RUTHFULLY YOURS

The largest funeral in the history of the state of Israel took place on Monday evening in Jerusalem. More than 700,000 mourners attended the procession of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef to the Sanhedria cemetery, causing virtually the entire city to shut down.

Anticipating the mob scene and potential public safety risk, police spent the hours following the announcement of Yosef’s death gearing up for the event. This was not going to be an ordinary burial, after all. Nor would it follow the usual pattern of contained chaos that normally accompanies the passing of a revered rabbi. No, as security forces understood all too well, the laying to rest of this particular spiritual leader was going to generate mass hysteria of monumental proportions.

They were right. The behavior of the crowds that came to part with their beloved Rav Ovadia — the mentor of the Shas party, considered a kingmaker in Israeli politics, recognized as a genius arbitrator of Jewish law and viewed as the figure most responsible for a surge of Sephardi pride — exceeded all expectations.

Yes, women and men moaned, groaned, wept and screamed in pain over the loss of their beloved hero. To witness the frenzied gyrators, one might have mistaken the rapture for an Elvis Presley memorial at Graceland. Except for the sea of black coats and style of sideburns, that is. They were the “dead” giveaway that this was not the fervor of Hollywood star worship, but rather a more somber religious ritual.

The trouble is that its flavor was absolutely antithetical to the religion it was supposedly representing.

This is not to say that the deceased in question was undeserving of pomp and circumstance. On the contrary, Rabbi Ovadia — as those in the know, both admirers and detractors, have pointed out — was a true scholar and innovative Jewish thinker. His were some of the boldest arbitrations of his generation. They were also some of the most liberal.

This is the height of irony for such a man whose career was marked by outrageous, hate-filled diatribes against gentiles on the one hand and non-observant Jews on the other. It is for this, among other reasons, that Ovadia was as detested and ridiculed as he was adored. Love him or hate him, however, the Baghdad-born “ilui” (prodigy of Torah and Talmud study), whose dozens of scholarly books have been touted as crucial reading, warranted attention.

It was thus utterly appropriate and understandable that his funeral stopped traffic in all senses, and that it was the source of nonstop media coverage from morning till night.

Less fitting was the conduct of his worshippers, whose attitude towards the man throughout his life and at its end, has been nothing short of idolatry — one of the biggest prohibitions in Judaism.

Being awestruck by a rabbi, especially one of high intellectual stature, is commonplace and hard to avoid. All people in positions of authority, in particular those who impart genuine or perceived wisdom, tend to be treated as larger than life by underlings and protégés. And Rabbi Ovadia was famous for possessing a kind of magical charisma that involved, among other things, “comedy” routines he would perform every Saturday night. That these centered on cursing enemies and wishing others ill and may have been repugnant to those of us who do not consider such ranting and raving to be consistent with the spirit of Judaism, is beside the point. His followers saw him as someone who emitted and shined light — as perfect a definition of charisma as you can get.

Still, Jews are not supposed to view human beings as “larger than life.” In fact, according to Maimonides, Jews aren’t even supposed to view God as such.

But at least the God of the Jews does not take the form of a physical body, whereas Rabbi Ovadia was not simply a man; he was an ailing 93-year-old. In this respect, his death was neither a surprise nor a tragedy beyond the personal sadness always connected with saying goodbye to a loved one, or the public sorrow characteristic of a sense that a certain era is over.

My advice to all the tearful Jews who are fainting in despair right now is that they take a break from their swaying and praying to go back and read what Ovadia and previous Jewish sages have to say about bowing down before idols. It is forbidden, people. Period.

Ruthie Blum is the author of “To Hell in a Handbasket: Carter, Obama, and the ‘Arab Spring.'”