By Rabbi Daniel G. Zemel, Emeritus
The whole history of civilization can well be subsumed under the title, “The sanctity of the individual vs overlordship”…the struggle of individuals or groups for freedom. Liberty does not always make men free. It sometimes begets and nurtures libertinism and licentiousness, the most oppressive tyrants of the race.
I am a Jew because my people has always subjected itself to careful scrutiny and self-searching. Israel Zangwill somewhere remarked that no book is perhaps as antisemitic as the Bible. Indeed, nowhere is the Jew criticized so painfully, so boldly as by his own prophets. Wherever men speak of the confession of sin, of the recognition of human shortcomings, they are employing the Jew’s terminology. Not only has my people taught the world to pray, but gave man the stimulus for self-searching and self-criticism.
The sweetness of Torah diluted the enemy’s poison.
These quotes represent but a few of the gems I encountered this fall when I explored my grandfather’s vast writings, housed in the The American Jewish Archives of Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, an experience made possible by a retirement gift from Temple Micah. I was moved to tears repeatedly as I considered his wide array of interests, broad learning, deep humanity, and profound love for Judaism. As many of you know, I was six months old when my grandfather died. His legacy shaped me in ways that I am only now beginning to understand.
I am, in so many ways, his grandson.
I believe that Jewish holiness is inseparable from the morally lived life.
God reveals Himself in Justice, Mercy, Humility, Grace, Lovingkindness and other ethical perfections…When man is exhorted to walk in the “ways of the Lord” it is just another way of urging him to be holy or lead a moral life.
I am committed to a creative, unfolding, and proudly American Judaism.
In America the Jewish religion must aim… at Americanism…It must be found in the front ranks of every movement in this country that makes for the evolution of a thoroughly integrated and self-conscious American People…It must embody this aim in its ritual, in its program for the training of the young, and in its practical activities. Then Judaism instead of being as it is to-day, merely, a traditional religion, will again become a living, creative religion. God will then be as real and an immediate presence to us as he was to our fathers.
I am a passionate liberal Zionist who is unafraid to critique the State of Israel and its government.
The monopolistic assumption of the Israelis, vis-à-vis world Jewry, is an upthrust of statism. It assumes that the more you approximate the statist, the completer Jew you are.
As I studied for a week in the Archives’ beautiful reading room, I was able to crack only the surface of Grandpa’s extensive writings. I limited my exploration to his personal theology. What did he believe about God, Torah, prayer, and Jewish ritual life? What was the nature of his Zionism?
One of my grandfather’s great gifts was his ability to engage in what I have long termed “cultural translation.” How can we render the teachings of our ancient and medieval Hebrew literature into metaphors that are compelling for us?
Many of us are familiar with the statement attributed to Hillel in Avot 1:14: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me, if I am for myself alone, what am I? If not now, when?”
We have a general understanding of what Hillel is saying: speak up for yourself, but also be there for others. And be this way all of the time.
In reading through my grandfather’s writings, I came upon what for me was a stunning insight about the human experience:
We are not sufficiently egotistic to forget the world, and we are not enough altruistic to forget ourselves, and that is the problem.
I had to read that sentence twice and then write it down. To be human is to live at a crossroads between ego and altruism. We are trapped between self and world, and that is if we are blessed with both a healthy ego and a sensitivity to the world around us. To Grandpa, Hillel’s “if not now when” is the dilemma at the heart of being human. It is the starting point of the healthy mature self. How far am I allowed, morally, to stretch the boundary of my ego? How far must I expand my altruism while still taking care of myself? This is the ongoing human dilemma of how we engage the world. Hillel spoke it in his way. My grandfather provided a contemporary idiom.
Grandpa offered more on this as he expounded on the entire Mishna tractate.
Among the Jews it is customary to read a chapter of Mishna Aboth every Sabbath afternoon, beginning with the Sabbath following the Passover and continuing until the Sabbath preceding the New Year.
Why, he asked, was this the custom only in the summer months? He wrote that he “must fall back on conjecture,” as the sources offered no explanation.
The long summer afternoon with its warm and enticing air, might well entice men towards evil thoughts and even deeds. That would have been an unpardonable desecration…The reading of Aboth, it was hoped, would serve as a check…and direct their thoughts into moral and religious channels.
In other words, my grandfather suggested, Jewish learning and Shabbat rest are aimed at informing and forming a moral posture toward the world.
In a footnote, Grandpa went further, pointing out what for him was an inexplicable error. The classic English translation of Pirke Avot/Ethics of the Father was written by a 19th-century British scholar, Charles Taylor. Grandpa said: Taylor is only partly correct when he remarks that “these sayings are recited on six successive Sabbaths between Passover and Pentecost.” This is true only of a few Jewish communities. It is generally read the whole summer.
Sidur Rav Amram 31a.
This footnote is a small example of Grandpa’s commitment to both Jewish learning and Hebrew education. Elsewhere, he wrote, It is the task of the student to scour the misty regions of historic developments and explore the…institutions and conceptions of the Jew.
I am moved by the way Grandpa called attention to Taylor’s flawed understanding of Pirke Avot’s place in Jewish learning. He believed, I think correctly, that Jewish knowledge required ongoing, thorough study and then cultural translation.
You are primarily teachers of Judaism, then seek first to know it.
Grandpa spoke those words to the rabbinic ordination class of the Jewish Institute of Religion in 1932. In reading them, I realized how I, incessantly, sought to become an educated Jew. In order for Judaism to make sense to anyone, it first has to make sense to the rabbi, the teacher.
Grandpa Goldman was a Zionist leader at a time when most American Jews were not engaged in the struggle to create a Jewish homeland in Palestine. The major preoccupation of national Jewish organizations was acculturation to America for a still-insecure, largely immigrant community.
He was president of the Zionist Organization of America, then the most significant Zionist organization in this country, from 1938-1941. Reading just a smattering of records from those years demonstrates the enormous challenge of raising money for the Zionist cause. Carrying vivid memories of the strenuous antisemitism of Europe and witnessing its emergence in the United States, American Jews were sensitive to accusations of dual loyalty. Most American Jewish institutions were devoted to showing that Jews were loyal and dedicated to the U.S. alone.
One day, an archivist asked me what motivated Grandpa’s passionate Zionism. I realized then that I had taken his Zionist commitment for granted and had never considered what drove him to it.
In reading his papers, I found a clue. On January 8, 1926, my grandfather gave a talk in which he responded to the action of an Orthodox bet din, which had issued an edict of condemnation against Rabbi Stephen S. Wise for his progressive teachings.
Grandpa critiqued not only the bet din, but the reaction to it by American Jewish leaders. The Orthodox, of course, applauded the edict. The Reform movement, he said, was tepid because its leaders consistently distanced themselves from Rabbi Wise’s and his passionate Zionism. With the advantage of hindsight, we now view Rabbi Wise as a great national Jewish leader of his era. In reading the contemporaneous records from 1926, one can sense the insecurity of a community that is not yet fully certain of its place in America.
Those who spoke, and those who attacked, and those who passed resolutions never came to the heart of the problem. I am interested only in the nakedness that we exposed to the world.
What is our hope in such a moment? In such a moment I see more and more that kelal [the community of] Israel needs Eretz Israel; that there can be no crystallization of Jewish life unless it comes once more from Palestine…in Eretz Israel the Jew may once more become unified; producing an authority and leadership that the world will recognize… It is impossible for the Jew raised in Germany to understand the Jew who was raised in Russia or in New York City… Confusion reigns in Jewish life. Palestine will give us a Jewish culture once again.
Grandpa Goldman envisioned a Jewish country that would create a partnership with and strengthen the diaspora, in part by being a wellspring for a Jewish cultural renaissance shared by Jews around the world. Indeed, the latter came to pass as Israel emerged as a center of Jewish culture. But even as Grandpa dreamed of a Jewish cultural renaissance in Israel, he voiced concerns about how Israel’s leadership and some parts of its society viewed the diaspora. Just months before his death in 1953, he included these words in a lengthy letter to his friend, the author Maurice Samuel:
There is something about nationality that is precious, as the gifts of the mind, heart, and soul, as the consciousness, thought, and self-identity of personality. There is something in nationalism or statism that is evil, wicked, hypocritical, and obnoxious. No state has ever escaped it. The Maccabean state did not. Nor has Israel.
In these words, he bore witness to the internal struggles of the still-new state. Ultimately, it would be what Theodor Herzl sought, a nation like other nations.
Isn’t this what we are experiencing today? We are witnessing an ultranationalist government in Israel that thrives on its defiance of the founding aspirational values in its Declaration of Independence. Nationality is precious. It has given birth to a thriving and inspiring Hebrew language and culture. Nationalism is a form of idolatry, as we see in Israel’s current government.
My week at the archives inspired me in ways that defy my ability to express. There were moments when I simply sat with the papers and let tears of joy and gratitude roll down my face. I am immensely grateful that Micah has given me two weeks at the Archives, and am already planning my next visit.
The Hebrew Union College’s American Jewish Archives are among the most precious resources we have to understand and interpret who we are as American Jews. I know that I will return many times, not only to learn more about my grandfather, but also to continue to discover more about myself and about us as a community as we forge our vibrant American Jewish lives.
This article originally appeared in the Dec 2025/Jan-Feb 2026 issue of the Vine.