The Price of Exclusion

A thought on Parshat Chayei Sarah:

The villains of Bereishit are rarely “Monsters of the Week”, appearing for a single episode, threatening the Jewish protagonist and being vanquished by G-d and our intrepid heroes. Many of the foes introduced in the Torah’s early chapters – Aram, Canaan, Amalek, Edom and Moav, for example – participate in centuries-long biblical arcs of antagonism, and along the way they teach us lessons about our identity and mission. One such foe is the nation of Midian.

A History of Midian
At first, Midian seems like a footnote in our genealogy. After Yitzchak marries Rivkah, Avraham weds Keturah, and she births six sons. Midian, the fourth of these sons, does not stay in Canaan long; he is exiled to the east, along with his brothers and the anonymous children of unnamed concubines. As Bereishit 25:6 states, Avraham “gave them gifts, and he sent them away from his son, Yitzchak,” lest there be any confusion about who would be included in the Jewish national line.

Midian is far from done, though. They re-surface to play a role in drawing Yosef from the pit, and sending him down to Egypt. (Bereishit 37:28) Later, Moshe becomes a fugitive from Egyptian justice and flees to Midian. (Shemot 2:15) Further along, the Moabites recruit Midian for support in hiring Bilam to curse the Jews. (Bamidbar 22:4) Then, when Bilam fails to harm the Jews, Midianite women join with Moabite women to seduce the Jews and draw them into idolatry. A Midianite princess, Kozbi, publicly embraces Zimri, the prince of the tribe of Shimon. (Bamidbar 25)

The Midian Motif
When we examine these stories of Midian carefully, we recognize two consistent Midianite markers.

First, the Midianite national subconscious remembers being excised from the line of Avraham, and intentionally or unintentionally, they pay back their ancestor by separating his other descendants from the family:
Yosef is separated from his family via the agency of Midianites;
Yitro, a Midianite, welcomes Moshe to spend decades apart from the Jews enslaved in Egypt.
Kozbi separates Zimri from the Jewish people, drawing him to her before the entire nation.

Second, Midian tempts the isolated Jew sexually and religiously, attempting to strip our ethnic and religious identities:
When Yosef descends to Egypt via Midianite agency, the wife of Potifar attempts to lure him into a liaison – an act which Yosef labels “a sin against G-d.” (Bereishit 39:9) Neither immorality nor idolatry actually takes place, and that is a credit to Yosef’s righteousness.
When Moshe goes to Midian, he marries Tzipporah, the daughter of Yitro, “the priest of Midian”. The act has the appearance of impropriety; indeed, Zimri justifies his deed with Kozbi by asking Moshe, “Son of Amram! Is she prohibited or permitted? And if you will say she is prohibited, then who permitted the daughter of Yitro for you?” (Sanhedrin 82a; and see Sotah 43a) Certainly, Moshe’s marriage to Tzipporah and relationship was ultimately neither immoral nor idolatrous, but like Yosef’s refusal of Potifar’s wife, that is a credit to the righteousness of the participants. [It is also worth noting that Midrash Aggadah to Shemot 18:3 ascribes to Yitro a quasi-successful attempt to educate Moshe and his children in idolatry.]
Finally, in luring Zimri and other Jews, Midian succeeds in separating Jews from their family, leading them first into immorality, and then into the idolatry of Baal Peor. Midian has achieved her revenge.

The Moral of Midian
Perhaps Midian’s cross-generational retribution carries a message for the descendants of Avraham. I have not seen any traditional commentator criticize Avraham’s treatment of Keturah’s children, and I would never suggest otherwise. The apparent motivation of averting challenges to Yitzchak’s inheritance is sensible. Nonetheless, the most benign separatism remains exclusive, and our human social drive naturally resents exclusion.

For all of its emphasis upon darchei noam [paths of pleasantness] and community, Torah is exclusive, even within our family. Certain rituals are limited to particular groups, and laws like kashrut and tumah compel the observant to keep a measured distance from the non-observant. May we learn from the saga of Midian, and recognize the pain this inflicts. Even when such pain is necessary, we would do well to find methods of mitigation beyond “Avraham gave them gifts.”

Bruce, Caitlyn and the Death of Neutrality

I grew up seeing Bruce Jenner on Wheaties boxes for his success in the 1976 Olympic decathlon, but I had largely forgotten the name until Bruce emerged in the media this week as Caitlyn Jenner, having undergone transgender surgery. One question this has birthed is whether to identify Caitlyn Jenner as the winner of Olympic gold. However, everyone is clear regarding the present: Caitlyn expects to be called Caitlyn, and not Bruce. Using the name "Bruce" intentionally would be an insulting rejection of this new identity.

This is a halachic question. There is decades-old debate in Jewish law regarding the male/female status of someone who has undergone transgender surgery, but it is clear that halachah prohibits a male from undergoing such surgery, since the Torah explicitly prohibits the removal of male genitalia (Vayikra 22:24, Shabbat 110b). So if I were to meet Bruce/Caitlyn, would it be halachically incorrect for me to say, "Hello Caitlyn"? Would I be endorsing a biblical transgression?

The same question comes up in relating to the quite-common phenomenon of intermarried Jews. Is it appropriate to invite a Jewish man and his non-Jewish wife to a wedding, addressing the invitation to "Mr. and Mrs."?

Of course, a halachah-abiding Jew never wishes to insult and hurt people. And let's not be cynical; saying Bruce would hurt Caitlyn. I cannot imagine the depth of the feelings of a morphological male who believes himself to be herself, and who would go under the knife in such dramatic ways to gain a new image. But does that justify counterfeiting Jewish law, by approving of that which Jewish law forbids?

In truth, this question is old. In one example, a millenia-old mishnah talks about how a Jew should relate to another Jew who farms illegally during the shemitah (Sabbatical) year. This mishnah teaches that one may not "strengthen their hand" by encouraging them in their activity - but that one must promote peace and greet them with a "Shalom aleichem". (Mishnah Sheviit 5:9)

In other words, the mishnah instructs us to keep the peace, by greeting warmly but withholding approval.

However, there is a new, complicating element: the death of neutrality. Perhaps one could have maintained an inoffensive ground in the past and everyone would have understood, and hopefully respected, the tactful disagreement. Today, though, there is no middle ground; speaking with Bruce/Caitlyn and awkwardly avoiding use of a first name or a gender-specific pronoun would be perceived as an insult. [Indeed, don't we often expect non-Jewish society's approval, and reject their neutrality, for our choices as Jews?] And so we are told to choose: Are you with us, or are you against us?

I am not sure what to conclude on this point; I'm still looking for relevant halachic background, and thinking it through. [Update 6:50 AM: To clarify: My current inclination is to say that one would not be justified in using Caitlyn. But I think there are nuances to discuss - for example, is this surgery halachically irreversible, such that the problem of lifnei iver (causing the blind to stumble) might be less relevant)?] Either way, I think this new element - a modern intolerance and sense of entitlement, in which our personal decisions must be accepted and approved of by third parties - is worth contemplating. On one hand, I don't want to voice approval, coerced or not. On the other hand, isn't preservation of peace a great value?

How would you greet a transgender relative? And do you have a Torah source to back it up?

A Tale of Two Tunics

I have a feeling I'm going to get in trouble for the following piece, but I like it too much to keep it to myself...

Bereishit is filled with haberdashery, from Eden chic to Esav's treasured garb, to Tamar's costume, to Yosef's palace ensemble. The clothing of Bereishit protects, conceals, deceives and honours. Perhaps the best-known clothing in this book, though, is Yosef's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, a.k.a. his ketonet pasim.

Yosef's tunic is not the only biblical ketonet, though; another ketonet is a critical part of the kohen's uniform. (Shemot 28:39-40) Indeed, the Talmud connects these two ketonet garments explicitly, saying: "The kohen's ketonet atones for bloodshed, as Bereishit 37:31 says, 'And they slaughtered a goat, and they dipped [Yosef's] ketonet in the blood.'" (Zevachim 88b)

The talmudic logic seems to be that Yosef's brothers dipped his ketonet in blood to provide "evidence" of his death, and so the kohen's ketonet atones for bloodshed. This formula is odd on many levels, but here is a basic challenge: We are taught (Rosh haShanah 26a) that an entity which represents a person's criminality cannot also defend him. For example, the Kohen Gadol does not wear gold when he enters the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur; gold is reminiscent of the Golden Calf. So how can the kohen's ketonet simultaneously recall the bloody deception surrounding the sale of Yosef, and yet atone for bloodshed?

Let us look more closely at the sale of Yosef. The sons of Leah may have shunned Yosef because of Rachel. (Bereishit 37:2) They may have been turned off by Yosef's reports on their bad behaviour. (ibid.) Certainly, they were antagonized by Yosef's dreams. (ibid. 37:5-11) However, a passage in the Talmud (Shabbat 10b) contends that the sale of Yosef was actually triggered by two sela of wool, which marked his ketonet as unique.

As depicted in that talmudic passage and in Rashi's commentary there, Yosef's ketonet was not luxurious, and the brothers would not have envied such a small difference. Rather, the brothers were outraged by the fact that there was any difference, that Yaakov had marked this son as holding a unique role that they could not share. In their eyes, setting Yosef apart was an unjust attack on their legitimate membership in the family.

Long before the Enlightenment taught humanity to question received tradition regarding class and gender identities, Korach (Bamidbar 16) and King Uziahu (Divrei haYamim II 26) challenged the law that one must descend from Aharon in order to act as a kohen. Today, it is nearly universally axiomatic that "separate but equal" is unjust; as Justice Earl Warren wrote, separate is "inherently unequal." Our sense of fair play demands that human beings choose their destinations. Thus it is no surprise that Yosef's brothers would resent Yaakov's act of segregation, and that the Talmud would criticize it.

On the other hand, separation is fundamental to Judaism. At the genesis of Creation, G-d separates light and darkness, land and sea, and He stresses that life forms are to exist "according to their species". G-d separates Avraham and Sarah from their family. G-d says of the Jews, "I have separated you from the nations" (Vayikra 20:26), and then He separates the Levites from the rest of us. (Bamidbar 8:14) How can we expect a humanity which resists segregation to respect a religion which sanctifies it? How can the same ketonet represent the flawed separation of Yosef, and the sanctified separation of the kohen?

Perhaps a meaningful difference between flawed separation and acceptable separation is the identity of the Separator. As the Talmud Yerushalmi (Berachot 5:2) notes, establishing distinctions requires intelligence – and establishing distinctions which shape the lives of human beings requires the Supreme Intelligence of Hashem. Hashem is the One who distinguishes between sacred and mundane, between light and dark, between the Jews and the nations, and between the seventh day and the six days of creative activity.

The kohen's ketonet highlights Divine separation. True, the ketonet represents the bloodshed which resulted from separating Yosef. However, in donning this tunic the kohen restores the power of separation to G-d, righting an ancient wrong. Further, the nation that accepts the kohen demonstrates its acceptance of legitimate, Divine separation. [And see Talmud Yerushalmi Yoma 7:3, which adds that the ketonet also atones for kilayim – a mixing of species which G-d has deemed separate.]

Realistically, life requires that we assign roles, defining confidants, spouses, political leaders, religious authorities, and so on. We need to define eligibility. But to the extent possible, we must respect the impact of distinctions, and practice humility, minimizing our meddling. G-d has assigned different roles to different nations, to different families of Israel, and to different genders; may we refrain from arrogating the power of segregation and creating novel restrictions and boundaries. May we channel our efforts into accepting our Divinely assigned roles, and fulfilling the tasks vouchsafed to us.

Shiur Theatre: 21st Century Tefillah, Part 2

Here is Act Two. Where the first act made points promoting customization of davening, the second act responds by noting the importance of community in communal prayer. We might be overplaying the point, though.

NARRATOR: Act Two begins three weeks later, in the Camp Shul. (Join ADAM)

RABBI and ADAM are standing by the shulchan

RABBI: I don't know, Adam. I mean, this Contemporary Minyan thing… it feels separatist.

ADAM: We've been down that road, remember? Prayer helps a person talk with Gd, and to grow spiritually, in a way that makes him better. So what's the point of preserving Community Prayer, if there is no Prayer?

RABBI: Because I've come to think that the emphasis in Communal Prayer should be more on the Communal than the Prayer.

ADAM: Huh? Where does that idea come from? Of course the point is Prayer - doesn't the Talmud state that davening communally is good because Gd always hears the prayers of the community? It's about the prayer![1]

RABBI: That's not necessarily the main benefit. Communal prayer has always emphasized community. Look at the mishkan that the Jews traveled with in the wilderness; the site for talking with G-d was in the centre of the camp, the glue holding the tribes together. Or the Beit haMikdash, built on communal land owned by no single tribe, to be neutral ground on which everyone could unite.[2]

ADAM: So the community's Feng Shui is oriented around the shared place in which they daven. But that doesn't mean that communal prayer is designed to build community!

RABBI: Why not? Rambam even said that biblical rituals were designed to build community! He wrote that the purpose of עלייה לרגל, of the mitzvah of going to Yerushalayim for each holiday is to build community![3] Or look at the 40 loaves of bread brought with a korban todah, a thanks-offering, in the Beit haMikdash – the Netziv says that the Torah allows just one day to eat all 40 loaves, in order to make sure that it will turn into a community feast.[4]

ADAM: So you're telling me that the reason to daven together is community-building. Do you think that works?

RABBI: Sociologists at the University of Connecticut and Ben Gurion University in Israel think so; they've pointed out that praying in a group increases cooperation and trust among the members of the group.[5] They've found that religious men who attend shul daily are more cooperative and trusting with each other than any other group, including religious men who don't go to shul, religious women, secular men, and secular women.

ADAM: Huh? How did they prove that?

RABBI: It's a bit of a story, but for example, they did a study with 558 members from 18 kibbutzim in Israel: They paired up people, and gave each pair an envelope with 100 shekel to divide between the two of them. To make a long story short, the pairs of men who attended minyan together took less for themselves, and expressed greater trust in each other, than did any other group. The researchers even found that davening together created greater trust than eating together.

ADAM: They should come to our shul, and join the kiddush club; then they could daven and eat together – that will really build community!

RABBI: Yeah, yeah. Listen, there are other benefits besides trust, too. In a shul, davening in a large group brings the children who daven there into the community.[6] And it offers chances for people to give each other emotional support and to address communal needs.

ADAM: Communal needs? How?

RABBI: Think about it – We add elements like the Kel Malei and Yizkor for grieving, to give people the chance to cry together; that's what אב הרחמים was originally for, too, after the Crusades. We have the מי שברך for people who are sick, which raises awareness of people's needs. We recite יקום פורקן to encourage volunteerism by blessing the community's volunteers.

ADAM: Hah! That assumes the volunteers are actually back from the kiddush club in time for יקום פורקן, to hear it.

RABBI: That's two on the kiddush club; make another joke at their expense and you'll never act in this town again! But the practical aid is about more than prayers and emotional support - appeals for tzedakah have always been the norm in shul, and in older times they would announce Lost and Found and even help people find jobs in shul.[7]

ADAM: So you're claiming that this is what Gd had in mind – that tefillah b'tzibbur, communal davening, is really about community first, and davening second? You do realize that this idea encourages talking in shul, right?

RABBI: Yes, I-

JOSH enters; Rabbi stops speaking to look over at him

JOSH (agitated): Rabbi, Adam, you're not going to believe this. I just heard from some of the teens who go to the Contemporary Minyan.

RABBI: And?

JOSH: They don't find the Contemporary Minyan very contemporary; they want to break away and form an Alternative Contemporary Minyan.

ADAM: But what don't they like?

JOSH: For starters, they think the Waiters' idea of a berachah for the stock market is lame.

ADAM (sarcastic): Sure, until they want to draw on their trust funds!

RABBI: So what berachos do they want instead?

JOSH (counting on his fingers): They want one for the environment and global warming. And another for world peace – not just Jewish peace, but peace everywhere. And they want one for children in Africa, and they want one for the homeless-

RABBI (impressed): Well, it's good that they have such serious concerns. Maybe you're right – we should be encouraging the kids to take their davening so personally. If they want to talk to Gd about African children - I'm impressed!

JOSH: Um…. and they want one for keeping Justin Bieber out of jail.

RABBI: They may want growth, but I guess they're kids all the same…

---

[1] Berachos 6a, 7b-8a; Mishneh Torah Hilchot Tefillah 8:1; Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 90:9

[2] Yoma 12a, and the Rambam rules this way

[3] Niddah 34a, Maharitz Chajes there; Moreh haNevuchim 3:34

[4] Haameik Davar Vayyikra 7

[5] Religious Ritual and Cooperation: Testing for a Relationship on Israeli Religious and Secular Kibbutzim (Current Anthropology 44:5 2003); Does it pay to pray? Costly Ritual and Cooperation, The Berkeley Electronic Journal of Economic Analysis & Policy 7:1 (2007) ; The Adaptive Value of Religious Ritual, American Scientist

[6] Prayer is a Positive Activity for Children, International Journal of Children’s Spirituality 10:3 Dec. 2005

[7] Succah 51b; and see the בית כנסת של טרסיים in Megilah 26a and Nazir 52a

They stab their rabbis

[I've been blogging, first on another blog and then here, since 2006. Between the two blogs, that's over 1500 posts. I can't remember ever calling out a particular person before. But I'm just too upset to let this one go.]

As we've already discussed here, a couple of Orthodox high schools now permit their female students to wear tefillin at school services. Last week, Rabbi Hershel Schachter published an article which focussed on the fact that the leaders of the school chose to address the relevant halachic questions themselves, rather than consult the halachic authorities they usually ask about weighty matters. Rabbi Schacter wrote sharply about the importance of consulting those who have greater knowledge.

I'd like to discuss the content of the matter eventually, but right now I am taken aback by a Twitter response by an Orthodox synagogue rabbi. He tweeted:

The shorter version of R. Herschel Schacter's missive (it's not a 'teshuvah') is that the greatest sin a Jew can do is disagree with him.

After this blatant mischaracterization of Rabbi Schacter's article, the tweeter did follow up with a post on his blog explaining his disagreement with the content of Rabbi Schachter's piece. But my point isn't to discuss his disagreement. My point is to discuss the way he launched it.

What's eyebrow-raising to me is the cavalier treatment of a leader, whether you agree with him or not. There is no sobriety, no maturity, no sense of respect at all.

I am reminded of a talmudic passage (Gittin 56a)  recording an event from the Roman siege of Jerusalem, leading up to the destruction of the second Beit haMikdash. Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai wished to surrender to Rome, and others disagreed powerfully enough that they were willing to burn down Jerusalem's storehouses of food, to compel militant revolt. Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai conspired with an insider to have himself transported out of Jerusalem, under the pretense that he was dead:

עביד הכי, נכנס בו רבי אליעזר מצד אחד ורבי יהושע מצד אחר, כי מטו לפיתחא בעו למדקריה, אמר להו: יאמרו רבן דקרו! בעו למדחפיה, אמר להו: יאמרו רבן דחפו! פתחו ליה בבא, נפק.

He did this, and Rabbi Eliezer escorted him on one side, and Rabbi Yehoshua on the other. When they reached the city gate, the zealots wished to stab him [to ensure that he was dead, and not conspiring with the Romans]. The escort said to them, "They will say that the Jews stab their rabbis!" They wished to shove his body. The escort said to them, "They will say that the Jews shove their rabbis!" They opened the gate for him, and he escaped.

The zealots had a murderous hatred for Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai and all he represented, but the zealots understood something that this tweeter misses. You can disagree with someone, but if thousands of Jews follow him, then he has status, whether you like it or not. And to stab him or shove him says a great deal about how you view not just the leader, but your fellow Jews. That's what the zealots didn't want the Romans to see.

My point is not to say that this rabbinic tweeter should agree with Rabbi Schacter; if he has an opinion and he can cite halachic sources to support it, let him do so. But let him do so in a way that doesn't demonstrate such disrespect toward the Rabbi, and toward the thousands who do agree with him.

It's too bad that this tweeter doesn't get it; his followers now know that he will stab a Jewish leader, just because he disagrees with him.

The King is in the Building (potential derashah for Vayelech, 5774)

[This is my Toronto Torah article for this week; you can download the entire issue here.]

The mother of all Jewish conventions, the septennial hakhel gathering features an assembly of Jews of all ages. As Devarim 31:12 records Moshe's instruction, "Gather the nation: men, women, children, and the stranger at your gates." After every shemitah year, on the second night of Succot, all who call themselves by the name Israel must assemble and hear sections of the book of Devarim read aloud. Historically, this reading was done by the king, in an area of the Beit haMikdash.

The Torah's demand that children participate in the celebration is unique among our mitzvot; in no other communal mitzvah does the Torah explicitly require their participation. The Talmud (Chagigah 3a) is sensitive to this quirk, and it suggests that the reason to bring the children is "to provide reward for those who bring them." This seems circular, though; does the Talmud mean to say that G-d created a mitzvah solely for the sake of rewarding those who fulfill it?

One might explain the Talmud to mean that those who bring their children will be rewarded by the very act of bringing them. For example: Sefer haChinuch (612) contends that hakhel increases our love of Torah, through the glory of this gathering. Perhaps, then, having our children at hakhel rewards the bringers, by inculcating love of Torah into those children.

Alternatively, Ibn Ezra (Devarim 31:12) sees the benefit of hakhel as educational; those who attend will be inspired to ask questions, and thereby to learn more throughout the year. Having our curious children at hakhel will inspire them to inquire and learn.

However, a third benefit of bringing children may be linked to the practice of having the king conduct the public reading. Rambam does not list hakhel as a king's mitzvah, and indeed the Torah does not identify the reader explicitly. However, our sages (Sotah 41a) took for granted that this should be the king. [See also Yereim 233 and 266, Tosafot Yom Tov to Sotah 7:8, and Minchat Chinuch 612:2.] Certainly, there is added splendour an gravitas when the king leads a ritual, but why this ritual, in particular?

Every seven years, during the period of shemitah, the normal rules of society cease to function: the fences surrounding fields are broken, the tithes that support the kohanim and leviyim are neglected, the heirarchical relationship between employer and employee is severed, hardworking farmers become men of leisure, and loans are forgiven and forgotten. This can constitute a healthy break for society, and a community's rules can be strengthened by this sort of periodic vacation. [See Jeffrey Rubenstein, Purim, Liminality and Communitas.] However, with such a haitus we risk the possibility that the community falls in love with its lawless vacation, and forgets to return.

This may be part of the role of hakhel: To remind the Jewish nation that its existence is still governed by the rules and institutions of the Torah. Thus the nation reads key biblical passages: the fundamentals of our faith; the tithes given to the kohanim, the leviyim and the needy; the monarchy; and the national covenant into which we enter at the end of the book of Devarim. (Mishnah Sotah 7:8; Tosefta Sotah 7:17) We re-commit ourselves to these obligations, and to our national structure.

Within this context, having the king perform the reading is entirely logical; the king is the heart of the command structure we reiterate with hakhel. And bringing our children is its own reward, for even children who are too young to comprehend the reading will realize that the entire community has assembled as one to hear the instructions of its king, and this will create a lasting appreciation for the honour of our government and society's institutions.

In less than one week, we will perform a version of hakhel as we gather to mark Rosh haShanah. Among the central themes of this day is the coronation of G-d as King, and this, too, is a necessary reminder. From Yom Kippur to Rosh haShanah there is very little in our lives that declares to us, "HaShem hu ha'Elokim!" We can go through much of our year, even while observing mitzvot, without devoting significant thought to the meaning and implications of the Divine Throne. So it is that once each year we set aside time to gather with the explicit aim of coronating our King. May we be personally and communally impacted by this grand celebration – and may we ensure that our children participate in the moment, so that they will be impacted as well.

The Noble National Endeavor (Derashah, Vayyakhel-Pekudei 5773)

Here is the derashah I plan to deliver this Shabbos; if you have any he'arot, please send them before Shabbos!

Few people in Tanach are more isolated than Moshe:

• In his youth, Moshe dwells in Pharaoh's palace.
• As an adolescent, Moshe is forced to flee to Midian – where he marries Tzipporah, a woman from a pariah family.
• Moshe returns from Midian to a nation that possesses neither the strength nor the patience for his religious mission; they wished he would return to Midian and leave them in their slavery.

Perhaps the presentation of the Torah gave Moshe his long-awaited chance to join the nation, to be a teacher and grow to know his people – but then Moshe descends from Har Sinai and discovers the Golden Calf, and he becomes an outsider yet again:

• He is a wrathful judge, ordering the execution of thousands of people who had worshipped the Calf.
• He is a spiritual outsider, a pious third party pleading with G-d on behalf of the sinful Jews.
• He is a physical outsider, moving his tent beyond the tribal perimeter, a leper of sorts.
• He is distanced from his students, wearing a veil to obscure his radiance when teaching them.
• He is even distanced from family; as the midrash explains, he separates from his wife, Tzipporah.

Moshe is the Loneliest Man of Faith, and in this light, his actions in the following midrash make sense:

After listing the items created for the Mishkan, the Torah tells us “הוקם המשכן,” the Mishkan was raised. But then, in the very next sentence, the Torah says, “ויקם משה את המשכן,” “And Moshe raised the Mishkan.” Why does the Torah mention the act of construction twice, but include Moshe only in the second assembly? Our midrash[1] explains:

היה משה מיצר על שלא נשתתף הוא עמהן במלאכת המשכן... ולפי שהיה משה מיצר העלים הקב"ה מהם ולא היו יכולין להעמידו... עד שאמר לו הקב"ה למשה לפי שהיית מיצר שלא היה לך עשייה ולא חלק במלאכת המשכן לפיכך לא יכלו אותן חכמים להעמידו בשבילך

Moshe was upset that he had not personally taken part in actually building the Mishkan… Because Moshe was upset, Gd hid information from the people and they could not make the Mishkan stand… until Gd told Moshe, "Because you were upset about not having an active role in the work of the mishkan, therefore, those craftsmen could not assemble it in your place."

Like Yonah camped outside of Nineveh, like Eliyahu living in the wilderness, Moshe had been excluded from the people he had led out of Egypt and had saved from Divine wrath. Perhaps Moshe now wishes to re-join the nation, via the symbolic act of participating in the construction of the Mishkan.

However, this midrash requires deeper examination, for that cannot be the whole picture of Moshe's intent.

The midrashic image of Gd watching the Jews blunder about clumsily like the Three Stooges, putting up walls and having them collapse, is amusing (if theologically disturbing). But the idea that spiritual Moshe, who just spent many weeks atop Sinai without eating or drinking, now wanted to engage in physical construction, is intriguing. Is he a forerunner of A.D. Gordon and Labour Zionism, insisting upon working with his hands? If not, why is this, the act of building the mishkan, the moment that Moshe seizes to re-join the community?

Let's make the question stronger – Why does Gd permit Moshe to join the Jews who had worshipped the Calf?

• Moshe is meant to be apart, veiled, separate even from his wife!
• Recall that G-d did not speak to Avraham as long as he lived with Lot,[2] or to Moshe as long as he was in idolatrous Egypt[3] - why would Gd now want him to be with idolaters?

Why does Moshe belong at the site of the Mishkan, at all?

The answer may lie in the two Ohel Moed structures the Jews had in the wilderness.

The first אהל מועד was Moshe's tent, and it was for כל מבקש ד', for any individual who sought to meet Gd. After the sin of the Golden Calf, as we read last week, Moshe moved that tent outside of the camp.[4]

With the construction of the Mishkan, though, there was a second, communal אוהל מועד. As described in our parshah,[5] the new tent of meeting with Gd was part of the mishkan – in the middle of the camp.

The private ohel moed, for individuals, was moved outside the camp; individuals, even Moshe, were unworthy of connecting with Gd in the domain of those who had worshipped the Calf. This Divine denial of entry was the fate of Avraham with Lot, and of Moshe in Egyot. However, the community as a whole could greet Gd in the public ohel moed, the Mishkan, even within the camp. טומאה הותרה בציבור, a community approaches Gd with a power far beyond that of the lone Jew, overriding the impurity of their recent idolatry. The moment when a nation approaches Gd, rising from the ashes of its failings to soar toward its spiritual destiny, has a power which no past calamity could undermine.

This image of the Mishkan as a site in which the community of stumbling Man could meet with sacred G-d, in which holiness could be present despite the coarseness of sin, is seen in a nuance of the law of shaatnez. As Jews, we are prohibited from wearing shaatnez, garments which mix wool and linen. Traditionally, we have considered this law a rule above rational explanation, but Rabbi Eliezer of Worms, the 13^th century author of the Rokeiach, suggested in a mystical vein that wool represents the purity of the heavenly domain, and linen represents the coarseness of the earthly domain.[6] Normally, we recognize a distance between those two realms – but wool and linen meet in the אבנט, the belt worn by the kohen when working in the Mishkan and Beis haMikdash.

Moshe understood that in the Mishkan a community could bond with Gd despite their flaws and errors. Beyond wanting to simply "fit in", Moshe longed to participate in this process. To Moshe, the Mishkan presented an opportunity to join with the nation in their pursuit of national atonement, an auspicious venue in which to bend the curve of heaven a bit closer to earth and elevate the human being to the limits of his plane; this warranted cooperation with a nation that had violated its covenant with G-d mere months earlier.

The mishkan unites Jews of every level, from the purity of the heavens to the coarseness of the earth. This is where Moshe wanted  to be – not off in his tent, secluded with Gd, but part of the noble, national Jewish experience, building a home for Gd on Earth. Moshe was pained by the thought that he might be excluded from this venture.

We wear Moshe's shoes; Jews who observe halachah are compelled to stand apart from the rest of the Jewish community in so many ways. We eat in kosher restaurants and kosher homes. Our Friday night is dedicated to celebrating Shabbos. We dance differently, we sing differently, we learn differently.

At the same time, we dare not become Yonah balefully glaring at Nineveh from the distance of his hut, or Eliyahu off in the wilderness complaining to Gd of the sins of the nation. Rather, we are summoned, it is our destiny, to be like the אבנט of the kohen, to work as Moshe did, to find ways to be משתתף, to partner with, the world around us, when they unite as a community in service of Gd. To make our shul part of a Federation, a JCC, a Jewish Family Service, a Limmud. Not because this will win us adherents, but because we see our shul, our mishkan, as a place to bring stumbling man closer to sacred Gd, together.

I happen to believe in A.D. Gordon's Labour Zionism; physical work does have a redemptive character – and especially in building up our homeland. But Moshe's message here is not about the physical act of putting up a building. And Moshe is not only trying to defeat the isolation he had experienced for much of his life. Rather, Moshe is articulating a message of sublime beauty: Stand apart as you must - but in the mishkan, stand together, contribute to that noble, national enterprise.

In last week’s parshah, after the חטא העגל, HaShem performed the ultimate act of separating Moshe from the rest of the nation: Gd declared, “I shall destroy the rest of them, and inaugurate a new nation with you.” This is it, Moshe – you are going to be the new Avraham, and your descendants will begin again.

Moshe dramatically rejected this Divine offer, standing his ground and insisting that his fate would lie with the nation.
Moshe saw his spiritual identity intertwined with that of his people, his spiritual home located in the Mishkan that played host to the entire population. May we, in our own mishkan, remain committed to do the same.

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[1] Tanchuma Pekudei 11 (Warsaw)

[2] Rashi Bereishis 13:14

[3] Shemos Rabbah 18:1

[4] Shemot 33:7

[5] Such as Shemos 40:35

[6] Peirush haRokeiach al haTorah

The greatness of Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook

[Originally posted in 2009 here. I repost it now because the original received too few comments, and because I love it]

Yeshivat Hesder Ramat Gan published “Go’el Yisrael גואל ישראל,” several years ago. The book collects considerable quality material on Yom ha’Atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, from Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, his son Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook, their students, and other giants of Religious Zionism. It also offers a complete order of prayer for Yom haAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim.

On page 300-301, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook is quoted regarding the Chief Rabbinate’s recommendation of saying Hallel without a berachah on Yom ha’Atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day:

On the Erev Shabbat preceding Yom ha’Atzmaut, a certain important man came to me and asked why our rabbis do not permit us to recite a berachah upon Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut. I replied to him that the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate is balanced and correct.

The enactments of the Chief Rabbinate apply to the entire community. Since, to our pain and shame, a great portion of our community does not believe in the great act of Gd which is revealed to us in the establishment of the government of Israel, and since, due to its lack of faith, it lacks joy, it is not possible to obligate them to recite Hallel with a berachah. It is like someone who sees a friend and is glad to see him, who is obligated to recite a berachah; if he is joyous, he recites a beracah. If he is not joyous, he does not recite a berachah.

Rav Maimon, whose entire being was dedicated to building Gd’s nation and portion, was filled with the joy of faith, and so he established in his synagogue to recite Hallel with a berachah. The same is true in other, similar places – the IDF and religious kibbutzim. However, the Chief, all-inclusive Rabbinate cannot enact a berachah as an all-inclusive ruling for the entire community, when the community is not ready for it.

In our central Yeshiva we had followed the ruling of the Rabbinate, for we are not a kloiz of a specific sect. We are associated with the general Jewish population centered in Yerushalayim, and since that population includes, for now, to our pain and our embarrassment, obstacles to complete faith and joy, and therefore to the obligation to recite a berachah, it is appropriate that we also act according to the ruling of the Rabbinate for the general population.

I find this explanation fascinating for many reasons, including the following:

• I’m not sure which group he means, when he speaks of those who don’t believe in the great act of Gd – does he mean those who do not believe in Divine intervention? Or those who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd?

• I wonder how many people who do not believe in Divine intervention, or who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd, daven in Mercaz haRav – and on Yom ha’Atzmaut in particular?

• I believe that his insistence on keeping the yeshiva – the bastion of his father’s Torah! – as an institution open to all, and serving all, and avoiding divisive practices even on matters we hold most dear, should be a model for all of us. This is true leadership.

Multiculturalism and Intermarriage

I'm preparing for a moot court addressing a will which limits the bequest to heirs who do not marry non-Jews. One of the questions involved is whether upholding such a clause is in the interests of Canadian public policy.

[Side note: I am against such clauses, in general. I believe parents should make their Jewish lives attractive to their children, rather than rely on threats. I know that living attractive Jewish lives will not necessarily lead children to emulate their parents - but my outlook is that threats are neither healthy nor good strategy.]

I've been reading cases and articles relating to the topic. Here's a relevant piece from the Canadian Multiculturalism Act:

It is hereby declared to be the policy of the Government of Canada to

(a) recognize and promote the understanding that multiculturalism reflects the cultural and racial diversity of Canadian society and acknowledges the freedom of all members of Canadian society to preserve, enhance and share their cultural heritage;

(b) recognize and promote the understanding that multiculturalism is a fundamental characteristic of the Canadian heritage and identity and that it provides an invaluable resource in the shaping of Canada’s future;

(c) promote the full and equitable participation of individuals and communities of all origins in the continuing evolution and shaping of all aspects of Canadian society and assist them in the elimination of any barrier to that participation;

(d) recognize the existence of communities whose members share a common origin and their historic contribution to Canadian society, and enhance their development;

(e) ensure that all individuals receive equal treatment and equal protection under the law, while respecting and valuing their diversity;

(f) encourage and assist the social, cultural, economic and political institutions of Canada to be both respectful and inclusive of Canada’s multicultural character;

(g) promote the understanding and creativity that arise from the interaction between individuals and communities of different origins;

(h) foster the recognition and appreciation of the diverse cultures of Canadian society and promote the reflection and the evolving expressions of those cultures;

(i) preserve and enhance the use of languages other than English and French, while strengthening the status and use of the official languages of Canada; and

(j) advance multiculturalism throughout Canada in harmony with the national commitment to the official languages of Canada.

My sense is that (a) and (d) support the argument that the Government of Canada, as a matter of policy, recognizes the ability of members of a community to make such clauses, intended to preserve their community. [Separately, I will argue that this clause is neither racist nor discriminatory, since it is based on acceptance of a creed rather than any particular background or heritage.] But that could just be my read.

What do you think?