Although it is often difficult to see what can be learnt from the Kabbalists, we could do worse than take from them the idea that when interpreting religious texts, outcomes may be unexpected. Texts sometimes say things that we don’t expect them to and can sometimes have meanings which are far removed from the surface.

All of which is a roundabout way of getting to the main point, which is something like this: There is a failure at the heart of much of Jewish religious practice and belief, and this failure flows directly from an outright inability to read properly.

Actually, inability is almost certainly the wrong word; it’s more like a stubborn refusal to read properly. As the above cartoon suggests, much of the problem of interpretation stems from taking things too literally. And this practice is rooted in the divine status of the text, ie if God says it a) He must be serious and b) it must be true. Saner Jews have got round this problem by recasting the text and viewing the torah as a historical document, of its time (which it obviously is). But this does not help the ‘it’s the word of God’ crew who necessarily see the text as timeless and unchanging.

So over the last century, Judaism has divided roughly into these two camps with fundamentally different reading practices. Yet neither side seems to have asked the question Why wouldn’t God use a metaphor?, Or be an unreliable narrator, Or a satirist? Metaphors are the bread and butter of narrative writing. Indeed Lakoff and Johnson have pointed out how we can barely communicate without them. In fact, it is profoundly difficult to read the torah without understanding the use of metaphors.

Let’s start with the first word bereshit, in the beginning. Lakoff and Johnson would jump on this one as an orientational metaphor. ‘The beginning’ is not inside anything. As an abstract noun, ‘beginnings’ cannot be ‘in’ anything. Nor can one be ‘in’ a beginning any more than one can be on, under or next to a beginning. But if we are going to talk about beginnings, we need to situate them and hence we need recourse to metaphors.
But not wanting to split hairs with the hard-to-spot metaphors, what about the great big ones? Sticking to Genesis, creation cries out to be read as a metaphor for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s a myth. Most religions need a creation myth as a way of thinking about difficult questions like How did we get here? They are far-fetched, fascinating stories, rich in meaning and open to multiple and indeterminate interpretations. What they are not, however, is true. They don’t claim or pretend to be. To read a myth as historical event is simply getting it wrong.

But how do we know that creation is a myth? Well we probably don’t need to look much further than the fact that the torah features two creation myths, one after the other. A major clue that they don’t represent fact ought to dawn on the reader once it is noted that they contradict one another. In the first version, god makes the animals, then man and woman and then rests. The second time around man is made, then each animal and then woman. The text clearly says here, in flashing lights DON’T TAKE ME LITERALLY; THEY CAN’T BOTH BE TRUE. It says don’t worry about the truth of creation, I’m not going to tell you how it really happened. Instead it invites us to ponder the meanings of these contradictory fables. It wants us to ask questions of dominion. Man is clearly given dominion over the animals; he comes both before and after them (and in them if you listen to Rashi), what are we to make of this? Rather than god naming the animals, man does it, why does god allow this? Man and woman are first made simultaneously and then one from the other, what might this mean?

On the other hand, believing that god made the heavens and the earth in six literal days is a fairly harmless belief. It might mark someone out as somewhat foolish, but doesn’t really cause problems of itself. Problems do however arise from other beliefs and practices which stem from other literal understandings of torah. Take the dietary laws. The most well known edict prevents the boiling of a goat in its mother’s milk. A peculiarly specific law, which is followed in a peculiarly specific way by mainstream Jewish authorities; no milk can be consumed with any meat, just in case the law is broken. Yet surely this literalist reading misunderstands wider meaning by which we are supposed to understand compassion towards animals; that animals enjoy relationships between each other, that there are limits to the way in which they are treated and that animals must be treated as individuals, rather than products.

Other unfortunate literal misinterpretations include West Bank settlers’ belief that god gave this territory to Jews alone, the belief that the Jews are the chosen people of god, and a belief that the messiah will come once we keep the commandments properly and rebuild the temple.

So to return to the cartoon, it is an act of extreme perversity to read the lines ‘You shall bind them as a sign upon your arm, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes’ literally. And indeed in the light of this, anyone wearing tefillin renders themselves somewhat ridiculous by failing to understand the most basic of metaphors. Tefillin thus become a literal sign of the poor interpretation of religious text, of deliberately ignoring one’s own intellect, a type of misunderstanding which leads directly to outrageous actions. All I ask is that before people are taught torah, they are taught how to read.

There are some examples of better responses. When, a couple of years ago, Brighton Reform found that ham had been thrown at the synagogue doors, the then Rabbi David Meyer told his community that they had suffered a ‘gentle attack’. Without playing down the significance of anti-Semitism, this phrase marked a sensible avoidance of what could have been a more hysterical response. Fortunately, there has not been an attack since. Some things are more pathetic than threatening.

Yet anglo-jewry by and large remains quiet, preferring to keep its head down rather than making any bold challenges. A notable exception was of course jewdas’ attempt at reclaiming anti-semitic imagery in the artwork for its ‘Protocols of the Elders of Hackney’ event. The flyers, which were distributed at London’s annual Simcha on the Square, contained images taken from published editions of the anti-Semitic hoax ‘The Protocols of the Elders of Zion’.  As it turned out, many at London’s  simcha on the square were not quite ready for such methods nor indeed were the metropolitan police (who still retain 100s of flyers), yet even the good old JC could see the point in the end.

So we have a lot to learn and could do worse than look towards the often inspirational jewish scene in New York. The story goes as follows. Congregation Beit Simchat Torah is a community with temporary accommodation in Manhattan. Their members are also predominantly gay which meant that they attracted the unwelcome attention of America’s ‘God Hates Fags’ brigade (specifically the Westboro Baptist Church) who organised a protest outside the shul.  Getting wind of the forthcoming protest, the congregation fought back by encouraging their supporters to donate at least $1 for every six minutes of protest. Amazingly, this meant that the 51 minute protest raised over $10 000 for the community. A 150 strong counter-demonstration was also held. With a bit of quick thinking and boldness, the congregation turned a threatening protest into a hugely successful fundraising drive, bringing them closer to achieving permanent accommodation in Manhattan.

It is difficult to conceive of a more creative and successful way of organising opposition. The fundraising drive neutralised and mocked the protest, making it practically impossible for the Baptist church to demonstrate again without running the risk of accidentally supporting the synagogue. The synagogue’s response was non-violent, non-confrontational and didn’t make recourse to the police or attempt to ban the demonstration; it was far more effective than any of these options.

It seems likely that having the courage to attempt this response would have come in part for the sheer size of the jewish community in New York, allowing the synagogue to rely on successful fundraising. It is also probable that organisers had experience in the gay rights movement which has been extremely vocal and effective for decades. Doing something like this is not easy, but is to be aspired to.  We in the UK should look towards responses like this when dealing with anti-Semitism in the UK.