OzTorah

by Rt. Wor. Bro. Rabbi Dr Raymond Apple, AO RFD PJGW
Past Grand Chaplain of the United Grand Lodge of New South Wales

Hiram Abif plays a central role in the Third Degree ritual, with its detailed account of his life and death. Yet he is almost completely passed over in Biblical literature, which hardly even hints at the events which Masonic tradition takes so seriously. So striking is this paradox that some Masonic writers think the story is just a myth.

The Leicester Research Lodge published in 1903 a study by Rev Morris Rosenbaum, Past Provincial Grand Chaplain for Northumberland. Rosenbaum looks at the Biblical Books of Kings and Chronicles, which describe the building of the Temple and the role played by Hiram… according to Rosenbaum, two Hirams. One is Hiram, king of Tyre, King David’s friend, to whom Solomon sent a message that he intended to build a Temple to God. In I Kings chapter 5, Solomon asks for building materials. In II Chronicles 2:6 he also asks for “a man skilful to work in gold, silver, brass, iron, purple, crimson and blue, and with skill to grave all manner of gratings”.

From Tyre now comes a leading artisan whose name, like the king’s, is Hiram. According to I Kings 7:13: “King Solomon sent and fetched Tiram from Tyre. He was the son of a widow of the tribe of Naphtali, and his father was a man of Tyre, a worker in brass: and he was filled with wisdom, understanding and skill, to work all works in brass”. In II Chronicles 2:12-13, King Hiram announces that he is sending “a skilful man, endued with understanding, Hiram my master craftsman, the son of a woman of the daughters of Dan, and his father was a man of Tyre, skilful to work in gold, silver, brass, iron, stone, timber, purple, blue, fine linen and crimson, also to grave any manner of graving and to devise any device, to do whatever may be set before him”.

Rosenbaum sees in these passages two distinct artisans. In one source, Hiram (sometimes the name is Huram and sometimes Hirom) is basically a worker in brass: in the other he is a versatile craftsman and designer. The idea that there were two Hirams, an architect-craftsman and a mere artisan, is apparently strengthened when we see that the Hiram of Kings was the son of “a widow of the tribe of Naphtali” and the Hiram of Chronicles is the son of “a woman of the daughters of Dan”. Rosenbaum also sees that in Chronicles, Hiram (i.e. one of the Hirams) seems to have come to Solomon before work on the Temple began; the Hiram of Kings arrived when the project was under way.

One Hiram was the son of a widow. Who was his father? Chronicles mentions Hiram aviv (in the craft ritual, Abif), which is literally “his father”. Father and son, both called Hiram, were involved in the work, one as an experienced architect-craftsman, and his son as a more junior artisan.

Since one Hiram is called the son of a widow, he must have come on the scene after his father’s death. Masonic tradition says that Hiram (for Rosenbaum, Hiram the father) was murdered, and there is a rabbinic legend that there was a Hiram who died in a strange way. The text that says Solomon “sent and fetched” Hiram (the son) implies that an escort was sent to bring the son back and to protect him in case anyone had designs on his life. An attractive theory? It appears so, but I believe Rosenbaum has read too much into the Biblical account, that there were not two Hirams, and that the Bible neither confirms nor denies that Hiram was murdered in the course of his work. Chronicles cannot automatically be assumed to be objective history, especially when the Chronicler told the Israelite story differently to Kings and Samuel.

The idea that there was a Hiram whose mother was from Dan and another whose mother was from Naphtali does not hold water. The one clear reference to Hiram’s mother says she was from Dan; the mention of Naphtali applies to the son, not the mother: i.e. he was a widow’s son of the tribe of Naphtali, which means that whilst his mother was from Dan, his father came from Naphtali. There was only one Hiram. What about the apparently conflicting descriptions of Hiram’s capabilities? One source tells us more and one tells us less, but they both describe the same man.

We should also not get too excited about the words, “Hiram his father”. All it denotes is that (the one) Hiram was an expert at his trade. Av usually means father; it can also be master, ruler or chief. In Genesis 4:20-21 it means the originator of those who dwelt in tents and kept cattle, and the originator of those who played the harp and pipe. II Kings 5:13, Naaman, army captain of the king of Aram, is called “my father” – “my captain” – by his servants. Hiram “his father” means Hiram “his master craftsman”. There is also a theory that Av may be part of Hiram’s personal name, the full version of which might have been Hiramavi or something similar (compare the ancient royal name Hammurabi).

Do the Biblical stories confirm the Masonic legend that Hiram was killed? Not precisely, though a rabbinic legend which Rosenbaum mentions says that nine people did not die in the usual way but entered Paradise alive. These included Elijah and Enoch – and Hiram, king of Tyre (Derech Eretz Zuta 1:9, Yalkut Gen. 42 and Ezek. 367). Not all commentators agree that Hiram was entitled to figure in the list, but it is possible that if a Hiram was meant it was the craftsman, not the king. A further rabbinic exposition says that when the Temple was completed all the workmen died, to prevent idolatrous rulers utilising the skills that had been honed and applied to the service of the Almighty. Hiram the master craftsman himself was amongst them, but had the distinction of going straight to Paradise and never tasting real death (cf, Louis Ginzberg, “Legends of the Jews”, vol. 4, p. 155 and notes). Like many legends, these tales may have been embellished, and from a suggestion that the other workmen died whilst Hiram went straight to heaven, it was thought that it was Hiram who died and some of the other workmen caused his death.

All this leaves us none the wiser about why the Third Degree ritual needed Hiram Abif. It is generally accepted that there were originally only two degrees and the Third Degree, and Hiram Abif, came later. In the same year as Rosenbaum’s paper, another lecture at the Leicester Lodge of Research offered an explanation. The author, W Bro WB Hextall of Derbyshire, argued that the Hiramic story was created deliberately, enlisting old legends, as an allegory of the political events of the time. The story, enacted in Masonic Lodges in the presence of Masons who got the hint, alluded to the death of Charles I and the revival of the monarchy under Charles II. The story thus illustrates Masonic involvement in the politics of the period.

Later generations, unaware of this background, thought the story was – merely! – an allegory of man’s ability to rise above doubt and difficulty, even death – or, to the Christian, an indication of the death and resurrection of Jesus. As with so much of craft history, we cannot be certain. The debate is bound to continue.

A picture of any people can be drawn through its cuisine. This is certainly true of the Jews. We are a food-conscious people and food fascinates us endlessly. A high proportion of Jewish jokes have to do with food: can you imagine Jewish humour without chicken soup? The Jewish year shows its colour and character through a variety of holiday foods. Nothing gives a Jew more of a guilt trip than compromising or totally ignoring kashrut (the kosher laws).

There is a Jewish philosophy of eating, which began with the Bible. From that time onwards the analysis of food became a mental obsession. Eating properly was urged for reasons of physical health, psychological well-being, and mental acuity. A person who was hungry could not function well. It was good for the soul too: a weakened body could not serve God. Food was a basic element of the Jewish pattern of living. It was important for Jewish identity, since living and acting in a Jewish way reinforced one’s commitment to the Jewish tradition. It was good for one’s ethical character: Maimonides said that instead of gluttony and lust, people needed to master their appetites and not regard eating and drinking as the be-all and end-all of existence. It enabled a person to hallow every act of every day, making the table an altar and the home a sanctuary.

It was also part of the fabric of Jewish life. Through Sabbath and festival meals one tasted the sweetness of the occasion. Life cycle events made a shared meal into part of the ceremony, uniting the family and supporting the poor and lonely. The domestic emphasis that was a necessary part of keeping kosher strengthened the home and family and enhanced the woman’s role in Jewish observance.

Food was part of community religious life. The structure of kosher food supervision was an important community agency. Community officials included not only rabbis and teachers but also slaughterers and supervisors. Communities were centred around synagogues and schools, and also shops and market stalls, where communal affairs were often discussed as passionately as around committee tables. The characteristic word “kosher” gained an extended meaning; apart from food, religious appurtenances had to be kosher, as did one’s ethics and attitudes. To be “a kosher person” was a mark of character.

It was not just what one ate that mattered, but how. Food had to be treated with respect, especially bread, salt, meat and wine, since all these figured on the Temple altar in Jerusalem. One had to eat with clean hands and a quiet mind. Meal times had a cultural quality. A host rejoiced in giving hospitality because it was an opportunity for religious conversation. A blessing had to be recited before eating, and an after-meal Grace. Abraham the patriarch, renowned for his hospitality to wayfarers, told his visitors, “It is not me you should thank, but God.”

The word “kosher” means fit or proper. It comes only once in Hebrew Scripture, when Queen Esther asks her royal husband if a plan is kosher in his eyes. In later Hebrew, however, hardly any word is so ubiquitous. The kosher rules require the following:

1. The only meat and poultry that a Jew may eat must come from a species permitted by the Torah. Permitted animals must be quadrupeds, which chew the cud and have cloven hoofs. Animals, which are prohibited, include the pig, camel, horse and rabbit. Permitted birds include chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys, but not birds of prey.

2. Permitted animals and poultry must first be slaughtered “as I have commanded you” (Deut. 12:21) by a trained specialist (a shochet), according to set rules which ensure that slaughtering (shechitah) is done by one swift, sharp cut. The shochet is responsible to supervisors appointed by the rabbis. Certain parts of the animal may not be eaten, i.e. the blood, the hindquarter fat and the “sinew of the thigh vein” (Gen. 32:33). In most communities, only the forequarters are eaten.

Animal welfare groups occasionally raise objections to shechitah, but Professor Harold Burrow of the Royal Veterinary College, London, stated, “I am unable to persuade myself that there is any cruelty attached to it… I would raise no objection to any animal bred, reared or owned by me being subjected to this method of slaughter”. Lord Horder declared that shechitah “is fraught with less risk of pain to the animal than any other method at present practised”. Sir Ian Clunies-Ross of CSIRO said, “Those who oppose this method of slaughter are actuated, no doubt, by humane motives; they are, however, ill-informed of the physiological facts”.

3. As blood may not be consumed (Lev. 17:11), meat and poultry must be kashered, i.e. soaked in cold water for half an hour, salted on all sides and placed on a grooved and sloping or perforated board to let the blood run off, then rinsed. This method would not be effective with liver, which is so full of blood; the liver is therefore covered with salt and then grilled by means of an open flame.

4. Fish must have fins and scales (Lev. 11:9-10). Shellfish may not be eaten.

5. Meat and dairy products and their derivatives may not be cooked or eaten together nor may any benefit be gained from mixing them (these prohibitions are derived from the Biblical command, “Do not seethe a kid in its mother’s milk”, found in Ex. 23:19 and 34:26 and Deut. 14:21). The kosher kitchen separates milk and meat foods, utensils, cutlery, etc., often by means of colour coding.

6. As bread sometimes contains ingredients from non-kosher sources, it needs supervision. In order to be eaten with either meat or milk meals, bread should be pareve (“neutral” – see section 8 below).

7. After eating meat, an interval must elapse before eating dairy foods. The strict view requires an interval of six hours; a common custom reduces this to three hours. After dairy foods, which are more easily digested than meat, one may eat meat after a brief interval and rinsing the mouth, though hard cheese requires the full interval.

8. Foods, which contain neither meat nor dairy ingredients, are called pareve (“neutral”). Pareve foods include fish, eggs, fruit, grains and vegetables. Pareve foods may be eaten at either meat or milk meals, though it is customary not to serve fish with meat. Eggs from non-kosher species may not be eaten, nor may an egg with a blood spot on the yolk be used. Fruit and vegetables are normally no problem unless they have an added protective coating, which may be non-kosher, and vegetables need to checked for insects or bugs.

9. Cheese manufacture requires kosher supervision, as hard and many soft cheeses contain rennet, which may be an animal derivative.

10. Many insist on chalav yisra’el (rabbinically supervised milk), but many authorities rely on strict government standards of production and inspection and allow any milk.

11. Since wine is part of religious worship, the manufacture of wine and other grape-based drinks requires supervision. This also ensures that no admixtures from animal sources or milk-based cultures are introduced. The use of any enzymes that are grain-derived would render the wine unacceptable for Passover use. Non-grape based spirits may be used without rabbinic certification.

12. Cakes and biscuits must use only kosher oil, margarine, icing, etc. Chocolates and confectionery must not contain animal fat.

13. Additional laws apply on Passover (Pesach), when grain products and their derivatives are not permitted. Separate Pesach utensils, crockery, cutlery, etc., are required.

Though meat is now a crucial element in the kosher laws, vegetarianism may have been God’s original design for human beings (Gen. 1:29); meat eating was allowed later as a concession to human weakness and subject to careful safeguards. The messianic visions in Isaiah (e.g. 11:7) and elsewhere envisage a return to the original plan, with no violence or killing of any kind, including the traditionally sanctioned slaughter of animals for food. There is a view that in the rebuilt Temple even the sacrifices will be vegetarian.

There are levels of supervision of kosher food. Some prefer to take the stricter view of everything. The correct term for strict kashrut is m’hadrin – “scrupulous”. Whatever level of supervision one upholds, it is essential to look for kashrut certification (kashrut authorities publish lists of acceptable products) and not rely on one’s own often-inexpert judgment. In particular one should not merely go by lists of ingredients (e.g. terms such as “vegetable shortening”) printed on packaging. Manufacturers do not always list all their ingredients; the consumer is unlikely to know the source of the ingredients or the nature of the manufacturing processes; nor can one be certain whether a particular batch may have utilised an alternative ingredient, which is problematical from the kashrut point of view.

Everywhere in the Jewish world there is a new interest in keeping kosher (indeed many non-Jews, especially in the U.S., also tend to prefer kosher food because they believe it is healthier and fresher). The kosher market is small but growing. Newly-weds are deciding on kosher homes even when they were not brought up in way. Children are coming home and insisting that their parents go over to kashrut. Reform synagogues are installing kosher kitchens. People who always kept kosher are raising their kashrut standards. Almost every family makes their life-cycle events kosher. Community organisations take it for granted that public events are under kosher supervision. More people are buying more kosher products than ever before. Max Routtenberg, an American rabbi, has said, “It has become quite kosher to be kosher”. In Australia, only a minority of Jews is strict with kashrut at home and away, but the overall trend towards kashrut is marked.

Why do observant Jews concern themselves so greatly with the minutiae of kashrut? The Torah attaches no rationale to the food laws other than to say, “You shall be holy people” (Lev. 11:45 etc.) – i.e. kashrut is part of a spiritual pattern. For those who need more convincing than the assertion that the wise Creator knows best, one can add three inter-related dimensions: the mystical – what and how one eats influences one’s whole being; the ethical – human beings must cause the least possible pain to the animal kingdom and must curb the instinct to violence; and the symbolic – every religious practice enables a person to articulate some values and standards and to reject others.

In 1588 Jean Bodin, the great 16th century humanist and political philosopher, wrote a book of Dialogues (the complete version was not published until 1857). He described a group of friends – a Catholic, a Lutheran, a Zwinglian, a Jew, a Muslim, an Epicurean and a Theist – who met in Venice and discoursed on the merits of their own beliefs. All very modern but in those days very daring. It was not long afterwards that Galileo had problems with views that did not quite fit the establishment model. Galileo’s difficulties are also rather modern, though in polite society today we tend to treat unconventional thinking less savagely. Nonetheless the contemporary dialogue movement has chalked up a modest record of success, not in persuading sincere believers to move out of their own faith system to another but at least in becoming acquainted with each other. Where this is seen most evidently is in relation to Judaism and Christianity. With some glaring exceptions, we acknowledge each other’s existence, we are on speaking terms, and we even admit that there is wisdom in the other’s tradition.

The series of articles of which this is one is designed to be a contribution to this process. But I wonder whether we are yet ready for anything very definitive. Much more groundwork needs to be done. As far as non-Christians are concerned, before they can express a view of Christianity, they need someone to clarify which Christianity they are meant to be talking about. There are so many manifestations of the Christian tradition that whatever one says will rightly be criticised – “Obviously you are talking about the Catholics, but we Protestants are different”, “You seem to think that every Christian is a Protestant, but that doesn’t apply to us Catholics” and so on. Maybe at this stage the discussion has to limit itself to non-adjectival Christianity, for which the crucial (the word is used deliberately) element is the status of Jesus. But someone has to clarify this for us outsiders.

Jews have another problem with the subject. There are some who find it possible to engage in genteel dialogue with Christians, but most are totally uninterested or even antagonistic. So much and so often have Jews been hurt during the course of the Christian centuries that the common Jewish view is, “All we want to say about Christianity is, ‘Leave us alone. Leave us to be ourselves’.”

That being said, if I can allow myself an engagement in what I call genteel dialogue, let me say that I can probably understand what draws Christians to Christianity. The notion of the word made flesh, of the personisation of spiritual and ethical principle, enables Christians to begin to grasp what would otherwise only be concepts, and to feel a sense of emotional identity (I thought of saying “passion”, but I would be using the word in the simplistic, popular, non-Christian sense). I can see this – but I cannot accept it because it compromises the axiomatic incorporeality, otherness and infinity of God. It also, in Buber’s words, “freezes” God and limits Him. If Jews accepted the “word made flesh” concept they would no longer be Jews, but with very rare exceptions Jews are at peace with Judaism and do not want anything else.

There is of course common ground between us. Understandably, since the early Christians were Jews and Christianity had Jewish beginnings. Here too there is a problem, because there is a frequently heard generalisation about there being a Judeo-Christian tradition (the alternative term is Judeo-Christian ethic). What this is meant to denote is that Judaism and Christianity share the idea of God, the Bible, the Ten Commandments, the spiritual attitude to life, messianism, the dignity of man, atonement, salvation, the social conscience and other ethical ideals. The truth, however, is that the headings are the same but the text is radically different. What Churchill said about the English and the Americans applies here too, that they are two peoples divided by a common language. Jews and Christians both talk about God, but they think of Him quite differently – in particular when Christians regard Jesus as more than an ordinary child of God. Both faiths talk of the Bible, but Christians include the New Testament and in any case both have widely divergent ways of interpreting key passages in the Hebrew Scriptures. Both honour the Ten Commandments, but they enumerate them differently. Both stand for a spiritual attitude to life, but they accord different weight to the individual soul and the perfecting of society. Both have a messianic belief, but it takes its own form in each tradition. Both speak of the dignity of man, but they do not agree on man’s nature. Atonement, salvation and other leading terms do not mean the same in both faiths. The importance of ethics is acknowledged by both, but once you move from motherhood generalities you find the devil in the detail.

So what are we to do? To quote Buber again, to recognise that to the Jew, the Christian is the incredibly daring man, and to the Christian, the Jew is the incredibly obdurate man. In other words, the Jew might say that Christians read too much into what they see and the Christian might say that Jews read too little. We can and must all recognise each other’s right to be themselves and respect their honest, sincere conscience and commitment, but we are not the same and cannot be. As Jonathan Sacks puts it, there is a dignity in difference.

The Tabernacle had two purposes – a place of worship and a national focus. In both cases it was something new for the Israelite tribes. They had known of and worshipped God for centuries, but not until now was there a set place with a regular ritual. They had long been a more or less homogeneous people with shared experiences and hopes, but they had never had a communal rallying point and centre.

This double dimension of the Tabernacle remained the pattern of Israelite and Jewish worship throughout history. We see this in the names for a synagogue – bet t’fillah, house of prayer, and bet am, community centre. We also see it in the geography of a Jewish community. In the wilderness, the Tabernacle was the centre of the camp with the tribes grouped around it, and wherever Jews lived, the synagogue was the core of the community. If Jews moved away, the synagogue could not be left high and dry without a community around it, so the synagogue also often moved to the new neighbourhood.

In symbolic terms, too, the Tabernacle, like the Temple and the synagogue, was the symbolic representation of Jewish ideas and ideals. The Ark was the repository of the tablets of the Revelation, symbolic of the crucial teachings and traditions of the Jewish people. The altar represented the community’s commitment to God and His Word. The eternal light stood for the constant Divine Presence. The kohanim and Levites represented the nation, “a kingdom of kohanim and a holy people”.

Building the Tabernacle could not have been left until the Israelites reached the Promised Land; the foundations of Judaism and the Jewish people had to go with them from the moment they left Egypt.

When you answer the phone you never know who will be on the other end of the line. You can get a pleasant surprise to hear from someone you love dearly. You can also be pestered by someone who is trying to sell you something you don’t want. It is tempting to be rude to the telemarketers who disturb your life, usually at meal times, with a well-rehearsed line of sales talk which gives you no chance to think carefully. But you have to feel sorry for the people who make the calls who are only trying to make a living and probably don’t enjoy what they have to do.

What this has to do with the Torah reading is more than merely the general ethical duty (Parashat K’doshim, Lev. 19) not to oppress people or mislead them with selective information. It raises an aspect of telemarketing that can be called telefundraising. The name of today’s portion, T’rumah, is the modern Hebrew word for a donation. In Biblical literature it means an offering, with the technical connotation of a percentage of one’s earnings which is the due of the kohen. The root of the word denotes to lift up, and hence to set something apart for sacred purposes. In Mishnaic Hebrew the noun gives birth to a verb, taram, to donate.

In Israel there are so many good causes for which telefundraisers solicit t’rumot, and it is hard to refuse them. We just have to hope that the telemarketers who are so eloquent about their causes give a personal example of generosity. In England a certain Quaker used to say, “Friend, my sympathy is worth a five-pound note: what is yours worth?”