, Rabbi Alona Lisitsa, Rabbi Mira Raz, Rabbi Galia Sadan and Rabbi Diana Villa for sharing their insights with me.

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allow women to be ordained, but even then they cannot truly accept them as rabbis. However, often this is just part of the larger picture: the immediate problems that non-Orthodox Jews encounter in Israel have to do first and foremost with their liberal, modern and inclusive values and practices, not directly with gender issues. Non-Orthodox rabbis of both sexes have to close ranks because they are all members of the same salon des refuss, laboring under constant challenges to their legitimacy by the Orthodox establishment and denied funding and recognition not only by the (Orthodox or ultra-Orthodox) Chief Rabbinate but also by the Israel Ministry of the Interior. Israeli Reform and Conservative rabbis are not authorized to officiate at weddings or burials, nor do their synagogues receive government funding as Orthodox synagogues do. The gap between male and female liberal rabbis, especially with regard to officiating at life-cycle events, is much smaller than the gap between both of them and Orthodox or ultraOrthodox rabbis. Rabbi Alona Lisitsa, when she was the Israeli representative to WRN (Womens Rabbinic Network), said in her 2009 address to her colleagues in North America, “We are proud to be equally discriminated against with our male colleagues by the Israeli establishment. The de-legitimization campaign against all of us is manifested in the outrageous statement by Rabbi Eliyahu, former Chief Rabbi of Israel, blaming Reform Jews for the Holocaust.” Perhaps because both men and women liberal rabbis are marginalized in Israel, there is more equality between them there. Women rabbis lead some of the larger congregations in the country, and many women serve in leadership and executive roles. Rabbi Maya Leibovich heads the Reform Rabbis Council (MaRaM), Rabbi Naama Kelman is dean of the Jerusalem campus of HUC-JIR, and Rabbi Tamar Elad-Appelbaum serves as vice-dean of Schechter Rabbinical School, the Conservative rabbinical seminary in Jerusalem. In practice, the Israeli Reform Movement (IMPJ) is at present significantly more egalitarian than the Israeli Conservative (Masorti) Movement, with 14 male and 14 female rabbis serving Reform congregations, whereas only five out of the 18 female Conservative rabbis are presently functioning as congregational rabbis:

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The Reform Movement in Israel61 Total Male rabbis

Female rabbis

Members of MaRaM, the Israeli Council of Reform Rabbis

86

51

35

Rabbis officiating in congregations

28

14

14

7

3

4

Ordination class of 2010 – 2011 The Masorti (Conservative) Movement in Israel62

Members of the Rabbinical Assembly Rabbis officiating in congregations Ordination class of 2010 – 2011

Total

Male rabbis

Female rabbis

150

132

18

18

13

5

5

3

2

Israeli society is very oriented around family life. Although childcare centers are far from optimal, women in Israel can rely on them and on a long day at kindergartens. Paid maternity leave is mandatory (albeit relatively short) and is protected by law. Short distances, tight relationships and mutual informal social support facilitate dependence on grandparents and friends for help with young children. For this reason and due to economic necessity, in most Israeli families both spouses work outside the home. Since juggling between work and family is relatively natural for Israeli women, female rabbis are among the beneficiaries. Liberal congregations in Israel tend to be rather small and therefore, in most cases, present their rabbis with a bearable workload. Moreover, their low budgets enable many congregations to employ only a parttime rabbi (whether male or female).63 The fact that many synagogues do not have full office and maintenance support does not discourage women rabbis, who are willing, as one of them said, “to get their hands dirty” by sweeping floors, arranging chairs, making phone calls, sending letters, and so on. It seems that women rabbis often respond more positively to these extra chores than do their male colleagues. 61 I thank Rabbi Galia Sadan for this information. The numbers include both parttime and full-time rabbis, as well as some rabbinical students. 62 I thank Shira Marx-Sapunar for this information. 63 It is a well-known truth that having a half-time job means being paid half of a full salary but does not necessarily mean working half-time.

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I believe that Israels relatively informal and un-hierarchical work structure enables women, with their natural tendency to be less hierarchical and authoritative, to fit more comfortably than men into the rabbinate. Moreover, as some of my colleagues claim, womens double marginality can be advantageous as well. For some secular Israelis, a woman rabbi is intuitively perceived as a non-threatening and non-authoritative figure. The religious coercion in Israel and Orthodoxys monopoly over Judaism there cause many citizens to shy away from any form of Jewish religiosity and practice, but some of them find a female rabbi more accessible and soothing than a male rabbi. Even the new Hebrew word “Rabba” (female rabbi) falls on relatively open ears. A friend of mine who serves as an ultra-Orthodox rabbi has no difficulty calling me “Rabba” since, as he says, it is “a new thing that never existed before”.64

4. Opening New Gates “The definition of what makes a good rabbi”, says Rabbi Jacqueline Koch Ellenson, director of the American Reform Womens Rabbinic Network (WRN), “is changing before our eyes.”65 Although it is too soon to make sweeping assessments about the influence of female rabbis on the profession and on Judaism in general, I have tried here to provide some indication of its impact today. Seeing skirts and pink prayer shawls66 on the pulpit have contributed to openness and acceptance of other groups within the Jewish community which were formerly marginalized: those who live in alternative family structures; gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgenders; Jews by Choice and of unconventional ethnicities; people with special needs; adherents of diverse political and theological views, and so on. This significant achievement may be attributed in good part to the many male and female Jewish professionals who are committed to inclusivity and empowerment. 64 With regard to the choice of the title “Rabba”, see Elana Maryles Sztokman, “Whats in a Name? Choosing Rabba over Rav and Why,” Forward, May 2, 2011 (http://forward.com/articles/137448/#ixzz1XLi1OVgp); Zvia Walden, “Rav, Rabbit, Rabbat, Rabba and Ravrava,” in Panim 33 (2005): 77 – 84 [in Hebrew]. 65 Koch Ellenson, “From the Personal to the Communal”, 131. 66 Elyse Goldstein, “My Pink Tallit: Womens Rituals as Imitative or Innovative,” in Goldstein, ed., New Jewish Feminism, 81 – 89.

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Feminism in our time means not only the liberation of women but also the liberation of all people who need to be liberated.67

* Our ancient sages mandated obtaining an etrog (citron) as part of the observance of Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles).68 They taught that amongst the ritual four species used in celebrating the festival, the citron is the most favored, since it both tastes good and smells good, and as such is comparable to a person who is both learned and proficient in good deeds.69 Perhaps we can deduce from this metaphor that women do, after all, have a place on the pulpit, just as the orange has a place among the symbols of freedom and liberation on the seder plate. Like the orange, the citrons sibling, women bring new flavors, fragrances and colors to Judaism, breathing new and vibrant life into it. There is a long way to go before we can rest on our laurels. Issues like salary discrepancy, professional status, explicit and implicit discrimination, inappropriate remarks at the workplace and gaining acceptance in the wider community have yet to be resolved. But I am convinced that we can look back with pride at what our older sisters and our colleagues have managed to achieve so far. Time will tell how their/our story will continue to unfold.

67 This is often referred to as the “third wave” of feminism. With regard to Judaism, see Rachel Sabbath Beit Halachmi, “The Changing Status of Women in Liberal Judaism: A Reflective Critique,” in Moshe Halbertal and Donniel Hartman, eds., Judaism and the Challenges of Modern Life (London – New York: Continuum, 2007), 74 – 84. 68 See mSuk 2:10. 69 Leviticus Rabba 32:12.

Functional Secularization and Conversion: On the Changed Demands Made on Ministerial Action in the Catholic Church Johannes Fçrst

1. Basic Theory: Modernity – Religion As a first step, a basic theoretical aspect that underlies the following remarks needs to be clarified: the very basic relationship between religion and modernity, which to the present day – at least in European societies – is discussed controversially.1 The controversy unfolds – formulated simply – in two positions. The first position sees religion and modernity as two conflicting dimensions of social life.2 All relationships and developments that make the society modern – for example, individualization and pluralization, rationalization and mechanization – stand, according to this position, more or less in opposition to religion and even compete with it. This is the classic model of the European Enlightenment, according to which religion gradually degenerates in modernity, because the metaphysical conceptual worlds of the Middle Ages are not compatible with the natural scientific rationality of modernity. In the words of Max Weber (1864 – 1920), the “spheres of the Irrational”3 lose more and more ground under the cognitive circumstances of a modernity oriented on the natural sciences, and exist exclusively as a more or less romantic illusion for those

1

2

3

Cf. Manuel Franzmann et al., eds., Religiositt in der skularisierten Welt: Theoretische und empirische Beitrge zur Skularisierungsdebatte in der Religionssoziologie (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag, 2006); Hans Joas et al., eds., Skularisierung und die Weltreligionen, 2nd ed., (Frankfurt/Main: Fischer, 2007). On these arguments, see: Detlef Pollack, Skularisierung – ein moderner Mythos? Studien zum religiçsen Wandel in Deutschland (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 1 – 18. Max Weber, “Wissenschaft als Beruf,” in Politik und Gesellschaft (Frankfurt/Main: Zweitausendeins, 2006), 1016 –1040, here 1028.

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contemporary human beings who are willing to pay for them with the “sacrifice of the intellect”.4 This model, as far as religion is concerned, is a model of degeneration. We basically find it today, too – at least as prerequisite in methodological thought – in strictly presented secularization theories, insofar as secularization is understood as a broadly constructed process that causes a loss of significance not only of religion, but also of values and earlier social orders. These theories continue to be advocated in academic discourse, but just as well in many parts of the more or less “right-conservative” or ultra-orthodox” milieus in the Christian denominations and in Judaism, as well as in parts of an Islam critical of modernity.5 Thus, when we speak about the demands made on ministerial action in late modernity in the context of this model, then the office and modern society stand oddly untouched over against each other, as if all that makes modernity what it is would not occur, or would not be allowed to occur, in the church and in the ecclesiastical office. Ministerial action then even stands under the particular permanent challenge of resisting the secularizing tendencies of the modern society. This model was conveyed by the reception of the, in its time, very well-known book Die unsichtbare Religion 6 by Thomas Luckmann. Luckmann distinguishes an “official model”7 of religion in modern societies, as deposited in the institutions, for example, of the major churches, from a broad area of “individual religiosity”8. On the basis of an anthropologically oriented understanding of religion, Luckmann in this work identifies diverse modernization movements in the area of the religious, but sees these exclusively outside the traditional religious (ecclesiastical) institutions. This model suggests the conclusion that the established religious denominations and churches could avoid 4 5

6 7 8

Ibid., 1039. Cf. Sybille Wentker, “Fundamentalismus und Islamismus – Definition und Abgrenzung,” in Sybille Wentker et al., eds., Islam, Islamismus und islamischer Extremismus: Eine Einfhrung (Wien – Kçln – Weimar: Bçhlau, 2008), 33 – 44, here 33 – 37; Alois Schifferle, Die Piusbruderschaft: Informationen – Positionen – Perspektiven (Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker, 2009), 67 – 75; Jakob J. Petuchowski and Peter Klaiber, “Orthodoxes Judentum,” in Jakob J. Petuchowski et al., eds., Lexikon der Begegnung: Judentum – Christentum – Islam (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 2009), 333 – 337, here 335 – 337. Thomas Luckmann, Die unsichtbare Religion in der sichtbaren Religion (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 1991). Ibid., 124. Ibid.

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the modernization process, insofar as pluralization and individualization take place exclusively outside their institutional limits. The other position understands religion more as a part of modernity, not so much as a contrast to it. Staf Hellemans speaks of the “paradigm of religious modernization”9 and means by this that “the thought and conduct of people always must be seen in interplay with social interactions, the social environment, and the society”10, also in the area of religious phenomena. According to this model, religion enters into a complex structure of relationships with modernity, insofar as all those relationships and developments that constitute the society as modern also occur in the area of the religious and of the churches and there assume specific forms.11 The rationality of modernity, according to this model, also does not stop short of the area of religion and church, but rather runs through it and takes on specific forms there. When one speaks of the demands made on ministerial action in the context of this model, then the ecclesiastical office, or religion, and modernity do not remain untouched in confronting each other. On the contrary, both overlap each other. The question here is what demands are made upon ministerial action in the structure of the modern society, a ministerial action that itself is thoroughly modern. A short, incomplete example of modern ministerial action by the church can now be given: 9 Staf Hellemans, Das Zeitalter der Weltreligionen: Religion in agrarischen Zivilisationen und in modernen Gesellschaften (Wrzburg: Ergon, 2010), 33. 10 Ibid., 37. 11 This model is advocated similarly in Christoph Bochinger et al., eds., Die unsichtbare Religion in der sichtbaren Religion – Formen spiritueller Orientierung in der religiçsen Gegenwartskultur (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2009); Jrgen Habermas, Glauben und Wissen: Friedenspreis des Deutschen Buchhandels (Frankfurt/ Main: Suhrkamp, 2001), 9 – 31; Charles Taylor, Ein skulares Zeitalter, trans. Joachim Schulte (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 2009). Habermas as well as Taylor, however, pursue the idea that religion exists more or less imbedded in modernity. If one so desires, then one can say that religion, or tradition, is imbedded in the modern age, for which reason a constant translation of religious commonplaces is necessary in the secular worlds of understanding (cf. Habermas, Glauben und Wissen, 20 – 25), while I advocate a consistently interactive model. This means that a tradition in its pure traditional form does not exist, but rather exclusively in the reconstructed cloak of modernity. This close connection between tradition and modernity begins already in the “resort” to the tradition, a resort which does not ensue as a matter of course, as socially automated, for example, but rather as mediated through modernitys compulsion to decide (cf. Peter Berger, Der Zwang zur Hresie: Religion in der pluralistischen Gesellschaft, trans. Willi Kçhler [Frankfurt/Main: S. Fischer, 1980]).

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How should one characterize, for example, the re-orientation of ecclesiastical practice in the aftermath of the Council of Trent (1545 – 1563) other than as modern – modern insofar as, in reaction to the crisis of the Reformation, something like a comprehensive “process of organizational development” was initiated using more or less “secular” and practical – occasionally almost strategic – reason? The training of priests was improved through investment in education, the standardization of the missal was furthered, the faith of the church was more or less “didacticized” through the Catechismus Romanus, and church life was re-organized thoroughly with the introduction of the territorial principle of the parish – all of this, of course, also at the price of strengthening European confessionalization.12 The present-day restructuring processes in many German-speaking dioceses, which are worked out, as a rule, by professional consulting firms, are not so dissimilar to the processes in the aftermath of Trent. However this process may be interpreted in detail, important is the basic theoretical insight that religion, and therewith also the church, is not exempt from the modernization processes of the society and do not stand aloof from them, so that one could more or less look upon them from the outside. On the contrary, religion can be understood as part of modernity, as a part that, in its Protestant variant since the Reformation at the latest, and in the Catholic variant since the Counter-Reformation at the latest, has taken the stage as an actor in modernity and entered into the contest to determine modernitys shape. With the background of this basic theoretical insight, it is now possible to ask about the power of attraction of the late modern transformations that place the modern ministerial action of the church before constantly changing challenges.

2. Challenges for Ministerial Action In the following, two aspects are presented that result for the ecclesiastical office in the context of the overlapping of religion and modern society mentioned above. The first is directed at hermeneutical demands; the second is directed at the shaping of the relationship between the office and the individual in modern society.

12 Bernd Mçller, Geschichte des Christentums in Grundzgen, 8th ed., UTB 905 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 265 – 271.

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2.1 Functional Secularization and Secular Theological Hermeneutics If we take this relationship between religion and modernity (see above) as the basis for the analysis of the present, then the circumstances of the churchs ministerial action consequently are not to be determined without an analysis of (late) modern society. And exactly this is to be undertaken here in a particular way by asking about the communicative “locality” of religion and the church in the modern society. In this way, a central notion of secularization in modernity, which is articulated above all in the internal sphere of religion and the church, also is to be explained. No development changed the face of religion certainly as much as the re-organization of society from a hierarchical one to one that is functionally differentiated. If the church in the so-called “pre-modern”13 societies was part of the elite in the social hierarchy, and if the Christian religion was part of a higher, epistemic, comprehensive structure, then the church loses this position in the transition to modernity. Speaking along the lines of Niklas Luhmann14, one can say that modernity developed different social subsystems, each of which developed – and to the present day still develop – their own communications and carry out their own specific social functions. In the course of modernization, there arose those specializations in knowledge and action typical of modernity. Every participant in a subsystem becomes, on the basis of a specific internal communication, an expert in his or her own (subject) area. Mutual understanding is hardly possible in this multi-disciplinary arrangement. Interaction between the subsystems occurs primarily through the performance of various services. This development, of course, did not stop short of the area of religion and the church. The church, or religion in general, became a social subsystem alongside others. In this way, an ambivalent situation arose, inso13 The terms pre-modernity and modernity are, to be sure, definitely customary, but it must not be overlooked that a gross inaccuracy goes hand in hand with them. For example, so-called “pre-modernity” also spoke about a conduct of life aimed at rationality. Of course, the forms of rationality, however, are subject to historical as well as social change, for which reason modernity also has developed its own forms of the use of reason. Cf. Romano Guardini, Das Ende der Neuzeit. Ein Versuch zur Orientierung, 10th ed. (Mainz: Matthias-Grnewald, 1986), 25 – 29. 14 Cf. Niklas Luhmann, Soziale Systeme: Grundriss einer allgemeinen Theorie, 14th ed. (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 1987).

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far as religious institutions and their representatives attained the status of experts more or less in the course of the processes of functional specialization, but, on the other hand, the religious communication conducted by them, in contrast to the “pre-modern” society, lost its power of communicating with the entire society. Expressed briefly, one can say that religious communication is understandable in modern, functionally differentiated societies exclusively in the internal sphere of specific religious functional contexts. In this way, Niklas Luhmann, who has described this functional reorganization of society in detail15, explains a notion of secularization central to modernity that occurs especially in the internal sphere of religious functional contexts – for example, in the internal space of the church. From the point of view of the subsystem “religion”, according to Luhmann, all other areas of society appear as without religion, or secularized, because it can be observed that all these functional contexts do without religious communication. From the perspective of other social subsystems, religion very definitely exists in the modern society. It is even a natural component of society. For, according to Luhmann, it is a completely normal development for modern societies that they arrange themselves according to specific tasks.16 Thus, what we presently experience is a secularization in terms of function, and not, for example, in terms of substance. Religion does not simply degenerate, but rather undergoes a specialization into particular functional contexts on the one hand and, at the same time, however, loses its communicative comprehensibility for the entire society. This distinction is important because, on the one hand, it clearly states that, in many social functional contexts, religion or religious communication does not occur (in political, legal, and economic contexts, for example). But, this does not mean that religion – for example, in the sense of the nurture of an existential relationship on the part of human beings with God – might have disappeared from modernity. To equate modernity automatically with “loss of faith” or even perhaps with “forgetfulness in regard to God” is highly problematic and is a methodological mistake, because it does not take into consideration the concrete social circumstances of religion and the church. 15 Cf. Niklas Luhmann, Funktion der Religion, 5th ed. (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 1999). 16 Niklas Luhmann, Die Religion der Gesellschaft, ed. Andr Kieserling (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 2000), 289.

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Therewith, a first challenge for ministerial action in the church is identified: The traditional religious communication in ministerial action is, under the circumstances of a functional secularization, confronted with a problem of understanding. Meant here is not primarily a rhetorical problem, but rather a problem as far-reaching as the basis of modern human beings understanding. For, the traditional metaphysical configuration of religious concepts and philosophy is not understood (any longer) in a (late) modern society that constantly re-composes itself from out of a multitude of specific functional communications. Metaphysical here means, following Jrgen Habermas17 and Dietrich Bonhoeffer (here, the two letters from April 30 and May 5, 1944)18, a form of thought that is theoretical-abstract, objective, and aimed at general comprehensibility, a form of thought that refers to a (meta-) world “behind” the experienced world. In the context of a functionally differentiated modernity, there thus resulted considerable hindrances in communication: It is hardly possible for contemporaries to determine the realistic relevance of religious content configured metaphysically in the sense indicated above. Thereby, they find it not only difficult to experience the ministerial action of the church as relevant to their life, because that saving power of God (cf. Rom 1:16), which the office communicates, can be experienced only with difficulty as a power that has an effect in the concrete contexts of life. Questions like these are not a rarity today: What purpose does the ecclesiastical office fulfill in my concrete life? What does an experience of reality communicated in the intellectual and linguistic worlds of religion contribute to my life? Does the ministerial action in the church help me further in my life? Does the use of a religious “service” help me to be able to master life better? The demand made upon ministerial action resulting from this, thus, is not a rhetorical one, but rather a hermeneutical demand. What is important is to communicate the tradition intellectually and practically so that it becomes understandable under the intellectual circumstances of a functionally secularized society and can retain concrete significance within modern human beings systems of relevance. For this, the individual and social relevance of religious tradition must be reconstructed. This is 17 Cf. Jrgen Habermas, Nachmetaphysisches Denken: Politische Aufstze, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 1997), 35 – 42. 18 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Widerstand und Ergebung: Briefe und Aufzeichnungen aus der Haft, ed. Eberhard Bethge, 16th ed. (Gtersloh: Christian Kaiser/Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 1997), 140 – 144.

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a demanding theological-hermeneutical task. It is already prefigured by biblical as well as ecclesiastical traditions, because the human being is believed there to be the “addressee” of the self-revealing God (cf. Deut 26:5 – 9; Exod 3:6 – 17; Luke 11:20). Thereby, all speech about God has an anthropological and social, in short, a historical, applicability. Precisely through the connection of God with the secular history of the addressee, revelation, so to speak, reaches its goal. Seen in this way, it is not a contradiction to speak of a secular theological hermeneutic that is needed in our time.

2.2 Individual Conversion and the Office Insofar as the church, too, is always a protagonist in modernity, many phenomena that constitute the modern society also appear in it. Thus, one of these is individualization, which is a challenge for the ministerial action of the religious denominations in a quite particular way. At issue is the relationship between individualization and the ministerial office as it presents itself in the internal sphere of the religious denominations. I understand individualization as a characteristic feature of modernity, according to which human beings first interpret reality according to individual criteria and so outline their own reality without asking primarily about traditional or socially necessary models. This macro-sociological trend of individualization, of course, also appears in the church. I would not like to be misunderstood here: The trend toward individualization is, in principle, not a theological problem – even if this perhaps in many places is lamented as such. The major world religions as well as the (national mainline) churches always were and are complex structures with a great internal heterogeneity in regard, for example, to spiritual expression, cultural forms, and, of course, the individual practice of piety. Without esteem for the individual, this more or less “popular religious” or “popular church” internal plurality would not even be conceivable. The counter-model to a church with such a complex composition would be the “small sect” that pursues conformity among its members. Thus, the challenge today does not exist principally in individualization, but rather in the question how, under the circumstances of a functionally differentiated society and of a functional secularization, individual spirituality and the office – that is, individual interpretation and what is general, public, what concerns all – merge. Put in biblical terms, leadership – an essential dimension of the ecclesiastical office – means

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service to the general public. The charisma, so writes Paul, for example, in 1Corinthians, has to serve the entire body of Christ, the whole church, without for this reason abolishing the individuality of the charisma (1Cor 12:1 – 30). In terms of modern intellectual assumptions, the issue here is a classic dialectical configuration. And exactly in this dialectical tension do I see the challenges for ministerial action in late, individualized modernity. It is becoming increasingly more difficult to ensure this unity of tension between the individual charisma and the concerns of the entire, the general church. Meant here is not the lack of priests, which in the meantime has become notorious for the Catholic Church. Rather, what is at issue is a development according to which the circle of those interested in the vocational practice of an ecclesiastical office increasingly is composed of persons for whom individual conversion is the central motive for their choice of vocation. Conversion here does not inevitably mean the quasi-official, formal change of confessional or religious affiliation, but rather, first of all, the comprehensive change of “religious, ideological, or political orientation”19 that is consummated on the basis of dramatic individual experiences. Hubert Knoblauch sees a central element of modern, popular spirituality in the conversion type. In the center of conversion, in most cases, stands the overwhelming, individual, biographical experience of change and the intention henceforth to lead a quite different life.20 Peter Sloterdijk analyzes the situation similarly when he says that the modern type of the radical convert seeks a “complete turnaround – a turn away from what superficially is a given”21. Conversion in modernity means not only the “turning” (Sloterdijks word) of the person, but also the movement of withdrawal out of a false and suboptimal world toward an “incorruptible spiritual world”22. In the charismatic and evangelical movements, for example, conversion is a thoroughly well-known type of spirituality, and this combines there with a structural plurality and independence of spiritual movements. For Catholicism, however, this phenomenon is relatively new. It poses a completely new challenge for the Catholic Church, which tradi19 Karl-Heinz Hillmann, “Konversion,” in idem, ed., Wçrterbuch der Soziologie, 5th ed. (Stuttgart: Krçner, 2007), 457. 20 Cf. Hubert Knoblauch, Populre Religion: Auf dem Weg in eine spirituelle Gesellschaft (Frankfurt/New York: Campus, 2009), 149. 21 Peter Sloterdijk, Du musst dein Leben ndern: ber Anthropotechnik (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 2009), 468. 22 Ibid., 469.

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tionally attaches particular importance to the structural unity of the social forms.23 It is a concomitant since the middle of the 20th century at the latest of the continuing decay of confessional macro-structures in the society. It was also an achievement of the Catholic confessional milieu to diminish an overemphasis upon individual spiritual interests through socialization and rooting in a confessional social space, in spite of all the problems that these ties to a milieu can have for the individual. The fact that, after the break-up of the confessional milieus, the convert gradually becomes the determinative type of the applicant for an ecclesiastical office is thus seen in this way not as a coincidence, but rather as a phenomenon of late modern religious contemporary culture in the sphere of the church. To put it in slightly exaggerated terms: If individual conversion guides ministerial action, then this action is in danger of losing sight of the general, of what concerns all. The challenge of late modernity, thus, consists in so designing ministerial action that it is able to see beyond the individual spiritual needs of the officeholder and to further the building up of the congregation, without, for this reason, declaring individual concerns obsolete. The Second Vatican Council formulates the assignment indicated here by stating, “… [I]t is a matter of saving the person of the human being and of renewing human society” (Gaudium et spes, 3). An example: In his study of priests, Paul Michael Zulehner diagnoses a trend among younger priests that is strongly skeptical of modernity.24 He comes to the conclusion that “the younger priests are more reserved toward all modernizing changes than are the older ones. They really would prefer that everything might remain as it were, or that the church – after the, in their eyes, unsuccessful conciliar reforms – would return to the old ways”.25 Under the intellectual assumptions of that model mentioned above, according to which religion and modernity stand over against each other as competitors, this phenomenon described by Zulehner would be interpreted more or less as a “return” to the “old church” before Vatican II. Ideas about a return to earlier times, however, are historically-herme23 The long-term conflict around the structural integration of the Pius Brotherhood, which demands intensive ideological and structural autonomy, in the whole of the Catholic Church proves this thesis. See further: Wolfgang Beinert, ed., Vatikan und Pius-Brder: Anatomie einer Krise (Freiburg: Herder, 2009). 24 Paul M. Zulehner, Wie gehts Herr Pfarrer? Ergebnis einer kreuzundquer-Umfrage: Priester wollen Reformen (Wien – Graz – Klagenfurt: Styria, 2010), 115 –116. 25 Ibid., 118.

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neutically difficult. But, under the intellectual assumptions according to which religion and modernity overlap, this phenomenon means a conversion phenomenon and is thereby the expression of an individualistically conceived idea of the office. For, the desire of young people to extract themselves from a public reality (which is designated as modernity or modern) and to enter into the individual, cognitive construction of reality becomes visible here.26 Zulehner suggests this with a view to the age at which the young priests are consecrated.27 At issue in his study is, thus, not a return to the “old church” nor the stereotypes of “conservative” and “progressive”, but rather the individual spiritual needs of certain young men who have to carry out a change from an ideologically and, in regard to the ways of life, highly pluralistic society to a religious concept designed by them in accordance with their needs, and attempt to realize this concept in a career context. This view is supported by the empirical study of priests by Karsten Lenz.28 He comes to the conclusion that, with the conversion to the office of priest, the vocational choice has a “stabilizing and ordering function within the biography of the person concerned”29. The conversion, in coming to terms with a possibly dramatic biographical experience, is intended to help in being able henceforth to lead a completely different life. The phenomenon of supposedly conservative young officeholders in the church would be – as paradoxical as this, at first, might sound – a central element of modern religious culture. The challenge for the future shape and practice of the ecclesiastical office exists, thus, in reconciling the specific spiritual motives of the candidates for office and of the younger officeholders, motives that precipitate in a biographical conversion experience and flow into a concept of ecclesiastical vocation, with the concerns and charismata of the entire church and the entire people of God. For, the ecclesiastical office as understood by the church does not serve primarily the individual spiritual development of the officeholder, but rather “it represents and organizes the unity of the congregation in the diversity of the charismata. The cha26 See further: Hubert Knoblauch et al., eds., Religiçse Konversion: Systematische und fallorientierte Studien in soziologischer Perspektive (Konstanz: UVK, 1998); Christian Henning and Erich Nestler, eds., Konversion: Zur Aktualitt eines Jahrhundertthemas (Frankfurt/Main: Peter Lang, 2003). 27 Zulehner, Wie gehts Herr Pfarrer?, 115 – 116. 28 Karsten Lenz, Katholische Priester in der individualisierten Gesellschaft (Konstanz: UVK, 2009). 29 Ibid., 197.

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risma of the sacramental office consists in the leadership of the congregation: it fosters and develops the various tasks and services”.30

3. Perspectives in Conclusion The church, as said at the outset, is part of the modern society, is exposed to all macro-sociological developments, and is a specific actor. In the sense of an inculturation of the Gospel in society (cf. John 1:14; Luke 2:6 – 7), this religious-sociological insight is not threatening to the church. It describes much more the central task of ecclesiastical practice: to give shape to the Gospel under concrete historical and cultural circumstances.31 The Gospel, however, is not automatically congruent with all cultural forms. Pope Paul VI speaks, on the one hand, of a “break between the Gospel and culture”32, as was the case in all periods (thus, not only in modernity), and, on the other hand, of “evangelizing the culture in a bold way”33. For this reason, a creative element in church practice in the spirit of the Gospel is necessary, a creative element that makes clear the cultural indentifiability of the Gospel along with the always existing difference between the Gospel and culture. The fundamental necessity for the inculturation of the Gospel is thereby not affected, for the break between the Gospel and culture (Paul VI) is not a hindrance to the faith, but rather its prerequisite.34

3.1 Theological Hermeneutics of Existential Drama The analysis of the place of the church in a functionally differentiated society and the remarks about a functional secularization are, first of all, to be perceived realistically. Over and above this, one cannot be satisfied in 30 Gerhard L. Mller, Katholische Dogmatik: Fr Studium und Praxis der Theologie, 3rd ed. (Freiburg/Breisgau: Herder, 2010), 754 – 755. 31 Cf. Johannes Fçrst, “Theologisch legitime Skularitt,” Lebendige Seelsorge 62/1 (2011): 36 – 40, here 38. 32 Paul VI, Apostolic Instruction Evangelii nuntiandi, in AAS 68 (1976), 9 – 26, Abs. 20. 33 Ibid. 34 See, in more detail: Johannes Fçrst, “Ein Bruch zwischen Evangelium und Kultur? berlegungen zum Phnomen der Kirchenferne und zur Zukunft der Volkskirche,” Bibel und Liturgie 81/1 (2008): 3 – 19, here 9 – 11.

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pastoral-theological terms with the fact that the public communication of the church takes place exclusively in functional religious contexts, even if this undoubtedly is necessary in the sense of a practice of inculturation. For, the Gospel, in theological understanding, has a communicative reach beyond the functional religious context – into the midst of the basic existential questions asked by all human beings. Seen so, the ecclesiastical office has to bring forth a renewed effort to find what is common to all, that is, what concerns everyone in a modern society, and to place this in the center of action. This task, in view of the extreme diversity of modern life, is, of course, quite complex. However, a possibility exists in a renewed involvement with the existential drama of modern life and its corresponding social as well as cultural complexity. The goal is not to employ a purely rhetorical art of translation, but rather really to provide a genuine translation, a reconstruction of the tradition in the midst of the concrete existential concerns of modern human beings. The important thing is to translate the drama of human life into the drama of the saving God-human relationship (cf. GS 1). Of course, no undifferentiated uniform anthropology can be supported in this way. Yet, the current existential challenges of modern life appear as a suitable structure for making the Gospel accessible. This is true not only because this aspect can be substantiated very well biblically (cf. Ex 6:6 – 7; Matt 5:1 – 16), but also because, insofar as it takes human beings as its theme, it occurs in all the subsystems of modern society and thus can break through the lack of communication between the systems. The young Joseph Ratzinger once formulated this in the following way: The action of the church, he wrote, is of such a kind “that the theologian must enter into the fundamental experience of the passion of human existence, in order from its perspective again to re-live and re-suffer the theological question on its own ground, and thus to make theology able once again to make a testimony to this passio humana.”35 Thus, the answer to functional secularization would be found on the level of existential humanity. Thereby, ministerial action gains a sacramental character.

35 Joseph Ratzinger, Das neue Volk Gottes. Entwrfe zur Ekklesiologie (Dsseldorf: Patmos, 1969), 289.

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3.2 Theological Hermeneutics of the Secular and the “General Public” To make theology able to make a testimony to the, as Ratzinger formulated it, passio humana is not possible without the corresponding theological-hermeneutical competence. Needed is a theological epistemology that is able to discern those “signs” (cf. GS 4) in the purely secular and human existential contexts that make it possible to speak of God in the sense of analogy and to act accordingly. Needed is, thus, an opening of theology, already in university studies and in vocational training and continuing education, to the disciplines that have the human being, society, and culture as their subjects. Formulated differently, what is needed in this connection is a semantic turn in theology similar to the one articulated by Pope John XXIII in the address opening the Second Vatican Council. The Pope says, in essence, that it cannot be the task of the church only to preserve the treasures of tradition. They require an exegesis that our day requires.36 This follows closely the line of the entire Second Vatican Council when it says in Gaudium et spes, for example, that the action of the church has to decipher the world in its symbolic character and to interpret it in light of the Gospel (GS 4). For this, the corresponding hermeneutical competence for opening theology and the pastorals to the corresponding disciplines having the human being as their subjects (above all sociology, anthropology, and cultural studies, among others) is needed. Therewith, the ministerial action of the church stands before the challenge of making the secular world the object of theological interpretation and not, for example, of pursuing a reversal of secularization. This opening to the secular also means looking beyond the individual spiritual needs of those active in ministry and being able to take into consideration the concerns of the general public (see above).

3.3 Differentiated Ministerial Action of the Whole Church In conclusion, it may be said that the ministerial action of the church is to be differentiated along the lines of the variformity of modern social areas. There is this one theological-hermeneutical method, of which the Second 36 Johannes XXIII, “Ansprache anlsslich der feierlichen Erçffnung des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils am 11. Oktober 1962,” in Peter Hnermann and Bernd Jochen Hilberath, eds., Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil, vol. 5 (Freiburg: Herder, 2006), 482 – 490, here 486 – 487.

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Vatican Council speaks, but there is not the one concrete “answer” of the pastorals. The church stands before the challenge of portraying this differentiated theological-hermeneutical task also through its personnel. Irrespective of the distinction made between a special and a general office, the same hermeneutical challenge exists for both. What the church needs to provide are appointed and authorized men and women who are furnished with a certain authority to act committedly on behalf of the church as a whole. For this, correspondingly differentiated and welleducated personnel are necessary. Necessary are human beings who can move generally within the different subsystems and milieus of the modern society, who can understand what is at all existentially important there in each case. Without this secular understanding, there is no theology. It is the necessary prerequisite for being able to speak theologically of the world and for committed ministerial action in the world in the spirit of the Gospel.

Islamic Clerics: Tradition and Transition Reuven Firestone

1. The Meaning of Clergy in the Scriptural Traditions The term commonly used in Western languages to identify various religious functions and responsibilities is “clergy” or its equivalent (German, klerus), a word that derives from the Greek Christian tradition to designate the notion of “lot” or “inheritance” (kleros). The association of inheritance with religious office derives from the biblical tradition, which requires that the Levitical priests and even the entire tribe of Levy serve God and receive no inheritance of property as would the other tribes of Israel (Deut 18:1 – 2). Their lot would be with God.1 In both Biblical and Christian notions of clergy, those who serve God and through that service also serve the community of believers, hold official religious positions. Whether through kinship ties in the Bible or through vows in the Church, clergy represent a hierarchical position in society and receive remuneration in one form or another through their office. The core notion and function of biblical clergy described here continued in one form or another in most Christian religious structural contexts, but it was not preserved in this fashion in Jewish and Islamic tradition. Following the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and the demise of the function of the Temple priesthood, the emerging religious leadership of Jews and Judaism derived mostly from portions of the population outside the priestly clans. Perhaps as a result, the subsequent position of Jews and Judaism in relation to the official priesthood became ambivalent. On the one hand (male) Jews deriving from the priestly tribe are recognized as such. They retain their status as Levite or Cohen, and their Hebrew names are often marked by “Hacohen” or “Halevi”; and they retain certain symbolic privileges such as reciting the priestly blessing in prayer and 1

Ernest Klein, A Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the English Language, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1966), vol. 2, 299; Douglas Harper, Online Etymological Dictionary (http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?search=clergy&searchmode=none).

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the honor of first readers of the Torah scroll when it is recited in a synagogue quorum. But Levites and Cohens do not retain any inherent privilege of serving in leadership roles based on their kinship heritage. They may indeed serve as rabbis or religious judges, and like all adequately pious and knowledgeable Jews in their majority, they may lead religious worship. But these responsibilities do not derive from their status of belonging to a priestly tribe or clan. The positions that emerged in Judaism to replace the religious leadership of the biblical offices were those of rabbi and prayer leader (shaliach tzibbur). Neither position traditionally received remuneration, and no religious function required official ordination or investiture that proved an official religious office. Aside from the minor privileges associated with the surviving remnant of the priestly tribe mentioned above, all religious acts from daily and holiday worship to circumcision, conversion, wedding ceremonies, and burials, could be led by anyone with the knowledge and requisite piety to receive acceptance of the community to engage in the function. This would change with the coming of modernity and the integration of Jews and Judaism into Western – meaning Christian – forms of religious organization. The traditional roles and expectations changed along with the integration, but these are topics that are treated elsewhere. They are mentioned here because of they remain important considerations when thinking about the role of clergy in Islam.

2. The Islamic Context Islam was not influenced by the Hebrew Bible at nearly the same level as either Christianity or Judaism. The biblical priesthood had little meaning because Islam does not consider itself to be direct heir to biblical religion as do Judaism and Christianity. Islam, therefore, did not need to make its case as the rightful heir to biblical authority and the echo and reiteration of its offices. Islam is a new dispensation that considers itself independent of prior scripture. It counts neither the Hebrew Bible nor the New Testament within its sacred canon.2

On the other hand, because of the importance of prior scripture to the peoples among whom Islam emerged, it could not make its own claim to authenticity independent of the Bible. The Qur a¯n therefore refers repeatedly to prior scripture, but it does not accept it as an accurate expression of the divine will and therefore does not consider it authoritative. See Daniel Madigan, The Qur a¯ns ˘

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˘

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Perhaps for this reason as well as others, Islam did not develop an office of clergy, as did Christianity, which would claim the authority of the biblical priesthood. The approach of Islam toward religious leadership has been more like Rabbinic Judaism. One would expect any new religion to absorb religious traditions of its historical context, and Islam is no exception. Many echoes of Rabbinic Judaism and Syriac Christianity may be found in the Qur a¯n and post-Qur a¯nic tradition.3 Pre-Islamic Arabian religion also figures in to early Islamic practice, as the veneration of the religious shrines in and around Mecca clearly demonstrate.4 Pre-Islamic Arabia also knew religious offices and roles. Sixth-century Arabia knew the role or office of prophet (nabı¯),5 soothsayer/priest (ka¯hin),6 apostle/messenger (rasu¯l),7 elder (shaykh),8 prayer leader (ima¯m),9 preacher or spokesman (khat¯ıb),10 and ˙

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Self-Image (Princeton: Princeton University, 2001); John C. Reeves, ed., Bible and Qur a¯n: Essays in Scriptural Intertextuality (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003); Jane Dammen McAuliffe, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Qur a¯n (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2006); Gabriel Said Reynolds, ed., The Qur a¯n in Its Historical Context (London: Routledge, 2008). This has been a topic of Orientalist study for centuries and remains a topic of interest to this day. See the earliest in Abraham Geiger, Was hat Muhammad aus dem Judenthum aufgenommen (Bonn, 1833), to some of the most recent, Christoph Luxenberg, Die Syro-Aramische Lesart des Koran: Ein Beitrag zur Entschlsselung der Koransprache (Berlin: Verlag Hans Schiler, 2000); and Shari Lowin, The Making of a Forefather (Leiden: Brill, 2006). Arent Jan Wensinck, “Hadjdj,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1971), 31 – 33. A number of competing prophets lived in Arabia during the generation of Muhammad, including Al-Aswad al- Ansı¯ in Yemen, Tulayha b. Khuwaylid among ˙ ˙ ˙ the Banu¯ Asad, a prophetess named Saja¯h among the Banu¯ Tamı¯m, and the most ˙ well-known, Musaylima b. Habı¯b in al-Yama¯ma. The Qur a¯n refers to a number ˙ of extra-biblical figures as prophets, such as Hu¯d (Q.7:65 – 72; 11:53 – 60; 26:123 – 140) and Sa¯lih (7:73 – 84; 11:61 – 68; 26:141 – 159); and many biblical prophets ˙ to˙ Jesus, though all (such as Adam) are not necessarily named as from Adam such by the title, nabı¯. See Scott Noegel and Brannon Wheeler, Historical Dictionary of Prophets in Islam and Judaism (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2002); Suzanne Haneef, A History of the Prophets of Islam (Chicago: Kazi, 2002). The term as it appears in the Qur a¯n refers negatively to soothsayers or diviners (Q.52:29 – 30; 69:38 – 42), though divination was part of the role of the biblical priest (Num 27:21 – 22; 1Sam 23:9 – 12; 30:7 – 8). A. H. Mathias Zahniser, Encyclopedia of the Qur a¯n, vol. 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 380 – 382. The status of shaykh, which by virtue of advanced age and accumulated wisdom conveys authority and prestige, may refer to a chief or head of any number of groups, including religious institutions (Eric Geoffroy, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 9 [Leiden: Brill, 1997], 397 – 398).

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the crier (muna¯dı¯ or mu adhdhin) who would call for assembly or prayer.11 Making sense of these positions and their roles during the period of Islamic emergence and development is of great interest, but for the purpose of this paper it is more constructive to concentrate on the religious leadership of the classical period of the Middle Ages and Modernity that is closest to our notion of clergy. Religious leadership in Islam began with the Prophet himself, for Muhammad was at once prophet and prayer leader as well as religious judge ˙ and confessor. Most religious ritual is authorized by his personal practice through the literature known as hadı¯th, which documents his sunna, ˙ meaning his remembered articulations and observed behaviors. Muham˙ mads personal custom of prayer, for example, provides the liturgical and choreographic details for formal and informal prayer rituals to this day, and he even established, according to the canonical tradition, the number of required daily prayers.12 Muhammad was ima¯m in all senses of the word. He was the leader, ˙ the one up front, the chief and guide whose example served as the quintessential model for the community of believers. To use a term that came into use generations after his death, Muhammads leadership (ima¯ma or ˙ “imamate”) was both the “great imamate” (al-ima¯ma al-kubra¯) of the leader of all Muslims and the “lesser imamate” (al-ima¯ma al-sughra¯) of ˙ the one who conducts the prayer service. Muhammad delegated one reli˙ gious function during his lifetime, and that was the person who would call the believers to prayer. The office is that of the muezzin (Arabic: mu adhdhin, lit. “the caller”) who recites a formal liturgical call in beautiful musical form called the adha¯n. The job of the muezzin has become a

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9 The term seems originally to have applied to the leader at the front of a column of camels and took on the meaning of one in front (the literal meaning of ima¯m) whose example served as guide or pattern for those following or emulating the leadership (Cl ment Huart, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1st ed., vol. 3 [Leyden, E.J. Brill Ltd., 1934], 473 – 474). 10 Linda G. Jones, “Prophetic Performances: Reproducing the Charisma of the Prophet in Medieval Islamic Preaching,” in Katherine L. Lansen and Miri Rubin, Charisma and Religious Authority: Jewish, Christian and Muslim Preaching, 1200 – 1500 (Turnhout/Belgium, 2010), 21; Johannes Pedersen, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 4 (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 1109. 11 Ibid., vol. 6 (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 675. 12 Muhammad b. Isma¯ ı¯l al-Bukhari, Sah¯ıh, bilingual edition, ed. Muhammad Muh˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ sin Kha¯n (Lahore: Kazi, 1979), “Book of Sala¯t” (vol. 1, 213); “Book of Crea˙ tion” (vol. 4, 289 – 290) ; Muhammad b. Jarı¯r al-Tabarı¯, Ja¯mi al-baya¯n an ˙ ˙ ta wı¯l a¯y al-qur a¯n, 30 vols. (Beirut: Da¯r al-Fikr, 1984), vol. 15, 10 – 11. ˘

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professional position in some places, though it is often simply an honored task conferred upon people of piety and good character, and who preferably also have a good voice. After Muhammads death in 632 CE, the office of ultimate leadership ˙ was called the caliphate (khila¯fa), which means deputyship or vicarship. With the passing of the Prophet there could be no more prophets in Islam,13 but the caliph held all the other parts of Muhammads job de˙ scription. He was to be prayer leader, judge, reciter and interpreter of scripture, and transmitter and interpreter of authentic tradition about the life of the Prophet. He was also, like Muhammad, the chief executive ˙ (al-ra ¯ıs) and commander in chief (amı¯r al-mu minı¯n). That bundle of authority would change effectively after the first four caliphs known as the “righteous caliphs” (al-khulafa¯ al-ra¯shidu¯n) and with the establishment of the caliphal dynasty of the Umayyads beginning in 661 CE. Henceforth, while the caliphate remained the formal authority for determining Islamic practice, it became increasingly regal and distanced from the community of believers that it was supposed to lead. In tandem and largely as a reaction to this trend, a guild of religious scholars emerged known as the ulama¯ (sing. a¯lim), which actually took the lead to formalize the practices and canonize the literatures and creeds that continued to evolve in the Muslim world. It is at this point that religious leadership begins to diversify, and a variety of roles emerged. The caliph remained the commander in chief and official head of the community of believers – the amı¯r al-mu minı¯n (literally, “commander of the faithful”). All power officially resided in his office of the “great imamate,” but the religious loyalty of believers shifted to the pious religious leaders who were accessible and lived among them.

3. Range of Religious Leadership in the Classical Muslim World If we look at Muslim religious leadership in the pre-modern period, we will notice a substantial range of meaning in the use of terms and their function and role within the community. Like Judaism, Islam never developed a “magisterium” as did Christianity, with a formal religious hierarchy, so Muslim communities were free to experiment and compete with one another. The pool of religious functions that developed in the Muslim 13 David Powers, I Am Not the Father of Any of Your Men (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 2009).

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world emerged out of the group of religious scholars just mentioned and known as the ulama¯ . The ulama¯ were masters of ilm, a term deriving from the same root as ulama¯ and denoting knowledge. But while the Arabic word means knowledge in general, it came to be associated with religious knowledge and the “religious sciences” rather than the knowledge of profane literature that became known distinctly as adab. Moreover, religious knowledge among many scholars became narrowed down to the specific knowledge passed down from the Prophet, so that even the tools of philosophy and grammar that were employed to understand the deep and complex meanings of the Qur a¯n were considered unimportant among some in the scholar class. Others, however, had a broader view of the meaning of religious knowledge and engaged in broad disciplines of study in order to understand the complexities of life and the deeper meaning of practice necessary to carry out the divine will.14 Nevertheless, the root and base of knowledge among the ulama¯ has always been the knowledge of hadı¯th, and it is the hadı¯th ˙ ˙ that was used by the ulama¯ themselves to confirm their authority. Abu¯ al-Darda¯ , for example, transmitted the following tradition attributed to the Prophet: “Scholars are the heirs of the prophets who have endowed them with knowledge as a legacy. He who has chosen knowledge has taken a generous share, and he who has taken a path towards the acquisition of knowledge, for him God will smooth a path to Paradise.”15 During the first centuries of Islam, scholars would travel in search of knowledge, meaning that they would move between centers of hadı¯th ˙ learning in order to gain knowledge of the utterances and behaviors of the Prophet. Once they had mastered the lore associated with their teacher, they would receive from him an ija¯za, meaning authorization or license that recognized the accuracy of their knowledge. The ija¯za demonstrated that the adept is authorized to transmit that library of oral tradition. The custom of wandering in search of knowledge facilitated contacts between students and masters of tradition in widely separated regions of the Muslim world, which in turn served to energize and cross-pollinate the community of scholars. While knowledge of hadı¯th remained the base of religious knowledge, ˙ the hadı¯th was employed in furthering other fields as well. Religious law ˙ and jurisprudence, known as fiqh, was one field of great importance, as was tafsı¯r, or Qur a¯n interpretation. Traditions associated with Muham˙ ˘

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14 Claude Gilliot, Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 804. 15 Ibid.

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mad and the very methodology of conveying opinions of prior scholars were employed in the legal sphere and also in analysis of the Qur a¯n. This led to the emergence of sub-groups within the ulama¯ , such as the fuqaha¯ , or jurisprudents (sing. faqı¯h), and mufassiru¯n, or Qur a¯n interpreters (sing. mufassir). These scholars then developed their own methodologies that derived partially from the transmission of the Prophetic Tradition but became powerfully influenced by ideas from other sciences such as logic, rhetoric, grammar, and philosophy. The scholar class developed as a religious elite and by and large independent of the state during the first five centuries of Islam, though they not infrequently competed with the caliphal bureaucracy on religious matters. Scholars were rarely professional. They usually earned a living through the exercise of secular professions. As the centrality of the caliphate weakened around the 11th century, the scholars became increasingly involved politically, and they were supported by pious foundations (waqf, pl. awqa¯f) and colleges (madrasa, pl. mada¯ris). These provided financial and material assistance to scholars who ran them and worked in them, thereby encouraging the professionalization of the scholar class. Their increased engagement in the social and political spheres also encouraged a kind of “inbreeding” and the establishment of scholar dynasties, and favors and personal relationships came to influence appointments. This trend reached its peak under the Ottomans, who established a hierarchy of professional religious decisors called muftı¯s, who functioned under the authority of the senior muftı¯ in Istanbul known as the shaykh al-isla¯m. As mentioned earlier, the term ima¯m was applied to Muhammad as ˙ the leader of the community of believers, and it was applied also to the caliphs who succeeded him. The imam as caliph was required to be righteous, to know the law in order to interpret it properly, to be eloquent, to be free of physical defects, to have the proper judgment to conduct affairs of state, to have the necessary courage to lead the imperial armies, and to derive from Muhammads Meccan tribe of Quraysh.16 The Shi a added the ˙ requirement of deriving directly from the immediate family of the Prophet. Since the only surviving child of Muhammad was his daughter Fa¯tima, ˙ ˙ who married his cousin Alı¯, the only line of authentic caliphal imams, according to the Shi a, were required to derive from their descendants. In Shi ite Islam, therefore, the term “imam” is applied to this line of descendants of the Prophet. Shi ites are not all in agreement over which ˘

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16 Huart, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1st ed., vol. 3, 473.

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son of each generation merited to be called imam, so they split into subgroups. The kinship lines of the Shi ite imams came to an end eventually, and no heirs survived, but even the last heir of the prophetic imam is disputed so that a number of different Shi ite communities continue to exist today, the largest being the “Twelver Shi ites” that are dominant in Iran, parts of the Persian Gulf and Lebanon. Aside from the first Shi ite imam, Ali, none of the imams according to the Shi ite tradition became caliphs. The caliphate was nearly always dominated by Sunni caliphs (aside from the Shi ite counter-caliphate of the Fatimids based for a time in North Africa). The Shi ites therefore tended to be extremely protective of the line of Alid imams. They tend to revere Muhammads family, and some consider the prophetic kinship line to re˙ tain within it something like a spark of divinity. The adoration directed to that line among the Shi a was transferred to a significant extent to the class of leaders that took their place when the last heir to the line of Ali and his wife, Muhammads daughter Fa¯tima, went into occultation. ˙ ˙ According to Shi ite creed, the last imam will return at a future time as messianic savior to reclaim rightful leadership of the Muslim world.17 In the meantime, a class of religious scholars emerged in Shi ite Islam that functioned more authoritatively in the role of clergy than any religious leadership in the Sunni world.18 In the world of Sunni Islam, the term “imam” is also used for the founders of the four great schools of law and, by extension, not infrequently for scholars who have founded other types of communities or schools as well. The most common meaning of the term in the Sunni world, however, is “leader of prayer” (sala¯t). As mentioned above, the re˙ sponsibility to lead prayers originated in the Islamic context with Prophet Muhammad as leader of the community. He was the head of government, ˙ the leader in war, and the leader of prayer. The regional governors in the early period after the death of the Prophet took over the leadership of prayer in the areas under their control as part of their political authority, especially the required communal Friday prayer at the central mosque, where they were expected also to give the weekly sermon (khutba). This practice ended during the period of the Abbasid caliphs (after 750 ˘

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17 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Hamid Dabashi, and Seyyed Vali Reza Nasr, Shi ism: Doctrine, Thought, and Spirituality (Albany: State University of New York, 1988), 155 – 187. 18 Ibid., 236 – 242.

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CE), when imams were appointed for the central mosques and paid for their services out of the treasury.19 Customs regarding the choice for imam as prayer leader varied regionally and chronologically. According to the Hadith collection of al-Bukha¯rı¯, the most learned in Qur a¯n or the oldest present would lead prayers,20 but it was common for prayer leaders to be chosen from persons of noble families, representatives of legal schools or other such statuses. Eventually it became custom in most places for mosques to have their own designated imam who was paid for his services through a variety of means (government, private foundations, etc.), which also raised misgivings among certain authorities against payment for religious services.21 Also already in the earliest periods, recitation of the Qur a¯n became a pious spiritual endeavor. It was customary for Qur a¯n reciters (qurra¯ , sing. qa¯ri ) to assemble in large “Friday mosques” on Friday mornings to recite the Qur a¯n, and it was common also to recite in the evenings.22 Along with individuals who became adept at leading prayers and reciting Qur a¯n were the story-tellers (qussa¯s, sing. qa¯ss) who read from the ˙˙ ˙ ˙˙ Qur a¯n and then delivered a discourse about the passage that was intended to raise feelings of piety and awe. The position became an office, but ascetics and holy men would also make appearances in mosques to deliver their own discourses, after which they would collect alms. Eventually, the role was taken over by popular Su¯fı¯sm and became degraded to sim˙ ple story-telling. This was then discouraged in the mosque, though it remained an important activity and resulted in the collection of a literature of qisas or stories, including edifying stories of the prophets of the Qur a¯n ˙ ˙ and the Bible.23 Whereas the office of the qa¯ss fell out of use, the role of the preacher (khat¯ıb) remained important from its pre-Islamic form as tribal spokes˙ man to that of preacher who addresses the community through a sermon. The sermon itself (khutba) became so important that it was formalized ˙ and fixed in Islamic ritual. The one weekly service that requires mosque

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19 Johannes Pedersen, “Masdjid,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 6 (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 674. 20 Kazi vol. 1, Book 11 (Adha¯n), no. 601, 603, 653, 661 (pp. 344 – 345, 369, 375). 21 Pedersen, “Masdjid”, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 6, 674 – 675. 22 Ibid., 657; Kristina Nelson, The Art of Reciting the Qur an (Cairo: American University in Cairo, 2001). 23 Gordon Newby, “Tafsir Isra iliyat,” in Alfred Welch, ed., Studies in Qur a¯n and Tafsir, JAAR Thematic Issue, December 1979, 685 – 697; William Brinner, trans., Ara¯ is al-maja¯lis fı¯ qisas al-anbiya¯ (Leiden: Brill, 2002), xi–xviii. ˙ ˙

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attendance is the Friday noon prayer (sala¯t al-dhuhr), which begins with ˙ the sermon. In fact, for the Friday congregational service to be valid it must be preceded by two sermons, both delivered while standing by the same preacher, who briefly sits between them. The sermons must include praise of God, prayers for Muhammad, recitation of sections of the ˙ Qur a¯n (not specific), admonition to piety, and prayer on behalf of the community of the faithful. As with many positions of Muslim religious leadership, the first khat¯ıb was the Prophet Muhammad.24 When the caliphs then became ˙ ˙ the official preachers for the community, they delegated that authority to representatives who would preach in the large community mosques (often called “Friday mosques”) in provincial areas, so that people of important political and sometimes religious status would serve in that role. Eventually, however, control over the choice and appointment of preachers was lost as the empire continually expanded, but it became a custom though not a legal requirement for preachers to mention the ruling sovereign. Mentioning the sovereign was a means of attesting loyalty, so imams who failed to mention the “correct” ruler, especially in times of political turmoil, could endanger their position if not their life. The custom of mentioning the ruling sovereign obtained also in Muslim minority areas, where the ruler would most likely not be a Muslim, which sometimes caused tension within the community. This practice reflects a custom that was common to Jewish communities, even as early as the 5th century BCE, as Aramaic papyri from upper Egypt attest.25 Many of the religious titles of leadership examined above treat expertise in what are called the “religious sciences” ( ulu¯m al-dı¯n) of legal jurisprudence (faqı¯h, muftı¯), scriptural expertise (mufassir, qa¯ri ), and especially knowledge of prophetic tradition (muhaddith). Of all positions and ˙ titles of religious leadership in Islamic history, the one which is closest to the notion of clergy in Western usage is imam as leader in the mosque. Many medieval mosques had an individual who was appointed to be its imam, and large mosques may have had several. The position of imam as congregational leader thus developed within the context of the mosque, yet no formal ordination or investiture developed in the Muslim world to formalize the training of imams. We noted above that ija¯za, meaning “authorization” or “license,” is a recognition of accuracy demon˘

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24 Jones, “Prophetic Performances”, 19 – 47. 25 Arent Jan Wensinck, “Khutba,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., vol. 5 (Leiden: ˙ Brill, 1986), 74.

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strating that a student of hadı¯th is authorized to transmit a library of the ˙ oral Tradition, but this was conferred individually by a teacher to a student. It never took on the meaning of institutional accreditation, and in any case it related to the expertise of an individual in the knowledge of Tradition – not in the function of congregational leader. No system ever developed to oversee the position and role of the congregational imam. The function, responsibility, and character of the position therefore varied substantially through time and history in the Muslim world. This situation obtains to this day, both in Muslim majority countries and in the many parts of the world where Muslims are a minority population.26 While the leader of the congregational community is usually called imam in the West, the role and responsibility of the position vary widely from country to country and from congregation to congregation. The remaining portion of this study represents a brief survey of the role of imam in the American Muslim community.

4. The Role of Muslim Clergy in the United States of America 4.1 Congregational Imams Until quite recently, few studies have been conducted on the role of the imam in the West, though the topic has found more interest since 2001.27 The dearth of studies in the USA is largely due to the fact that the Amer26 By current estimate, approximately one-third of the world populations of Muslims lives in Muslim minority countries, a view that served as one base for the 2010 conference, “International Conference on Muslims in Multicultural Societies,” held in Singapore July 14 – 16, 2010 and sponsored by the Muis Academy, the University of Oxford, University of Melbourne, and the National University of Singapore (http://www.muis.gov.sg/cms/uploadedFiles/MuisGovSG/CMMS/ CMMS%20Brochure.pdf). More than 100 million Muslims live in India alone. 27 A partial list of European studies include the following: Willem B. Drees and Pieter Sjoerd van Koningsveld, The Study of Religion and the Training of Muslim Clergy in Europe (Leiden: Leiden University, 2008); Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad and Michael Balz, “Taming the Imams: European Governments and Islamic Preachers since 9/11,” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 19/2 (2008): 215 – 235; Ron Geaves, “Drawing on the Past to Transform the Present: Contemporary Challenges for Training and Preparing British Imams,” Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs 28/1 (2008): 99 – 112; Dmitri Trofimov, “Friday Mosques and Their Imams in the Former Soviet Union,” Religion, State and Society 24/2 – 3 (1996): 193 – 219; Mustafa Ocal, “From the Past to the Present: Imam and Preacher Schools in Tur-

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ican Muslim community is relatively recent and not yet well organized.28 The role of the imam has therefore not yet been worked out in the American setting. “An [American] imam is likely to have gone through some formal study of classical Islamic subjects, such as Qur a¯nic commentaries and fiqh. In many instances, however, becoming an imam (or a shaykh) is an ascribed status based on capturing the attention of many people who are impressed by a persons knowledge and/or ability to guide others. Therefore, the imam is a community leader who has some knowledge of the Islamic classics.”29 Of the 1,209 American mosques counted in the year 2000, less than half had any full-time staff of any kind, with the leaders of most mosques a volunteer working part-time and employed outside the mosque.30 This is consistent with the transitional nature of the American Muslim community, which has seen tremendous expansion since the passing of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which abolished the quota system based on national origins.31 In fact, only 2 % of the mosques counted in Bagbys 2000 study were founded before 1950, and 7 % before 1960.32 About four-fifths (81 %) of the mosques have an imam.33 Among those

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key – An Ongoing Quarrel,” Religious Education 102/2 (2007): 191 – 205; Michel Reeber, “Islamic Preaching in France: Admonitory Addresses or a Political Platform?” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 4/2 (1993): 210 – 222. Studies treating the American arena are provided below. According to a 2011 Pew Research Center survey, “Muslim Americans: No Signs of Growth in Alienation or Support for Extremism: Mainstream and Moderate Attitudes” (August 30, 2011), 45 % of the American Muslim community arrived in the US after 1990 (http://people-press.org/2011/08/30/muslimamericans-no-signs-of-growth-in-alienation-or-support-for-extremism/?src=prcnumber). Mazen Hashem, “The Muslim Friday Khutba: Veiled and Unveiled Themes,” Institute for Social Policy and Understanding, 2009, 34 (http://ispu.org/pdfs/ISPU%20-%20The_Muslim_Friday_Khutba.pdf). Ihsan Bagby, Paul M. Perl, and Bryan T. Froehle, “The Mosque in America: A National Portrait: A Report from the Mosque Study Project” (Washington/DC: CAIR, 2001), 7 (http://sun.cair.com/portals/0/pdf/the_mosque_in_america_a_national_portrait.pdf). Carol S. Stone, “Estimate of Muslims Living in America,” in Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad, ed., The Muslims of America (New York: Oxford, 1991), 25 – 36. Bagby et al., “The Mosque”, 23 – 25. Ibid., 46. A Detroit study conducted in 2003 found virtually identical results on the percentage of mosques with imams (Ihsan Bagby, “A Portrait of Detroit Mosques: Muslim Views on Policy, Politics and Religion,” Institute for Social Policy and Understanding, 2004, 56).

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that do, in about half the cases the imam not only leads prayers but is also the organizational leader of the mosque. Where the imam is not the organizational leader, he usually serves as spiritual guide, leading prayers and teaching Islam. In such a situation, the organizational leader of the mosque is an elected official, often termed “president” or “chair,” and does not have liturgical and spiritual responsibility. Where the imam is also the organizational leader of the mosque, he serves as religious leader as well.34 The same study found that most mosques (59 %) have an executive committee or board of directors (often called majlis al-shu¯ra) with final decision-making power. In only 28 % did the imam have final decisionmaking power for the community.35 Most imams serving congregations in the USA are foreign born,36 and a study published in 2008 found that a full 91 % of the imams in New York City were foreign born.37 The 2000 study found that imams whose leadership role was spiritual rather than organizational tended to have slightly greater formal general education than imams who were both spiritual and organizational leaders (77 % to 65 %). The difference was greater with regard to formal Islamic education. Fifty-six percent of imams who were spiritual leaders had a college degree in Islamic education, whereas only 19 % of imams who were also organizational leaders did so. Nearly all in both categories received their education abroad.38

34 Bagby et al., “The Mosque”, 46 – 47. With no exception known to me, all congregational imams in the Muslim world are males. 35 Ibid., 49. 36 Wahiba Abu-Ras, Ali Gheith, and Francine Cournos, “The Imams Role in Mental Health Promotion: A Study of 22 Mosques in New York Citys Muslim Community,” Journal of Muslim Mental Health 3 (2008): 158. 37 Ibid., 168. One source claims that “there have been over 1,500 Muslim clergy in the Sunni Tradition immigrate to America within the last twenty years” (John H. Morgan, “Professionalization of Islamic Ministry in America: Components of the Legitimizing Process in Western Society,” Journal for the Study of Religions and Ideologies 9/26 [Summer 2010]: 114). 38 Bagby et al., “The Mosque”, 51.

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4.2 The Role of the Congregational Imam No research I am aware of has attempted to study the various roles and tasks of the congregational imam in the USA, so the following is based on information gathered from studies of other aspects of Muslim congregational life. Like Christian and Jewish clergy, American imams lead worship, deliver sermons, conduct religious ceremonies, provide religious and spiritual guidance, and educate the community on Islamic principles and practices.39 The primary role of the imam is to organize and lead prayer. This requires ensuring that a facility is set up properly for ablutions and prayer and leading or arranging for the leading of worship five times per day. The prayer times are standardized and must be followed punctually, so that meetings, counseling, and community activities need to be structured around those times. Religious sermons are expected (and required) on Fridays only, and as noted above, the person who delivers the sermon (Arabic, khutba) is referred to as the khatı¯b. While in some American mosques the imam is expected to be the khatı¯b, in some mosques that honor is rotated between various individuals. In a 2009 study of sermons delivered over a three-year period in Southern California mosques, only 26 of the 84 khatı¯bs observed were imams (31 %). The others were engineers, physicians, businessmen, scientists, and other professionals.40 The depth and quality of the sermons varied and were deemed by the observer to be in need of improvement in terms of both content and delivery.41 Most American imams are involved in counseling and devote most of their counseling time to spiritual and religious counseling, though American mosques usually provide marital and family counseling as well. A 2003 study found that counseling training was uneven. “Given a list of possible counseling training experiences, 13 percent (seven of 56 respondents) reported having had a formal clinical pastoral education, 21 percent (12 of 56 respondents) reported having taken a course on counseling given by an Islamic organization, and 25 percent (14 of 56 respondents) reported having consulted with or worked under the supervision of a ˘

39 While many imams teach Qur a¯n and hold classes on various religious issues, no study known to me has examined the frequency, quality, and attendance of these activities in any Muslim community context. In many mosque settings I have observed a male member of the congregation other than the imam leading prayers. 40 Hashem, “The Muslim Friday Khutba”, 7 – 8. 41 Ibid., 15 – 34.

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mental health professional.”42 In a survey published in 2010 of American imams of foreign origin, 25 % of the respondents reported that they had no formal training in counseling skills, 95 % reported that they were interested in receiving counseling and compassion care training if available from an Islamic perspective and provider, and 15 % reported that they received counseling training from a non-Muslim perspective and provider.43 The Muslim community is taking notice of the lack of training and working toward providing imams with an integrative education that combines psychotherapy with religious thought and practice.44 A number of recent studies have examined the role of Muslim chaplains in the hospital setting and have called for better integration of Muslim religious values and culture in chaplaincy training for both non-Muslims and Muslims.45 The studies have found a general lack of Muslim representation in relation to the percentage of Muslim physicians and patients in the health-care system, both in delivery of chaplaincy services and among administrators who oversee programs.46 Non-Muslim 42 Osman Ali, Glen Miltesin, and Peter Marzuk, “The Imams Role in Meeting the Counseling Needs of Muslim Communities in the United States,” Psychiatric Services 56/2 (February 2005): 203 (http://ps.psychiatryonline.org). 43 John H. Morgan, Muslim Clergy in America: Ministry as Profession in the Islamic Community, 2nd ed. (Lima, OH: Wyndham Hall, 2010), 92 – 95, 129. The sponsor of the study does not provide the year of the survey but correspondence with the author established that the data were collected 2009 – 2010. A response rate of 50 % is reported. 44 Abu-Ras et al., “Imams Role”, 158. 45 For a general overview of Muslim chaplaincy in the US, see Aly KassamRemtulla, “Chaplains,” in Encyclopedia of Muslim-American History, 2 vols. (New York: Library of American History, 2010), vol. 1, 98 – 100. The most recent to date on Muslim chaplaincy in the hospital setting, with extensive bibliography, is Wahiba Abu-Ras and Lance Laird, “How Muslim and Non-Muslim Chaplains Serve Muslim Patients? Does the Interfaith Chaplaincy Model Have Room for Muslims Experiences?” Journal of Religion and Health 50 (2011): 46 – 61. See also, Wahiba Abu-Ras, “Muslim Chaplains Role as They Are Perceived by Directors and Chaplains of the New York City Hospitals and Health Care Settings,” Journal of Topics in Integrative Health Care Authorship (forthcoming); Aasim Padela, Amal Killawi, Michele Heisler, Sonya Demonner, and Michael Fetters, “The Role of Imams in American Muslim Health: Perspectives of Muslim Community Leaders in Southeast Michigan,” Journal of Religion and Health 50 (2011): 359 – 373; Doha Raik Hamza, “On Models of Hospital Chaplaincies: Which One Works Best for the Muslim Community?” Journal of Muslim Mental Health 2/1 (2007): 65 – 79. 46 Wahiba Abu-Ras, “Chaplaincy and Spiritual Care Services: The Case for Muslim Patients,” Topics in Integrative Health Care Authorship (forthcoming).

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hospital chaplains tend to consider those Muslims who take on this role to be less well trained for the hospital setting than Jewish and Christian chaplains.47 Imams are not infrequently invited to be involved in interfaith projects and programs, usually by clergy representing other faith traditions. In a recent study, 55 % of those returning the survey reported that they are members of the local clergy association.48 It appears, however, that notwithstanding membership, imams tend not to be deeply involved in interfaith programs.49 While the reasons vary from situation to situation, they would appear to be related to the less established status of the Muslim community in America. Some observations are worth considering. First, the community is new relative to the Christian and Jewish communities in the US and thus less organized. Second, the relative lack of numbers, power, and social confidence discourages engagement because of the unconscious anxiety that unbalanced relationship breeds. Third, because the American Muslim community is primarily an immigrant population, other priorities such as jobs, education, and social integration might appear to take precedence. And fourth, after 9/11 the steep rise of Islamophobia in the US has intimidated some imams and communities from engaging with other religionists for fear or anxiety of being criticized or insulted. A likely lack of complete fluency in the culture and organization of American civic life and institutions also puts imams at a disadvantage relative to their Jewish and Christian clerical colleagues. These factors would all contribute to hesitation on the part of imams and the congregations they represent from engaging fully in interfaith projects and dialogue. Nevertheless, a 2009 study notes an increase in lay-driven interfaith engagement between Muslims and Jews.50

47 Wahiba Abu-Ras, Imams Role (forthcoming). 48 Morgan, Muslim Clergy in America, 101. 49 This and the following paragraph represent my own anecdotal observations. To the best of my knowledge, no studies have examined the nature and frequency of imams involvement in interfaith programs and projects. 50 Sarah Bassin, “The Field of Muslim-Jewish Engagement: A Report on the Field of Muslim-Jewish Engagement Based on Surveys Conducted by the Center for Muslim-Jewish Engagement” (http://www.usc.edu/schools/college/crcc/private/ cmje/Final_Publication.pdf).

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5. Conclusion The brief overview provided in the last section gives a provisional summary of the state of imams serving the American Muslim community. In short, the American imamate is “a work in progress.” Most congregational mosques may be described as ethnic communities that serve immigrant communities or African-American Muslims, and imams are trained virtually entirely outside of the United States. The served communities, however, are becoming increasingly integrated into American society and culture, and it appears that the congregations are integrating more rapidly than their religious leadership. There has been an increasing interest among American Muslims in developing their own training programs for religious leadership that will produce imams who are at ease and conversant in American cultural and civic customs and traditions, who will be comfortable in interfaith settings, and who can accommodate aspects of the host culture into a contextually American Islam. Hartford Seminary, Zeytuna College in Berkeley, California, Claremont School of Theology, Islamic American University in Southfield, Michigan, and the International Institute of Islamic Thought in Herndon, Virginia, have programs that may lead to formal accreditation for American imams, and Muslim Chaplains Conferences have been held for at least five years in conjunction with the annual meeting of the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA). Any historical surveyor of the American religious scene would compare the current trends among Muslims with the historical trends of Catholics and Jews in past generations. Ethnic churches and synagogues gave way to multi-ethnic churches and synagogues within a few short generations, and the training of religious leaders overseas was quickly overtaken by local institutions. There is no reason to doubt that Muslim congregations and Muslim religious leaders will likewise experience an Americanization process that will balance integration into the American social and cultural scene with authentic religious practice.

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APPENDIX Basic Islamic Religious Leadership Terminology

˘

Titles and job descriptions vary over time and between regions and reigns, religious denominational communities (i.e., Sunnis and Shi ites), and within sub-groups within them. The list of titles below is limited primarily to Arabic titles. Other titles, sometimes exactly parallel to the Arabic titles and sometimes not, exist in Persian, Turkish, Urdu, and other Muslim languages. ˘

˘

¯ lim – The first learned position to emerge in Islam was the a¯lim, one A who has “ ilm,” or knowledge. While the type of knowledge necessary for a person to be called a¯lim was not static, it meant classically the knowledge of the traditions of the Prophet. Those who transmitted Prophetic Traditions were required to have religious authority, because they functioned as the repository of one of the most important sources of religious lore and tradition, and because traditions were falsified, altered, or manufactured by some who used them to try to promote inauthentic notions or practices or tried to promote themselves through citing inauthentic traditions. ˘

˘

˘

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¯ lim al-rabba¯ni – A theosopher engaged in esoteric thought in Shi ite traA dition.

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Faqı¯h – The term comes into use during the period of the “successors” of the companions of the Prophet under the reign of the Umayyad caliphs. The faqı¯h was required not only to know the Qur a¯n and the traditions, but also to have the ability to derive legal rulings from them. ˘

Ima¯m – Leader, caliph. The person leading prayers in any religious context (within or without a mosque). Ima¯m jumm a – Leader of the Friday congregational prayer. ˘

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Ima¯m (par excellence) – In Shi a tradition, any one of the Shi ite leaders from the direct line of kinship from the Prophet through Ali. Includes offices of wakı¯l or na¯ ib (deputy to the Imam). ˘

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Khalı¯fa (Caliph) – The “successor” to Muhammad who ruled the entire ˙ community of believers. Khat¯ıb – Preacher who delivers the sermon (khutba) in the Friday mosque. ˙ ˙

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˘

˘

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Marja (Shi ite usage) – Full name: marja -i taqlı¯d (Persianization of Arabic), meaning “the model for emulation.” The person who sets patterns for his followers in Shi ite jurisprudence. The office or institution out of which the marja -i taqlı¯d functions is called the marja iyya. The office rose to extreme importance only in the 19th century. ˘

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Mu adhdhin – Person who calls Muslims to prayer.

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Muftı¯ (and mustaftı¯) – The muftı¯ is a person who is qualified to pronounce and deliver non-binding juridical opinions, called fatwa¯s (pl. fata¯wa¯). From this authority was developed the institution of the da¯r al-ifta¯ , “the house of legal opinions,” in Egypt in 1895, which has become the official government office of authority for religious legal opinions. The mustaftı¯ is the person who asks for a fatwa¯ from the muftı¯. Muhaddith – Traditionalist, expert in oral tradition. ˙ Muhtasib – The office of supervisor of bazaars and trade who was com˙ missioned to ensure the accuracy of weights and measures and public standards in general and to make sure that public business is conducted according to religious law. The role often included overseeing public morals and cleanliness in public areas. ˘

Mujtahid – One who can form his own judgment, who can apply the rules of interpretation (usu¯l al-fiqh) required to interpret sharı¯ a properly in ju˙ risprudence. ˘

Mulla (Arabic: mawla¯) – Ordinary clergy, most commonly known among Shi a clergy but also among Sunnis. The term is rare in the Arabic-speaking world, though it derives from an Arabic term. It is common in Persian, Urdu, and Central Asian Turkic-speaking areas (but not in Turkey). ˘

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Mulla¯-ba¯shı¯ (usually Shi ite usage) – Head of all the religious scholars ( ulama¯ ), and a specific office of the head of ulama¯ that was attached to the court of the Safavid (Persian) ruler. Mutakallim – Theologian. ˘

Naqı¯b – “Head or chief” in Shi ite Islam, supervisor of the descendants of the family of the Prophet, and special judge to settle their affairs. Qa¯d¯ı (sometimes, ha¯kim or muha¯kim) – Judge who applies jurisprudence ˙ ˙ ˙ and Tradition in a court setting. ˘

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Qa¯ri – One who recites the Qur a¯n.

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Qutb (in Su¯fı¯ usage) – “Pole”; head of a saintly hierarchy. Also rukn (pil˙ lar) or asa¯s (essential, base). Ra¯wı¯ – Reciter of oral traditions. Sayyid – Meaning “noble,” applies to descendants of the family of the Prophet. Shaykh – Literally and simply, elder. It has both secular and religious meaning, as tribal elder or governor, and as religious leader or scholar, especially in the religious sciences of jurisprudence, tradition, and scriptural interpretation. ˘

˘

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Shaykh al-a zam – The great shaykh, a rare title found in Shi ite usage. ˙ Shaykh al-fuqaha¯ – Head of jurists. Shaykh al-Isla¯m – Honorific title applied to certain scholars and sufı¯ ˙ saints, sometimes equal to the chief qa¯dı¯. ˘

Thiqat al-Isla¯m – “Trustworthy in Islam,” applied in Shi ism to trustworthy reciters of the traditions of both the Prophet and the Imams. ˘

Wa¯ iz – Preacher. ˙ Walı¯ (in Shi ite usage) – Patron, tutor, supporter; a term applied to a saintly person in the Shi a tradition. The notion and office derives from the meaning of wila¯ya – proximity, friendship, and authority stemming from religious belief. This has been a source of legitimating the transfer of authority from the ima¯ms of the Shi a. Wila¯yat al-faqı¯h (or in Farsi, Vila¯yat-e faqı¯h) is the doctrine that provides a superior jurist the mandate to rule the community based on the authority of his legal reasoning. ˘

˘

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Walı¯ (in Su¯fı¯ usage) – Patron, tutor, supporter – a term that was applied to ˙ Su¯fı¯ saints. ˙

“… Invited to Preach to the People” (Origen): A Theological Plea for “Lay” Preaching in the Catholic Church Heinz-Gnther Schçttler “The development of the threefold office was brought to an end barely two generations after Jesus and the Apostles, but at the latest in the second half of the second century. After the conclusion of this development, every independent city with a Christian congregation possessed its own bishop, priests, and deacons, and no one doubted that this order corresponded to the will of God and concurred with the apostolic tradition.” This is a summary drawn by Ernst Dassmann at the end of his book mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde (1994).1 The order of the offices in the Catholic Church has remained established and unchanged essentially since this earliest period – until today, which is extremely problematic. The problem is not only that this order of the offices has remained more or less unchanged to the present, but rather that a sacerdotalization of the ecclesiastical office also accompanies it that is not supported by the New Testament. The “freezing” of this order at the stage of development reached in the 2nd century, along with the increasing sacerdotalization of the ecclesiastical office, has fatal consequences – not only today. One of these fatal consequences is, for example, Canon 767 of the Codex Iuris Canonici, according to which preaching in the worship service is reserved exclusively to the ordained ministers, the bishops, priests, and deacons; the so-called “laity” is excluded from the preaching office.2 The term “lay person” in the Catholic Church designates the “non-ordained person” in contrast to the “cleric” or the ordained priest. The term “lay person” harks back to the Greek word “laiks” (Latin: 1

2

Ernst Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde (Bonn: Borengsser, 1994), 225; cf. Hans von Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten, 2nd ed. (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1963). CIC/1983, can. 767 § 1: Among the forms of preaching, the homily, which is part of the liturgy itself and is reserved to a priest or deacon, is preeminent.

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“laicus”), which is derived from the Greek “las” (people). The term thus means “belonging to the people”. Accordingly, there is no difference in the church between non-ordained and ordained people, for the ordained ministers also, of course, are part of the People of God. In the context of the “people of God” theology developed since the mid-20th century, the designation “lay person” is a term of honor, insofar as it designates the membership of a human being in the People of God.3 In this respect, all of the baptized are “lay persons”! However, the term in the ecclesiastical context has another meaning: It indicates a demarcation between the so-called “laity” and the so-called “clergy”, a demarcation that is not made by the New Testament. It was Tertullian (circa 150 – circa 230) who first used the term “clerus” in this distinctive sense, in order to exclude women from the ministry of bishop, priest/presbyter, and deacon!4 According to him, the clergy is opposed to the “plebs”.5 The Second Vatican Council is ambiguous: On the one side, it emphasizes “a true equality with regard to the dignity and to the activity common to all the faithful for the building up of the Body of Christ” (Lumen gentium 32); on the other, it declares that “the term laity means all the faithful except those in holy orders and those in the state of religious life specially approved by the Church” (Lumen gentium 31). This difference, according to Roman Catholic doctrine, would be an essential difference: It is a difference “in essence and not only in degree” [“essentia et non gradu tantum”] (Lumen gentium 10). Canon law even goes so far as to state that this differentiation, which is not made by the New Testament, is made “by divine institution”.6 The differentiation between “clergy” and “laity” is problematic theologically and for the practice of the church. For this reason, I always put the ecclesiastically introduced term “lay person” in quotation marks in the following, 3 4

5

6

Cf. esp. Peter Neuner, Der Laie und das Gottesvolk (Frankfurt/Main: Verlag Josef Knecht, 1988). Cf. Tertullian, De monogamia, 11 – 12; De fuga in persecution, 11. The Greek “kle¯ros” means “lot”, “share”, “inheritance”. In this sense, the term also is found in the Bible, but not for the differentiation between “clergy” and “laity”! Cf. Tertullian, De exhortatione castitatis, 7,3. Cf. Otto Gerhard Oexle, Werner Conze and Rudolf Walther, “Stand, Klasse,” in Otto Brunner, Werner Conze and Reinhart Koselleck, eds., Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe: Historisches Lexikon zur politisch-sozialen Sprache in Deutschland, vol. 6 (Stuttgart: KlettCotta, 1990), 155 – 284. CIC/1983, can. 207: “By divine institution, there are among the Christian faithful in the Church sacred ministers who in law are also called clerics; the other members of the Christian faithful are called lay persons.”

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because in the church there really is no “laity”, unless all members of the church are lay people! As suitable as the order of offices developed in the 2nd century and, with it, the understanding of the office and the church also might have been in the metaphysically interpreted world of Middle Platonic Antiquity, they fit less and less well into our post-modern world. The Catholic Church is less and less successful in fulfilling its mission “in the modern world”, as it is expressed in the title of the pastoral constitution Gaudium et spes by Second Vatican Council. This is sensed by those who firmly and desperately hold fast to the traditional official order, as well as also those who demand a modification, in order to be able to confront the challenges of the modern age in a way more adaptable to human life.

1. The Office in the Catholic Church Between Tradition and Modernity 1.1 The “Unified Office” of the Ordained Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church The fact that the traditional order of offices is no longer accepted and unquestioned is shown by more recent interventions undertaken by the Vatican and designed, in warning, to urge anew the traditional order. An example for this is the Vaticans instruction Ecclesiae de mysterio from John Paul II “on certain questions regarding the collaboration of the non-ordained faithful in the sacred ministry of the priests” from August 15, 1997.7 The Papal instruction, significantly, was published in German, which indicates that it applies primarily to the Catholic Church in the German-speaking countries, in which, in the years after the Council, the so-called “lay” preaching had become the practice in the Sunday celebration of the Eucharist. The instruction urges the traditional teaching of the Catholic Church on the ordained priesthood. In this understanding of the office, the leadership of the congregation, the celebration of the Eucharist, and the office of preaching are joined together inseparably in one office, for which reason the term “unified office” is used. In this, three functions are tied together to form an indivisible unity: (1) the munus docendi, which contains the function of teaching, to which preach7

English translation under: www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cclergy/ documents/rc_con_interdic_doc_15081997_en.html.

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ing belongs in a special way; (2) the munus sanctificandi, which refers to the function of sanctification, to which the administering of the sacraments and presiding at the celebration of the Eucharist belong in a special way; and (3) the munus regendi, which contains the function of leadership, to which the leadership of the congregation belongs in a special way. These three central functions are, in canon law, bound together with priestly ordination, that is, joined together in the one office, namely in the office of ordination of the bishop or priests, and their joining together is “inseparable”. A joining together in one office in a certain respect does make sense theologically, to be sure, if one, for example, observes the internal arrangement that exists between the Eucharist as the sacrament of the unity of the one body of Christ (cf. 1Cor 10:16 – 17) and the function of leadership concerned with the unity of the congregation.8 But, it increasingly causes problems in church practice. The munus sanctificandi of the office of ordination is overemphasized in the ecclesiastical documents, also in the most recent ones, and dominates the understanding of the office. A sacramental-priestly understanding of the ecclesiastical office or ordination developed only in the 3rd century and is designated generally as the sacramentalization of the ecclesiastical office. The “sacerdos” is spoken of since the 3rd century; a sacralcultic understanding of the ecclesiastical office, on the other hand, is completely foreign to the New Testament. The New Testament avoids especially every form of sacral-cultic terminology such as, for example, the official designation of “hiereffls” (Latin: “sacerdos”), that is, priest in the sacral-cultic sense, as the designation of a function or office in the Christian congregations. Preceding this is a process in the course of which the Eucharist was interpreted increasingly as a sacrifice, which is designated as a sacrificialization of the Eucharist.9 Von Campenhausen describes the 8

9

Cf. Michael Theobald, “Die Zukunft des kirchlichen Amtes: Neutestamentliche Perspektiven angesichts gegenwrtiger Blockaden,” Stimmen der Zeit 216 (1998): 195 – 208, here 200; Medard Kehl, Die Kirche: Eine katholische Ekklesiologie, 2nd ed. (Wrzburg: Echter Verlag, 1993), 433 – 435; Peter Walter, “Vorsteher der Eucharistie und Gemeindeleitung: Theologische und praktische berlegungen,” in Michael Kessler, ed., Ordination – Sendung – Beauftragung: Anfragen und Beobachtungen zur rechtlichen, liturgischen und theologischen Struktur (Tbingen: Francke, 1996), 101 – 111, here 105 – 107. On the process of the sacerdotalization of the office of presbyter and the process of a sacrificialization of the Eucharist associated with it, cf., for example, Ernst Ludwig Grasmck, “Vom Presbyter zum Priester. Etappen der Entwicklung des neuzeitlichen Priesterbildes,” in Paul Hoffmann, ed., Priesterkirche, Theologie zur Zeit 3, 2nd ed. (Dsseldorf: Patmos, 1989), 96 – 131; Jçrg Gerber, Ungleich-

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development as follows: “First, the notion of a particular Christian cultic and sacrificial function arises, which then immediately brings with it the corresponding notion of a particular priestly profession and estate. […] The idea of the priesthood follows […] the notion of the cultic sacrifice.”10 In view of its New Testament origins, the overemphasis upon the sacramental-priestly function among the three functions is thus also extremely problematic in the perspective of the history of theology. While the New Testament avoids every cultic-sacerdotal terminology in the designation of offices and, thus, stands within a Jewish tradition that lived without priests and sacrifice in the Temple already before the destruction of the Temple,11 and while rabbinical Judaism designed a Judaism after the destruction of the Temple with the Torah and its exegesis at its center, in Christianity a sacrificialization of the Eucharist took place and a cultic-sacerdotal understanding of the offices became more and more important and, finally, central. What rabbinical Judaism overcame, namely, the Temple cult, the priesthood, and the high priesthood, established itself in Christianity in the centuries after Jesus, so that the Roman Catholic Church simply does not (any longer) appear conceivable without these sacral-cultic offices and a corresponding understanding of the Eucharist. Three examples should illustrate what strange ideas the cultic-sacerdotal interpretation of the ecclesiastical office can conjure up in church history: (1) The Council of Trent claims a “visible and external priesthood” for the New Testament with “the power of consecrating and offering the true body and blood of the Lord”.12 The Catechismus Romanus heiten im Volk Gottes: Die Besetzung des ordinierten Amtes als Phnomen “sozialer Schliessung”, Praktische Theologie im Dialog 16 (Freiburg, Schweiz: Universittsverlag, 1998); Theobald, “Die Zukunft des kirchlichen Amtes”, 202 – 204 (“Zur Problematik des kultisch-sazerdotalen Priesterbegriffs”); Gisbert Greshake, “berpointierung und Relativierung der Sazerdotalisierung des Amtes,” in Theologische Realenzyklopdie 27 (Berlin – New York, 2000), 426 – 428; Gregor Predel, Vom Presbyter zum Sacerdos: Historische und theologische Aspekte der Entwicklung der Leitungsverantwortung und Sacerdotalisierung des Presbyterates im sptantiken Gallien (Mnster: LIT Verlag, 2005). 10 Hans von Campenhausen, “Die Anfnge des Priesterbegriffs in der alten Kirche,” in idem, ed., Tradition und Leben, Krfte der Kirchengeschichte (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1960), 272 – 289, here 274 – 276. 11 Cf. Heinz-Gnther Schçttler, “Eingeladen zum Hochzeitsmahl des Wortes (Ambrosius von Mailand): berlegungen zur liturgischen Prsenz des Wortes Gottes,” Bibel und Liturgie 81 (2008): 67 – 85, here 70 – 72. 12 Council of Trent, sessio XXIII (1563), canon 1.

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(1566), issued on order of the Council, makes reference to this and goes so far as to say that the priests “justly are called not only angels, but even gods”.13 (2) The Sermones ad Fratres in eremo, originating in the Middle Ages (12th century) and foist on Augustine, say something similar in sermo 36 (with reference to Psalm 82:114): “Vos [= sacerdotes] enim estis dii excelsi, in quorum synagoga Deus deorum stare desiderat. Vos estis ejus [= Christus] vicarii, qui vicem ejus geritis.”15 (3) In his Apostolic Exhortation Haerent animo from 1908, Pope Pius X writes, “There should be as much difference between the priest and any other upright man as there is between heaven and earth.”16

1.2 The Current Situation in the Roman Catholic Church – Significant for Western Societies and Cultures Let us take a look at the current situation of the Roman Catholic Church. What has been prescribed dogmatically in regard to the office in the church, inculcated and imprinted through a centuries-old tradition, though, also has become problematic today in several respects: (1) On the basis of the “unified office”, the office of congregational leadership in the Catholic Church is bound up with the ordained priest and, therewith, with men, as a rule unmarried men. Because of the shortage of priests, this leads to the situation that a process of radical re-structuring of territorial pastoral care is taking place at the present time in the dio13 Catechismus Romanus II, 7,2. 14 Ps 82:1: “God has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment.” 15 Pseudo-Augustinus, “Sermones ad Fratres in eremo” 36, in Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Latina 40, 1298 – 1301, here 1301. On the provenance of these sermons, cf. Germain Morin, “La Provenance des sermons pseudo-augustiniens ad Fratres in eremo,” La Revue Bndictine 13 (1896): 346 – 347. For content and motive of this pseudepigraphic scripture, cf. Kaspar Elm, “Sermones ad fratres in eremo: Pseudoaugustinische Lebensregeln fr Eremiten und Kanoniker,” in Gert Melville and Anne Mller, eds., Regula Sancti Augustini: Normative Grundlage differenter Verbnde im Mittelalter, Publikationen der Akademie der Augustiner-Chorherren von Windesheim 3 (Paring: Augustiner-ChorherrenVerlag, 2002), 515 – 537; Erich Saak, “On the Origins of the OSEA: Some Notes on the Sermones ad Fratres suos in ermeo,” Augustiana 57 (2007): 89 – 149, here 109 – 149. 16 Acta Sanctae Sedis 41 (1908): 555 – 577, here 560.

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ceses in Germany. If, in the past, the parishes were manageable units in regard to pastoral care, now over-large parishes emerge through the process of consolidation. The quotient used in calculating the size of the pastoral care unit is the predicted proportion of priests, and this is small and continues to become smaller. And, insofar as the quotient used for calculating the size of the pastoral care unit is the predicted number of priests, pastoral care in the Catholic Church remains more priest-centered than in the past. Thus, on the basis of this precarious situation and because of the compulsion exerted by the “unified office”, under which the church forces itself, there emerge of necessity consolidated parishes, large territorial structures, immense pastoral care units, “XXL parishes”, as it were, in which the experience of closeness and community is hardly still possible, and the feeling of belonging is hardly to be realized. But, the church must remain as a community that can be experienced “locally”. Closeness and belonging are sustaining features of a parish. Pastoral care in all phases of life is possible only where life is shared with others and daily life is mastered together.17 Precisely the post-modern trends of individualization and pluralization of life situations speak in favor of this, insofar as, in the neighborhood of the “local” congregation, the individuality of the person and the plurality of the society can be experienced as an enrichment of the church.18 Large pastoral care units are contrafactual and out of date. They are, rather, more compatible with the institutionalized form of church religiosity that was typical of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, but – thank heaven – they are a bygone form of churchly religiosity.19 (2) On the basis of the “unified office”, the office of preaching in the Catholic Church also is bound up with the office of ordination. According to the teaching of the Catholic Church, the service of preaching is reserved, above all, to the bishops as authentic teachers, then to the priests as the co-workers of the bishops, and, finally, to the deacons, and for this reason is bound up inseparably with the sacrament of ordination. This 17 Jrgen Werbick speaks of the “locating of the faith”: Warum die Kirche vor Ort bleiben muss (Donauwçrth: Verlag Sankt Ulrich, 2002), 66. 18 Cf. ibid., 77. 19 Cf. Karl Gabriel, Christentum zwischen Tradition und Postmoderne, QD 141, 7th ed. (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 2000); Heinz-Gnther Schçttler, “Ein Haus voll Glorie schauet? Die wechselhafte Geschichte eines Kirchenliedes an den Bruchkanten der Moderne,” Bibel und Liturgie 83 (2010): 32 – 48.

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means that the service of the Word in the celebration of the Eucharist, the “central service” of the Catholic Church, is performed by the ordained ministers, for the most part by the priests. Insofar as Catholic priests are unmarried men, female and male non-ordained pastoral counselors, that is, non-ordained pastoral workers20, as well as women and married persons with their specific faith experiences, are found preaching in the churchs worship only on the margins. (3) On the basis of the “unified office”, presiding over the celebration of the Eucharist in the Catholic Church also is bound up with the ordained priests. This means in current practice that in many congregations on Sunday no regular celebration of the Eucharist takes place anymore. Yet, the Codex Iuris Canonici, the churchs law book, describes the celebration of the Eucharist, closely following the Second Vatican Council, as the “summit and source of all Christian worship and Christian life”.21 The most recent statistics speak clearly. They underscore the precariousness of the situation and permit a clear prognosis. Here is only a small, but significant extract from the statistics of the Catholic Church in Germany:22

20 Non-ordained pastoral workers, trained spiritually and theologically like the priests, exercise a profession that emerged after the Second Vatican Council in German-speaking countries; cf. Georg Kçhl, Der Beruf des Pastoralreferenten in den Ortskirchen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland: Pastoralgeschichtliche und pastoraltheologische berlegungen zu einem neuen pastoralen Beruf (Freiburg, Schweiz: Universittsverlag, 1987). 21 CIC/1983 can. 897; cf. II. Vatican Council, Sacrosanctum Concilium, 10. 22 Data from the German Conference of Bishops (www.dbk.de).

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What is described here applies mutatis mutandis to the situation of the Catholic Church in all Western societies and cultures, and thus is not limited to Germany.

2. Inculturation – a Lasting Constraint on the Church 2.1 A Biblical Plea for a Functional Differentiation of the “Unified Office” In view of this precarious situation that, obviously, is brought about also by the “unified office” of the ordained ministers, through which, for example, women de facto are excluded to a great extent from the preaching office and from leadership of the congregation, a look at the New Testament record is helpful and revealing. I can do this here only by providing examples taken from the Pauline congregations. In the early days of the church, the office of proclamation, or preaching, the leadership at the celebration of the Eucharist, and the leadership of the congregation were in no way gathered together in one office. Here, 1Cor 12:27 – 30 is cited as an example:

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(27) Now you are the body of Christ, and every one of you the separate parts of it. (28) And God has put some in the church, first, as apostles; second, as prophets; third, as teachers; then those with wonder-working powers, then those with the power of taking away disease, helpers, wise guides [Greek: kyb rne¯sis], users of strange tongues. (29) Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Have all the power of working wonders? (30) Are all able to take away disease? Have all the power of tongues? Are all able to interpret?

For the congregation founded by Paul at Corinth, a “unified office” that gathers all and draws all to itself is “to be ruled out, for, in his catalogue at 1Cor 12:28, Paul names, along with the (congregational) prophets and teachers, the gifts of leadership or organization (Greek: kyb rne¯sis) separately and also only at the end of the list; he does not speak at all of the leadership at the celebration of the Eucharist. Remarkable is, moreover, that, in the instruction about the correct celebration of the Lords supper (1Cor 11:17 – 26), the question of who presides over and leads the assembly plays no role. Later dogmatic stipulations (here) go far beyond the findings ascertainable in the New Testament. […] The leadership in the celebration of the Eucharist is certainly not laid down according to divine law, and probably also could have been exercised by the prophets. For Paul himself, [it is true] that, for him, the apostolic office expresses itself in the proclamation of the Word of God; and a representatio Christi in the liturgy cannot be seen. Quite quickly then, as is known […] the development took course in the direction of a unified office with different ranks; this is shown especially in the linkage of congregational leadership and the leadership at the celebration of the Eucharist.”23 One should compare Ignatius of Antiochia (early 2nd century) on this:

23 Theobald, “Die Zukunft des kirchlichen Amtes”, 200. For the further development, cf. the surveys in: Wilhelm Geerlings, “Einleitung zur Traditio Apostolica,” in Georg Schçllgen and Wilhelm Geerlings, eds. and trans., Didache: Zwçlfapostellehre. Traditio Apostolica. Apostolische berlieferung. Fontes Christiani 1, 2nd ed. (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 2000), 143 – 208, here 160 – 177; Walter, “Vorsteher der Eucharistie und Gemeindeleitung”, 105 – 107; Christoph Markschies, Das antike Christentum: Frçmmigkeit, Lebensformen, Institutionen, (Mnchen: Beck, 2006), esp. 196 – 212; Norbert Brox, Kirchengeschichte des Altertums (Dsseldorf: Patmos, 1983), 89 – 110; Ernst Dassmann, “Entstehung und theologische Begrndung der kirchlichen mter in der frhen Kirche,” Communio: Internationale Katholische Zeitschrift 22 (1993): 350 – 362. For detailed information, cf. Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde.

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See that ye all follow the bishop, even as Jesus Christ does the Father, and the presbytery as ye would the apostles; and reverence the deacons, as being the institution of God. Let no man do anything connected with the Church without the bishop. Let that be deemed a proper Eucharist, which is [administered] either by the bishop, or by one to whom he has entrusted it. Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the multitude [of the people] also be; even as, wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. It is not lawful without the bishop either to baptize or to celebrate a love-feast; but whatsoever he shall approve of, that is also pleasing to God, so that everything that is done may be secure and valid.24

In view of the precarious situation already indicated, reference is to be made to the functional differentiation of the Pauline congregations in the early days of the church, and to the fact that, according to Paul, the unity of the church is grounded in no way in a certain official structure, but rather that the ground of the church and its unity is Christ. “A unified office absorbing all functions into itself does not alone guarantee the unity of the congregation. Rather, the circumstance that the congregation always finds itself to be suitable in Christ, or rather learns to understand itself in Him as one body, performs this alone.”25 Thus, it is not a “unified office” of the ordained ministers that brings about or guarantees unity, but it is rather that this unity is given “sola gratia” in Christ. Theological leeway presents itself in this Pauline understanding in regard to the offices of the church and their official functions that – in Pauls words – realize that unity that is always given in Christ even as far as into the structures and organizational forms of the church, but do not “create” it. In view of the biblical findings indicated here only with examples, Michael Theobald (University of Tbingen) urges, in consideration of the precarious situation of the Catholic congregations, that the dogmatic instructions that block a development of the ecclesiastical office that is in keeping with the times and is adaptable to the demands of life be broken up. The dogmatic system of the Roman Catholic Church, so Theobald, insofar as it refers to New Testament passages, merely projects the churchs order of offices back into the New Testament in order to convey the impression that the theology and order of the offices was from the beginning just as the church today advocates.26 Such back-projection is shown al24 Ignatius, Epistle to the Smyrnaeans, 8. Cf. also Traditio Apostolica (early 3rd century), ch. 3. 25 Theobald, “Die Zukunft des kirchlichen Amtes”, 200. 26 Ibid., 196.

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ready by 1 Clement (written in Rome, circa 96) when it attempts, with the aid of the succession idea, to attribute already existing and emerging offices directly to Jesus and divine law – with the goal of freezing these offices and their structure for the future and of disqualifying a further development as being against Gods order, that is, of making a further development impossible.27 A very recent example of such an ideologically suspect back-projection is found in the Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Pastores da vobis from Pope John Paul II “on the education of priests under present-day circumstances” from 199228, and is taken up word for word in the Vatican Instruction Ecclesiae de mysterio from Pope John Paul II in 1997 (ch. 3), already mentioned at the beginning of this essay: “Consequently, the ordained priesthood ought not to be thought of as existing prior to the Church, because it is totally at the service of the Church. Nor should it be considered as posterior to the ecclesial community, as if the Church could be imagined as already established without this priesthood.” The New Testament and also the history of the Early Church show clearly enough that the offices of the church in their concrete form developed “from below”, that is, that they corresponded to the local human, cultural, and sociological circumstances and challenges. And the ministries and emerging offices that then crystallized concretely in the life of the Christian congregations was interpreted theologically as a gift from Christ for building up the congregation or church (cf. Eph 4:11 – 12). The ecclesiastical theology of the office made this model its starting point already quite early, that is, the model of Christs commission,29 and made one of the most fateful decisions for the further development of the offices and the churchs constitution, namely, the decision to bind spiritual authority with the authorization to exercise an office.30 At issue here is not the fact that there are offices in the church, that is, official functions on the basis of an ecclesiastical commission, nor to what purpose they exist. But, the offices of the church certainly must be understood ecclesio-genetically: They are the result of historical developments. The theology and order of the offices in the Catholic Church are the re27 Cf. Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde, for example 28 – 32, 65 – 67, 97 – 102, 227 – 228. 28 English translation under: www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/apost_ exhortations/documents/hf_jp-ii_exh_25031992_pastores-dabo-vobis_en.html. 29 Cf. Theobald, “Die Zukunft des kirchlichen Amtes”, 199. 30 Cf. Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde, 227.

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sult of the challenges in the first Christian centuries, and they crystallized and proved themselves to be adaptable to the needs of life in this antique cultural sphere of an ontologically-metaphysically interpreted world. This theology and order of the offices from the first Christian centuries do not exist, however, by virtue of divine law and are not normative in the sense that the church might be committed for all time to this – at that time (perhaps) – highly proven order and theology of the offices.

2.2 The Ecclesio-Genetic Quality of the Order of the Ecclesiastical Offices Reference is to be made to a differentiating manner of speech used by the Second Vatican Council. In Lumen gentium, ch. 28, 1, it is said of the order of the Roman Catholic offices (bishops, priests, deacons) that “the divinely-established [divinus institutum] ecclesiastical ministry is exercised on different levels by those who, from Antiquity, have been called bishops, priests, and deacons”. Lumen gentium here makes reference in a footnote to the Council of Trent, which had declared that the threefold hierarchy of the office of ordination is “divina ordinatione institute”.31 Vatican II corrects this dogmatic decision by Trent not insignificantly. Even if Vatican II confirms the hierarchical character of the order of Catholic offices, the formula still states clearly enough that it can be said only of the office of the church as such that it is a “divinitus institutum”, but not, however, of the various degrees of hierarchy. It is emphasized explicitly of the churchs office of ordination that it is practiced on three different levels “from Antiquity”, that is, it is not “de iure divino”. Therewith, Vatican II confirms the historic character of the various levels of the office of ordination and guards against an unhistorical fixing of the text.32 A long official annotation in a draft of the Council text from 1964 emphasizes expressly that the Council consciously leaves open the histor31 Council of Trent, session XXIII (1563): De sacramento Ordinis, canon 6: “If anyone says that, in the Catholic Church there is not a hierarchy by divine ordination instituted, consisting of bishops, priests, and ministers, let him be anathema.” “Ministers” [“ministri”] here means “deacons”. 32 Cf. esp. Aloys Grillmeyer, “Kommentar zu Lumen gentium, Art. 28,” in LThK 12 (1966), 247 – 255; Peter Hnermann, “Theologischer Kommentar zur dogmatischen Konstitution ber die Kirche Lumen gentium,” in Peter Hnermann and Bernd Jochen Hilberath, eds., Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil, vol. 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 2004), 450 – 451.

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ical questions about the origins of the priestly office and the deaconate, and will and cannot decide the question about a direct institution of these offices through Christ.33 This is a remarkably differentiating manner of speech for official church texts, a manner of speech in which the historical perspective, that is, the ecclesio-genetic quality of the churchs order of offices is caught astonishingly clearly. This is an historical-genetic view that in the post-conciliar development was given up again quite quickly in favor of an ideologically suspect back-projection of the churchs order of offices into the New Testament (see above).34 The sacramental office of leadership, conferred through the laying on of hands and prayer, belongs to the indispensable constitution of the Catholic Church. The fact that Vatican II acknowledges the historical character of the ordained ministry does not mean that it is the result of a fortuitous or even a discretionary development. Insofar as the church, as a reality revealed by God, is believed, then this historical (further) development can be understood as a constant process directed by the Holy Spirit, in which the church, in loyalty to its origins and its traditions, realizes its nature and its efficacy the more anew the more the time is new. Seen in this way, the church has not only the freedom to develop the ecclesiastical office further, but also theological responsibility in the concrete situations of its history. Vatican II saw this freedom and – even if only to a limited extent, but nevertheless – the responsibility to modify the ecclesiastical office in that it abolished the office of sub-deacon, counted since the 12th century as one of the higher orders of ordination, and the so-called “lower orders”.35 33 “Schema evitat accuratiores questiones, quomodo historice orti sunt presbyteratus, diaconatus, alii ordines inferiores; quinam ex eis sint iuris divini immediate a Christo conditi, quinam non ita censendi sint” (Giuseppe Alberigo and Franca Magistretti, eds., Constitutionis dogmaticae Lumen gentium. Synopsis historica [Bologna: Istituto per le Scienze Religiose, 1975], 155). 34 Peter Hnermann, in his commentary on Lumen gentium, 451, cites as an example for this the Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation “Pastores da vobis” of Pope John Paul II (1992), in which it is stated in No. 15: “The apostles, appointed by the Lord, progressively carried out their mission by calling – in various but complementary ways – other men as bishops, as priests and as deacons in order to fulfill the command of the risen Jesus who sent them forth to all people in every age.” 35 Cf. Helmut Hoping, “Gemeindeleitung, Eucharistie und Priesteramt” (two parts), in Schweizerische Kirchenzeitung 46 and 47 (1997), under: www.kath. ch/skz-1997/theologie/th46a.htm and www.kath.ch/skz-1997/theologie/th47a.htm.

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The New Testament, as we have seen, knows ministries and offices and understands charismata, the tasks of the congregation, as given by the Spirit36, but knows no offices in an institutional sense as we know and understand the ecclesiastical offices today. The Early Church also did not have the need to develop such institutionalized orders of offices because it lived more or less in the direct expectation of the return of Christ, and thus in the consciousness of the end of times already beginning. But, the fact that the charismatic structure of organization in the Early Church was not designed to last and, for this reason, could not be maintained over the long run, is obvious. The more the church spread within the realm of the Roman Empire and, in view of the dwindling expectation of an imminent end, made itself at home in the times, the more urgent it was to develop (more) stable forms of organization and, with these, orders of offices. New models had to be developed that were necessary for the continued existence and the growth of the church. This occurred, for example, beginning in the 2nd century. The ecclesiastical offices that emerged were essentially such offices that helped in the celebration of the Eucharist, the administering of the other sacraments, the preservation of true doctrine, as well as in the leadership and the provision of charity in the congregations. Remarkable and astonishing in this process is the rapidity with which the development of similarly shaped and justified offices took place everywhere in the church, although there existed no ecclesiastical center or ecclesiastical authorities that could have controlled this development. The development of the threefold office was brought to an end barely two generations after Jesus and the Apostles, but at the latest in the second half of the second century. After the conclusion of this development, every independent city with a Christian congregation possessed its own bishop, priests, and deacons, and no one doubted that this order corresponded to the will of God and concurred with the apostolic tradition.37

36 Cf. the article “Offices? Roles, Functions, Authorities and Their Ethos in Earliest Christianity: A Look into the World of Pauline Communities” by Tobias Nicklas in this volume. 37 Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde, 225.

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2.3 The Openness of the Beginning as Lasting Call to Inculturation The form of organization and the order of offices that developed up to the end of the 2nd century have remained in their essentials up to the present day in the Catholic Church, and our experience now is that this is no longer sufficient in post-modernity to be able to fulfill responsibly the mission of the church today. That the crystallization of a structured form of the offices was necessary in the Early Church is obvious; that it is a model in which the church realized its nature in the context of its time is denied by hardly anyone; that it was a model that was highly adaptable in the culture and society of Antiquity is shown not least of all by the “success” that the church achieved in the following centuries. Controversial is the question whether this model of the church is normative, like the Holy Scriptures, that is, whether this model is obligatory for the church for all subsequent times. Joseph Ratzinger, as Pope Benedict XVI, asserted the lasting normativity of this formative phase of Christianity in the first four centuries in his Regensburg lecture on September 12, 2006, and put forward the “thesis” “that the critically purified Greek heritage forms an integral part of Christian faith”.38 He set this thesis against “the call for a de-Hellenization of Christianity”, “which has more and more dominated theological discussions since the beginning of the modern age”. If the formative period of Christianity, that is, the four post-biblical centuries, were “essential”, that is, normative like the Holy Scripture itself; if, thus, the form of organization and the order of offices, which originated in this time, were normative, then this also would apply to the threefold ordained ministry and the sacerdotalization of the ministry. Jrgen Werbick observes, with critical reference to the Regensburg lecture by Joseph Ratzinger/Pope Benedict XVI: If the impression is given that, at that time, that is, in these formative first Christian centuries, the synthesis of faith and reason already had been found to be normative and that one could only parrot what was found at that time, then one encourages, as far as one is concerned, the assessment that what at that time was achieved and really already “completed” is today hopelessly outmoded; it is valid only – and, in addition, with large qualification – for that time. One encourages this im38 English translation under: www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/speeches/ 2006/september/documents/hf_ben-xvi_spe_20060912_university-regensburg_ en.html.

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pression because one does not keep visible the lively tension that at “that time” provoked the synthesis, but is far greater than this synthesis, which, for this reason, must be taken up anew theologically again and again and must be brought to a result. […] The trust in the self-regenerating, liberating power of Christian tradition, as well as in its power of inspiration that is to be brought to bear with reason and that is, thus, again and again regenerating, could turn out to be just that legacy of biblical faith that the future identity of a now aged Europe owes to Christianity.39

The charismatic form of organization and the offices as it is reflected in the New Testament, this diversity and relative vagueness in the ministries and functions, is not a shortcoming or even a beginning carrying a permanent deficit, but rather is to be understood as openness at the beginning that will not be pinned down. This openness at the beginning makes it possible that the church must and can bring itself up to date anew in changed situations, and not only in the question of the offices, or, expressed more theo-logically, that the Spirit of God can make space for itself in the old, historic structures, and that the church in every new situation can find its form that is identity-related and adaptable to the needs of human life. What we can learn from the inculturation of Christianity in the metaphysics of late Antiquity is this: As much as this is a matter of a highly successful inculturation, we nevertheless are not permitted to stand still at this inculturation. This highly successful inculturation in the first Christian centuries must be understood as a permanent theological challenge and invitation, indeed as a “theological coercion”40 for undertaking inculturation, in order in each situation to acquire a new incarnational identity and to remain authentic, that is, to remain authentically joined with this open beginning. But, once the ecclesio-genetic character of the churchs order of offices is acknowledged, it is obvious that every period in time must design its own theology and order of offices anew in fidelity to the tradition and in view of the adaptability of faith to the needs of human life. From this historical perspective results the lasting challenge, indeed the coercion, constantly to develop the order of the offices further in identity with tradition and in service to the adaptability to the needs of human life in each particular present time. As in the early phase of the 39 Jrgen Werbick, “Griechischer Geist und biblischer Glaube: Antike, Christentum und Europa,” in Erwin Dirscherl and Christoph Dohmen, eds., Glaube und Vernunft: Spannungsreiche Grundlage europischer Geistesgeschichte (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 2008), 86 – 106, here 105 – 106. 40 Werbick, “Griechischer Geist und biblischer Glaube”, 105.

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first two centuries, every period, though, is challenged to inculturate the Gospel – also in the question of the offices.41

3. Concretion: Theological Plea for “Lay” Preaching The consequences from the ecclesiastical situation described in the first section, and the relevance of the openness at the beginning and of its hermeneutical scope are to be displayed in an example for the practice of the Catholic Church, namely that of “lay” preaching.

3.1 Recognize the “Signs of the Times” The order of offices in the (Roman) Catholic Church is, from the perspective of its beginning, open for new challenges which the church must meet if it will not refuse to recognize the “signs of the times” in which the will of God shows itself and to remain mute before “the questions which men ask about this present life and the life to come” (Gaudium et spes, 4). Vatican II introduced the hermeneutical figure of meaning “signs of the times” as an indirect way to knowledge of the will of God. In Gaudium et spes, ch. 4, 1, it says: To carry out such a task, the Church has always had the duty of scrutinizing the signs of the times [signa temporum] and of interpreting them in the light of the Gospel [signa temporum perscrutandi et sub Evangelii luce interpretandi]. Thus, in language intelligible to each generation, she can respond to the perennial questions which men ask about this present life and the life to come, and about the relationship of the one to the other. We must therefore recognize and understand the world in which we live, its expectations, its longings, and its often dramatic characteristics. Some of the main features of the modern world can be sketched as follows.

41 When Dassmann puts forward the thesis that the Early Christian congregations “in accordance with their self-understanding created ecclesiastical offices, which assume all functions and could fulfill all the tasks that were necessary for the continued existence and growth of the church” (Dassmann, mter und Dienste in der frhchristlichen Gemeinde, 224), then this thesis is correct hermeneutically only in so far as it has a limited range, namely, only for the inculturation of Christianity in the antique world. Even if church history shows that the development of the ecclesiastical offices thereby appears to have been concluded, present-day problems – as shown – compel the adoption of another hermeneutic.

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Here is not the place to lay out in more detail the hermeneutic of the knowledge of what the “authentic signs of the present and the will of God” (Gaudium et spes, 11) are.42 According to Marie-Dominique Chenu (1895 – 1990), an important criterion for recognizing the “signs of the times” is that they are events or developments with grave effect, events that, through the experience of a break or discontinuity, point to something that has not yet existed and, consequently, can raise the question about historical and religious meaning.43 Such a grave “sign of the times” signalizing the experience of a break with the past is, obviously, the already described lack of priests. Therein, the will of God for today becomes transparent. The shortage of priests is to be interpreted in the sense meant in Gaudium et spes as an “authentic sign of Gods presence and will” (Gaudium et spes, 11) and may not become an object of maudlin lamentation, as everywhere occurs. A “sign of the times” is that, considering the blatant shortage of priests, so many motivated and committed women and men than ever before are active as non-ordained pastoral workers in the Catholic Church in Germany. For this reason, the restrictive order of offices in the Catholic Church can and may not so remain as it materialized in Antiquity and has remained, unchanged, until today. I would like to portray the situation by citing an example of the, according to Catholic doctrine, inseparable connection of the leadership in the Eucharist and the permission to preach in the celebration of the Eucharist.

3.2 A Revealing Episcopal Dispute Concerning “Lay” Preaching in the Early 2nd Century According to currently valid church law, the responsibility for the sermon during the celebration of the Eucharist is, as explained above, bound inseparably to the leadership in the Eucharist. This fundamentally excludes the non-ordained faithful, the so-called “laity”, that is, from preaching in 42 Cf. esp. Hans-Joachim Sander, “Theologischer Kommentar zur Pastoralkonstitution ber die Kirche in der Welt von heute Gaudium et spes,” in Peter Hnermann and Bernd Jochen Hilberath, eds., Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil, vol. 4 (Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 623 – 625, 715 – 719. 43 Cf., for example, Marie-Dominique Chenu, “Die Zeichen der Zeit,” in idem, ed., Volk Gottes in der Welt (Paderborn: Bonifatius, 1968), 42 – 68; Peter Hnermann et al., eds., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil und die Zeichen der Zeit heute (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 2006).

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the celebration of the Eucharist on Sunday if one does not desire to commit an offense, prosecuted by many bishops, against currently valid canon law in the Catholic Church. We saw that there is evidence for the close connection between presiding at the celebration of the Eucharist and preaching, insofar as both lay in the hands of one ordained minister, only since the middle of the 2nd century, for example in the writings of Justin Martyr. A witness from the early 2nd century shows that the sacerdotal constriction of the preaching ministry was not undisputed and that some bishops more readily recognized the “signs of the times” than did many of their fellow bishops. The Church Father Origen, born circa 185 in Alexandria and died circa 253, was his whole life long engaged in Christian instruction and in preaching with great, also not infrequently rigid, missionary fervor and was familiar with many bishops and government officeholders. Thus, in the course of time, he achieved a high degree of recognition and great esteem, not least of all as a theologian, in the Roman Empire. In the 230s, he won the bishops Theoktistos of Caesarea Maritima and Alexander of Jerusalem as friends. These commissioned him to preach, although Origen had not yet been ordained as a priest, even in the Sunday celebration of the Eucharist, over which the bishop presided. Eusebius of Caesarea reports in his Historia Ecclesiastica that Origen “preached [Greek: dialegomai] and expounded the Scriptures to the congregation [Greek: epi tou˜ koinou˜ te¯s ekkle¯sas], although he had not yet been ordained as presbyter [= priest]”44. Origens hometown bishop, Demetrios of Alexandria, heard of this and protested against Origens preaching activity, precisely because he was not yet ordained as a priest. Demetrios claimed “that it was never heard of and also has not yet occurred up to this time that lay people preached [Greek: homilein] in the presence of bishops”.45 In Alexandria, “lay” preaching was limited to the service of the Word (without the Eucharist) on Wednesdays and Fridays.46 The bishops of Caesarea and Jerusalem answered Demetrios protest and justified their commission of the unordained Origen to preach so: Wheresoever persons [= laymen] are found who are qualified to assist the brothers [= bishops], they are invited by the holy bishops to preach [Greek: pros-homilein] to the people, as, for example, Euelpis in Laranda by Neon, 44 Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica VI, 19,16. 45 Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica VI, 19,17. 46 Cf. Bruno Huptli, “Theoktistos von Caesarea,” in Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirchenlexikon 27 (Hamm: Bautz, 2007), 1399 – 1400.

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Paulinus in Iconium by Celsus, and Theodorus in Synada by Atticus, our blessed brother-bishops. In other places this probably has been done also, without our knowing it.47

This example shows that the practice of the church in regard to “lay” preaching, even in the Early Church, was not as uniform as is gladly portrayed.48

3.3 The Participation of the “Laity” in Proclamation in the Worship Service As early as 1973, the “Joint Synod of the Dioceses of the Federal Republic of Germany” (1971 – 1975), or “Wrzburg Synod” for short, had presented a theological justification of “lay” preaching that is still remarkable. This justification was contained in the resolution titled The Participation of the Laity in the Preaching in the Worship Service, which was passed with a large majority. On the basis of an intervention by the Vatican, though, the Synod could permit “lay” preaching in the celebration of the Eucharist only “in extraordinary cases”.49 The Synod calls to 47 Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica VI, 19,18. The later ordination of Origen by Theoktistos during his second period of residence in Palestine (232 CE) is not connected with this conflict (cf. Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica VI, 8,4; 23,4). Bishop Demetrios, though, protested against this ordination and did not acknowledge it because Origen had castrated himself, which, in Demetrios judgment, was a barrier to ordination. 48 On the further development, cf., for example: Rolf Zerfaß, Der Streit um die Laienpredigt. Eine pastoralgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum Verstndnis des Predigtamtes und zu seiner Entwicklung im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert (Freiburg – Basel – Wien: Herder, 1974); a critical judgment on this is made by: Walter Brandmller, “Wortverkndigung und Weihe: Das Problem der Laienpredigt im Licht der Kirchen-, insbesondere der Konziliengeschichte,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 18 (1986): 239 – 271. On the current canonical discussion, cf. Klaus Mller, Homiletik. Ein Handbuch fr kritische Zeiten (Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 1994), 172 – 176. 49 On the intervention on the part of the Vatican and on the reactions of the bishops and the Synod, see the detailed information in: Karl Lehmann, “Einleitung in den Synodenbeschluss Die Beteiligung der Laien an der Verkndigung,” in Ludwig Bertsch et al., eds., Gemeinsame Synode der Bistmer in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland: Beschlsse der Vollversammlung. Offizielle Gesamtausgabe (Freiburg: Herder, 1976), 153 – 169, here 163 – 165; also under: www.dbk-shop.de/media/files_public/cvpvhglwiiw/DBK_GS_05_Beteiligung_ Laien.pdf.

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mind the core statement of the Second Vatican Council that the whole congregation is to be acknowledged as responsible for proclamation. The traditional fixation upon the ordained ministry, it is said here, must be broken up, and the different talents and charismata in the congregation must be brought into consideration. The Synod saw correctly that, in view of the current challenges, an ecclesio-genetic process must begin, in which “lay” preaching is no longer a spurious solution or a stopgap measure in the face of the shortage of priests, but rather finds its authentic place in the church. For, it is the so-called “lay people”, with their experience in church and society, with their life and faith experiences, who today are imperative for the preaching of the Word in the church – not as a replacement for the priests who are in short supply, but rather because their faith witness in the church and society is absolutely necessary for the proclamation of the Gospel today.

4 Catholic Self-Blockade The question of who in the Catholic Church is permitted to preach in the worship service, especially in the celebration of the Eucharist, is really no longer a theological question. The theological arguments are on the table, and their power is convincing. The question of “lay” preaching has much more to do with the question of power in a thoroughly hierarchically structured church. Here, the meaning of the Greek word “hier-archa” – “holy dominion” – comes into play; the real meaning of “hier-archa” as “holy beginning” recedes into the background here! The issue in the prohibition of “lay” preaching in the celebration of the Eucharist is the demarcation of the clergy from the “laity”. More recent Vatican documents and statements intended as reminders of the exclusion of the “laity” from preaching substantiate this presumption more than clearly enough: (1) In the Vatican Instruction Ecclesiae de mysterio (1997) already cited at the beginning of this paper, it says in Art. 3, §1: The homily during the celebration of the Holy Eucharist must be reserved to the sacred minister, priest or deacon, to the exclusion of the non-ordained faithful, even if these should have responsibilities as “pastoral assistants” [assistentes pastorales = pastoral workers] or catechists in whatever type of community or group. This exclusion is not based on the preach-

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ing ability of sacred ministers nor their theological preparation, but on that function which is reserved to them in virtue of having received the Sacrament of Holy Orders.

The text plays the institutional authority of the ordained ministry off against the factual theological competence and personal spiritual competence of the “laity”. But, institutional competence lives from personal competence; without it, it dries up, loses its credibility, and sinks to the level of an impersonal bureaucracy and becomes a caricature. The purpose of institutional competence exists in securing an appropriate structure of relationships over the long run. But, where this general institutional framework takes on a life of its own, as in the Catholic Church, there arise authoritarian, functionally cold, and bloodless structures that hinder spiritual communication (communication of the faith) or even make it impossible. The Catholic Church, to all appearances, suffers under this circumstance. The Vatican document puts the pastoral assistants in quotation marks, but does not do so for the, likewise mentioned, catechists. They, thereby, are to be made into the “so-called” pastoral assistants, and their reputation in the church is to be lowered. Who needs to do this? The answer is: the one who sees theological competence in reality among these non-ordained pastoral workers rather than among the priests. But, correctly understood, the spiritual and theological competence of the pastoral workers does not, after all, represent a rival competence for the priests, but rather an enrichment and a necessary and indispensable addition. If, however, the “laity” really was competition for the priests, then this would be a problem connected with the recruitment and training of the priests, but not a problem connected with the “laity”. (2) The Vatican Instruction Redemptionis Sacramentum (2004) also urges the prohibition of the “lay” sermon. The rhetoric of the document is even more revealing. There, in No. 149, it says: More recently, in some dioceses long since evangelized, members of Christs lay faithful have been appointed as “pastoral assistants” [assistentes pastorales = pastoral workers], and among them many have undoubtedly served the good of the Church by providing assistance to the bishop, priests and deacons in carrying out their pastoral activity. Let care be taken, however, lest the delineation of this function be assimilated too closely to the form of pastoral ministry that belongs to clerics. That is to say, attention should be

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paid to ensuring that “pastoral assistants” do not take upon themselves what is proper to the ministry of the sacred ministers.50

Again, it is evident that the “lay” theologians (non-ordained pastoral workers) are seen as dangerous competition for the ordained ministry (sacred priesthood). Bernhard Spielberg observes correctly that “lay” preaching in the past years has become “a scene of confrontation in ecclesiastical and theological policy”.51 (3) It is really ideologically suspect when Pope John Paul II, in his address to the participants at the Plenary Session of the Congregation for the Clergy on November 23, 2001, declares: “Even though the priest may be surpassed in the ability to speak by non-ordained members of the faithful, this would not reduce his being the sacramental representation of Christ the Head and Shepherd. The effectiveness of his preaching derives from his identity.”52 Here, the institutional authority of the ordained ministry is played off against the objective theological and spiritual competence of the “laity”; objectively absent rhetorical competence is, with reference to priestly ordination, declared to be insignificant. Spiritual competence and theological quality apparently play no role in preaching.53 Such discrimination against the competence and spirituality of the “laity” is catastrophic for a convincing proclamation of the Gospel today. (4) In the Vatican Instruction Ecclesiae de mysterio, already cited at the beginning of this essay, there is, in the chapter that develops theological principles, a passage that virtually represents the discovery and cultivation of the charismata in the congregation as threat to the ordained ministry and as a reason for the shortage of priests. The traditional church doctrine of the ordained ministry, therefore, must be urged anew 50 Cf. also No. 150. 51 Bernhard Spielberg, “Ein Beschluss unter Beschuss. Die Beteiligung der Laien an der Verkndigung – und was daraus geworden ist,” Pastoraltheologische Informationen 31/1 (2011): 189 – 210, here 204. 52 Pope John Paul II, “Address to the Plenary Session of the Congregation for the Clergy”. English translation under: www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/speeches/ 2001/november/documents/hf_jp-ii_spe_20011123_plenaria-clergy_en.html. 53 Cf. Spielberg, “Ein Beschluss unter Beschuss”, 208. Masters decribes this “strategy” as “spiritual bypassing”; Robert Augustus Masters, Spiritual Bypassing: When Spirituality Disconnects Us from What Really Matters (Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 2010).

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in the light of certain practices which seek to compensate for numerical shortages of ordained ministers arising in some communities. In some instances, such have given rise to an idea of the common priesthood of the faithful which mistakes its nature and specific meaning. Amongst other things, it can encourage a reduction in vocations to the (ministerial) priesthood and obscure the specific purpose of seminaries as places of formation for the ordained ministry. These are closely related phenomena. Their interdependence calls for careful reflection so as to arrive at well considered conclusions in their regard.54

Bernhard Spielberg correctly remarks that cause and effect virtually are reversed here.55 Do the “lay people”, the pastoral workers, really threaten the ordained office of the priests? These examples show how the power of theological arguments is cancelled out hierarchically in the Catholic Church – a fruitless discussion. Along with the question of “lay” preaching, the question of power basically is posed here, a question that makes no allowance for the power of theological argumentation. This is possible in a high hierarchically structured organization. Clergy and “laity” are played off against each other, and the non-ordained pastoral workers are stylized as competitors for the priests. Such an antagonism does not lead into the future, but rather back into the priest-centered church of the second half of the 19th century and is evidence only for the fear and lack of conception in a church paralyzed in hierarchical categories, in a church that lacks the trust in God required for a necessary inculturation. Thus does the Catholic Church obstruct itself.

Coda The challenges of the modern age necessitate the reconception and widening of the Catholic understanding of the office. The openness of the New Testament beginning on the one hand and the hermeneutic outlined in section two open the way toward a differentiation of the ecclesiastical office. In view of the beginning carried over from the New Testament, the de-sacerdotalization of the Catholic understanding, as well as the surmounting of the separation between “clergy” and “laity”, is necessary for this reconception, so that the church can serve human beings today

54 Cf. note 7. 55 Spielberg, “Ein Beschluss unter Beschuss”, 209.

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in a manner appropriate to the situation and adapted to the needs of human life.

Word Workers: The Rabbinate and the Protestant Pastoral Office in Dialogue Alexander Deeg

1. Word Workers or: The Appeal of Dialogue and the Danger of the Idealization and Instrumentalization of the Counterpart Judaism is fascinating. The Jewish tradition of exegesis of the Torah can be spellbinding, as can the hermeneutical interplay of oral and written Torah, the perception of a history as continuous interpretation, the shaping of daily life through mitzvoth, a centuries-old philosophy, and much more. But, exactly this fascination is also a problem for the conversation between Jews and Christians. I do not speak here of those sometimes also quite indiscriminately socalled “philo-Semites” – with all the problems of their secondary identification (and over-identification) with the victims in a society of the perpetrators, of bigotry, and of renewed intolerance. I speak much more of academic Practical Theology and its treatment of Judaism and of its tradition. First of all, it does not appear to me to be a shame when scholars, too, are fascinated people. Concretely and in reference to the theme of this conference: It cannot be harmful if male and female Christian practical theologians regard the rabbinate, past and present, with some fascination. But for them a double danger exists: the danger of uncritical idealization on the one hand and monopolizing instrumentalization on the other. (1) The uncritical idealization: In dialogue it can happen that suddenly “the” rabbinate appears as an ideal over against which “the” Protestant pastoral office is juxtaposed. What occurs is the singularization of the counterpart. In dialogue, it then may seem as if there is an intact, unequivocal, convincing image of the rabbi there, but here – on the Christian/Protestant side – a diffuse, ambiguous, not very inviting image of the pastor. The ideal of the counterpart is placed in relationship to problematic reality – without at the same time noticing that the depiction of the

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ideal image itself threatens to become nothing other than a highly individualized projection of ones own yearnings, conceptions, and ideas. An uncritical idealization helps no one – and it is for this reason salutary and necessary to destroy the dream visions and delusions involved in these idealizing projections, for which concrete dialogue is still the best means. (2) The monopolizing instrumentalization: The monopolizing instrumentalization lies on a somewhat different level, although it can touch upon tendencies inherent in uncritical idealization. In this case, the issue is the function of the (supposedly) dialogic view of Judaism. This view, namely, is taken over as an argument for ones own discourse and instrumentalized in order to affirm ones own position. An example: About 15 years ago (1997), Stefan Fritsch submitted his doctoral dissertation with the title “Hassidic Pastoral Care: Pastoral-Psychological Aspects and Impulses for Therapeutic Work”.1 The work is engagingly designed and reads well – alone because of the many Hassidic texts and stories cited. On the other hand, it does not always evade the danger of romanticizing and idealizing the Hassidic movement. The Hassidic world is quite simplistically described as that world that overcomes the specific dangers of the modern age, such as the “excessiveness of intellectualism”.2 At the same time, Fritsch discovers aspects in Hassidic spiritual care (and confirmed by it) that he, on the basis of his own pastoral-psychological knowledge, holds to be decisive. The selection of Hassidic texts already stands under a governing principle that is prescribed by pastoral psychology – and thus the result is a recursive cycle of corroboration of ones own notions, in which the counterpart loses his own voice, his potentially provocative foreignness. Whoever sits in a glass house should not throw stones … I am not sure whether, in my own dissertation, in which I attempted to conduct a homiletic-hermeneutical dialogue with Jewish voices, I always and on every page evaded this danger, as much as I was at pains methodologically to do so.3 In both cases, in idealization and in instrumentalization, that which is “foreign”, or the counterpart, is transformed into an ostensible argument 1

2 3

Stefan Fritsch, Die chassidische Seelsorge: Pastoralpsychologische Aspekte und Impulse fr die therapeutische Arbeit, ErTh 29 (Frankfurt/Main et al.: Lang, 1997). Ibid., 12. Cf. Alexander Deeg, Predigt und Derascha: Homiletische Textlektre im Dialog mit dem Judentum, APTLH 48 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006).

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in the (controversial) discourse about ones own views. Thereby, a premodern Jewish tradition is willingly brought into juxtaposition to the precarious developments of the modern and post-modern ages in the Christian context. In such cases, idealization combines with a romanticization of what is supposed to be Jewish that does not do justice to the pluralism that likewise is to be found there. And worse: Such a romanticization obstructs access to dialogues that, on the basis of comparable current problematic situations, could bring Jewish and Christian aspects together into play and could be conducted as a dialogue with a living counterpart (and not with a romanticized ideal image). The first insight that becomes clear against this background is the following: There is and there was “the” rabbinate no more than there might ever have been “the” Protestant pastoral office. This statement is evident in the pluralized religious circumstances in the present – in the face of the diversity of cultural contexts, theological and personal differences, the differences in gender, and so on. But it is also valid for the rabbinate and the Protestant pastoral office of the past.4 And every person who all too carelessly speaks of the pastoral office or the rabbinate thereby – in spite of every necessity to simplify what is complex – always makes a mistake. How, then, can a dialogue take place? For the last several years, a metaphor has appeared to me to be helpful that the cultural scholar Homi K. Bhabha introduced in the post-colonial discourse and that since then has gone through several careers. Bhabha speaks of the “Third Room” as a site for the encounter of cultures.5 I take up this metaphor as the topography for the Christian-Jewish encounter – and maintain that a dialogue then succeeds when it leads to a movement into, and encounter in, the Third Room.6 This means that both partners in a discussion – both coming from their very own sphere – leave this behind and 4

5

6

Cf. here only Julius Carlebach, ed., Das aschkenasische Rabbinat: Studien ber Glaube und Schicksal (Berlin: Metropol-Verlag, 1995), and Jacob Rader Marcus and Abraham J. Peck, eds., The American Rabbinate: A Century of Continuity and Chance: 1883 – 1983 (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav Publishing House, 1985) (with articles on the development of the orthodox, conservative, and reform rabbinates in the one hundred years since the first ordination at the HUC in Cincinnati). Cf. Homi K. Bhabha, “Das theoretische Engagement,” in idem, ed., Die Verortung der Kultur, trans. Michael Schiffmann and Jrgen Freudl, Stauffenburg Discussion 5 (Tbingen: Stauffenburg-Verlag, 2000), 29 – 58. Cf. on this also Deeg, Predigt und Derascha, 368 – 369. A comparable topography of encounter also appears in Jean-FranÅois Lyotard, “Von einem Bindestrich (Dun trait dunion),” in idem and Eberhard Gruber, eds., Ein Bindestrich: Zwischen “Jdischem” und “Christlichem” (Dsseldorf et al.: Parerga, 1995), 27 – 51.

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involve themselves anew in the encounter. This does not take place along the secure pathways and in the well-known realms of ones own personal constructions, but rather on terrain unknown to both, in a Third Room. And something will occur in the conversation there that then has a transforming and altering effect on what is ones own. No one leaves the room as the same person he or she was upon entering it. Thereby, there ought to be a good reason, a sufficient motivation, for both to set out for the promising, but also demanding and strenuous Third Room. When, three years ago, a conference took place that certainly can be compared with ours, this motivation was clearly present. In the conference organized by Bernd Schrçder, Harry Harun Behr, and Daniel Krochmalnik titled “Was ist ein guter Religionslehrer?” (What is a Good Teacher of Religion?) the issue was a Jewish-Muslim-Christian dialogue (or trialogue) on questions of religious education.7 At issue was an understanding in the face of numerous common challenges and problems as shown, for example, in the vehement discussions around the introduction of a confessional instruction in religion in Berlin (“ProReli”). At the same time, it had to do with quite practical questions of the organization of the training of teachers of religion at state universities and concerning the corresponding qualifications. The motivation for a dialogue between rabbinate and pastoral office does not appear to me to be as clear. The chance for a dialogue, however, is in my opinion outstanding at present, since for the last several years rabbis once again are being trained and ordained in Germany. The question about how this occurs, how learning on the path to the rabbinate takes shape, can be posed for the first time again in a long time in direct dialogue with those who bear responsibility here among us for training. Above and beyond this, both professional groups appear to me to stand before thoroughly comparable demands that exist not least of all because of their increasingly unclear professional role. Both are, after all, “word workers” – and a conversation appears obvious for this reason alone. “Word worker”: I have coined this phrase and believe that I therewith have found a point of comparison and have named the “Third Room” that connects us – male and female rabbis on the one hand and male and female Protestant pastors on the other. The 7

Cf. Bernd Schrçder, Harry Harun Behr and Daniel Krochmalnik, eds., Was ist ein guter Religionslehrer? Antworten von Juden, Christen und Muslimen, Religionspdagogische Gesprche zwischen Juden, Christen und Muslimen 1 (Berlin: Frank & Timme, 2009).

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Protestant church, so one can say following Luther, is creatura verbi, a creation of the Word. Luther himself spoke of the church as “creatura Evangelii”8 – and once said, “Ecclesia enim est filia, nata ex verbo, non est mater verbi.”9 This insight was radical 500 years ago because it answered the question about authority in a way completely different than was possible in the Roman church, with its institutionalism and its recourse to the mediation of what was ecclesiastically and institutionally secured. At the same time, though, the “word workers”, the Protestant pastors, received with this a completely new, first and foremost homiletically and hermeneutically determined role. Their task was to care for the communication of this “word” – to take care that, in the interplay of biblical Word and current preaching, the Word of the Gospel itself can become an event that is always new.10 Protestant pastors are, for this reason, word workers, and male and female rabbis, too, are word workers in a specific sense. It would not be wrong, I think, to speak of Judaism as 8L9N8 N4=L5 (beriat haTorah), as a creation of the Torah – and of the rabbis as those who again and again have to assume the never-ending task of the communication of the Torah.

2. Discoveries in Dialogue, or: Five Courses of Discussion Between Word Workers In the following I suggest in five courses of discussion where I recognize especially interesting and challenging points suitable for a Christian-Jewish or, more exactly, a Protestant-Jewish dialogue among word workers. For there are perhaps, after all, much greater proximities to be seen between the rabbinate and the Protestant pastoral office than between the Catholic priesthood and the rabbinate (and here I allude not least of all only to celibacy and the radically different, that is, the ontologically habitual instead of relevant-dynamic understanding of ordination!). 8 WA 2, 430. 9 WA 42, 334; cf. Jan Hermelink, Kirchliche Organisation und das Jenseits des Glaubens: Eine praktisch-theologische Theorie der evangelischen Kirche (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2011), 33 – 34; Christian Grethlein, Pfarrer – ein theologischer Beruf! (Frankfurt/Main: edition chrismon, 2009), 11 – 12. 10 Cf. the figure of the threefold form of the Word of God, as formulated, for example, by Karl Barth in KD I/1.

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Five offers of conversation, five incipient dialogues – the continuation of which is still pending. We are concerned here with – to use a particular image – five overtures. The actual works themselves can originate only in dialogue, in direct conversation, in remark and reply. The lecture in the form of the monologue is the worst of all conceivable forms for this purpose, as, for example, Franz Rosenzweig and Martin Buber knew nearly a hundred years ago.11

2.1 A First Course of Discussion: Reform Rabbinate and Protestant Pastoral Office in Search of “Identity” and Profile A certain feeling of unease has been spreading in the Protestant context over the last several years. Both male and female pastors ask, “Who are we really?” And the variety of (in the narrow sense) pastoral theological literature that has appeared in the past years12 as well as the intensity of the discourse that is conducted in the leading organs, such as the Deutsches Pfarrerblatt, hint at this unease. Isolde Karle13, for example, states, “The pastors profession no longer appears to understand itself anymore”, and speaks of a “crisis” in this profession.14 Of course, this crisis of a diffusion of the pastoral profession does not appear in any way to be so new: Already 20 years ago Manfred Josuttis saw the pastor alternating characteristically between scholar, priest, prophet, administrative of11 Cf. Daniel Krochmalnik, “Der Lerner und der Lehrer: Geschichte eines ungleichen Paares,” in Bernd Schrçder et al., Was ist ein guter Religionslehrer?, 57 – 90, here 82 – 87. 12 Cf. only Ulrike Wagner-Rau, Auf der Schwelle. Das Pfarramt im Prozess kirchlichen Wandels (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2009); Christian Grethlein, Pfarrer – ein theologischer Beruf!, esp. 83 – 103. 13 Isolde Karle, “Deprofessionalisierung durch Professionalisierung? Konsequenzen der Kirchenreform fr den Pfarrberuf,” ZGP 21 (2003): 50 – 51, here 50; as well as Isolde Karle, “Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer in der Spannung zwischen Professionalisierung und Professionalitt,” DtPfrBl 103 (2003): 629 – 634, here 629. 14 Isolde Karle, Der Pfarrberuf als Profession: Eine Berufstheorie im Kontext der modernen Gesellschaft, PThK 3 (Gtersloh: Christian Kaiser, 2001), 11 – 14. Cf. also Eberhard Winkler, “Pfarrer II: Evangelisch,” in TRE 26 (1996), 360 – 374, here 369; and Christian Grethlein, “Die Bedeutung der Predigt fr den Pfarrberuf: Eine Analyse zweier pastoraltheologischer Konzepte,” in Wilfried Engemann, ed., Theologie der Predigt. Grundlagen – Modelle – Konsequenzen, APrTh 21 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2001), 337 – 352, here 337.

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ficer, and leisure-time activities director.15 Nothing has changed fundamentally in this situation; it is rather so that new job profiles have been supplemented: male and female pastors (furnished with the corresponding competencies) as advertising strategists, publicists, communications specialists, systems theorists, managers (recently also occasionally as quality-control managers), or artists – the list could be extended still further. The pastors profession offers the opportunity for multi-perspective activity that promises little boredom and many possibilities for personal development. But on the basis of the uncertainty connected with it and the manifold expectations resulting from it, it faces the problem of dissatisfaction and over-expectation up to the point of pastoral burn-out (a phenomenon that, likewise, has been observed only for about the last ten years, but in the meantime has been taken seriously by many churches).16 In the last several years models for the pastoral office have been developed and discussed at many locations. The most prominent was developed within the Association of Societies of Female and Male Protestant Pastors in Germany nearly ten years ago. In 2002, the Model for Female and Male Pastors in the Congregation 17 appeared in a sixteen-page color brochure. A model is intended to concentrate and focus ideas, arouse fanciful and critical stimulation, move, and provoke.18 Does the text presented by the Association do this? Even if Klaus Weber, the chairman of the Association, emphasizes in his foreword that the text is intended to offer the “impetus to reflect upon the center of our work”19, the model comes 15 Cf. Manfred Josuttis, Der Pfarrer ist anders. Aspekte einer zeitgençssischen Pastoraltheologie (Mnchen: Christian Kaiser, 1982), 9; cf. also Dietrich Stollberg, “Der Pfarrberuf zwischen Anspruch und Wirklichkeit,” PTh 89 (2000): 498 – 507, here 499; Volker Drehsen, “Vom Amt zur Person: Wandlungen in der Amtsstruktur der protestantischen Volkskirche. Eine Standortbestimmung des Pfarrberufs aus praktisch-theologischer Sicht,” IJPT 2 (1998): 263 – 280, here 263 – 265, 277. 16 Cf. the study by Andreas von Heyl, Zwischen Burnout und spiritueller Erneuerung: Studien zum Beruf des evangelischen Pfarrers und der evangelischen Pfarrerin (Frankfurt/Main et al.: Peter Lang, 2003); cf. also Christian Mçller, Der heilsame Riss: Impulse reformatorischer Spiritualitt (Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag, 2003), 80. 17 Leitbild Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer in der Gemeinde: Leitbild mit Erluterungen und Konsequenzen, Verband der Vereine Evangelischer Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer in Deutschland, ed., (n.p., 2002). 18 Cf., on the utopian-critical function of a model, Michael Klessmann, Pfarrbilder im Wandel: Ein Beruf im Umbruch (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 27. 19 Leitbild Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer in der Gemeinde, 3.

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across rather like the sum of many correct and important insights and reflections. The individual areas of official pastoral activity are listed one after the other without any weighting and in each case are outlined in sentences worthy of further thought: the sermon, accompaniment in lifes phases and pastoral care, pedagogical activity, social work and the missionary assignment, supra-congregational tasks, congregational direction and administration. Added to these then are the two fields of tension of the person and the office on the one hand and of the pastoral office and the other offices and tasks in the congregation on the other.20 That is a lot. And thus Manfred Josuttis remarks critically about the model that it would, “if one takes the statements reasonably seriously, have a depressing effect on those concerned and a deterrent effect on interested high school graduates”.21 The search for identity is presently very important. Of course, it does not, in fact, appear to me to be so new. Perhaps every generation of pastors (and every person, man or woman) – for many years and probably also decades – has to struggle with defining a profession that in earlier times (apparently) still understood itself as a matter of course (or is this, too, an idealizing and romanticizing interpretation?). Earlier, one was a pastor – and that was at the same time a way of life as well as a profession. One lived in the parsonage, had a pastors family (and, correspondingly, a wife who took care of the house and the children and, at the same time, involved herself in the congregation – and thereby, so to say, shared with her husband the profession of pastor as “Mrs. Pastor”!), and the profession was so established socially that the office was in the position of being able to stabilize the profession. The pastor had a status that was granted to him from the outside and that led to a corresponding social prestige. This identity has been broken for many years. Being a pastor now disintegrates into many different functions, all of which have to do with ones own person. 22 If, in earlier times, the office could carry the person, then female and male pastors now learn (in the different areas of their activity) that the person must carry the office.23 What is traditionally a matter of course disappears just like financial resources, a cir20 Cf. ibid., 6 – 8. 21 Manfred Josuttis, Wirklichkeiten der Kirche: Zwanzig Predigten und ein Protest (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2003), 145. 22 Cf. Isolde Karle, Kirche im Reformstress (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2010), 193 – 196. 23 Cf. above all Drehsen, “Vom Amt zur Person”.

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cumstance that intensifies the pressure upon the pastoral office still further. For, as the “key profession” of the church, as which, for example, the influential EKD text Church of Freedom correctly sees it, it bears responsibility in a special way for the welfare and woe of the church.24 At present – and this appears evident to me – the signs point to a concentration, to a re-opening of the question of the identity of the pastoral office. This is sought in part – so my apprehension – too quickly in organizational theory, that is, the pastoral office, for example, is given responsibility for direction of the volunteer workers and, in order to ease the strain, withdraws more and more from “primary care”. This certainly is not wrong, but a focus and orientation on content is lacking here.25 At this point I betake myself into the Third Room for the first time – and dare a reference to the development of the rabbinate in the past years.26 There, namely – so I conclude, for example, from the discussion in the CCAR Journal – a comparable diffusion and lack of clarity in regard to the image of the rabbi was discerned, with quite comparable indications of overload of male and female rabbis. Dan Cohn-Sherbok, for example, describes the problem in a rather humorous way.27 In an article from 1995 he recognizes that the present-day rabbinate has become a strenuous, multi-functional job promising little rest, in which social contacts, above all, play a decisive role. The problem arises at the point where this rabbinate is placed in relationship to the traditional role of the rabbi as Torah sage, scholar, chacham. How do the two fit together? Not at all, says Cohn-Sherbok, who then attempts to dissolve the tension by taking a look at the person of the rabbi. Both types of rabbi exist: the ones who happily plunge into the diversity of social contacts and into the various fields of responsibility in congregational life, and the others who prefer the quiet existence of the Torah scholar at his desk. Both exist: the “dog rabbis”, wagging their tails in a friendly manner at every new encounter, and the “cat rabbis”, thankful for every moment of withdrawal. Of course, only the “dog rabbis” are really suitable for congregational 24 Cf. Rat der EKD, Kirche der Freiheit: Perspektiven fr die evangelische Kirche im 21. Jahrhundert. Ein Impulspapier des Rates der EKD (Hannover, 2006). 25 Similar is also Karle, Kirche im Reformstress, esp. 191 – 225 [Der Pfarrberuf im Sog der konomisierung]. 26 Cf. also on the following my reflections in: Alexander Deeg, “Pastor legens: Das Rabbinat als Impulsgeber fr ein Leitbild evangelischen Pfarramts,” PTh 93 (2004): 411 – 427. 27 Cf. on the following: Dan Cohn-Sherbok, “Dog Rabbis and Cat Rabbis,” CCAR Journal 167 (1995): 21 – 23.

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service; “cat rabbis” – like the author of the article himself – must look for other work (Cohn-Sherbok found a position as university professor). Cohn-Sherboks humorous but pointed portrayal provoked inquiries and criticism and numerous letters to the editor. Cat lovers as well as dog lovers refused to accept the black-white depiction by the author and pointed to the possibility and necessity of the integration of both types in the life of the congregation.28 Therewith, they certainly came nearer to the combination of Torah, life, and teaching that can be grasped in rabbinical Judaism than Cohn-Sherboks stylization of a lonely scholars existence characteristic of the “cat rabbi”. But the main problem in Cohn-Sherboks humorous solution lies, in my opinion, in the individual psychological reduction of the problem of the fundamental diffusion of rabbinical activity. There are, naturally, different human types; but can the question about the goal and task of the rabbinate be answered by stating that some just seem more and others less suitable for the demands of the multi-functional profession of a congregational communicator? On the basis of the perception of a problematic diffusion of rabbinical activity, others attempted to redefine the center of this activity. In the diversity of the answers from the past decades, one center crystallizes repeatedly, a center that interestingly seeks reconciliation with the tradition of the sage of the rabbinical period. It characterizes the rabbi, one can roughly say, as a reading teacher. 29 With this, I end the first course of discussion – and use this key phrase as a transition to my second overture to dialogue.

28 Cf. here, for example: Rosalind A. Gold, “Dog Rabbis and Cat Rabbis: A Response,” CCAR Journal 167 (1995): 25; A. Stanley Dreyfus, “Are We Yelpers or Yowlers? A Response to Dog Rabbis and Cat Rabbis,” CCAR Journal 167 (1995): 27 – 29; Constance A. Golden, “Some Cats are Friendly,” CCAR Journal 167 (1995): 31 – 32. 29 Cf. already Louis M. Levitsky, “The Rabbi Is a Teacher of Judaism,” CCAR Journal 18 (1957): 23 – 26; and Meir Ben-Horin, “Toward a New Generation of American Rabbis,” Reconstructionist 35 (September 1969): 7 – 14.

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2.2 A Second Course of Discussion: Creative Word Workers – Rabbis and Pastors and Their Effort on Behalf of the Religiously Determined Cultural Memory As early as 1998, the practical theologian Albrecht Grçzinger, from Basel, offered an orientation for the pastoral office that had become unsure of itself. He writes: “Imagine that the Protestant pastoral office of the future will be in its structure similar to the rabbinate in the Jewish congregation.”30 Grçzinger recommends the role model rabbi and specifies the potential of this model briefly in two respects: (1) The pastoral office, in the paradigmatic look to the rabbinate, could be renewed as an “office of remembrance” in “doctrine and pastoral care”, as an “intellectual office”.31 Precisely in the face of the “chances and shallows” on the way from the modern to the post-modern age, this office, so Grçzinger, is of decisive significance.32 (2) The role model rabbi also is combined with a practical point: No congregational rabbi works at the same time as a member of the synagogue board. In view of the, in any case too numerous, demands made of the pastoral office, and in view of the lack of training in this respect, female and male pastors also should be relieved radically of the burden of the leadership of congregational organization. The second aspect mentioned by Grçzinger is quite decisive for the question of ecclesiastical organization. And in many regional churches it is also being tried out (finally!) in an intensive manner – where, for example (as in Braunschweig), the organization of a trustee service is being considered (cf. www.gemeindekurator.de). For the practical-theological discussion in the Third Room of the image of both of the professions of rabbi and pastor, though, Grçzingers first point appears to me to be more interesting. Grçzinger dreams of the pastoral office as an intellectual office – and combines this with the great discourses of the post-modern age on the one hand and with Assmanns concept of the cultural memory on the other.33 30 Albrecht Grçzinger, Die Kirche – ist sie noch zu retten? Anstiftungen fr das Christentum in postmoderner Gesellschaft, 2nd ed. (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 1998), 141 (see esp. 134 – 141: “Das Amt der Erinnerung – berlegungen zum knftigen Profil des Berufs der Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer”). 31 Grçzinger, Die Kirche, 141. Grçzinger sees the rabbinate as related “in a peculiar mixture of teaching and spiritual care” to the nurture of the “tradition”. 32 Cf. Grçzinger, Die Kirche, 48 [emphasis AD]. 33 Cf. Jan Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedchtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identitt in frhen Hochkulturen, 6th ed. (Mnchen: Beck, 2007).

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I use Grçzingers point in order, in late modern or post-modern times, to take a look at the pre-modern rabbinate, more exactly at the tradition of the Chachamim. 34 Of course, one cannot speak of a “rabbinate” in this period, since this institution has its origin in the High Middle Ages. Nevertheless, it sees itself within the tradition of the Torah sages from the rabbinical period who bore the title rav or rabbi and understood the terms quite differently.35 “Only in the High Middle Ages did one begin in the Jewish congregations of Christian Europe […] to speak of rabbanut, that is, of rabbinate in the conceptual and institutional sense of a congregational rabbinate and of the office of rabbi.”36 In addition, I also draw upon the (in recent times once again more intensively considered) Mishnah tractate Pirke Avot (Sayings of the Fathers)37, which I read primarily as a compendium of the life of the chacham, that is, of that human being who lets his life be determined by the learning and teaching of the Torah.38 Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai formulates very fundamentally in Pirke Avot why reading and learning have an eminent significance: “If you have learned much Torah, then do not be proud of that fact, for you were cre-

34 Cf. Catherine Hezser, The Social Structure of the Rabbinic Movement in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 66 (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 132 (see esp. 130 – 137); on the institution and on the background of the rabbinical movement in this time, cf. also Simon Schwarzfuchs, A Concise History of the Rabbinate (Oxford, UK – Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1993), 1 – 12. 35 Cf. Mordechai Breuer, “Tausend Jahre aschkenasisches Rabbinat: Der Werdegang einer Institution,” in Carlebach, Das aschkenasische Rabbinat, 15 – 23, here 15. 36 Ibid.; in a similar sense cf. also Simon Schwarzfuchs, “The Making of the Rabbi,” in idem, A Concise History, 133 – 140. 37 Cf., for example, the new editions in the German-speaking realm: Pirke Awot: Sprche der Vter, trans. Annette Bçckler, JVB Klassiker 1 (Berlin: Jdische Verlagsanstalt Berlin, 2001); cf. also Rami M. Shapiro, Die Worte der Weisen sind glhende Kohlen: Das kleine Buch der jdischen Weisheit (Frankfurt/ Main: Krger, 1998). For the English-speaking area, I refer to: Leonard Kravitz and Kerry M. Olitzky, Pirke Avot: A Modern Commentary on Jewish Ethics (New York: UAHC Press, 1993). 38 On the significance of reading and learning in Judaism after 70 CE, cf. also my essay: “Opfer als Nahung: Ein jdisch-christliches Gesprch zur Spiritualitt des Opfers,” in Werner H. Ritter, ed., Erlçsung ohne Opfer?, BTS 22 (Gçttingen, 2003), 113 – 145, esp. 131 – 133.

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ated to this purpose” (mAvot 2:739). Reading and learning the Torah as the calling of every creature! But, even if this be true, it does not appear to be very easy. Reading and learning require effort; the rabbis in the Sayings of the Fathers cherish no illusions at all about this. “So is the path of Torah [of the study of Torah, AD]: You shall eat bread with salt and drink only little water. You shall sleep upon the earth and lead a life of privation […]” (mAvot 6:340). The Torah demands, so numerous sayings emphasize, attention, devotion, and concentration. And it demands so much of these that excessive conversation with a woman already could be too great a distraction from it (cf. mAvot 1:5). One can say with some exaggeration that the sages first love will be given to the Torah. And, really, it cannot be otherwise, for the Torah has its direct source in Gods love, which He gives to Israel as an exquisite gift (cf. mAvot 3:14). This love relativizes the effort. At the same time it opens an approach to the Torah, to which a certain lack of intentionality belongs idealiter: One studies the Torah not because a particular content is to be treated, summarized, or even learned, but rather out of love and because God has given it in love.41 Even if, therefore, the study of the Torah does not proceed in a strictly goal-oriented way, still it is so that a reward is promised to the one who turns to the Torah in love and without intention: “Ben He He says: So the effort, so the reward” (mAvot 5:23).42 The learning person will recognize and discover that it is worthwhile to contemplate the Torah again and 39 Here, and in the following, the citations refer to the Hebrew edition of the Mishnah: The Mishna: Seder Nezikin (Jerusalem – Tel Aviv, 1988); translation by Annette Bçckler, Pirke Awot, there 2:9. 40 Mishnah Avot 6, the “encomium upon the Law”, was inserted after the redaction of the Mishnah; cf. Gnter Stemberger, Einleitung in Talmud und Midrasch (Mnchen: Beck, 1992), 120. 41 The Kabbala thought further and composed poetry in the context of the image of love in a daring manner: It characterized the “Torah as a bride, princess, mother, sister […], […] as a female presence, in a more specific sense as a female body. […] To encounter the Torah face to face and, so to speak, to disrobe the princess, is the yearning of the Jewish scholar […]” (Almut Sh. Bruckstein, Die Maske des Moses: Studien zur jdischen Hermeneutik [Berlin – Wien: Philo Verlagsanstalt, 2001], 110 – 111). The Zohar tells how the Torah-learner daily circles around the gate of the house in which the princess stays. And, occasionally, “she waves to him, [but, AD] returns immediately to her place and hides herself” (ibid., 116). 42 In the context of 5:22, I interpret this frank saying as applying also to the way the Torah is used.

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again, “because everything is contained in it”43 – everything, all of life, the whole world. At the same time the learner will discover that God is present in all the effort of learning: “When two sit together and exchange words of the Torah with each other, then the Shekinah [the divine indwelling, AD] is with them” (mAvot 3:2). Being together, the communion of learning and teaching, plays in general a decisive role. Thus, mAvot 6:5 – 6 asks: How is the Torah acquired? And one of the fortyeight answers to this question reads: “from the one who learns in order to teach”.44 It cannot at all be otherwise than that the one who learns and invests energy, but also receives a reward and makes discoveries passes on something of this and infects others. In this way it will occur that learning and teaching take place in mutual interplay. The roles of the teacher and of the student are not fixed. That is the reason why making “his rabbi or teacher wise” also is one of the forty-eight ways to acquire the Torah. And, at another place in the traditional rabbinical literature, it is emphasized that even God Himself belongs permanently among these learners. He devotes three hours daily to learning the Torah, as is said in bAvodaZara 3b!45 If the study of the Torah is not the means to any end, but rather resembles a marriage-like love relationship for the long term, then one never will be finished with it: “It is not for you to end the work, but you also are not free to relieve yourself of it” (mAvot 2:16). Reading and learning the Torah becomes a permanent way of life.46 For this reason Shammai also says, “Make your Torah fast […]” (mAvot 1:15). And one can translate this more freely, as does Annette Bçckler: “Make your study of the Torah into a firm habit.”47 Learning must and will put its stamp on life. It can be said extremely concisely: “Without flour no Torah; without Torah no flour” (mAvot 3:17). Life is tied together with the Torah in the most elementary way: The Torah becomes the bread of life; the bread becomes the word of life. For this reason, the sage can never lead the life of the scholar withdrawn into the Lehrhaus. But 43 Cf. mAvot 5:22: “Turn it over, and turn it over again, for everything is in it.” 44 In Hebrew the two elements appear more closely interlocked with each other through the one root lamad in q. und pi.: ha-lomed al-menat le-lammed. 45 Cf. Krochmalnik, “Der Lerner,” in Schrçder et al., Was ist ein guter Religionslehrer?, 62. 46 Cf. Yeschaiahu Leibowitz, Vortrge ber die Sprche der Vter: Auf den Spuren des Maimonides, trans. Grete Leibowitz (Obertshausen: Context-Verlag, 1984), 28 [cf. esp. the section: “Tora-Studium und Berufsleben”, 27 – 60]. 47 Bçckler, Pirke Awot, 40.

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apparently there existed at least the danger that many could consider this to be wisdom. Thus, Shimon, the son of Gamaliel, warns: “It is not the midrash [the searching, questioning work in the text, AD] that is the main thing, but rather the act” (mAvot 1:17).48 On the basis of the close connection between learning and living, it stands to reason that in rabbinical Judaism it was demanded that none should make a living from Torah scholarship but rather in any case should pursue another form of gainful employment.49 Only in this way can the rabbi, with his own life, make clear to others the inviting paths of the lived relationship to the Torah and can encourage others to attempt an “imitatio rabbini” (Kirschner).50 Learning, living, teaching, and loving – all of this is connected with reading the Torah; the impressions from Mishnah Avot can be summarized with this sentence. They do not actually outline the contours of the profession of the rabbi, which exists in this sense for the first time in the Jewish Middle Ages, but rather much more a way of life characterized by the reading of the Torah. It would be problematic now to employ these impressions taken from a Mishnah tractate and from the rabbinical tradition as an image for the rabbinate – and perhaps to hold it up as a shining example for a Protestant pastoral office of the present with its dispersal of its efforts in organization and administration. This would accurately be the idealization and instrumentalization that I have described at the beginning of this paper as a methodological problem. For this reason, we need to take a brief look at the transformations on the path into the present: A new rabbinate developed in the 19th century first of all in Germany and then emanated from there to the rest of Europe and to the United States.51 The “modern rabbinate” originated in the context of emancipation and acculturation.

48 Cf. also the repeated emphasis that the love for the Torah always also must imply love for the neighbor; e. g. mAvot 5:12; 6:1; 6:5 f. 49 Cf. Lawrence E. Frizzell, “Rab/Rabbi/Rabban/Rabbiner,” in TRE 28 (1997), 80 – 82, here 81. See also mAvot 2:2: “Learning the Torah in combination with a worldly occupation is beautiful.” 50 Cf. Robert Kirschner, “Imitatio Rabbini,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period 17 (1986): 70 – 79. 51 Already in the Middle Ages – in contrast to the period of the Mishnah – a significant change asserted itself: The rabbinate had become a congregational rabbinate and, thus, a paid profession; congregations hired a “rabbi” (only now did the rabbinate become a profession!) and supported him financially (cf. Frizzell, “Rab”, 81).

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In the medieval congregations, the rabbis were primarily Torah scholars who made decisions in questions of religious law (posekim).52 In the synagogal worship service, however, they played mostly only a minor role; in Ashkenazic Judaism the lecture held by the rabbi during the worship service (darasha) was customary only twice a year.53 But, in the course of the social changes in Germany at the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th century, a new paradigm became decisive: the Protestant pastor. The rabbis modeled themselves on their Protestant “colleagues” and so developed into preachers and pastoral counselors.54 If they formerly were active above all in the Lehrhaus, then the synagogue now became the crucial scene of their activity. If the rabbis formerly were to be distinguished from the pastor in respect of their clothing, their hairstyle, and their beards, then now the black cassock and the accompanying biretta standardized the dress regulations of both, and the beards of many a rabbi disappeared. If the rabbis of earlier days received their education above all in the yeshiva, which concentrated upon Talmud studies, then now they graduated from the university and were, as a rule, doctors.55 Academic scholarship, with its models of criticism and conceptual abstraction, led to an increasingly critical questioning and scrutiny of the Torah and, above all, of the Jewish religious law, the halakhah. The rabbi becomes a critical theologian, preacher, and pastor – literarily ac-

52 Cf. here the designation of the rabbi as “Kauscherwchter” (responsible for the declaration of food and drink as kosher). This designation, which Ruben Gumpertz, for example, used in 1820, gives a negative connotation to the traditional image of the rabbi in the course of the re-orientation in the 19th century. Cf. Ismar Schorsch, “The Modern Rabbinate – Then and Now,” Conservative Judaism 43/2 (1990/91): 12 – 20, here 14. 53 Cf. on this also Schwarzfuchs, A Concise History, 50 – 63. This is valid to the present for numerous traditional congregations (above all in Israel). 54 Cf. Alexander Altmann, “The German Rabbi: 1910 – 1939,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 19 (1974): 31 – 49, here 32, 44; Andrea Bieler, Die Sehnsucht nach dem verlorenen Himmel: Jdische und christliche Reflexionen zu Gottesdienstreform und Predigtkultur im 19. Jahrhundert, PTHe 65 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2003), 125 – 130 [“Der Rabbiner als Prediger”]. The “Preaching Movement” in the first half of the 19th century, in which preaching in the local national language in the synagogal worship service was introduced gradually nearly everywhere, is not conceivable without the change in the role of the rabbi – and also conversely! 55 Cf. Altmann, “The German Rabbi”, 31.

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cessible in the 20th century in Noah Gordons novel The Rabbi 56 or Harry Kemelmans many detective novels. Two images of the rabbinate collide: the rabbi in the period before acculturation and the “modern rabbi”. In his novel Tohuwabohu, Sammy Gronemann57 confronts these two images with each other in his description of Jewish life in the Berlin of the early 20th century: Jossel has migrated from Russia to Berlin and is surprised at the Berlin rabbis, quite especially at their many “speeches in the worship service”. Kaiser, a rabbinical student, characterizes this speaking, on the other hand, as the business of the rabbi. Jossel is confused; not even the word “preaching” is familiar to him. Kaiser – now also surprised – asks in return, “Doesnt anyone do any preaching then among you in the temple on the Sabbath?” “Among us? – No! – What for? – The Torah is read to us.” “Thats done among us, too.” “Can the preacher say anything better than Moses?” “Yeah, but what then does the rabbi do for you?” “He doesnt have any time for something like that! – He learns and instructs – he decides disputes – he gives advice – he cares for the poor – and a thousand other things! – But, maybe it is good to preach, and I just dont understand that yet […]”58 The clock cannot be turned back. The “modern” rabbi, born of the combination of Jewish tradition, emancipatory Enlightenment thought, and a dependence upon the paradigm of the Protestant pastoral office, is reality. But what could be helpful in the present question about identity in the pastoral office and in the rabbinate would be the memory about what “word work” can mean: the determination of pastoral and rabbinical identity through the processes of reading and learning. In an article from 2004, I have suggested the image of a “pastor legens” as a possible model for the Protestant pastoral office of the present. In the exchange with the rabbinate this image would offer the possibility of distinguishing an office that is at the same time intellectual and spiritual. Both appear to me to be important. Friedrich Wilhelm Graf, the systematic theologian from Munich, has gone too far with his polemic, but definitely is right in the matter: The Protestant pastoral office is threat-

56 Cf. Noah Gordon, Der Rabbi (Berlin: Goldmann, 2000) [first German edition 1967; American original: The Rabbi, New York 1965]. 57 Sammy Gronemann, Tohuwabohu, 1st ed. (Berlin, 1920), 2nd ed. (Leipzig: Reclam, 2001). 58 Gronemann, Tohuwabohu, 101.

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ened, above all, with a loss of intellectuality.59 Already several years ago Maurice N. Eisendraht opposed in a similarly resolute manner an antiintellectualism spreading through American Judaism. Nothing, he wrote, is worse than “happy rabbis preaching happy sermons before happy people with happy problems.”60

2.3 A Third Course of Discussion: Pastoral/Rabbinical Authority and Its Restriction Since the Reformation the Protestant pastor has held a key position in the context of the congregation and the ecclesiastical system. In contrast to the priest he is no longer the sacramental mediator, but he nevertheless remains essential in his function as “servant of the Word of God” and, thereby, above all as preacher and as dispenser of the sacraments when Gods Word and the church as creatura verbi/Evangelii are at issue. Of course, it was important to the Reformers to emphasize that this central position is not connected with the requirement that the pastor as a person had to be outstanding. The Confessio Augustana reflects explicitly upon the Donatist problem – the problem, that is, of binding the validity of the sacraments to the personal dignity of the clergyman. And it comes to the conclusion that the office is decisive, but not the person (cf. CA VIII, De ecclesia). On the path to the present, the central position of the pastoral office has survived – in spite of all attempts to shift the “priesthood of all the baptized” more prominently to the center. Precisely in the perception of the church from the outside, the female and male pastors are the decisive points of reference. But, because the pastoral office at the same time is legitimated much more through the person than through the office, a thoroughly problematic and encumbering shift thereby has occurred. Whether I find the church to be good or not, whether it means anything to me or not, is decided by whether I find the pastor to be personable or whether I like her. As much as this shift will please narcissistically inclined souls, it is experienced just as much as a form of pressure and as 59 Cf. Friedrich Wilhelm Graf, Kirchendmmerung: Wie die Kirchen unser Vertrauen verspielen, 2nd ed. (Mnchen: Beck, 2011), esp. 49 – 64 [where he speaks of a “Second Vice: Disdain of Education”]. 60 Maurice N. Eisendraht, “The Authority of the Rabbi I,” CCAR Journal 39 (1962): 3, 7, here 7.

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a problem. It is just that in any case theologically. For the task of the pastoral office in the Reformation sense is to point away from itself and to point to the Gospel, to the good news of Jesus Christ as encountered in the Word and sacrament. At this point, once again, there is the opening of a possible dialogue in the Third Room. If I consider Judaism to a certain extent in an idealized manner, then I recognize the structure of a rabbinate that is, to be sure, important, but is in no way so central for the functioning of the congregation as is the case in many Protestant congregations. A rabbi is not absolutely necessary for prayer on the Sabbath. One in principle can do without the sermon in the local national language, as much as it has had its place in many congregations for the last 200 years. The organizational direction of the congregation does not lie (or at least not compellingly) in the hands of the rabbi. If we want to connect all the functions that a male Protestant pastor or a female Protestant pastor has with their counterparts in Judaism, then we must include additional professional groups: the cantor (as leader of the worship service or as congregational educator), teaching staff / teachers of religion, congregational director … All these aspects magnify for me the question whether we on the Protestant side have not hopelessly overtaxed the pastoral office with tasks that originally and in essence do not belong to it. The expansion of the concept of proclamation to encompass the “communication of the Gospel”, which is so nebulous that virtually all the acts of congregational and daily life are included in it, certainly has contributed to losing concentration upon the “core acts”. Along with these organizational questions an additional question appears to me to be central: the question, namely, of how we as word workers deal with the Word entrusted to us, with the tradition entrusted to us. In the Jewish discussion about the rabbinate, I have come across a concept at this point that, in my opinion, helps us further. Meir Ben-Horin describes rabbinical authority as the authority of a “search leader”, of one, that is, who sets out with others into terrain that, in the final analysis, is unknown and mysterious terrain – ready to make discoveries.61 Search leaders could be rabbis, says Ben-Horin, but I gladly make this metaphor my own. The image of the search leader is probably anchored in Jewish hermeneutics. The Torah, in its interplay between written and oral Torah, leads to a perpetuum hermeneuticum that has no end on earth. 61 Cf. Meir Ben-Horin, “The Post-Synagogue Synagogue II: Sermons and the Search,” CCAR Journal 89 (1975): 56 – 59, here 58.

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The written word proves to be the word of the Torah only in its always new oral continuation. The anti-systematizing tendency that results from this protects (at least idealiter) the exegesis from coming to a conclusive result that then, quasi dogmatically, would become fixed and would have to remain unquestioned. Christian exegesis was in no way always immune to this, as is known. Here, one can observe a comparable hermeneutical accent already in Paul, the first “theologian” of the church, who still at the same time was completely at home in Judaism. Paul knows that he is permanently en route, that he is chasing after the “proposed goal”, but that he has not nearly attained it (Phil 3:11 – 12), that he – just as the entire church – sees “now in a mirror dimly” (1Cor 13:12) and only one day will understand completely. Until then, we as pastors remain at best search leaders, people who lead the way on a lifelong search and, it is hoped, again and again delightedly discover how others already long since have discovered this and that aspect before them and without them. Meir Ben-Horin also can clothe that which a search leader does in an image that helps us further along theologically: in the image of Jacobs ladder, which now is not climbed by one person in order, somehow, to bring the Word of God down from heaven, but rather which is climbed by all. He writes, “All Israel are ordained to join the climb”.62 This aspect leads me further to a fourth initiation of a discussion.

2.4 A Fourth Course of Discussion: Pastors and Rabbis in Search of the Word Beyond the Words Whether we, in fact, live in a time that can be described as a phase in the “return of religion” or in a “new yearning for spirituality” is an assertion that has been discussed contentiously.63 I attempted recently to qualify the divergent phenomena that are described in this context as the new search for astonishment. In literary studies, for example, this is experienced in the weariness felt in regard to a hermeneutics that helplessly surrenders the works of literature to the “understanding” clutches of the interpreters.64 In cultural studies presence is in demand, and the desire 62 Cf. ibid., 59. 63 Cf. Ulrich H. J. Kçrtner, Wiederkehr der Religion? Das Christentum zwischen neuer Spiritualitt und Gottvergessenheit (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2006). 64 Cf. Deeg, Predigt und Derascha, 271 – 275.

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for presence is described as a path “this side of hermeneutics”.65 And, recently, a volume appeared in the renowned series “suhrkamp taschenbuch wissenschaft” with the title Miracles: The Poetics and Politics of Astonishment in the Twentieth Century. 66 In addition, there are the phenomena of astonishment in art and daily life, in advertising and entertainment. We live in a time in which the yearning for a transcendence of daily life is tangible (whether more clearly tangible than in previous decades is something that I cannot and need not decide here). In this time, I see both of us, rabbis and pastors – and I gladly include Catholic priests here, too – engaged in a particular assignment. We are experts in a certain form of transcending everyday life. The Protestant worship service, so Martin Luther once said, lives from the fact “that God speaks with us through His holy Word and we, in turn, speak with Him through prayer and songs of praise.”67 These words, spoken at the consecration of the Castle Church at Torgau in 1544, are so often quoted that they were termed the “Torgau Formula” and that – and this is weightier – their provocative content is hardly noticed any more. A worship service, so Luther says, is nothing other than an exchange of words between God and the human being. That is not a minor thing! Moses, after all, had to remove his shoes when he approached his God speaking to him from out of the burning bush (Ex 3), and only Moses alone was permitted to tread the mountain of Gods revelation (cf. Ex 19 – 24). We Protestants expect this form of communication in every worship service (if we expect it at all; this specific religious expectation of the worship service probably has moved rather into other forms of spirituality). I am not sure whether Luthers definition of the Protestant worship service in Torgau also could become a definition for the Jewish prayer service on Shabbat or in daily life. The Catholic Church, in any case, has followed this Word-bound definition of the liturgical act in the Second Vatican Council and formulated the following (almost as a direct citation from Luther, but naturally not identified as such): “[I]n the liturgy, 65 Cf. Hans-Ulrich Gumbrecht, Diesseits der Hermeneutik: Die Produktion von Prsenz (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 2004). 66 Alexander C. T. Geppert and Till Kçssler, eds., Wunder: Poetik und Politik des Staunens im 20. Jahrhundert, stw 1984 (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2011). 67 Luther says more exactly: Nothing else should occur in the worship service “than that our dear Lord Himself may speak with us through His holy Word, and we, in turn, with Him through prayer and songs of praise” (WA 49, 588).

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God speaks to His people; in it, Christ still proclaims the Good News. But the people answer in song and in prayer” (SC 33). The issue is a specific transcendence of daily life, a transcendence through the exchange of words between God and the human being. Perhaps this is, I dare to say, the core task of the word workers. And perhaps this task also can become a common challenge for both, for Jews and Christians. How can it occur that language and the manifold “language games”68 of this world be opened successfully to and for God? How do we succeed in experiencing salutary interruptions that surprise us, that call us out, and that challenge us anew again and again?

2.5 A Fifth Course of Discussion: Of the Word That Leads to Action, and Is Recognized in Action Here, I only hint at the fifth, and last, course of discussion. It is a point that perhaps one must articulate anew again and again precisely to the Protestant word workers: The human being does not live from bread alone, but also not from the Word alone, but always also from action! Since the rabbinical period, the three religious acts of learning and teaching the Torah, prayer, and doing the mitzvoth have been held together. They are considered already in the early rabbinical tradition as the three modes of conduct that, after the destruction of the Temple, take the place of the sacrifice in the Temple.69 Word work is not only desk work. But word work also in no way comprises only all of those moments in which we enter conversation with others in written or oral form, directly or made possible through the media. Word work also comprises – and I learn this from female and male Jews – the doing of the Word. Spirituality is not first of all the yearning for great, out-of-the-ordinary experiences, but rather simply a special way of being-in-the-world.70

68 Cf., on this concept, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophische Untersuchungen (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, 1971), §23. 69 Cf. Deeg, “Opfer als Nahung”, 113 – 145. 70 Cf. Nancy Fuchs-Kreimer, “Holiness, Justice, and the Rabbinate,” Cross Currents 42/2 (1992): 212 – 214, – with reference to Rosenzweig, who – unlike Buber – rediscovered Jewish law for a generation of non-Orthodox Jews. Nancy Fuchs-Kreimer pleads for the image of a rabbinate in which holiness and righteousness become interconnected, and female and male rabbis become important, above all, for the organization of social care in the congregation.

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Perhaps we Protestants have let the Letter to James with its clear exhortation to “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers!” (Jas 1:22) recede too far into the background because of Luthers polemic and our unbelievable fear of “works righteousness”. Jean-Luc Nancy recently has presented a re-reading of the Letter to James in his book Deconstruction of Christianity, which is at the same time daring, path-breaking, and not easy to understand. In it, he writes, “Pistis is the praxis that has place in the poiesis of the erga and also as such.”71 Nancy formulates in a pointed and complex way what was clear to the evangelist Matthew in his Sermon of the Mount, just as it was to the rabbis who knew about the significance of the mitzvoth and to Abraham Joshua Heschel, for example, who was able to formulate such insights far more poetically and concretely than Jean-Luc Nancy. Heschel writes, “Without the Torah, we have only acts that dream of God; with the Torah, we have mitzvoth that God brings to expression in acts.”72 To practice this interplay between God, the Torah, and mitzvoth, between word workers and doers of the word together appears to me to be not the least task for Jews and Christians. It would be possible thereby not only to interrupt anew and to transcend our speech, but also to interrupt anew and to transcend our action. It would be possible to find ways out of the deadly routines in which we all too often are caught up, out of what is apparently inescapable, and to tread new paths that already construct Gods new world. The goal of halakhah, so says Joseph Soloveitchik, for example, is nothing other than this.73 The goal of the practice of good works, so said Martin Luther, is nothing other than this.74

71 Jean-Luc Nancy, Dekonstruktion des Christentums, trans. Esther von der Osten (Zrich – Berlin: Diaphanes, 2008), 84 (see esp. 69 – 96: Das Jdisch-Christliche). 72 Abraham Joshua Heschel, Gott sucht den Menschen: Eine Philosophie des Judentums, 5th ed. (Berlin: Jdische Verlagsanstalt, 2000), 271. 73 Cf. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Halakhic Man (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1983) [Hebrew original: New York, 1944]. 74 Cf. Hans G. Ulrich, Wie Geschçpfe leben. Konturen evangelischer Ethik, EThD 2 (Mnster: LIT Verlag, 2005).

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3. The Common Future of the Word Workers These five dialogues have only been broached and wait upon a dialogic continuation. It has become easier to do this here in Germany, too. In the past 20 years, Jewish life has experienced a turning point and an upswing that many no longer thought possible. There are more and more female and male rabbis in the Jewish congregations in Germany with whom one can speak about word work in common. There exists more and more easily the possibility of bringing female and male theologians already during the process of their education into conversation with future female and male rabbis and thus of continuing the intimated dialogues not only literarily, but also locally, in direct conversation. In the process, we will discover differences and, it is hoped, in precisely this way learn mutually from each other. We will recognize that not all paths lead in the same direction and will find this to be an enrichment. We will identify challenges that we are able to tackle best in common. I name here as a quite essential point the fundamentalist constriction of what is religious. Word workers together will oppose all too simple solutions, will make clear to the fundamentalists of whatever religion how enriching thinking in pluralist terms and an approval of diversity can be. And how the lifelong and never-ending search for the Word in the words leads to a calm and confident way of life that is at the same time full of expectations.

The Modern Community Rabbi in Germany: Towards the Development of a Contemporary Occupational Profile1 Walter Homolka In a lecture about the role of the community rabbi in July 1910, Rabbi Benno Jacob (1862 – 1945) arrived at the following conclusion: “It is true that, according to the Jewish conception, a community can exist without clergy for the simple reason that a clergy does not exist therein, that is, a preferential person with regard to sacrament and appointment, without whom no one can attain the blessings of the religion and without whom the determined practices and actions cannot be performed with validity.”2 What is thus the occupational image of the modern rabbi? This question was addressed more than 80 years ago by the liberal Jewish periodical Der Morgen (The Morning); its June 1933 issue was entitled “Die Stellung des Geistlichen in der Gemeinde” (“The Role of the Clergyman in the Community”). Der Morgen was established in 1925 by the philosopher Julius Goldstein (1873 – 1929) and published until October 1938. In the editorial article of the June 1933 issue, it reads: This issue of Der Morgen portrays, in accordance with a plan that has been fostered for a long time, and upon the wishes of many, the position of the clergyman in the community. Each faith will have its say. With regard to their specific situations and specific teachings, the duties and positions of clergy in the communities will be depicted as follows: how they developed historically, and how they are conceived today. Due to technical reasons, the portrayal of the Protestant clergy will be published in one of the following issues.3

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I would like to thank William Hiscott for the translation of this article and Johannes CS Frank for his editorial remarks. Benno Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners in dem Entwurf eines Gesetzes betreffend die Verfassung der jdischen Religionsgemeinschaft in Preußen (Hamburg: Leßmann, 1910), 7 – 8. Der Morgen 9/2 (June 1933): 85.

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The Jewish contributors who concerned themselves with the service and duties of the rabbi were the rabbis Max Dienemann (1875 – 1939), Joseph Carlebach (1883 – 1942), and Max Wiener (1882 – 1950); a further article “Der Priester in der katholischen Kirche” (“The Priest in the Catholic Church”) was written by the Roman Catholic Johannes Pinsk (1891 – 1957), who at the time was a student chaplain in Berlin and, later, a university professor. The article regarding the Protestant perspective announced for a later issue was never published. This issue was dedicated to Leo Baeck (1873 – 1956), who “embodied in his personality the situation of todays German rabbi.” For us, this issues contributions are of great interest because they offer a genuine insight into the internal practices of the Jewish community. Prior to addressing the specific profile of the modern rabbinate, Max Dienemann retraces in “Der Rabbiner” (“The Rabbi”) the offices historical development, which, at first, comprised teaching, legislative, and judicial duties. In the modern age, after the end of the autonomy of Jewish communities, Dienemann argued that it had been transformed into a paid professional office with new requirements. In 1933, he declared, “The duties and the position of the rabbi today can only be understood when one has knowledge of these requirements and the development of the office.”4 When today we seek to understand the occupational profile of the community rabbi in Europe, we have before our eyes a community that is gradually returning to strength after its experience of persecution and destruction throughout the first half of the 20th century. The discussion that Dienemann and his colleagues had prior to the Shoah concerning their office and its duties is again current, in that it offers a model of reference expressly for todays situation in Germany. What Dienemann formulated remains as valid today as it was then: the educational and occupational profile of our rabbis is the result of a long-term development; without knowledge of this development, the nature of this profile is difficult to comprehend. Carsten L. Wilke has retraced the development in light of the emergence of modernity. In his introduction to a biographical handbook of rabbis and his book Den Talmud und den Kant (“The Talmud and the Kant”), Wilke depicts the crisis in the authority, and the changes in the function, of the rabbinate in the 19th century.5 4 5

Max Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner,” Der Morgen 9/2 (June 1933): 85 – 96. Julius Carlebach and Michael Brocke, eds., Biographisches Handbuch der Rabbiner: Die Rabbiner der Emanzipationszeit in den deutschen, bçhmischen

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1. Jewish Theological Science and Practical Theology The beginnings of modern education and training of rabbis and the formulation of a Jewish theology in the context of the science of Judaism (“Wissenschaft des Judentums”) are very closely linked to Rabbi Abraham Geiger (1810 – 1876), after whom our rabbinical seminary in Germany is named today. More than a century after the beginnings of this development, Leo Baeck described them as follows: “The past was discovered and with it the fundament of the present was won; a new generation that was conscious again of its Judaism was gradually created.”6 Geigers goal was, pursuing the aims of his teacher Leopold Zunz (1794 – 1886), “to fashion out of Judaism a new and freshly-animated Jewry.”7 In 1835, Geiger published the first volume of his periodical Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift fr jdische Theologie (“Scientific Journal for Jewish Theology”). In its opening essay, “Das Judentum unserer Zeit und die Bestrebungen in ihm” (“Judaism of our Time and the Endeavours Therein”), Geiger wrote that the duties of rabbis include welding together “the inherited with the demands of the present.” In this process, he addressed the role of the theologian and developed the demands placed upon the future representatives of a Jewish theology: And, the theologians, what do they offer with regard to hope? About their view, we dare claim that only they alone, when they are completely entrusted with the whole wondrous historically-assembled building of our religion and that, at the same time, they stand at the forefront of contemporary times, that only they alone can advance the redemption of Israel through learned and practical effectiveness. That in the last fifty years they did not do so, but rather that their untimely struggle was highly ruinous, is recognized. But God gives us that now men excel who have the sense of mind to think, to know of the times through which they must steer, to know of the goal towards which they should steer. We need those men who can show how Judaism has become that what it is over time, who do not shy away from arguing against a faith stuck in the past, with the reasoning that not that much is delivered tradition, that not that much is determined through

6 7

und grosspolnischen Lndern 1781 – 1871, ed. Carsten L. Wilke, 2 vols. (Mnchen: Saur, 2006); Carsten L. Wilke, Den Talmud und den Kant: Rabbinerausbildung an der Schwelle zur Moderne (Hildesheim: Olms, 2003). Leo Baeck, “Judentum,“ in RGG2 III (1929), 488. Abraham Geiger, Letter to Leopold Zunz, April 22, 1831, cit. according to Ludwig Geiger, Abraham Geiger: Leben und Lebenswerk (Berlin: Reimer, 1910), 17.

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correct exegesis, but rather has emerged at the time of its origin, and thus also can be lifted again throughout the passing of time.8

In a further programmatic essay from 1838, Geiger argued for the separation of theory and practice: he proposed the commission of Jewish theologians tasked with developing concepts for Judaisms religious teachings in the context of academic freedom. Accordingly, Geiger proposed that the community rabbis then be entrusted with the realization of these teachings. As his son and biographer Ludwig Geiger (1848 – 1920) wrote, “His essay, Die verschiedenen Betrachtungsweisen: Der Schriftsteller und der Rabbiner [The Various Points of View: The Writer and the Rabbi], provides for a scrupulously thought out expression of the newly won insights, and it illustrates how two different worlds can be brought closer to one another – how one, as an unbiased researcher, can remain true to oneself and, as a practical theologian, still act in a redemptive manner.”9 With the term “Schriftsteller” in the title of his essay, Abraham Geiger referred to the Jewish-theological writer, the “priest of the true science who reveals the secrets of the whole coherence of ideas in his times.” It should be noted that Geiger was a pragmatic and strategic thinker. He wrote, for instance, in 1837 to his friend Joseph Dernburg, “We lack a rabbi in a larger community who has great personal dignity and an impressive level of energy, who knows how to win over the intelligent part of the community and who addresses the masses accordingly without fear.”10 The differentiation between theologians and community rabbis was a compromise that arose from the prevailing circumstances of the time; because of the lack of academic rabbinical education, it was not yet possible for Geiger to think of the close link between academic excellence and practical community service that has today come to be a matter of course. At that time, Geiger was serving as rabbi in Wiesbaden, a relatively young Jewish community that differed fundamentally from the traditional communities in Mainz and Frankfurt on the Main nearby. The spa town of Wiesbaden was a small town, but with the influx of spa doctors, jewellers, and merchants from the Rheingau and Leipzig into the newly prospering 8 Abraham Geiger, “Das Judenthum unserer Zeit und die Bestrebungen in ihm,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift fr jdische Theologie 1/1 (1835): 1 – 12. 9 Geiger, Abraham Geiger: Leben und Lebenswerk, 296. 10 Cit. in Ludwig Geiger, “Abraham Geigers Briefe an Joseph Dernburg (1833 – 1842),” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 60/18 (May 1, 1896): 214.

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capital of Nassau, conflicts arose between the petit-bourgeois and traditional rural Jews and reform-oriented Jews from the city with a better educational and professional background. The situation was similar to those with which Dienemann, Baeck, and their colleagues were faced over a century later due to the urbanization and social differentiation of the Jewish community.

2. Community in the Big City In the 1920s, the Jewish community in Germany experienced great demographic changes, caused by the migration of Jews into the cities, an aging of the communities, a sinking birth rate, and not in the least, a significant withdrawal of Jews from their respective communities. By 1933, already 50 % of the Jews in Germany – around 525,000 in total – were members of six urban communities. According to 1925 statistics, 171,912 Jews lived in Berlin alone. A further 21 % lived in and around 50 mid-sized communities; the remaining 29 % in over 1,500 small communities. As such, the urban communities had an entirely different character than that of the disappearing rural communities. In an essay, “Gemeinde in der Großstadt” (“The Community in the Big City”) in Der Morgen, which Baeck seems to have written in reaction to an article in the same periodical by a Hamburg pastor, Ludwig Heitmann (1888 – 1953), in the context of the topic “Religiçse Zeitfragen” (“Contemporary Religious Questions”),11 Baeck described the developments as the transformation from baal habajit, from the “known and named”, to an anonymous payer of the state-run church tax, from religiousness of milieu to religiousness of the individual.12 Rabbi Alfred Jospe (1909 – 1994), who served as a liberal community rabbi in Berlin between 1936 and 1939, remembered the frustration he experienced while on rotational assignment in the Synagogue Levetzowstraße: “Ich soll ein Seelsorger sein, aber ich kenne kaum

11 Ludwig Heitmann, “Die Krisis der Religion in der Großstadt,” Der Morgen 5/5 (December 1929): 421 – 433. 12 Leo Baeck, “Gemeinde in der Großstadt,” Der Morgen 6/6 (February 1930): 583 – 590.

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eine einzige Seele hier.” (“I should care for their souls, but I hardly know a single soul here.”)13 Geigers contemporaries had already made the observation that a seemingly cohesive Jewish milieu was collapsing. For example, in his 1844 “Aufforderung an alle Rabbiner und jdische Geistliche Deutschlands zur Abhaltung jhrlicher Versammlungen” (“Call on all Rabbis and Jewish Spiritual Leaders of Germany with regard to the Holding of Yearly Meetings”), Ludwig Philippson (1811 – 1889) bemoaned “disintegration” as the “intrinsic error of the Jewish community in our times.”14 In todays Germany, we face similar problems to those of our predecessors in the early 20th century. The heterogeneous Jewish communities are alienated from the Jewish tradition to a large extent, and the task has been ceded to the rabbis to satisfy the need for a sense of Jewish community and of Jewish identity in a secularized society, in which even Judaism has been transformed into a confession and relegated to the private sphere. At the beginning of the 20th century, the demand for rabbis was similarly great to that of today. Alexander Altmanns analysis of statistical material shows, for example, that in 1911 a large majority of rural communities existed without rabbinical presence. In 1910, Germany had only 274 rabbis; of them, 158 in Prussia and 26 in Berlin alone.15 In the same year, Benno Jacob proposed that each district rabbi visit local rural communities at least once a year and that during these visits he should be “uplifting and educational, cautionary and admonishing, corrective and mediatory, especially also as a helper and advisor to the teacher, whose authority he could strengthen through his control and whose joyfulness for work he could sustain and spur on.”16 Today, the Orthodoxe Rabbinerkonferenz (Orthodox Rabbinical Conference) and the Allgemeine Rabbinerkonferenz (General Rabbinical Conference) in Germany are attempting to satisfy the demand for rabbi13 Alfred Jospe, “A Profession in Transition. The German Rabbinate 1910 – 1939,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 19 (1974): 52. 14 Ludwig Philippson, “Aufforderung an alle Rabbiner und jdische Geistliche Deutschlands zur Abhaltung jhrlicher Versammlungen,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 8/3 (January 15, 1844): 26. 15 Alexander Altmann, “The German Rabbi: 1910 – 1939,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 19 (1974): 34 – 35. Statistics are from Deutsch-Israelitischer Gemeindebund and Zentralwohlfahrtsstelle der deutschen Juden, eds., Handbuch der jdischen Gemeindeverwaltung und Wohlfahrtspflege (Berlin, 1911). 16 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 19.

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nical supervision by means of itinerant rabbis and a SchatzMatz program.17 Above and beyond this, there are more similarities between then and now. The most recent demographic developments illustrate that membership in the Jewish community in Germany is decreasing again. In around 30 years, two-thirds of todays communities may no longer exist.

3. The Occupational Image of the Modern Rabbi Over 20 years before Dienemann, Jacob addressed the changing occupational profile of rabbis. In a June 1910 lecture before the Rheinische Rabbinerkonferenz (Rhineland Conference of Rabbis), “Die Stellung des Rabbiners” (“The Role of the Rabbi”), Jacob determined, “The preservation and fostering of the Jewish literature lies much more than previously, yes, almost exclusively, in his hands. In the community, he is almost without exception the only scholar of the literature and expert; he alone can supervise the ritual bodies of the community. He has also become liturgist, preacher, religious teacher, spiritual caregiver, and, when he is able enough, not only the spiritual, but also the intellectual head of the community.”18 Jacob was then rabbi of the Synagogengemeinde Dortmund, a community of around 3,500 members. “It was not easy to be the first modern rabbi of this growing, rugged industrial city still developing its traditions”, his grandson Walter Jacob writes. “He thus had to civilize the nouveau riche Jews. This led to many struggles, and it took some years. His activities in Dortmund included weekly sermons, twenty hours of religious education in the public schools each week, marriages, funerals, supervision of charitable causes, leadership of the lodges, and other duties.”19 In his aforementioned lecture, Benno Jacob hardly addressed the traditional role of the rabbi as legislator and adjudicator, even though these tasks continued to exist and still exist today, albeit in a different form. In 1933, Dienemann wrote: 17 Cf. Heide Sobotka, “Von Koscherlisten bis Vorbeter. Basisarbeit. Die Rabbinerkonferenzen tagten am Rande der Ratstagung,” Jdische Allgemeine (December 3, 2009). 18 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 10. 19 Walter Jacob and Benno Jacob, Kmpfer und Gelehrter (Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 2011), 30 – 31.

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Iis in the sphere of this task not only to make decisions that are read from the old codices, but also to do so in the context of continually changing life which sometimes makes it necessary to denote something new from the direction and spirit of the old decisions of law. Here, true to the old tradition, the rabbi is also legislator who makes laws himself or participates as part of a rabbinical association in the creation of a new legal code. And, he is only rabbi, that is, someone other than a preacher, teacher, and spiritual leader, provided that he has been educated and empowered as such.20

The religious judicial function of the rabbi is granted respect, in contrast to the early 19th century, when rabbis were only considered to be “guardians of the Kosher” on the part of laypersons who had achieved advancement in society.21

3.1 The Rabbi as a Liturgist Benno Jacob addressed the change in profile of the rabbi in the 19th century resulting from the reform of Jewish synagogue services and the implementation of new rules therein: The modern rabbi is liturgist to the extent that what he recites in some modern communities absorbs one-third or more of the time allotted for the main services on Sabbaths and the Holy Days. This is more time than the prayer leader has for the loud recital. The rabbi of the past commonly recited not a single word during services. No necessity existed for his presence. Actually, he often did not visit the community synagogue, but rather held his own services. This difference alone makes it necessary that the modern rabbi needs to exert completely other influence in the shape of the service. […] Todays rabbi has become, however, a pillar of the community services and is in danger of being degraded to a mechanical functionary, who shall only repeat what the autonomous community leadership lays before him!?22

3.2 The Rabbi as a Preacher Jacob writes, “The modern rabbi is a preacher to the extent that he approaches the whole community primarily in this capacity and that his ability to preach is almost the only factor that determines his election. For a 20 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 89. 21 Cf. Wilhelm Freund et al., eds., Zur Judenfrage in Deutschland vom Standpunkte des Rechts und der Gewissensfreiheit (Berlin: Veit und Comp., 1843), 214 – 216. 22 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 10 – 11.

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while, it even seemed that this new name would supplant the old one. There are rabbis who must preach or interpret the Scripture once or even twice on every Sabbath; during the holy days he must do so up to six times per week, more often than any Christian minister. The old preacher preached either not at all, or twice a year [on Pesach and Rosh Hashanah].”23 The rabbi as a preacher regained importance at the outset of the 19th century. The derashah was a factor in rabbinical Judaism of late antiquity; Jewish and Christian sermons are much more closely linked than commonly perceived, as Alexander Deeg has recently stated.24 With its reintroduction into Jewish synagogue services, the sermon served as the transmitter of both German language and Jewish religiosity. Thus it fulfilled the functions of being mediator of edification and elevation. Nonetheless, the sermon was not the central element of Jewish services; these were prayer and the reading of the Torah. Dienemann reminded his Jewish readers of the difference between Jewish and Christian sermons: Different is the Jewish sermon in another way; unlike the Christian sermon, it cannot place at its centre the act of redemption of a singular and unique person of saviour. Again and again, it brings to the forefront the Jewish way of recognizing the one and only God, the collaboration of man in the building of the kingdom of God, the correlation of the Jewish holy days with the Jewish history. From here, it kindles personal religiosity and the moral activity of man. As such, the rabbi is as preacher not merely consoler and speaker of atonement, but also notably a teacher at the pulpit, who should impart the word of the Torah in the manner in which Jewish tradition has recognized and made viable.25

Should the rabbi preach? To what may and can he attest? These are questions that Dienemann and his colleagues asked but remain up to date in the long run. 3.3 The Rabbi as a Religious Teacher “The modern rabbi”, Jacob stated, “is a religious teacher to the extent that in the vast majority of communities this portion of his activities alone could keep him well occupied. It is common that rabbis hold up 23 Ibid., 11. 24 Alexander Deeg, Predigt und Derascha. Homiletische Textlektre im Dialog mit dem Judentum, APTLH 48 (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006). 25 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 90.

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to twenty or more hours of religious instruction per week, predominantly at secondary schools. This is just as much as a senior school teacher, although it is noted that arguably no other type of instruction demands as much from the teacher than religious instruction.”26 Systematic religious instruction was foreign to Judaism until well into the 19th century. As long as its members lived lives with religious practice as an integral part thereof, as long as they were familiar with the basic foundational texts from their childhood onward and had access to yeshivot or houses of learning, Jewish communities existed without the need to provide for such a systematic religious instruction as that which emerged in the 19th century at public schools and Jewish religious schools. Regarding the emerging religious education, though, it was not enough to present and explain the teachable content of Judaism as had been done since the Middle Ages, that is, in the form of lists of principles of belief, the Ikkarim. 27 As Dienemann stated, “[The rabbi] may never forget that he is placed in the whole problematic of his times, that, next to the religious teaching in its word and meaning, an endless variety of ideas fills the world and competes for the peoples souls. For this reason, he must know how Judaism and the idea of the times permeate each other, he must show how Judaism retains its self-dependence through all changes in the ideals of the times, how it measures and judges time by means of the eternal.” Accordingly, the goal of teaching is “to educate people, who, as Jews, have a unified feeling for life in the midst of their times, who, through all changes in thinking and manners of life, find the path toward the future without breaking with the past.”28

26 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 11 – 12. 27 In his Lekach Tow from 1595, for example, Abraham Yagel compiled in accordance with the Christian model a doctrinal instruction composed of 39 questions of faith. To the topics for traditional school instruction belonged and belong the 13 Ikkarim of Maimonides, the 613 Mitzwot, the Ten Commandments, the 13 Middot as rules of interpretation, the 13 Avot Nezikin or main damages, the 39 forbidden activities on the Sabbath, and the Maaloth, the 48 steps of learning. 28 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 94.

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3.4 The Rabbi and Pastoral Care “In the larger communities, the modern spiritual caregiver is called upon to such an extent of which only few are aware”, Jacob wrote in 1910. “It would be in vain to protest against this as a mockery of Jewish character and as imitation of Christianity. With its hardships and dangers, modern life in our large cities imposes itself upon this profession in the manner of thousands of concerns on part of the communities members, concerns that are taken care of through the social welfare and charitable work of valiant laypersons, who have the heart and deftness for this work and whose activities are not enough praised. […] However, he can be represented all the less when it comes to the care of specific Jewish spiritual interests. Depending on the nature of his standpoint, from this the task and profession will arise and cause him to become a guidepost for his community with regards to all spiritual matters.”29 For Dienemann, it made little sense to determine whether Judaism has pastoral care in the Christian sense: It is not caring for the redemption of the soul in a theological colouring of this term that is found at the centre of Jewish spiritual guidance, but rather caring for the Jewish person in all spheres of his life. Thereby, one must act from the conviction that the matters of the soul and of the body are indissolubly linked to one another. […] Spiritual guidance in the Jewish sense means to help one come to terms with experiences and to process them in accordance with Judaisms objectives. With his work, this means to attempt to integrate the person into the Jewish view of life and goals, to keep him, in the midst of the tendencies of disintegration of the times, within the Jewish community, to lead him therewith to the bonds that protect him from the danger of becoming a rootless and redundant being, and to empower him to work for the whole of the state, the people, and thereby the world in a fruitful and reverential manner.30

Dienemanns appeal to the rabbis to forge bonds as spiritual guides and caregivers remains today. From this, the modern rabbis engagement in social welfare emerged. Baeck, as chairman of the Zentralwohlfahrtsstelle der deutschen Juden (Central Welfare Board of the German Jews), made clear that the institution of Jewish social welfare is closely linked to rabbinical leadership. The curriculum of the Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Higher College for the Science of Judaism) also reflected this develop29 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 12. 30 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 92.

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ment; for instance, Friedrich Ollendorf (1889 – 1951) taught classes in social welfare work. It was during the 1930s in Germany that the desire emerged to have specially trained and qualified rabbis to serve in various capacities involving spiritual care. Today, this need is met through the modern rabbinical trainings focus on providing for internships in hospitals, hospices, prisons, and the military. It is of interest that two of Dienemanns colleagues, writing three years later, in 1936, differentiated fundamentally between the needs and ideals of Jewish communities and those of Christian communities with regard to spiritual care: Manfred Erich Swarsensky (1906 – 1981) declared that the term originated from, and has its area of application in, Christianity: If a faith avouches the sole certitude of redemption, then all religious leadership must be aimed toward directing the souls of the believers to the correct path of faith. Cura animorum – pastoral care, is here the concern of the rector animorum, the pastoral caregiver. The distinctive feature of the Jewish religion requires that pastoral care in the Christian sense of the term does not possess legitimacy – its ideal is much more the person who subsumes his whole life under the revealed will of God, who hallows his life through obedience to the divine commandment. Under this obligation, “each individual soul in Israel” stands in direct responsibility before God. Religion is not only where there are priests who bestow the sacraments upon the people; the whole people are called to the priesthood: “You all shall be unto me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation!” The religious basic principle of the general priesthood of Israel precludes pastoral care in the Christian sense and the administration of such through caregivers, either ordained or as civil servants. If one would fill the term with Jewish content, then at the most one could say that there exists a “Seelsorge” in the sense of Jewish tradition based in the ethical and social responsibility of each for his neighbour. “You shall rebuke your neighbour, and not bear sin because of him” (Lev 19:17). Spiritual guidance is not the prerogative of individuals, but rather the obligation of all. The rabbi, of whom one may think first, is not a Seelsorger in the original sense of the word.31

Ulrich Steuer (1912 – 1973), a Heidelberg rabbi, stated the difference between Christian and Jewish Seelsorge similarly: “The link between rabbi and community differs fundamentally to that of the church. The Christian priest is mediator between the soul and God; the rabbi is leader with regard to divine teaching. Pastoral care is thus based in the Christian of31 Manfred Erich Swarsensky, “Der Großstadt-Rabbiner,” Der Morgen 12/2 (May 1936): 53.

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fice, whereas the rabbi draws all of his authority from his knowledge of divine teaching. In the correct cooperation of learning and praying, however, cooperation of life emerges between the community and the rabbi that leads one on the path to the rabbi as pastor (“Seelsorger”).”32 As early as the mid-19th century, the Christian surroundings viewed it as a matter of course that the community rabbis served as Seelsorger, and they were thus referred to as such. For example, in 1857, upon the occasion of Abraham Geigers 25th jubilee as rabbi, the Breslauer Zeitung wrote of the “strength and intimacy of the bond that joins together the community and its Seelsorger.”33 In light of widespread existential hardship, Swarsensky interpreted the function of Jewish Seelsorge to be a support for the lonely, disheartened, and helpless. His viewpoint was thus similar to that of Steuer. Even when the rabbi cannot create viable existences, cannot provide for certificates and affidavits, and does not control any funds or the supposed “good connections”, the opening of a single viable way that an individual must travel down himself is already a success. Such activities of spiritual care take up almost three-fourths of the rabbis tasks; in many regards, the activities seem to be as novel as the times in which they emerged. Out of this unique situation, Swarsensky drew fundamental conclusions: “Who knows, though, that where there is no bread, there is no Torah; on the other hand, man does not live from bread alone. Who knows that Judaism exists only when there are Jewish people to carry it and further its development, then he will not dispute this new type of Seelsorge its right to a home in Judaism; for the spiritual caregiver becomes again and anew a teacher, who alone by new means in a newly forming world seeks to aid the finite to ascend to the eternal, but who also tries to arrange in order everything in Judaisms eternal coherence of life and history.”34 As early as 1932, Robert Raphael Geis recognized that the increasing significance of the rabbi in the Jewish community resulted from the polarization in German society. In a posthumously published manuscript, he wrote: The role of the rabbi in the community has become again so all-embracing that one would be tempted to speak of a revival of a new Jewish unity which 32 Ulrich Steuer, “Der Jugendrabbiner,” Der Morgen 12/2 (May 1936): 63 – 64. 33 Cit. according to Geiger, Abraham Geiger: Leben und Lebenswerk, 155. 34 Swarsensky, “Der Großstadt-Rabbiner”, 57.

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disregards no area of life and is comprised of everything. We must not deceive ourselves. Here, as it is with so much, we have not to do with actual change, but rather with human distress and hopelessness. It lies not only in the hands of the rabbi; but, especially in light of the communities in Germany, it lies decisively in his hands whether a true community is formed from distress, whether a reconstruction of the old Jewish values emerges out of the flight toward the Jewish community.35

Ignaz Maybaum (1897 – 1976) is a further example of a rabbi who addressed the occupational role of the rabbi in the face of ostracism and persecution by the Nazis. In Parteibefreites Judentum: Lehrende Fhrung und priesterliche Gemeinschaft (“Party-Freed Judaism: Teaching Leadership and Priestly Community”), published in Berlin in 1935, Maybaum discussed the role of the rabbi as teacher and mediator of conflicts. In its introduction, he wrote that it “does not address a self-imposed problem. I have tried to contribute to the struggles in todays Judaism regarding the true Jewish community. In this sense, this book is, in itself, a piece of this spiritual struggle.”36

3.5 The Youth Rabbi In “Zeit ists, Bildung und kein Ende” (“Its Time, Education and No End”) and “Die Bauleute” (“The Construction Workers”),37 Franz Rosenzweig (1886 – 1929) developed his program of new Jewish learning for a new Jewish existence. His program does not rely on a set of finite knowledge, but instead on a method of asking questions. One of Rosenzweigs questions was: “As Christian Jews, national Jews, religious Jews, defensive Jews, sentimental Jews, piteous Jews, in short hyphenated Jews, as they emerged in the 19th century, how can Jews become Jews again without mortal danger for themselves and for Judaism?”38 35 Robert Raphael Geis, “Die Stellung des Rabbiners in der Gemeinde,” in Dietrich Goldschmidt, ed., Leiden an der Unerlçstheit der Welt: Robert Raphael Geis (1906 – 1972), Briefe, Reden, Aufstze (Mnchen: Kaiser, 1984), 41. 36 Cit. according to Friedrich Lotter, Rabbiner Ignaz Maybaum – Leben und Lehre: Die Grundlagen jdischer Diasporaexistenz (Berlin: Frank und Timme, 2010), 27. 37 See the English translations in Nahum N. Glatzer, ed., Franz Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning (New York: Schocken Books, 1955). 38 Franz Rosenzweig, Letter to Eugen Rosenstock (August 25, 1924), in idem, Briefe und Tagebcher (Den Haag: Martinus Nijhoff Verlag, 1976), no. 951.

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Richard Koch, a lecturer at the Lehrhaus (house of learning) in Frankfurt on the Main, described in 1923 the essential meaning behind his activities as follows: “When our historical suffering […] comes again, then we wish to know the cause for our suffering. We do not wish to die like animals but like human beings who know what is good and what is bad […]. That we are Jews, that we have faults and virtues, has been said by us and by others. The Lehrhaus should teach us why and wherefore we are as such.”39 Out of an oppositional movement to pure science and due to the encounter with the ideas of Buber and Rosenzweig, but also through Zionism, a new demand for Jewish community and identity developed. A result of this entailed the creation of youth organizations and youth rabbis during the Weimar Republic. Among others, Siegfried Klein (1882 – 1942) in Dsseldorf, Max Grnewald (1899 – 1992) in Mannheim, Emil Schorsch (1889 – 1982) in Hanover, Alfred Philipp (1904 – 1970) in Elberfeld, Ludwig Jakob Mehler (1907 – 1945) and Heinrich Lemle (1909 – 1978) in Frankfurt on the Main, Selig S. Auerbach (1906 – 1990) in Wrzburg, and Robert Rafael Geis (1906 – 1972) in Munich served as youth rabbis. Geis, for example, received his first position as a liberal youth rabbi in Munich only one month after his ordination in 1932. One of his students, Harry Maor (1914 – 1982), in 1973 remembered Geis as a charismatic teacher, whose religious study classes, in which topics such as Zionism, atheism, and socialism were discussed, were “religion” itself for the participating youth.40 Steuer wrote of this new development and the office of the youth rabbi in a short yet pivotal essay in 1936, “Der Jugendrabbiner” (“The Youth Rabbi”): The parents home, the school, and the [youth] association are those communities wherein the young Jew grows up. In them, he learns how to live in community; there he also learns how difficult it can be to live in community. The youth rabbi, whose activities make him familiar with all types of this community life, can facilitate the path into the community for the young Jew. Above all, the young Jewish persons bring their own religious doubts to the rabbi. […] When frictions emerge during ones encounter with the teachings and the law, the youth rabbi can be sought out for advice. One can often be helped through long personal talks. 39 Richard Koch, “Das Freie Jdische Lehrhaus in Frankfurt am Main,” Der Jude 7/2 (1923): 119. 40 Cf. Harry Maor, “Wie ich Robert Raphael Geis kennenlernte,” in Goldschmidt, Leiden an der Unerlçstheit der Welt, 35 – 37.

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Steuer concludes, “The Jewish, the religious experience of our youth is once again bound to community. For them, the shaping of Jewish life means the shaping of the life of their community. Here, the youth rabbi should decisively engage himself. In doing so, the paths to the individual souls in, and through, the community will be always opened for him anew in a legitimately Jewish way.”41 Steuer wrote his article during the increasing exclusion of the Jews due to the rise of German National Socialism. The issue of Der Morgen in which the article was published in May 1936 had as its topic “Seelsorge – heute” (“Spiritual Care – Today”). Two further contributions, “Der Großstadt-Rabbiner” (“The Urban Rabbi”) and “Die Menschen und das Gesetz” (“The People and the Law”), were written by rabbis Erich Swarsensky (1906 – 1981) and Max Eschelbacher (1880 – 1964), respectively. Another innovation was the office that Rabbi Max Wiener (1882 – 1950) took on in Berlin towards the end of the 1920s: student chaplain at the University of Berlin, a position that remains unique even today. In his essay in Der Morgen, “Der Rabbiner als geistlicher Fhrer” (“The Rabbi as a Spiritual Leader”), Wiener wrote in 1933, “If we limit ourselves to spiritual work in the narrow scope, then it emerges that the student community possesses a more widely differentiated scope than the general community. The differences amongst the manifold possible standpoints that result from youthful vitality and theoretical acumen appear to cause significant obstacles to the unified community.”42 In 1933, Wiener had to relinquish his activities as student chaplain. It is interesting in this regard that the Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums in Berlin had neither a seminary rabbi nor a university synagogue, nor even a prayer room; the students visited Berlins community synagogues instead.43 The existential hardship and distress in the 1930s created a new type of rabbi, of which only scant note is made, the social rabbi. In a 1935 an41 Ulrich Steuer, “Der Jugendrabbiner,” Der Morgen 12/2 (May 1936): 63 – 66. A portrayal of the Mannheim youth community had been published ten years prior, in Max Grnewald, “Zur Errichtung der Jugendgemeinde,” Die Jugendgemeinde: Beilage zum Israelitischen Gemeindeblatt Mannheim (February 25, 1926): 1. 42 Max Wiener, “Der Rabbiner als geistlicher Fhrer,” Der Morgen 9/2 (June 1933): 107. 43 Cf. Irene Kaufmann, Die Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums (1872 – 1942) (Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 2006), 22.

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nouncement in the Ludwigshafen Bayerische Israelitische Gemeindezeitung, it reads: “In heartfelt words of reciprocation, District Rabbi Dr. Steckelmacher expressed his gratitude for being able to serve in the largest community of the district for 25 years and discussed in an impressive talk his duties in the Ludwigshafen community, preacher, teacher, and social worker type rabbi.” Alfred Jospe notes in 1957 that “German Jewry has never had a fully developed professional variant that could be called a rabbi concerned with the social welfare. But, there was at least the seedbed of a possible development in this direction.”44 In the German-speaking world today, one is again thinking about the deployment of youth rabbis. In Berlin, a representative of the Chasidic movement in Orthodox Judaism, Chabad-Lubavitch, temporarily held this position within the Jewish community; the Israelitische Kultusgemeinde in Vienna advertised for a similar position in 2008.

3.6 The Rabbi as Scholar At the outset of the 19th century, the traditional tasks of the rabbi, such as leading the house of learning, lost importance, and Jews were granted general access to universities. Rabbis turned more and more toward scholarly research of Judaism. As a rule, these activities took place outside of the university, where the science of Judaism was not a relevant subject matter until the 1960s. Dienemann portrayed these developments: Here, a modern, beautiful task emerged for todays rabbis. Surely, others have collaborated on these efforts, but it could have been the rabbis alone who, in addition to the obligatory tasks of their office, had to take on a task, which concerned otherwise whole faculties with staffs of researchers. On the whole, the profession of the rabbi experienced a broadening of outlook and a heightening of scholarship reaching in scope all of cultural life. This called the rabbi notably toward the leadership of German Jewry. Thereby, he has been lifted from the sphere of the clerical into that of the intellectual and practical, and thus he has been placed in the whole abundance of life […].45

44 Jospe, “A Profession in Transition”, 56. 45 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 94 – 95.

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It went practically without saying that a rabbi had also received a doctorate; the common form of address “Herr Doktor” was a matter of course.46 For Altmann, the German rabbi was “not only preacher, teacher, Seelsorger, as could be expected, but he was also chairman of the local branch (Ortsgruppe) of the nation-wide Akademischer Verein fr jdische Geschichte und Literatur (Academic Association for Jewish History and Literature) in most communities.”47 Not every rabbi was, and is, called to serve as teacher. As Jospe stated in 1974, “Educational theory remained a stepchild in the training of a rabbi, perhaps on the assumption that the acquisition of Jewish knowledge automatically guaranteed that a rabbi also had the capacity to communicate his knowledge effectively.”48 At the time, rabbis were also not trained to serve as counsellors or Seelsorger, nor were they instructed in how to be successful organizers and administrators.

4. Rabbinical Education and the Call for a Jewish-Theological Faculty For Jospe, the fact that, at the outset of the 20th century, the rabbi understood himself more and more as an academic scholar and a representative of the Science of Judaism was the result of the involuntary transformation of rabbinical seminaries into the Jewish academic equivalents of Christian theological faculties. Jospe saw the reason for this in the failed attempts on part of the Jewish community to establish chairs or institutes for Jewish theology at German universities or to obtain the right to confer doctorates for existing seminaries. “Notwithstanding differences in emphasis and approach, the seminaries were meant to function primarily as Jewish academic equivalents of university departments of theology (Theologische Fakultten), as a result of the failure of the Jewish community to persuade the German university to establish chairs or departments of Jewish theology or to secure authorization for the seminaries to grant academic degrees.”49 46 Cf. Felix Rosenthal, “Was war, was ist und was soll der Rabbiner sein?” Vortrag, gehalten auf der vierten ordentlichen Generalversammlung des Rabbiner-Verbandes in Deutschland am 7. Juni 1911 in Berlin. 47 Altmann, “The German Rabbi”, 44. 48 Jospe, “A Profession in Transition”, 53. 49 Ibid., 54.

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In 1830, Geiger called for the establishment of a Jewish theological faculty: “if a Jewish seminar were established at a university where exegesis, homiletics, and even Talmud and Jewish history were taught in true religious spirit, then this would be the most fruitful and instructive institution!”50 Six years later, he argued, “The only means […] through which Jewish theology would be afforded a specific and thriving fostering so that it could truthfully claim its standing as a science, through which a beneficial influence on life would be provided, and through which we would receive dignified and sufficiently equipped theologians, with the true calling, insight, and true strength for life – would be establishment of an institution specifically and wholly designed for Jewish theology and the teachings thereof, the founding of a Jewish theological faculty at a university.”51 Shortly thereafter, Philippson directed an “appeal toward all Israelites of Germany to subscriptions for the founding of a Jewish faculty and a Jewish seminar for Germany.”52 Abraham Geiger had just recently become a community rabbi in Berlin when in 1870 the statutes and the call for the first curatorium of the future Berlin institute of higher learning with regard to its funding were sent to him with the request for him to provide expert testimony concerning the necessary and desirable academic fields. In response, Geiger developed a detailed curriculum. His comments preceding his plan included the following: “In order to preserve the academic character of the institute of higher learning and to sufficiently equip the students with the necessary knowledge which would be less accrued through classes and more through the instruction on part of the teachers and preparation and practice on part of the students, the institute must be divided into two departments, in faculty and seminary; they would be linked together, but each would have its specific tasks, of which the former would include the classes taught by the teachers and the latter instruction and self-productive practice.” Geiger additionally published an explanatory report, in which he declared: 50 Abraham Geiger, Tagebuch 1824 – 1832, in Ludwig Geiger, ed., Abraham Geigers Nachgelassene Schriften, vol. V (Berlin: L. Gerschel, 1878), 27. 51 Abraham Geiger, “Die Grndung einer jdisch-theologischen Facultt, ein dringendes Bedrfnis unserer Zeit,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitung fr jdische Theologie 2/1 (1836): 1 – 21, here 16. 52 Ludwig Philippson, “Aufforderung an alle Israeliten Deutschlands,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 88 (1837): 349 – 351.

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Even though it can be conceded that the name of such an institution is less important than the matter in itself, the name thereof is yet more closely embodied by its purpose; therefore, a precision thereof should be necessary, and it appears most appropriate that it be denoted as a Jewish theological faculty. The name expresses at first the chasm expressly manifest in the general state-sponsored academic institutions with respect to Judaism; whereas Christianitys various confessions have theological faculties at the centre of the sciences, the universities, Judaism lacks such provisions. We demand not that the state awards Judaism the same legitimacy, so that such institutions are established for it. Such demands are, nonetheless, valid; we wish for our religious development without influence on part of the state. Although it may be a privilegium odiosum joyous to us because of the possible claim of legitimacy, we do not wish to relegate our development. To be sure, we wish to self-dependently close the present gap through the establishment of a Jewish theological faculty, which, just as the Christian faculties, are part of the central sites of scholarly movement, are carried by their universal scientific character, and remain closely linked to the whole current of the sciences. With this, the direction and the curriculum of the institution are outlined. It is fertile ground for the sciences not content with the dressing of its attendees for practical and official demands; it is not a seminary, it cultivates and teaches Jewish theology in the extent of its disciplines and in accordance with the condition already achieved by scholarly knowledge and for this it is called to achieve in the future.53

Geiger points out that neither rabbinical education nor the training of Jewish teachers were regulated by the state in Prussia, although regional exemptions existed due to the expansion of Prussian territory in 1867. Geiger also notes that the state financed the Protestant and Roman Catholic teachers seminars and university theological faculties. This asymmetry remains to this day. Demands for a Jewish theological faculty did not resonate, even after the founding of the Second German “Reich”, not in the least due to the opposition of the Protestant Church. Christian Wiese has portrayed this struggle between Protestant university theology and representatives of the science of Judaism during the Wilhelmine period.54 Jacob stated in 1910 with regards to a draft of a law concerning the constitution of the Jewish religious community in Prussia, “Were the draft to have the veritably great strokes which we unfortunately find lack53 Cit. in Geiger, Abraham Geiger: Leben und Lebenswerk, 220. 54 Christian Wiese, Wissenschaft des Judentums und protestantische Theologie im wilhelminischen Deutschland. Ein Schrei ins Leere? (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999). See the English translation: Challenging Colonial Discourse: Jewish Studies and Protestant Theology in Wilhelmine Germany (Leiden et al.: Brill, 2005).

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ing, it would have thought, for instance, about how the Jewish theological institutions of teaching could be transformed into true faculties, equal to the others in rank, rights, and the validity of their degrees.”55 In 1933, Dienemann took stock: “The state has yielded the education of the rabbi to the Jewish community of faith; it has established a Jewish theological faculty at no university. Thus, institutions had to be founded to prepare those who aim to dedicate themselves to this profession. To maintain the external requisites akin to those of the Christian clergy, which, among other reasons, had proven to be necessary with regard to the outward symbolization of the equal status of the Jewish religious community, these institutions required graduation from high school and, further, even though they themselves had the character of institutes of higher learning and their curricula was that of a German institute of higher learning, they required simultaneous studies at a German university.” He made clear that the three theological institutes in Breslau and Berlin not only provided for general instruction in religious studies belonging to scholarly theology in Germany, but also for instruction in those areas specifically linked to Jewish theology, Jewish history, Jewish philosophy of religion, and exegesis of the Bible and the Talmud, including the respective commentators and poskim. He wrote: In accordance with the centuries-old tradition, the introduction to such areas, which make possible the practice of the judicial office, plays a main role. In more recent times, in response to increased need, lectures and course regarding pedagogy and social sciences were added to the education. According to the aforementioned tradition, ordination occurs not through completion of final exams, something that the whole faculty determines, but rather through those who provide instruction in the Talmudic fields alone. He, who himself must be an ordained rabbi, ordains the younger and confers onto him the hattarat horaah, the permission for the rabbinical function, the right to hold rabbinical office.56

Here, the right of the liberal majority of community rabbis to hold rabbinical office was repeatedly questioned on part of the Orthodox minority, in protests with regard to the 1912 regulations for liberal Judaism, for example.57 Against such polemics, the board of the liberal Vereinigung liberaler Rabbiner Deutschlands (Association of Liberal Rabbis of Germany) declared, “No one has the right to deny a rabbi who has been 55 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 15. 56 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 88 – 89. 57 Cf., for example, “Zum liberalen Schulchan-Aruch,” Der Israelit, October 31, 1912, 4.

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duly authorized and called to serve by a community his authority to make religious decisions per se. One can try to scientifically refute such decisions, but one cannot reject them by means of a claim to power.”58

5. The Rabbi and the Board of His Community The statutory subordination of the rabbinical office to the instances of the community turned the rabbi in Prussia into a civil servant without substantial self-responsibility. The yielding of this power possibly began as early as 1820, as the banker Ruben Samuel Gumpertz (1769 – 1851), then one of Berlins communitys elders, made clear to the state authorities that the rabbi – after relinquishment of all judicial authority – was no more than a “guardian of the kosher” and thus did not compare to Christian clergy. Gumpertz described the role of the rabbi: [I]n the community in which they were honoured with their trust and for which they were called to serve, their activities are now limited to deciding upon matters of ceremonial law, to judging on permissible and impermissible foodstuffs, to informing the butchers of the laws pertaining to butchering, to inspecting that which belongs to such, and to issuing certificates regarding the outcome of such inspections. Hence, in the most important areas, the functions of the rabbi differ completely from those of the Christian clergy. For the rabbi does not circumcise; his attendance of weddings is not required; he does not keep church registers; he preaches only upon exception; he does not administer religious instruction; he does not take care of the schools; he does not comfort the dying; in short, he is nothing more than a man, to whom the Jewish community trusts to be versed in the holy texts and the laws, and of whom one asks for advice or about decisions concerning matters of conscience and everything one deems it necessary. Because the rabbi does not yet submit himself to any examination of his knowledge by the state, nor is appointed to his position by the authority of the latter, this only has validity to the extent that one wants to recognize him through trust in his knowledge of the law. With good reason and fittingly, one could currently call the rabbi a […] guardian of the kosher, for their functions refer primarily to decisions regarding permissible and impermissible foodstuffs […].59

58 “Erklrung der liberalen Rabbiner,” Liberales Judentum. Monatsschrift fr die religiçsen Interessen des Judentums 4/12 (December 1912): 270. 59 Cit. according to Wilhelm Freund et al., eds., Zur Judenfrage in Deutschland vom Standpunkte des Rechts und der Gewissensfreiheit (Berlin: Veit und Comp., 1843), 214 – 216.

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With the Prussian Law on the Jews of 23rd July 1847, which in its first section awarded to the Jews “in addition to equal duties, equal civil rights in comparison to Christian subjects”, the Jewish communities were granted public corporation status and placed under the auspices of the state. In this law, which remained in effect into the 1930s, there was no mention of the rabbi; contact persons for the state were the community boards, not their religious civil servants. Exceptions were made in 1867 for the new Prussian provinces Hanover and Hesse-Nassau. In other German states, however, for instance in Bavaria, Wrttemberg, and Baden, the rabbis were granted a much more advantageous position within the representatives of the community. For example, the Munich rabbi Cossmann Werner (1854 – 1918) was able to declare in 1911 with regard to the legal situation in Bavaria: “I come from the country, where lemons bloom […], where everything that the rabbis in Prussia rightly seek has been fulfilled already many years prior.”60 In 1897, the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums became a forum for the problems pertaining to the “more than precarious and thus unsustainable position of the rabbi in Prussia.” The occasion for this was a decision by the Prussian higher administrative court, which determined that rabbis were not seen as clergy in the sense of the law.61 For Benno Jacob, the new Prussian Schuldeputationsgesetz (School Deputation Law) of 1906 was the first legal and political instance that recognized rabbis as representatives of Judaism. In 1910, he thus asks the following: Is it not undignified that men who have completed their studies just as well as every higher civil servant have to work their whole lives for less salary than a primary school teacher or a clerk, that they also must live their lives in continual fear of dismissal and destitution, that they must see themselves as being provided neither for their own old age nor for the surviving members of their family, and that, for all of this, they, in their freedom and autonomy in function, are not even remunerated through legally-authorized bodies in their communities, something that is regrettably often due to their financial incapacity, without having all of their activities continually questioned!62 60 Verhandlungen und Beschlsse der Generalversammlung des Rabbiner-Verbandes in Deutschland zu Berlin am 7. und 8. Juli 1911 (Breslau, 1911), 66. 61 “Die Stellung der Rabbiner,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 61/7 (February 12, 1897); “Zur Rabbiner-Frage,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 61/10 (March 5, 1897). 62 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 11 – 12.

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Jacob thus called for passage of the bill proposed by the DeutschIsraelitischer Gemeindebund (Union of German Jewish Congregations): “The respective paragraphs would thus read: the rabbi is member of the board. In the meetings of the community representatives, he holds a seat and a vote. – changes in cultus, rites, and religious instruction of the community shall only be made in consensus between the institutions of the community and the rabbi. Can such consensus not be achieved the previous regulations retain their validity.”63 Jacobs demands were not fulfilled. Twenty years later, Dienemann described the legal status of the rabbi in Germany: The rabbi is elected by the community; no Jewish central authority exists that has the right to force a rabbi onto, or to place a rabbi in, a community. In some German federal states, specific regulations exist with regard to his educational qualifications. The election requires confirmation on part of the responsible governmental authorities. The terms of the appointment are agreed upon by the community and rabbi. The lifelong appointment, obligatory only in some German states, is becoming more the rule. Also, where the law is not determinative, the communities apply as a rule the provisions set by the civil service ordinances. The rabbi has no higher spiritual authority: he is thus bound neither to a specific doctrine nor to a formulated avowal. He is free in his teachings and practices.64

In 1930, Dienemann argued that the constitutions of the communities in Prussia made the rabbis in no way chairmen of the communities boards. Nor did they make him members thereof. In Wrttemberg, however, the community rabbi was chairman of the board, and in Baden he headed its meetings; that is prior to the separation of church and state provisions passed during the Weimar Republic. “In the last decade, it has been increasingly asserted that the rabbi participates in the meetings of the board”, Dienemann, who had served for over two decades as the secretary of the Allgemeine Deutsche Rabbinerverband, declared. Like Jacob in 1910, Dienemann determined that the rabbi had neither legally binding influence on the communitys administration nor even on the synagogues statutes and the formulation of the cultus: “He can, from a pure legal perspective, not hinder the community in its changing of the cultus; he cannot force his wishes upon it.”65 Jacobs words from over a century ago remain valid: 63 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 24. 64 Dienemann, “Der Rabbiner”, 95 – 96. 65 Ibid., 96.

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According to the actual makeup of things, todays rabbi is thus seen as the true religious head of the community. In exchange, he is seen as such from all who have no interest in making him appear like a horsetail when it serves their interests, to invert the nature of things. He is seen as such by the people, Jewish or Christian, by the public authorities, and by the government. He who wishes to be taught about Judaism, to submit himself to its determinations, to have it represented in a personal representation, he does not turn to the “community representation,” whose members, when they are known to him, are and will remain always only the Jewish merchants or attorneys X, Y, Z, but instead and as a matter of course, he turns to the rabbi, as in Christianity the minister, the superintendent, or the bishop.66

6. The Rabbi and the Community “The fate of the rabbi is his community, and the fortune of a community is its rabbi. It is a community of destiny, for both, rabbi and community, stand on the same ground, next to one another, not subordinately or superordinately, rather interleaved and responsible for each other”, Baeck said upon the inauguration of a younger colleague in 1928.67 With this, he drew a connection between the daily political struggles in the communities and more fundamental visions and ideals similar to those that had been formulated by Geiger in 1838. Baeck remarked: Our religion, as it should be realized in our communities, does not know the difference between the spiritual leader and the layperson; it does not confer onto anyone a higher position in Gods house. Steps lead up to the pulpit, but they do not lead to a position over and above the community. The rabbi stands neither over the community nor next to it, but rather in it. It is the ideal of our religion that – to speak with the prophets – the whole community consists of religious scholars; the community is, in a manner of speaking, a community of rabbis. This is the ideal. But, until these promised, these paradisiacal days come, it is requisite – here, as in other situations as well, that that what all should be and achieve, has its particular office. And, in this creation of professions lies thus a problem.

With regard to the possible problematic cases outlined by Baeck, the rabbi could elevate himself over the community as a purported religious representative, or the community could argue that caring for the religion is fulfilled by the rabbi in its midst. Instead, Baeck called for a harmo66 Jacob, Die Stellung des Rabbiners, 12. 67 Leo Baeck, Ansprache zur Feier der Amtseinfhrung des Herrn Rabbiners Dr. Benno Italiener im Israelitischen Tempel zu Hamburg am 8. Januar 1928.

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nious togetherness between community and rabbi, especially for liberal synagogues: “We have never wanted to be complete men with complete answers. Especially in the century behind us, in which our community was led out of an old narrowness into a new broadness, this commandment of searching has become a task. And, in this history of this searching, liberalism has […] a special place.” He concluded, “It is more difficult, much more difficult to be a rabbi in a liberal community than it is to be a rabbi in a conservative-tending one. It is much more difficult, for searching is often much more difficult than peaceful adherence. Questioning through history and from the historical is often more difficult than answering from historical possession and from the consciousness of possession.” Despite the struggles for leadership between rabbis and the community boards as the societal representative body, the two groups collaborated constructively again and again. For example, in the 1920s, the three-volume work inspired by Baecks and Rosenzweigs ideas, The Teachings of Judaism, From the Sources, was published by the Verband der deutschen Juden. 68 Therein, the prolific German intellectual Jews composed a comprehensive and systematic view of Jewish thought: the foundations of Jewish ethics, the moral obligations of the individual and the community, the teachings of God, and the relations between Judaism and the Christian churches. One of the contributors was the attorney Felix Makower (1863 – 1933) who, in 1911, had criticized the German rabbis and Jacob because of their arguments that the justice and commerce councils had spiritual leadership in the communities and that the rabbi should limit his activities to the synagogue. Shortly thereafter, Rabbi Salomon Samuel (1867 – 1942) responded to this criticism.69 It is also noteworthy that in the 1920s the first signs of an interreligious dialogue emerged; involved in this dialogue was Baeck, who in the conferences at “Graf Kayserlings Schule der Weisheit” (School of Wisdom) was repeatedly called on to provide Jewish answers to questions posed to the participants.70 68 Cf. Walter Homolka, ed., Die Lehren des Judentums nach den Quellen. Faksimile der Ausgabe Leipzig (Leipzig: Gustav Engel, 1928 – 30), mit einer Einfhrung und einem Vorwort des Herausgebers, einem Vorwort und einem Epilog von Walter Jacob sowie einem Vorwort von Tovia Ben-Chorin (Mnchen: Knesebeck, 1999). 69 Felix Makower, “Die Stellung der Rabbiner,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 75/6 (February 10, 1911): 67 – 69; Salomon Samuel, “Wir Rabbiner,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 75/10 (March 10, 1911): 114 – 116. 70 Max Dienemann, “Leo Baeck,” Der Morgen 9/2 (June 1933): 97 – 98.

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7. On the Neutrality of the Rabbi In 1914, in response to the 24th meeting of the Central Conference of American Rabbis in Atlantic City, during which voting rights for women were endorsed, Ludwig Geiger (1848 – 1919) determined, “In my humble opinion, this resolution goes well beyond what we consider to be acceptable regarding what rabbis can say and pass in their meetings. It appears to me to be of no good that spiritual leaders rise and speak as such with regard to internal political matters.”71 Geigers position differed greatly from that of the American Reform rabbis, whose theology of social justice began with David Einhorn (1809 – 1879) and continued with Joachim Prinz (1902 – 1988) and Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907 – 1972). Sometimes, the demands for neutrality had peculiar consequences. For example, the Allgemeine Rabbinerverband in Deutschland forbade discussions on Halakhic questions in its advisory bodies in order to appear religiously neutral.72 This search for compromise has, though, nothing to do with Baecks famous sentence, “Neutrality is a basis of the free.”73 Indeed, Baeck did take a firm stand on a manifold of issues: “A human being, a living human being is never neutral […]. No human being who has a heart and who carries a conscience in him can ever be neutral.” Neutrality did not mean that human beings “should relinquish something of their own character, of their own convictions, even something of their own temperament.” In this 1926 lecture on Keren Hajessod, the Palestine foundation organization, Baeck explained what he meant by the concept of neutrality as a basis of the free. Regarding the work of Keren Hajessod, he stated, “The people work together on the duties of the day. Neither an avowal of faith, nor a renunciation thereof is expected of those who join this circle of common activity. One remains in his world, but steps in this case together with his world into a world of practical work, a world of usefulness, which binds him to others, which brings him to stand with others. It is this that we call neutral.”74 71 Ludwig Geiger, “Die XXIV: Versammlung amerikanischer Rabbiner,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 78/25 (June 19, 1914): 289. 72 Cf. Caesar Seligmann, Erinnerungen (Frankfurt am Main: Kramer, 1975), 137. 73 Cf. Daniele Eisenstein, “Neutralitt ist ein Boden der Freien,” in Georg Heuberger and Fritz Backhaus, eds., Leo Baeck 1873 – 1956: Aus dem Stamme von Rabbinern (Frankfurt am Main: Jdischer Verlag im Suhrkamp Verlag, 2001), 71 – 76. 74 Leo Baeck, “Das Palstinawerk. Vortrag auf einer Kundgebung Deutscher Juden im ehemaligen Herrenhaus zu Berlin am 4. Mrz 1926,” in Michael A.

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As Rabbi Max Grnewald wrote in 1957 about the “modern rabbi”, this occurred in retrospect to developments that were abruptly ended due to the Shoah: “The modern rabbi”, he wrote, “one of the more representative features of Central European Jewry, appears on the scene rather late. Not until the years following the First World War were all those features assembled which allow us to deal with them as a specific entity. The modern rabbis appearance, therefore, was brief.”75 In the meantime, we have experienced that Jewish life in Germany has, once again, a meaningful future. Thus, rabbinical education also has a future in Germany. The problems that the discussions raised at the outset of the 20th century regarding the duties and position of the rabbi in the community remain as topical as they were then, especially regarding the development of models for community life for coming generations of Jews in Germany and beyond. In that it sets the concept of the person after whom this institution is named into the present day, the Abraham Geiger College at the University of Potsdam can today say with self-confidence, “We train rabbis for Europe.”

Meyer, ed., Leo Baeck Werke, vol. 6 (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 2006), 464 – 465. 75 Max Grnewald, “The Modern Rabbi,” in Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 2 (1957): 85.

List of Contributors Bonfil, Robert, Rabbi Prof. Dr. Formerly Acting Chief Rabbi of the Jewish Community of Milan. Professor Emeritus of Jewish History at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem. Publications (ao.): Rabbis and Jewish Communities in Renaissance Italy, 1990; Jewish Life in Renaissance Italy, 1994; Tra due mondi. Cultura ebraica e cultura cristiana nel Medioevo, 1996; History and Folklore in a Medieval Jewish Chronicle – The Family Chronicle of Ahimaaz ben Paltiel, 2009; Cultural Change Among the Jews of Early Modern Italy, 2010. Deeg, Alexander, Prof. Dr. Chair for Practical Theology at the University of Leipzig, Director of the Lutheran Liturgical Institute at the University of Leipzig, protestant pastor. Publications (ao.): Das ußere Wort und seine liturgische Gestalt, 2012. Dirscherl, Erwin, Prof. Dr. Chair in Dogmatic Theology in the Faculty of Catholic Theology at the University of Regensburg. Publications (ao.): Die Bedeutung der Nhe Gottes. Ein Gesprch mit Karl Rahner und Emmanuel Levinas, 1996; Grundriss theologischer Anthropologie. Die Entschiedenheit des Menschen angesichts des Anderen, 2006. Firestone, Reuven, Rabbi Prof. Dr. Professor of Medieval Judaism and Islam at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, Los Angeles, and Senior Fellow of the Center for Religion and Civic Culture at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Publications (ao.): The Evolution of the Abraham-Ishmael Legends in Islamic Exegesis, 1990; Jihad: The Origin of Holy War in Islam, 1999; Introduction to Judaism for Muslims, 2001; Introduction to Islam for Jews, 2008; Holy War in Judaism, 2012. Fçrst, Johannes, PD Dr. Assistant at the Chair of Pastoral Theology, University of Regensburg; primary areas of interest are the current developments of Christianity and pastoral practice. Publications (ao.): Empirische Religionsforschung

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List of Contributors

und die Frage nach Gott. Eine theologische Methodologie der Rezeption religionsbezogener Daten, 2010. Hauptman, Judith, Rabbi Prof. Dr. E. Billi Ivry Professor of Talmud and Rabbinic Culture at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City. Publications (ao.): Rereading the Rabbis: A Womans Voice, 1998. Primary areas of interest: the history of the evolution of the text of the Talmud, the inter-relationship of rabbinic corpora, the Mishnah and Tosefta in particular, and the status of women in Jewish law. Rabbi and founder of Ohel Ayalah, an outreach project to young, unaffiliated Jews. Herms, Eilert, Prof. Dr. Professor Emeritus for Systematic Theology at the Protestant Faculty of the Eberhard Karls University Tbingen. Primary areas of interest: Luther, Schleiermacher, Fundamental Theology, Ecclesiology, Ecumenical Movement, Ethics. Publications (ao.): Kirche – Geschçpf und Werkzeug des Evangeliums, 2011; Kirche in der Gesellschaft, 2011. Hoffman, Lawrence A., Rabbi Prof. Dr. Barbara and Stephen Friedman Professor of Liturgy, Worship and Ritual, Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, New York. Publications (ao.): Canonization of the Synagogue Service, 1979; Land of Israel: Jewish Perspectives, 1986; Beyond the Text: a Holistic Approach to Liturgy, 1987; Two Liturgical Traditions, (ed.), six vols., 1991 – 1999; Covenant of Blood: Circumcision and Gender in Rabbinic Judaism, 1995; Rethinking Synagogues: A New Vocabulary for Congregational Life, 2006; Minhag Ami: My Peoples Prayer Book, (ed.), ten vols. 1997 – 2007; Sacred Strategies: Transforming Synagogues from Functional to Visionary, 2010; One Hundred Great Jewish Books, 2011; Prayers of Awe, (ed.), three vols. to date. Homolka, Walter, Rabbi Prof. Dr. PhD (Kings College London), DHL (Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, New York), Rector of the Abraham Geiger College at the University of Potsdam and Professor of Jewish Studies. Chairman of the Leo Baeck Foundation and chairman of the Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Scholarship Foundation. Publications (ao.): Das Jdische Eherecht, 2009; How to Do Good and Avoid Evil – A Global Ethic from the Sources of

List of Contributors

357

Judaism, (with Hans Kng) 2009; Jesus von Nazareth im Spiegel jdischer Forschung, 2009. Kampmann, Jrgen, Prof. Dr. Professor of Church Order and Newer Church History at Protestant Faculty of Eberhard-Karls-University Tbingen. Publications on German Regional Protestant Church History during 19th and 20th century and on matters of the development of Presbyterial-Synodal Church Constitution. Marx, Dalia, Rabbi Prof. Dr. Professor for Liturgy and Midrash at the Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, Jerusalem; involved in various research groups, active in promoting Liberal Judaism in Israel and engaged in creating new liturgies and Midrashim. Marx writes for academic and popular journals and publications. Nicklas, Tobias, Prof. Dr. Professor of New Testament at Faculty of Catholic Theology, University of Regensburg. Research Associate at the University of the Free State, South Africa. Primary Research Interests: Christian Apocrypha, Reception History of the Bible, Early Judaism, Jewish-Christian Dialogue. Saperstein, Marc, Rabbi Prof. Dr. Professor of Jewish History and Homiletics, Leo Baeck College, London; Professor of Jewish Studies, Kings College London. Publications (ao.): Jewish Preaching 1200 – 1800, 1989; Your Voice Like a Rams Horn. Themes and Texts in Traditional Jewish Preaching, 1996; Exile in Amsterdam: Saul Levi Morteiras Sermons to a Congregation of “New Jews”, 2005; Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 1800 – 2001, 2007. Schçttler, Heinz-Gnther, Prof. Dr. Professor of Pastoral Theology, University of Regensburg; member of the Gesprchskreis Christen und Juden (Christian-Jewish Discussion Group) at the Zentralkomitee der deutschen Katholiken (Central Committee of German Catholics) and Ephraim-Veitel-Lecturer for homiletics at Abraham Geiger College, Potsdam. Publications (ao.): Christliche Predigt und Altes Testament. Versuch einer homiletischen Kriteriologie, 2001; Der Leser begreife! Vom Umgang mit der Fiktionalitt biblischer Texte, 2006.

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Stockhausen, Annette von, Dr. Assistant at the Chair of Early Christianity, Friedrich-Alexander-University Erlangen-Nrnberg; primary areas of interest are 4th-century Christianity and the literature of the Church Fathers. Wagner-Rau, Ulrike, Prof. Dr. Professor of Practical Theology at the Philipps-University, Marburg. Member of the German Socity of Pastoral Psychology. Publications (ao.): Segensraum. Kasualpraxis in der Moderne, 2nd ed. 2009; Auf der Schwelle. Das Pfarramt im Prozess kirchlichen Wandels, 2nd ed. 2012. Wilke, Carsten L., Prof. Dr. Associate Professor of Jewish Thought and Culture at Central European University of Budapest, where he is affiliated to the History and Medieval Studies Departments. Primary areas of interest: Jewish-Christian relations, medieval Jewish mysticism, Iberian crypto-Judaism and 19th century religious modernization. Publications (ao.): Den Talmud und den Kant: Rabbinerausbildung an der Schwelle zur Moderne, 2003; Die Rabbiner der Emanzipationszeit in den deutschen, polnischen und großpolnischen Lndern, 2 vols. 2004; Histoire des juifs portugais, 2007; The Marrakesh Dialogues: a Gospel Critique and Jewish Apology from the Spanish Renaissance, forthcoming.

Index of Abbreviations Encyclopedias, Journals, Periodicals, Major Reference Works, and Series AAS

Acta Apostolicae Sedis, Palazzo Apostolico, eds., (Citt del Vaticano: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1909– ). BSLK Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche, Deutscher Evangelischer Kirchenausschuss, ed., 7th ed., (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1976), 10th ed., (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010). DNP Der Neue Pauly. Enzyklopdie der Antike, Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider, eds. (Stuttgart: Metzeler, 1996– ). DtPfrBl Deutsches Pfarrerblatt, Verband evangelischer Pfarrerinnen und Pfarrer in Deutschland e.V., eds., (Schifferstadt: 1897– ). EvErz Der Evangelische Erzieher (since 1997: Zeitschrift fr Praktische Theologie. Der Evangelische Erzieher) (Frankfurt/Main: Diesterweg, 1948– ). GuL Geist und Leben. Zeitschrift fr christliche Spiritualitt, Deutsche Provinz der Jesuiten, eds., (Wrzburg: Echter Verlag, 1947– ). IJPT International Journal of Practical Theology, Wilhelm Grb, Elaine Graham and James Nieman, eds., (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997– ). JbAC Jahrbuch fr Antike und Christentum (Mnster: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1958– ) JZWL Jdische Zeitschrift fr Wissenschaft und Leben, Abraham Geiger, ed., (Breslau: Schlettersche Buchhandlung, 1862–1875). LThK Lexikon fr Theologie und Kirche, Josef Hçfer and Karl Rahner, eds., (Freiburg: Herder, 1957–1968). MGWJ Monatsschrift fr Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums (Breslau: Verlag der Schletterschen Buchhandlung, 1851–1939). PTh Pastoraltheologie. Monatsschrift fr Wissenschaft und Praxis in Kirche und Gesellschaft, Anna Christ-Friedrich, Eberhard Hauschildt, Ralph Kunz, Lutz Friedrichs, Ulf Liedke, Martin Nicol, Harry Oelke, Ulrich Schwab and Ulrike Wagner-Rau, eds., (Gçttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1955– ).

360 RAC RGG2

RGG4

TRE WA ZGP ZNW

Index of Abbreviations

Reallexikon fr Antike und Christentum (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann Verlag, 1950– ) Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart. Handbuch fr Theologie und Religionswissenschaft, Hermann Gunkel and Leopold Zscharnack, eds., 2nd ed. (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1927–1931). Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart. Handbuch fr Theologie und Religionswissenschaft, Hans Dieter Betz, Don. S. Browning, Bernd Janowski and Eberhard Jngel, eds., 4th ed. (Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998–2007). Theologische Realenzyklopdie, Gerhard Krause and Gerhard Mller, eds., (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1977–2004). Martin Luther, Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 120 vols. (Weimar 1883–2009). Zeitschrift fr Gottesdienst und Predigt (Gtersloh: Gtersloher Verlagshaus, 1982– ) Zeitschrift fr die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der lteren Kirche, Michael Wolter, ed. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1900– )

Index of Names

˘

Abaye 15 Abbahu 20 Abbott, Andrew D. 147 Abraham 231 Abrams, Philip 136 Abu¯ al-Darda¯ 262 Abu-Ras, Wahiba 269, 271 f. Adam 259 Adda bar Ahavah 12 Adler, Hermann 125 Agnellus of Ravenna 47 f. Aha Ruba 4 Ahai 19 f. Ahearne-Kroll, Stephen P. 29 Ahme, Michael 166, 177 Al-Aswad al- Ansı¯ 259 Albeck, Hanoch 6, 21 Alberigo, Giuseppe 290 Alexander of Jerusalem 296 Alı¯ 263 f., 274 Ali, Osman 271 Allen, Pauline 41, 49 Altmann, Alexander 111 f., 318, 332, 344 Amalek 116, 122 Ambrosiuse (Ambrosius) 80 Ammi 11 Andrade, Nathanael 49 Andronicus 35 Aner, Karl 170 Apphia 36 Aquila 34 Archippos 36 Ariadne 57 Ariel-Joel, David 235 Ari s, Philippe 58 Armbruster, Klemens 29 Aron, Isa 155 Asad, Talal 132 Asenath Barzani 220

Ashi 13 f., 19 – 21 Assmann, Jan 313 Atticus 297 Auerbach, Selig S. 341 Augustine (Augustinus) 80, 186, 282 Averroes 61

˘

˘

Backhaus, Fritz 353 Baeck, Leo 109, 225, 328 f., 331, 337, 351 – 353 Bagby, Ihsan 268 f. Baggini, Julian 131 Bagnall, Roger S. 42 Bailey, Edward 131 Bakhtin, Mikhail 222 Balz, Michael 267 Bamberger, Seligmann Br 101 Barnabas 35 Barniske, Tobias X Baron, Salo W. 116 – 120 Barth, Karl 307 Barth, Peter 168 Bassin, Sarah 272 Bauman, Mark K. 121 Baumert, Norbert 37 Becker, Eve-Marie 27 Beinert, Wolfgang 250 Beintker, Michael 166, 177 Bekkum, Wout J. van 94 Ben He He 315 Ben-Horin, Meir 312, 321 f. Bendix, Reinhard 155 Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger) 195 f., 253 f., 292 Berger, Peter 130, 132, 135, 243 Berghammer, Caroline 212 Berkowitz, Henry 124 Berkowitz, Jay 121 Bernays, Isaac 93 Bertsch, Ludwig 297

362

Index of Names

˘

Bethge, Eberhard 247 Bettan, Israel 140 Bhabha, Homi K. 305 Bieler, Andrea 318 Bing, Abraham 93, 97 Bird, Ilana 235 Blackwell, Elisabeth 223 Blum, Robert 118 Bochinger, Christoph 243 Bçckler, Annette 315 f. Bohak, Gideon 10, 15 Bonfil, Robert 61, 64, 84 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 247 Bonifaz IX 75 Bradshaw, Paul F. 41 Brakelmann, Gnter 171 Brmer, Andreas 86, 90, 92, 98 – 100 Brandmller, Walter 297 Brandon, David R. 113 Brandt, Reinhard 182 Brann, Markus 98 Braun, Theodore E. D. 113 Brecht, Martin 167 Breuer, Mordechai 100, 106, 314 Brinner, William 265 Brocke, Michael 86, 328 Brox, Norbert 286 Bruce, Steve 131 – 133, 145, 148 f., 153 Brckner, Wolfgang 78 Bruckstein, Almut Sh. 315 Buber, Martin 308, 324, 341 Bugenhagen, Johannes 68 f. Bukhari, Muhammad Isma¯ ı¯l 260 ˙ 4 f. Bun bar Hiyya Burck, Russell 147 Burckhardt, Jacob 58 Butler Bass, Diana 155 Bycel, Lee 129, 139 Camenisch, Paul F. 147 Campbell, David E. 132, 148, 154 Campenhausen, Hans von 164, 277, 281 Cantoni, Lelio 91 Carlebach, Joseph 314, 328 Carlebach, Julius 88, 101 f., 106, 305, 314, 328

Carr-Saunders, A. M. 145 Casanova, Jos 149 Celsus 297 Chadwick, Henry 41 Chaves, Mark 154 Cheetham, Graham 146 Chenu, Marie-Dominique 295 Chivers, Geoff 146 Chlo 32 Christo, Gus George 49 Clar, Reva 223 Claußen, Carsten 24 Clemenceau, Georges 126 Cohen, Mary M. 220 – 222, 235 Cohen, Naomi 123 f. Cohen, Steven M. 152, 155 Cohn-Sherbok, Dan 311 f. Collins, Randall 147 Conze, Werner 278 Coolidge, Calvin 127 Cooper, Kate 112 Cordes, Paul J. 189 Corr , Alan D. 123 Cottingham, John 131 Coughlin 142 Cournos, Francine 269 Cracco Ruggini, Lellia 41 Cranach, Lucas (the younger) 68 f., 71, 75 Cronbach, Abraham 140, 142 f. Cruziger, Caspar 69 Dschler-Seiler, Siegfried 89 Dassmann, Ernst 41, 52, 277, 286, 288, 291, 294 Dawkins, Richard 150 de Sola, David Aaron 114 f. Deborah 220 Deeg, Alexander IX, 9, 222, 304 f., 311, 322, 324, 335 Defiem, Matthew 132 Del Bianco Cotrozzi, Maddalena 92 Deliyannis, Deborah Mauskopf 47 Demetrios of Alexandria 296 f. Demonner, Sonya 271 Dernburg, Joseph 330 Deutero-Isaiah 27 Diefenbach, Johann Georg 95

Index of Names

Dienemann, Max 328, 331, 333 – 338, 343, 347, 350, 352 Dingwall, Robert 136 f., 147 Dirscherl, Erwin 293 Doblhammer, Gabriele 212 Dohmen, Christoph 293 Donaldson, James 43 – 46 Dçrries, Hermann 49 Drees, Willem B. 267 Drehsen, Volker 309 f. Drews, Paul 67, 81, 169 Dreyfus, A. Stanley 312 Dumont, Louis 55 – 57 Dunner, Jozef Hirsch 104 Durkheim, mile 57, 130, 134 – 138 Eagleton, Terry 131 Eber, Paul 68 Ebner, Martin 23, 28, 33, 35 Edel 220 Edelman-Green, Judith 235 Eilberg, Amy 227 Einhorn, David 122 f., 353 Eisendraht, Maurice N. 320 Eisenhower, Dwight D. 143, 148 Eisenstein, Daniele 353 Elad-Appelbaum, Tamar 236 Eleazar 4 Eleazar Azikri 5 Elias 50 Eliav, Mordechai 93, 101 Elijah 1 f. Elijah ben Solomon 87 Elisha 1 f., 10 Eliyahu, Mordechai Tzemach 236 Ellenson, David H. 101 f., 129, 139 Elm, Kaspar 282 Engemann, Wilfried 207, 308 Epp, Eldon Jay 35 Eschelbacher, Max 342 Eskenazi, Tamara 232 Esther 222 Euchel, Isaak 91 Euelpis 296 Euodia 32 Eusebius of Caesarea 296 f. Fa¯tima 263 f. ˙

363

Falk, Marcia 231 Fallert, Matthias 191, 196, 198 Feigenson, Emily H. 230 Feiner, Shmuel 91 Feldman, Egal 123 Ferguson, Wallace K. 58 Fetters, Michael 271 Firestone, Reuven IX Fishman, Sylvia Barack 230, 234 Flacius Illyricus, Matthias 69 Flavian 49 Foerster, Erich 169 Formstecher, Salomon 116 Fçrst, Johannes 252 Fosdick, Harry Emerson 143 Fraenckel, Jonas 98 f. Francis Joseph 104 Frank, Johannes CS 327 Frank, Ray 223 Frankel, Zacharias 98 – 100, 102 f., 109 Franzblau, Abraham 140 – 143 Franzmann, Manuel 241 Frazer, Jenni 122 Freehof, Solomon B. 125 Frerichs, Jacob 204 Freund, Ismar 85 Freund, Wilhelm 334, 348 Frey, Jçrg 27 Friedlnder, Michael 104 Friedrich II 169 f. Friedrich Wilhelm I 169 Friedson, Eliot 147 Friesenhausen, David 91 Frishman, Elyse 232 Fritsch, Stefan 304 Frizzell, Lawrence E. 317 Froehle, Bryan T. 268 Fuchs, Ottmar 197, 200 f. Fuchs-Kreimer, Nancy 324 Gabriel, Karl 283 Gamaliel 317 Gantner, Brigitta E. 101 Geaves, Ron 267 Geerlings, Wilhelm 286 Geertz, Clifford 133

364

Index of Names

Geiger, Abraham 95 f., 100, 103, 108 f., 259, 329 f., 332, 339, 345 f., 351 Geiger, Ludwig 329 f., 339, 345 f., 353 Geis, Robert Raphael 339 – 341 Geller, Laura 228 – 230, 233 f. Geoffroy, Eric 259 George, Lloyd 126 Georgi, Matthias 113 Geppert, Alexander C. T. 323 Gerber, Jçrg 280 Gerth, H. H. 147 Gheith, Ali 269 Gielen, Marlis 33 – 35 Gildemeister, Regine 211 Gilliot, Claude 262 Gillis-Carlebach, Miryam 106 Gittelsohn, Roland 128 Glatzer, Nahum N. 86, 340 Goertz, Harald 165 Goeters, Johann F. Gerhard 174 Gold, Rosalind A. 312 Goldberg, Nahman Abraham 85 Goldberg, Renee 220 Golden, Constance A. 312 Goldenson, Samuel 127 Goldschmidt, Dietrich 340 f. Goldstein, Elyse 227, 230 – 232, 234 f., 238 Goldstein, Julius 327 Goldstein, Moritz 116 Goode, William 145 Gordon, Noah 319 Gotzmann, Andreas 86, 90 Graetz, Heinrich 85, 99 Graf, Friedrich Wilhelm 319 f. Graham, Billy 148 Graser, Johann Baptist 95 Grasmck, Ernst Ludwig 280 Greenberg, Blu 231 Greenwood, Ernest 145 f. Gregory, Jeremy 112 Gregory of Nazianzu 49 Greshake, Gisbert 191 f., 197, 199, 281 Grethlein, Christian 204, 207, 307 f. Grillmeyer, Aloys 289 Gronemann, Sammy 319

Grçzinger, Albrecht 209, 216, 313 f. Gruber, Eberhard 305 Grnewald, Max 341 f., 354 Guardini, Romano 245 Gumbrecht, Hans-Ulrich 323 Gumpertz, Ruben Samuel 86, 318, 348 Habermas, Jrgen 57, 243, 247 Haddad, Yvonne Yazbeck 267 f. Hfner, Gerd 34 Halbertal, Moshe 239 Hama 18 Haman 117 Hamburger, Jakob 100 Haneef, Suzanne 259 Hanina 12 Hanina b. Dosa 2 Hanina of Sepphoris 7 Hanson, Richard P. C. 41 Hrle, Wilfried 203 Harper, Douglas 257 Harris, Ben 227 Harris, Sam 150 Hartman, Donniel 239 Harun Behr, Harry 306 Hashem, Mazen 268, 270 Hasselhoff, Gçrge K. 94 Hauff, Adelheid M. von 32 Huptli, Bruno 296 Hauschild, Wolf-Dieter 41 H bert, Robert F. 149 Heckel, Martin 168 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 57 f., 112 Heidegger, Martin 157 Heinrich, Franz 193 Heisler, Michele 271 Heitmann, Ludwig 331 Hellemans, Staf 243 Hellwitz, Lazarus 94 Henning, Christian 251 Hentschel, Anni 32, 35 Herbert, Petrus 72 Herder, Johann Gottfried 173 Hermelink, Jan 176, 204, 307 Herms, Eilert 157, 160, 164 f., 176 f., 181

Index of Names

Herrmann, Klaus 222 Heschel, Abraham Joshua 325, 353 Heschel, Susannah 220 Heuberger, Georg 353 Heyl, Andreas von 309 Hezser, Catherine 8, 314 Hilberath, Bernd Jochen 186, 199, 254, 289, 295 Hildesheimer, Esriel 101 – 103, 105 Hillmann, Karl-Heinz 249 Hinrichs, Carl 169 Hinzpeter, Georg Ernst 171 Hirsch, Emanuel 171 Hirsch, Emil G. 124 Hirsch, Myron A. 124 Hirsch, Samson Raphael 101 Hirsch Corman, Debra X Hiscott, William 327 Hitchens, Christopher 151 Hitler, Adolf 105, 142 Hiyya bar Abba 6 – 8 Hiyya Ruba 4 f. Hobson, Laura 142 f. Hoffman, Lawrence A. 152, 155 Hoffmann, Christhard 105 Hoffmann, Paul 23, 280 Holder-Egger, Oswald 47 Holloway, Paul A. 29 Hollweg, Arnd 175 Holmberg, Bengt 28 Homolka, Walter X, 96, 222, 352 Honi Hameagel 2 Hoover, Herbert 127 Hoping, Helmut 186, 290 Hoppe, Rudolf 23, 25, 28, 33, 36 Huart, Cl ment 260, 263 Hbner, Sabine 41 Hu¯d 259 Hffmeier, Wilhelm 159 Hughes, Everett 137 f., 145 f. Huldah 220 Huna 14, 18, 20 Huna brei dR. Joshua 17 f. Hundert, Gershon D. 84 Hnermann, Peter 186, 254, 289 f., 295 Hurwitz, Sara 227

365

Iannaconne, Lawrence 149 Iggers, Wilma Abeles 119 Ignatius of Antiochia 286 f. Ingram, Robert G. 113 Irenaeus of Lyon 26 Isaac 232 Isaacs, Samuel Myer 122 Isserles, Moses 83 Jacob, Benno 327, 332 – 337, 346 f., 349 – 352 Jacob, Walter 127, 333 Jacob 232, 322 Jacobson, Israel 139 James 325 James, William 150, 154 Janet, Richard J. 113 Jeremiah 27 Jesus 2, 27, 29 f., 37 f., 43, 70, 80, 159 f., 162, 185, 187, 189 – 191, 195 f., 199 f., 202, 259, 277, 281, 287 f., 290 f., 321 Jewett, Robert 32, 34 Joas, Hans 241 John 23 John Chrysostom 49 f., 52 John Paul II 186, 279, 288, 290, 300 John (the son of Zebedee) 23 John XXIII (Johannes XXIII) 254 Johnson, Terence 147 Jonas, Justus 69 Jonas, Regina 225 f. Jonassen, Rico 212 Jones, Linda G. 260, 266 Joseph, Samuel 144 Joshua b. Levi 12 f., 15, 19 f. Jospe, Alfred 331 f., 343 f. Josuttis, Manfred 209, 308 – 310 Judah 13 f., 17 Judah Hanasi 12 f. Judah Nesia 7 Junia 35 Justin Martyr 296 Justinianus 47 Kalin, Berkley 121 Kalmin, Richard 21 Kmpf, Saul Isaac 118 f.

366

Index of Names

Kampmann, Jrgen 172 Kant, Immanuel 112 Karff, Samuel E. 139 Karl V. 73, 76 Karle, Isolde 210, 308, 310 f. Karrer, Martin 36 Kasper, Walter 186, 193, 196 f. Katz, Jacob 86 Kaufmann, Irene 103, 342 Kavalar, Vigdor W. 125 Kayserling, Meyer 88 Kehl, Medard 280 Kelhoffer, James A. 29 Kelman, Ari Y. 155 Kelman, Naama 227, 235 f. Kemelman, Harry 319 Kessler, Michael 280 Keynes, John Maynard 126 f. Kieval, Hillel 119 Killawi, Amal 271 King, Martin Luther 128 King, Michael D. 137 Kingdon, Robert M. 168 Kirschner, Robert 317 Klaiber, Peter 242 Klapheck, Elisa 225 Klauck, Hans-Joseph 33 Klein, Ernest 257 Klein, Siegfried 341 Kleinberg, Darren 123 Klessmann, Michael 212, 309 Klie, Thomas 212 Kluckhohn, Clyde 55 Knoblauch, Hubert 209, 249, 251 Knuth, Hans Christian 180 Knutsson, Karl Eric 59 Kober, Adolf 117 f. Koch, Dietrich-Alex 35, 37, 40 Koch, Richard 341 Koch Ellenson, Jacqueline 230, 234, 238 Kochanowicz, Jerzy 189 Kçhl, Georg 284 Koningsveld, Pieter Sjoerd van 267 Korn, Bertram 122 Kçrtner, Ulrich H. J. 322 Kçssler, Till 323 Kramer, William M. 223

Kramm, Thomas 41 Krauskopf, Joseph 126 f. Kravitz, Leonard 314 Krochmalnik, Daniel 306, 308, 316 Kroeber, Alfred Louis 55 Kbler-Ross, Elisabeth 144 Kuhlemann, Frank-Michael 90 Kuhn, Thomas 56 Kujawa, Martin X Kumlehn, Martina 212 Kunz, Ralph 212 Laird, Lance 271 Landesmann, Peter 104 Lange, Ernst 206 – 208, 214 f. Lansen, Katherine L. 260 Larson, Magali S. 147 Lasogga, Mareile 177 Lassalle, Ferdinand 125 Lauterbach, Jacob Z. 224 Lawrence, Frederick 57 Laya 4, 11 Leah 231 Lederer, Henry D. 143 Leeser, Isaac 114, 121 f. Lefebvre, Marcel FranÅois Marie Joseph 190 Lehmann, Joseph 98 Lehmann, Karl 193, 297 Leibovich, Maya 236 Leibowitz, Yeshayahu 316 Lemle, Heinrich 341 Lenz, Karsten 251 Leo X 71 Leppin, Volker 168 Levi, Harry 127 Levi-Strauss, Claude 55 f. Levinthal, Helen 225 Levitsky, Louis M. 312 Levy, J. Leonard 124 f. Levy 257 Liebman, Joshua Loth 143 Lietaert Peerbolte, Bert Jan 26 Lincoln, Abraham 122 Link, Christoph 168, 170 Lisitsa, Alona 235 f. Listl, Joseph 190 Loeb ben Betsalel of Prague 87

Index of Names

Lotter, Friedrich 340 Lçw, Leopold 119 f. Lçw, Martina 211 Lowin, Shari 259 Luckmann, Thomas 242 Ldke, Friedrich Germanus 170 Luhmann, Niklas 216, 245 f. Luke 35 Lurie, Louis A. 141 f. Luther, Henning 206, 217 Luther, Martin 69, 71, 73 – 75, 80, 163 f., 167, 192, 212, 307, 323, 325 Luxenberg, Christoph 259 Luzzatto Voghera, Gadi 92 Lyotard, Jean-FranÅois 305 Macdonald, Keith M. 147 Magida, Arthur J. 231, 234 Magistretti, Franca 290 Maimon, Juda-Loeb 88 Maimonides, Moses 61 – 63, 96, 336 Makower, Felix 352 Malingrey, Anne-Marie 50 Mana 6 – 8 Mandela, Nelson 235 Mannheimer, Isak Noa 115 f., 118, 120 Maor, Harry 341 Mar 19 Mar Zutra 19, 21 Marcus, David 6 Marcus, Jacob Rader 83, 305 Marder, Janet 229, 233 Margulies, Samuel Hirsch 104 Markner, Reinhard 94 Marks, David Woolf 115 – 117 Markschies, Christoph 35, 286 Martin, David 130 Marty, Martin E. 150 Marx, Dalia S. 231 Marx, Karl 125, 130 Marx-Sapunar, Shira 237 Mary 34 Marzuk, Peter 271 Masters, Robert Augustus 300 Matanyah 4 Matera, Frank J. 30 Matthew 325

367

Maximianus of Ravenna 47 f., 52 Maybaum, Ignaz 340 Mayer, Wendy 41, 49, 53 McAuliffe, Jane Dammen 259 McCann, Dennis P. 147 McKinley, William 124 Meacham, Jon 148 Mead, George Herbert 57 Mehler, Ludwig Jakob 341 Meier, Hans-Christoph 29 Melanchthon, Philipp 68 f., 80 Meldola, David 120 Meletios 49 Melville, Gert 282 Menenius Agrippa 38 Merz, Annette 32 f. Meszler, Joseph B. 235 Metzger, Bruce Manning 43 Meyer, David J. 127 Meyer, Dietrich 72 Meyer, Michael A. 83, 89, 102, 115, 354 Meyer-Blanck, Michael 210 Meyers, Eleanor 147 Miller, Michael Lawrence 117 f. Mills, C. Wright 147 Mills, Donald L. 145 f. Miltesin, Glen 271 Miriam 34 Mirsky, Norman 234 f. Moeller, Bernd 49 Mçller, Bernd 244 Mçller, Christian 309 Montor, Rey 224 Moore Jr., James P. 148 Morais, Sabato 120, 123, 129 Morgan, John H. 269, 271 f. Morin, Germain 282 Morris, Robert John 113 Moses 50, 62, 120, 319, 323 Mosse, Werner E. 89 Mount, Christopher N. 29 Muhammad 259 – 261, 263 f., 266, ˙274 Mhl, Matthias 29 Mhlsteiger, Johannes 42 Mulia, Christian 215 Mller, Anne 282

368

Index of Names

Mller, Christoph G. 34 Mller, Gerhard Ludwig 192, 194, 252 Mller, Hubert 190 f., 196 f. Mller, Klaus 297 Musaylima b. Habı¯b 259 ˙ Nadell, Pamela S. 107, 220 f., 223 f., 230 Nahman 15 Nancy, Jean-Luc 325 Nasr, Seyyed Hossein 264 Nasr, Seyyed Vali Reza 264 Nassehi, Armin 209 Nehorai 7 Nelson, Kristina 265 Neon 296 Ner-David, Haviva 227 Nestler, Erich 251 Neubrger, Jakob Immanuel 100 Neumark, Martha 223 f. Neuner, Josef 75 Neuner, Peter 278 Newby, Gordon 265 Nicklas, Tobias 27, 291 Nicolai, Friedrich 169 Niesel, Wilhelm 168 Nieto, Isaac 112 f. Nissa 8 Noegel, Scott 259 Noethlich, Karl Leo 41 Nympha 34 Ocal, Mustafa 267 Oexle, Otto Gerhard 278 Ohst, Martin 172 f. Olbrisch, Gabriele 89 Olitzky, Kerry M. 314 Ollendorf, Friedrich 338 Onesimus 28 Origen 296 f. Ottensoser, David 90 Padela, Aasim 271 Pappa 17 f. Parkin, Frank 147 Parmer, Daniel 234 Parsons, Talcott 136 – 138, 147

Pasterczyk, Piotr 189 Patai, Raphael 117, 120 Paucker, Arnold 89 Paul (Paulus) 24 f., 27 – 39, 160, 249, 286 f., 322 Paulinus 297 Paul VI 252 Peale, Norman Vincent 143 Peck, Abraham J. 305 Pedersen, Johannes 260, 265 Penslar, Derek 118 Perl, Paul M. 268 Persis 34 Peter (Petrus) 23, 194 Peters, Richard Stanley 58 Petuchowski, Jakob J. 242 Philemon 28, 36 Philipp, Alfred 69, 341 Philippson, Ludwig 96, 332, 345 Philippson, Phçbus 97 f. Phoebe (Phçbe) 32 – 34, 36 Pickel, Gert 215 Pilhofer, Peter 27 Pinsk, Johannes 328 Pius X 190, 282 Pius XII 188 Platt, Gerald M. 138 Plaut, Gunther W. 111 Pohl-Patalong, Uta 204, 214 Pçhlmann, Horst Georg 74 Pollack, Detlef 241 Portnoy, Mindy Avra 226 Powers, David 261 Predel, Gregor 281 Prestel, Claudia 89 Priesand, Sally 226 Printz, Irit 234 Prinz, Joachim 353 Prisca 34 Rabban Gamaliel 2, 14 Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai 314 Rabinowitz, Louis 127 Rachel 231 Radner, John B. 113 Rahner, Karl 75, 187 Rapp, Claudia 42, 53 Rashi 18

Index of Names

Ratzinger, Joseph see Benedict XVI Rava bar Shmuel 17 f. Ravina 13 f. Raz, Mira 235 Rebecca 231 Rebillard, ric 41 Reeber, Michel 268 Reeves, John C. 259 Reynolds, Gabriel Said 259 Ritter, Werner H. 314 Robert, Gnther 211 Roberts, Alexander 43 – 46 Rogge, Joachim 174 Roitto, Rikard 28 Roloff, Jrgen 24 Roos, Heinrich 75 Roseman, Kentor 226 Rosenmann, Moses 117 f. Rosenzweig, Franz 308, 324, 340 f., 352 Rowen Baker, Chaya 219 Rubin, Miri 260 Rudavsky, Tamar M. 228 Ruderman, David B. 84 Ruhbach, Gerhard 49 Rrup, Reinhard 89 Saak, Erich 282 Sabbath Beit Halachmi, Rachel 239 Sachar, Howard M. 84 Sachs, Michael 95, 118 Sadan, Galia 235, 237 Saja¯h 259 Sa¯lih˙ 259 ˙ ˙ Sammet, Kornelia 215 Samson 126 Samuel, Salomon 352 Samuel 10 Sander, Hans-Joachim 295 Sander, Stefan 200 Sandnes, Karl O. 27 Saperstein, Marc 112, 120 – 123, 128 Sarah 231 Sarna, Jonathan 222 Sasso, Sandy Eisenberg 226 Sassoon, Taffy 219 Schad, Margit 95 Schaff, Philip 50 – 52

369

Scheible, Heinz 68 Scheinbok Welber, Yocheved (Eunice) 219 Schian, Martin 205, 207 Schifferle, Alois 242 Schindler, Alfred 168 Schlamelcher, Jens 176 Schleiermacher, Friedrich Daniel Ernst 94, 112, 173, 204 Schloz, Rdiger 176, 206, 215 Schmaus, Michael 201 f. Schmeller, Thomas 23, 25, 33, 35 Schmelz, Georg 41 Schmitz, Heribert 190 Schmuhl, Hans-Walter 90 Schnelle, Udo 34 Schçllgen, Georg 52, 286 Schorsch, Emil 341 Schorsch, Ismar 89, 96, 318 Schçttler, Heinz-Gnther X, 222, 281, 283 Schrage, Wolfgang 31 Schreiber, Stefan 28, 32 Schreiner, Johann 80 Schrçder, Bernd 306, 308, 316 Schroeder, Tilman M. 172 Schrçer, Heninng 175 Schubert, Ferdinand 95 Schwab, Lçw 117, 119 Schwabacher, Heimann 90 Schwartz, Daniel R. 105 Schwarz, Adolf 104 Schwarzfuchs, Simon 88 f., 314, 318 Schwier, Helmut 204, 207 Sciulli, David 137, 147 Scornaienchi, Lorenzo 30 Seligmann, Caesar 353 Semmler, Johann Salomo 172 f. Shammai 16, 316 Shapiro, Marc B. 106 Shapiro, Rami 314 Shapiro-Rieser, Rhonda 233 Shaw, George Bernard 147 Sheridan, Sybil 226 Shi, Wenhua 31 Shimon 317 Shmuel bar Halafta 12 Shmuel bar Nahman 15

370

Index of Names

Shmuel bar Nahmani 14 – 16 Shmuel bar R. Yizhaq 6 Silverman, William B. 127 Simon, Rita J. 230 Sloterdijk, Peter 249 Smith, Al 127 Smith, Gerald L. K. 142 Sobotka, Heide 333 Sçding, Thomas 29, 31, 35, 39 Sokoloff, Michael 12 Soloveitchik, Joseph B. 325 Sorkin, David 84 Sotinel, Claire 41 Spalatin, Georg 69 Spalding, Johann Joachim 173 Spencer, Herbert 134, 136 f. Sperling, Tanya 228, 233 Spielberg, Bernhard 300 f. Spitzer, Carl Heinrich 118 Spitzer, Shlomo 101 Stark, Rodney 149 Starr, Paul 147 Steinwachs, Albrecht 68 Stemberger, Gnter 315 Stephanas 32 Stessin, Valerie 227 Steuer, Ulrich 338 f., 341 f. Stoecker, Adolf 171 Stollberg, Dietrich 309 Stone, Carol S. 268 Stow, Kenneth R. 84 Strauss, Herbert A. 102 Strder, Christof W. 38 Sulze, Emil 205 Sussman, Lance J. 83 Swarsensky, Manfred Erich 338 f., 342 Swedberg, Richard 134 Syntyche 32 Szold, Henrietta 223 Sztokman, Elana Maryles 238 Ta-Shma, Israel 16 Tahlifa 15 Tauber 119 Taylor, Charles 150, 152, 243 Taylor, Zachary 114 Temkin, Sefton D. 122

Tertullian 278 Theobald, Michael 280 f., 286 – 288 Theodorus 297 Theoktistos of Caesarea Maritima 296 f. Thielitz, Kathie 108 Thomas 61 Thomas Aquinas 191 Tiefensee, Eberhard 215 Timothy 28 Tiwald, Markus 25, 33, 35 Tloka, Jutta 49 Tollison, Robert D. 149 Trautmann-Waller, C line 96 Treiger, Alina 227 Tr nel, Isaac 104 Trigano, Shmuel 61 Trofimov, Dmitri 267 Tryphaena 34 Tryphosa 34 Tulayha b. Khuwaylid 259 ˙ ˙ Victor 132 f. Turner, Uckeley, Alfred 174 Ullmann, Salomon 92 Ulrich, Hans G. 325 Urbanus 34 Vecey, George 226 Veltri, Giuseppe 94 Verheyden, Joseph 27 Villa, Diana 235 Virgil 61 Vogel, Manuel 30 f. Vçlker, Hermann 103 Vollmer, Howard M. 145 f. Wagener, Ulrike 40 Wagner-Rau, Ulrike 212, 217, 308 Walden, Zvia 238 Walter, Matthias 38 Walter, Peter 280, 286 Walther, Rudolf 278 Watt, Jan G. van der 26 Weber, Klaus 309 Weber, Max 129 f., 134, 136 – 138, 146 f., 154 f., 241 Weczerka, Hugo 103

Index of Names

Wegenast, Klaus 175 Weger, Karl-Heinz 75 Wegner, Gerd 176 Weinberg, Yehiel Yaakov 106 Weiss, Andrea 232 Weiss, Avraham 227 Welch, Alfred 265 Wendebourg, Dorothea 182 Wensinck, Arent Jan 259, 266 Wentker, Sybille 242 Wenzel, Knut 186 Werbick, Jrgen 283, 292 f. Werner, Cossmann 349 Wertheimer, Jack 129 Wessely, Naftali Hirz 93, 109 Wessely, Wolfgang 96 Weyl, Meyer Simon 86, 92 Wheeler, Brannon 259 Wick, Peter 35 f. Wiener, Max 328, 342 Wiese, Christian 94, 96, 346 Wilke, Carsten L. 89 f., 92 – 94, 96 – 98, 100, 104 f., 328 f. Williamson, Philip 112 Wilson, Woodrow 126 Wind, James P. 147 Winkler, Eberhard 308 Winnige, Mikael 28 Winter, Jakob 88 Wipszycka, Ewa 42 Wischmeyer, Oda 30 Wise, Isaac Mayer (Isaac Meir) 105, 122, 129, 139, 224 Wise, Stephen S. 125 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 324

371

Wolf, Friedrich August 94 Wolff, Abraham 93 Wolffe, John 112 Wolter, Michael 26, 31, 40 Wucherpfennig, Ansgar 23 Wnsche, August 88 Wuthnow, Robert 152 Yaakov Gerosa 14 Yagel, Abraham 336 Yannai 7 Yasa 4 Yassa 6 Yedidya, Assaf 102 Yirmiyah 3 f., 12, 20 Yizhaq 15 Yizhaq bar R. Hiyya Ketubah 6 Yizhaq bar Shmuel bar Martha 19 Yohanan 12 Yohanan b. Zaccai 2 Yonah 12 f. Yosef 14 f. Yosi b. Yosi 9 Yosi bar Halafta 9 Yosi bei R. Abun 12 Yudan 6 Zahniser, A. H. Mathias 259 Zamfir, Korinna 27, 40 Zeira 6 – 8, 14 – 16 Zeller, Reinmar 80 Zucker, David J. 230, 233 Zulehner, Paul M. 250 f. Zunz, Leopold 86, 93 f., 96, 111, 118, 139, 329

Index of Subjects Abraham Geiger College IX, 108, 227, 354, 356 f. – academic rabbinical education 90, 94 f., 103, 108, 330 acculturation 83 – 85, 97, 101, 109 f., 317, 319 administration 35, 49 f., 53, 75, 137, 140 f., 171, 310, 317, 338, 350 anthropology 55, 57, 59, 84, 131, 202, 217, 242, 248, 253 f. Antiquity 41 – 53, 56, 87, 140, 147, 279, 289, 292 f., 295, 335 – apostolic succession 197 ascetic 49 f., 201, 265 assimilation 77, 84, 89 bet midrash 93, 101 body of Christ 38, 40, 170, 191, 195, 249, 278, 280, 286 Breslau seminary 90, 99 f., 103 f. caliphate 261, 263 f., 274 calling 27, 124, 129 f., 134, 136 – 138, 146, 155, 162 f., 165 f., 172 f., 178, 183, 189, 211, 224, 290, 315, 345 Calvinist 158 cantor 53, 151, 321 Catechismus Romanus 244, 281 f. Catholic 9, 47, 91, 118, 127, 131, 133, 142, 149, 165, 168, 188, 198, 202, 215, 241, 244, 249 f., 273, 277 – 301, 307, 323, 328, 346, 355, 357 celebration – celebrate the Eucharist 195 celibacy 53, 68, 75 f., 201, 307 Civil Rights 116 f., 121, 349 Claremont School of Theology 273 communication 6, 21, 157, 169, 176, 186, 203 – 208, 210, 213 f., 216 f.,

245 – 247, 253, 299, 307, 309, 321, 323 – self-communication 186 – 188, 199 communion 30, 78, 159 – 167, 171, 173, 176 – 182, 185 – 188, 190 f., 194 – 197, 199, 201, 214, 316 – intercommunion 217 community – community boards 349, 352 – community leaders 222, 271 Confessio Augustana 73, 78, 161, 163, 214, 320 confessionalization 244 confirmation 163, 192, 222 congregation 33, 43 f., 48, 50, 53, 74 f., 80, 101, 111, 115 f., 119, 121, 123 – 125, 127 f., 140, 142, 153 – 155, 163 – 169, 171 f., 175 f., 178 – 183, 186, 192 – 197, 199, 222 f., 225, 228 f., 233, 236 f., 250 – 252, 267, 269 f., 272 f., 277, 279 f., 283 – 288, 291, 294, 296, 298, 300, 309 f., 312 – 314, 317 f., 320 f., 324, 326, 350, 357 – congregational workers 193 consensus 95, 157 f., 166 – 168, 170, 172 – 178, 192, 350 conservative 92, 100, 105, 109, 123, 132, 143, 149, 153, 226, 228, 231, 234, 236 f., 242, 251, 305, 318, 352 – Conservative Movement 107, 223, 226 f. Counseling IX, 141 – 144, 182, 205, 270 f. Creatura verbi 160, 307, 320 demographic 152, 211 f., 333 demons 14 – 16, 22 derashah 111, 335

374

Index of Subjects

devotion 1 f., 5, 21, 80, 111, 171, 179, 232, 315 f. diaconia 187 dialogue 23, 49 f., 185 f., 206 – 208, 215, 217, 272, 303 – 3326, 352, 357 f. doctrine 46, 67, 70, 74, 78, 80, 111, 125, 158, 170, 172 f., 175 – 178, 187, 190, 193 f., 196, 200, 203, 276, 278, 291, 295, 300, 313, 336, 350 Ecclesia de mysterio 279, 288, 298, 300 ecclesiastical 23, 25, 46, 49, 76, 112, 167 f., 171 – 174, 176 – 178, 182, 242 – 244, 247 – 253, 277 f., 280 f., 287 – 291, 294, 300 f., 313, 320 ecclesiology 40, 158, 199, 356

cole rabbinique de France 107 edification 48, 111, 335 elocution 140 Emancipation 89, 108 f., 116 f., 317 Episcopus Judaeorum (Judenbischof) 85 episkop 164 – 166, 170, 178, 183 epistemology 254 ethos 23 – 40, 58, 87, 102 f., 291 evangelical 67, 77, 81, 112 – Evangelical movement 249 exorcist 42 f. faith 3, 15, 36, 57 – 60, 69, 72 f., 76, 109, 118 f., 125, 127, 133, 148, 154, 158 – 161, 164 – 166, 172, 179, 185, 194, 198, 204, 209, 216, 244, 246, 252, 272, 283 f., 292 f., 298 f., 327, 329, 336, 338, 347, 353 family 8, 58, 68, 72, 74 – 77, 130, 138, 141, 143, 151, 179, 183, 198, 209, 211 f., 214, 219, 225, 229, 232 – 234, 237 f., 263 – 265, 270, 275 f., 310, 349, 355 female 177 f., 219 – 239, 284, 303, 306 – 311, 313, 315, 320 f., 324, 326 feminization 221 First World War 106, 354 function – religious functions 257, 261

Gaudium et spes 185, 250, 254, 279, 294 f. gay 212, 220, 238 gender 29, 211 f., 228, 231 f., 234, 236, 305, 356 – gender roles 211 gospel 23, 67, 71 – 75, 123 f., 148, 159, 161 – 163, 203 – 217, 252 – 255, 294, 307, 321, 358 – proclamation of the Gospel 159, 182, 298, 300 grace 17 f., 50 f., 70, 72, 76, 132, 148, 154, 171, 192, 200 f. Hartford Seminary 273 Haskala/Maskilim 83, 88, 90 Hassidic movement 304, 343 Hebrew Union College 83, 130, 139 high priest 43 historical-critical approach 102 Hochschule fr die Wissenschaft des Judentums 102 f., 225, 337, 342 Hochschule fr Jdische Studien (Heidelberg) 107 ideal 43, 47 f., 57, 71, 87, 102 f., 117, 125, 129, 146, 180, 211, 336, 338, 351 idealization 303 – 305, 317 identity IX, 26 – 28, 121, 151 f., 176, 193, 199 f., 203 – 208, 215 f., 293, 300, 308 – 312, 319, 332, 341 incarnation 159, 178 f., 187, 202 inculturation 252 f., 285, 292 – 294, 301 inheritance 257, 278 instrumentalization 303 f., 317 intercession 53 intermediator 50 Islamic American University (Southfield) 273 Israelitisch-Theologische Lehranstalt 104 Jewish Theological Seminary 105, 107 f., 129, 139, 223, 226, 356

Index of Subjects

Jewish Theological Seminary; University of Jewish Studies 107 juridical 57, 87, 189, 191, 194, 275 kavvanah 4 f. kehunah 7 f. khatı¯b 260, 265 f., 274 ˙ khutba 264, 268, 270 Kirchenkampf 174 f. knowledge 5, 36, 55 – 66, 92 f., 97, 99 – 101, 105, 109, 113, 117, 130, 137 – 139, 145, 182, 207, 209 f., 216, 225, 245, 258, 262, 266 – 268, 272, 274, 294 f., 304, 328, 339 f., 344 – 346, 348 kosher 83, 86, 219, 318, 334, 348 – supervisor of kosher 86 Ladenkirche 214 laity 44, 46, 50, 53, 148, 193, 277 – 301 Landesrabbinerschule 104 law 2 f., 5, 7 f., 10 f., 18 f., 22, 42, 44, 46, 59, 63 f., 75, 86 f., 91, 93, 98, 107, 119, 129 f., 133, 135, 165, 168, 171, 174, 179, 190, 198, 227, 237, 262 – 264, 275, 278, 280, 284, 286, 288 f., 295 f., 315, 318, 324, 334, 341 f., 346, 348 – 350, 356 laypeople/laik|s 5, 10, 74, 121 f., 193, 198, 203, 213, 231, 272, 277 – 301, 334, 337, 351 leadership – prayer leader 258 – 261, 265, 334 – religious leadership 257 – 261, 264, 266, 273 f., 338 lector 42 f., 49, 53 legislator 333 f. Leo Baeck College 106 f., 226, 357 Lesbian 212, 220, 238 limitation 198, 216 f. Lumen Gentium 185, 188 f., 278, 289 f. Lutheran 71, 73 f., 149, 158, 175, 355 male 3, 87, 177 f., 211, 219, 227 – 229, 231, 233 – 238, 257, 269 f., 284, 303, 306 – 311, 313, 320 f., 324, 326 marriage 76, 132, 144, 219, 316, 333

375

intermarriage 152 f. matriarchs 231 Middle Ages 18, 42, 55 – 66, 67, , 85 f., 100, 109, 111, 117, 131, 134, 168, 189 – 191, 193, 220, 241, 260, 266, 282, 314, 317 f., 336, 355, 358 ministerial 147, 188 f., 195, 241 – 255, 301 Ministerium Verbi88 173 mission 23, 28 f., 31, 34 f., 37, 53, 73, 81, 148, 151, 161, 163, 178, 180 f., 183, 185, 188, 191, 193, 196, 199 f., 279, 290, 292, 296, 310 model 2, 13, 25, 33, 36, 40, 55 – 57, 77, 81, 85, 90 – 92, 103, 107 – 109, 120, 129 f., 151, 168, 206, 209, 213 – 215, 228 f., 233 f., 241 – 243, 248, 250, 260, 271, 275, 288, 291 f., 309 f., 313, 318 f., 328, 336, 354 modernity 57, 60, 83 f., 90, 102, 109, 115, 130 f., 133 – 135, 142, 155, 205, 210, 217, 222, 241 – 252, 258, 260, 279, 292, 328 muezzin 260 muftı¯s 263 muna¯dı¯ 260 munus regendi 280 munus sanctificandi 280 nabı¯ 259 networking 101, 214 f. new-age 151, 153 office – ecclesiastical offices 23, 25, 289, 291, 294 – intellectual office 313 – office-holder 34, 40 – unified office 279, 282 – 287 officium 191 – officium externum 164 f. ordination 43, 45,, 74 f., 81, 83, 87, 99, 108, 144, 146, 165, 170, 183, 188, 190 – 194, 196, 201, 220 – 230, 237, 258, 266, 280, 283, 289 f., 297, 300, 305, 307, 341, 347 – ordination of women 107, 220 – 230

376

Index of Subjects

– private ordination 220, 225 orthodox 42, 84, 92, 94 f., 97, 100 – 102, 105 – 107, 109, 122, 153, 171, 225, 227, 230, 235 f., 238, 242, 305, 324, 332, 343, 347 parochial 213 f. pastor/pastors/pastorate,/pastoral – pastoral care 9, 41, 53, 80, 163, 176, 182, 197, 282 f., 304, 310, 313, 337 f. – pastoral office 157 f., 164 – 172, 174 – 178, 181 – 183, 303, 305 – 311, 313, 317, 319 – 321 – pastoral training 141 – pastoral workers 284, 295, 298 – 301 patrona 33 philosophy 61, 83, 93, 112, 169, 247, 262 f., 303, 347 piety 45 f., 51, 248, 258, 261, 265 f. pluralization 168, 241, 243, 283 political 7 f., 57, 61 f., 74, 76, 81, 83 – 85, 91, 96 f., 110, 116, 121 – 123, 131 f., 147, 149, 170 f., 174, 182, 215, 217, 238, 246, 249, 263 f., 266, 268, 349, 351, 353 Pope 23, 69 – 73, 131, 186, 188, 192, 194, 252, 254, 282, 288, 290, 292, 300 prayer – National Day of Prayer 115, 120 priesthood 22, 49 f., 73 f., 164, 187 – 190, 194, 203, 213, 257 – 259, 257 f., 279 – 281, 288, 290, 300 f., 307, 320, 338, 340 profane 3, 10 f., 85, 262 protestant IX, 68 – 72, 75 – 77, 91, 113, 118, 123, 132 – 134, 142, 152, 157 – 183, 203 – 218, 223, 244, 303 – 326, 327 f., 346, 355 – 357 Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Theological Seminary 105 Rabbiner-Seminar fr das orthodoxe Judenthum 101 f. rabbinate – chief rabbinate 236

– rabbinical Judaism 281, 312, 317, 335 rationalization 130, 241 reciter 261, 265, 276 Reconstructionist Movement 226 Redemptionis Sacramentum 299 reformation 57, 67 f., 71 – 74, 76 – 78, 80 f., 158 – 160, 165 – 168, 170 – 178, 190, 192, 244, 320 f. ritual IX, 7, 50 f., 78, 87, 99, 103, 132, 151, 153, 163, 165, 231 f., 238 f., 260, 266, 333, 350, 356 – ritual purity 8 f., 17 f. sacerdos 189 – 192, 280 – 282 sacramental 78, 185 – 187, 190 – 192, 195, 252 f., 280 f., 290, 300, 320 sacrament – administration of the sacraments 75, 203 sacred 10 – 12, 85, 87, 115, 129 – 131, 135, 139, 155, 188, 258, 278 f., 298 – 300, 356 sacrifice 51, 116, 188, 191, 195, 202, 242, 280 f., 324 salvation 50, 80, 86, 158 – 162, 171, 178, 185, 192 scholarship/scholarly – religious scholar 109, 261 f., 264, 275, 351 – Second World War 137, 148 seminary/seminaries – rabbinical seminary 86, 88 f., 91 f., 96, 104 f., 107, 223, 225 f., 236, 329 separation 77, 87, 301, 330, 350 sermon 47, 67 f., 73, 75, 78, 80, 111 – 128, 139 f., 162 f., 221 – 223, 264 – 266, 270, 274, 282, 295, 299, 310, 320 f., 325, 333, 335, 357 sex 9, 19 f., 22, 132, 221, 236 shaykh 259, 263, 268, 276 shepherd 43, 48, 193 f., 198, 300 Shoah 328, 354 skills 51, 97, 144, 155, 207, 210, 271 social 1, 9, 26, 28, 55 f., 58, 77, 85, 87, 97, 108, 113, 116 f., 123 – 125, 130 f., 135 – 138, 140 – 147, 149, 157, 169 – 171, 175, 181 – 183,

Index of Subjects

203 – 205, 207 f., 212, 215, 222, 225, 228, 237, 241 – 243, 245 – 250, 253 f., 263, 268, 272 f., 310 f., 314, 318, 324, 331, 337 f., 342 f., 347 – social justice 112, 121, 123, 125, 128, 146, 198, 353 society 26, 41, 55, 63, 67, 77, 101, 112, 114, 117, 121 f., 130, 132 – 134, 137 f., 147, 181, 204 f., 208, 210 – 212, 214, 216 f., 235, 237, 241 – 248, 250 – 255, 257, 259, 267, 269, 273, 283, 292, 298, 303, 325, 332, 334, 339 spirit 36 f., 39, 43 f., 50 f., 73, 84, 99, 115, 117, 120, 134, 150, 159 – 162, 169, 171, 186 – 188, 191, 199, 232, 252, 255, 290 f., 293, 334, 345 – spiritual guides 86, 337 – spirituality 50, 74, 142, 148 – 155, 161, 166, 188, 190, 199, 203 f., 209 f., 214, 228, 232, 235, 243, 248 – 251, 254, 264 f., 269, 276, 299 f., 304, 309, 313 f., 319, 322 – 324, 332 – 334, 338 – 340, 342, 350 – 353, 359 status ecclesiasticus 74 sub-deacon 42, 290 subordination 55 f., 58, 191, 196, 348

377

theology – theological faculty 68, 87, 95 f., 103, 107 f., 344 – 347 – theological studies 108 training 83 – 110, 139 – 141, 144 f., 147, 176, 207, 244, 254, 266 f., 270 f., 273, 299, 306, 313, 329, 338, 344, 346 trust 60, 62, 138 f., 206, 217, 293, 301, 348 ulama¯ 261 – 263, 275 vineyard 7, 68 – 73, 81 virgin 42 f., 53 welfare 20, 53, 122, 141, 311, 337 f., 343 widow 42 f., 53, 77 f., 118 Wrzburg Synod 297 yadin 64 yeshiva 86 yoga 151 yoreh 64 Zeytuna College (Berkeley) 273