In the heart of Jerusalem’s Kiryat Moshe neighborhood stands the Merkaz Harav Yeshiva, the flagship Religious-Zionist institution. Its official name, The Central Universal Yeshiva, was granted by its founder, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, who envisioned it as a national lighthouse of Torah beaming to the Diaspora, and since he was a universalist messianic thinker, to the entire world as well.
But the yeshiva’s contemporary rhetoric always struck me as odd. While the rabbis speak of Jewish spiritual power as a powerful global force akin to the Roman Empire or the Catholic Church, in reality these are people who proudly espouse cultural insularity and have little interest in globalizing.
Yet a few blocks away lives an alumnus who puts his money where his mouth is. Rabbi Oury Cherki concluded from the 2005 disengagement from Gaza that Judaism had lost its charm in the eyes of ruling elites for one primary reason: It was parochial, and Jews mistakenly believed it had no global message. In 2011, he founded the Brit Olam Noahide World Center, an NGO for spreading the message of Judaism to gentiles.
But since Judaism is not a proselytizing religion, he had no intention of converting anyone to Judaism. He was preaching Noahism.
Noahism
What is Noahism, or the Seven Noahide Commandments? Technically, it is a universal code of conduct that Talmudic law demands of gentiles in order for them to inherit the World to Come. It includes six prohibitions: idolatry; sexual immorality (adultery and incest); murder; theft; animal cruelty (specifically, eating unslaughtered animals); and blaspheming God. And there is one positive commandment: establishing courts of law and abiding by law.
Two questions immediately arise: 1) These laws are fundamental tenets of human conduct, which are already universally recognized themes. 2) The laws are formulated in the negative. What positive message and spiritual path can they relay to gentile spiritual seekers?
In Cherki’s scholarship, these laws are just the threshold. Beyond them, gentiles should delve into the Torah and find their unique place in its theology and practice and accept guidance in their spiritual quest from capable rabbis. Cherki has written a prayer book and a volume of religious law for Noahides and had them translated into eight and 15 languages, respectively.
So when Brit Olam’s manager, Rabbi Haim Goldberg, called me asking for advice for Rabbi Cherki’s upcoming visit to his Noahide communities in the south Indian state of Andhra Pradesh, I was not surprised. But I did immediately tell him to clarify to all interested parties that he is not proselytizing, an action highly regulated by Indian law, and running afoul of which can get you expelled. When I heard that Cherki would be in India during my visit there, I bought a plane ticket from Delhi to Vijayawada to see the marvel with my own eyes.
The Bnei Ephraim and the Noahides of Andhra Pradesh
Vijayawada is a metropolis of two million people. It is known for the Durga Temple on the Krishna River and for the colossal statue of the architect of the Indian constitution, B.R. Ambedkar, which is currently under construction.
I flew in with Cherki and his wife, Ronit, Rabbi Goldberg, and Yaron Gilor, a computer programmer who heads Brit Olam’s India operations. We were greeted at the airport by a serious heat wave and by an Indian man dressed in a white shirt with tzitzit fringes hanging out and a black kippah on his head. Rabbi Yehoshua Yacobi is one of three converts to Judaism from the Bnei Ephraim community, and he was escorted by Noahide community leaders who granted us our first bouquets of flowers of many to come.
The Bnei Efraim are a small community founded by Yacobi’s father, Shmuel, based in the village of Chebrolu, an hour from Vijayawada. Shmuel had attended the Andhra Christian Theological Seminary in Hyderabad and worked for four years as a Baptist missionary. He knew his community was not originally local, and in 1984 he began researching its roots. He saw striking similarities in its history to the history of the biblical tribe of Efraim and concluded that this was its true lineage. This led to a clash with his clergy, and he set out on an independent path.
In the early 1990s, Shmuel heard of Rabbi Eliyahu Avichail, a Merkaz Harav alumnus who dedicated his life to finding the Ten Lost Tribes. He was working with the Bnei Menashe in northeast India and was also spreading Noahism with Vendyl Jones [an American Noahide scholar who directed archaeological searches for biblical artifacts].
At the end of a long journey, Shmuel, his wife, Malka, and son, Yehoshua, converted to Judaism and have been living in the Jerusalem vicinity for 30 years. Yehoshua was ordained as a rabbi at Kollel Torat Yosef, Ohr Torah Stone.
In Jerusalem he met Cherki, and since 2011 he has been guiding a faction of the Bnei Efraim community on the path of Noahism, along with other Noahide communities in Andhra Pradesh. They number around 1,000 in total and have reached out to Cherki for guidance.
The majority were previously Christians, and a minority left Hinduism. The former became discontent with Christianity when they observed that intellectual curiosity and questioning were deemed problematic. They also resented the clergy’s constant monetary demands. Since many had been involved in messianic and Christian-Zionist-oriented churches, they searched in the direction of Judaism and Israel until they found Rabbi Cherki.
I initially asked myself how Cherki’s work differed from that of Christian missionaries, who were so notorious in the eyes of BJP, India’s ruling party of Hindu nationalists. Some answers were immediately obvious, like the fact that the locals had not become Jews. Other answers took time to deduct.
For starters, there was nothing manipulative or predatory about the interactions. No money was demanded or promised, no subterfuge was employed upon hapless villagers. The Noahides I met were neither Delhi elites nor villagers but urban professionals or merchants. Some women were housewives. Some had advanced degrees and spoke perfect English.
It may be hard for Westerners to fathom, but they take spirituality very seriously and invest much time and effort in studies, including learning to pray in Hebrew from Cherki’s prayer book. He privately voiced amazement at their aptitude.
The Noahide messaging
In the five days I spent with the rabbis in India, we traveled to the urban communities of Tuni, Rajahmundry, and to the village of Chebrolu. We spent Shabbat in Vijayawada with 30 community leaders, leading up to a conference with 150 attendees in a large hall.
At each locale we were greeted by a choir of young boys and girls beautifully singing Hebrew hymns and folk songs and showering us with flower petals. The men’s singing at the Shabbat meals was so vibrant that if not for the accent and the Karachi rhythm being tapped on the tables, it could have been a yeshiva.
After greetings, the rabbis addressed the crowds in Hebrew or English, expounding upon Noahism and the meaning of the event that was about to take place. Yacobi translated the speeches into Telugu. We were then draped in garlands and fine shawls.
The primary event was “kibul,” a term coined by Cherki for a ceremony in which the Noahides formally accept the yoke of the Seven Commandments in front of a three-man religious tribunal. Batch after batch assembled and read out a declaration, first in Hebrew and then in Telugu. They finished with the Shema and the blessing of Shehecheyanu, for momentous occasions. Lively song and dance then ensued.
Participants received a diploma and posed with the rabbis for a picture. The events would conclude with daily prayers, similar to standard Orthodox prayers, and a kosher vegetarian meal.
In contrast to their experience with the missionaries, Cherki spent hours fielding questions on any issue the audience raised, such as practice, study material, Bible, theology, and community life.
An even starker contrast to evangelical missionaries was his messaging on Indian society. Whereas evangelicals voice wholesale dismissal of Indian heritage as idolatrous, raising vocal indignation from the Hindu nationalists, Cherki spoke highly of Indian heritage, even as he simultaneously addressed the delicate issue of the Noahide prohibition on idolatry and the icons so ubiquitous in India.
“When I was a child in Paris, I did a report on Mahatma Gandhi,” he related from the conference podium. “Back then, I couldn’t explain what I admired about him. But today, I can tell you that I admired his quest for freedom. And full freedom includes freedom from idolatry, which still exists in India. The Talmud says that a son can bring merit upon his father, and one family member can bring merit upon his entire family. In your merit, generations of Indians will retroactively be rewarded in heaven.
“The Torah does not demand that a man abandon his nation. On the contrary, Noahide commandments demand that you love India and Indians, be loyal to India, and abide by its laws. You have a magnificent civilization, and we are delighted that Israel and India are meeting today to repair the world together under the kingship of God. India is the most spiritual nation on Earth, and the relationship with Israel is only natural. We are honored that you allow us to fulfill our mission as Jews to be a conduit for the word of God.”
What is ‘tikkun olam’?
Today, many Jews today of tikkun olam – repairing the world – but few will quote the original dictum from the Aleinu prayer – “repairing the world under the kingship of God,” a prayer that speaks of calling all nations to worship one God. While I don’t question the utility of properly executed humanitarian projects, I kept on asking myself why so few Jews would contemplate joining Rabbi Cherki’s efforts.
My first notion was that Orthodox Jews are reluctant to declare religious brotherhood with non-Jews. At best, they would view such efforts as a misguided overextension of Jewish religiosity. In the worst case, they would suspect tat some kind of trap was being set by Christian missionaries.
But on a deeper level, I concluded that Cherki was right. Both secular and Orthodox Jews mistakenly agree that Judaism has no global message. The former can fulfill their global aspirations via hi-tech entrepreneurship or philanthropy, and the latter historically discouraged deep relationships with foreigners. But among the young Religious-Zionist generation, Cherki has a celebrity following.
The most important question I attempted to answer was what the Indians gained by following Cherki’s guidance. Was this not a narcissistic exercise in saving souls?
Cherki stressed in his speeches that the Torah is earthly minded. The figure of Abraham was repeatedly invoked as the paradigmatic believer and as the man who was to “command his sons to do charity and justice” (Genesis 18:19).
“The world needs both charity and social reform,” Cherki told the audience at the conference. “Building a prosperous economy is also repairing the world. The Torah teaches us not to relinquish this world. When a man lays proper foundations, he can build upon them and attain lofty spiritual states all the way to prophecy. The Torah teaches us harmony between heaven and Earth, matter and spirit, and unity between the competing forces within each one of us, between charity and justice.”
The Noahides I met had found the existential meaning that they had searched for so passionately. One community leader, Daniel, related that Noahism made him “an upright person.”
One speech I found particularly striking. Deborah V. rose to the podium and related to the audience – her husband sat in the front row – how studying Torah empowered her as a woman and solved a problem that many Indian women experience: domestic abuse and domineering husbands.
“Today we understand that we are worthy of making decisions and defining our own destiny and our family’s destiny. We thought academic degrees would help us,” she said. “But now we understand that a Torah education helped us more. We are grateful for it.”
The writer is an Israeli journalist who is well versed in South Asian culture and politics.