A sound rebuke from the Chafetz Chaim

I remember one of my rebbeim, Rav Yitzchak Cohen, noting the hypocrisy of saying about the words of Torah "כי הם חיינו ואורך ימינו ובהם נהגה יומם ולילה (These are our life and the length of our days, and we will speak them day and night)" in the daily Maariv prayer, and then not living them and committing serious time to learn Torah. How can we call these "our life", and not treat them that way?

Rav Cohen had similar feelings about the line at the end of the amidah, "יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך (May the declarations of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart be desirable before You)," a declaration that often comes right after 3-4 minutes of meandering thoughts. Am I asking for my thoughts about exams, sports, and who knows what else to be desirable to Gd?

I was reminded of that the other day, when I read the Chafetz Chaim's words in Shem Olam, Volume 2, Chapter 11:

One comes to shul and stands and declares before Gd that he will sanctify His Name in the world as do the celestial hosts of Heaven. In the course of this he departs the Beit Midrash and someone offends his honor, and fire comes from his mouth and he removes his mind entirely from serving Gd, and he dirties his soul with various prohibitions, harmful speech, gossip, strife, mockery, sometimes also theft and taking by force.

Within some hours he returns to the Beit Midrash to daven minchah with the community before Gd, and he returns and cloaks himself in the sanctity of an angel, saying, 'We will sanctify Your Name in the world, as they sanctify it in the Heavens!'

'Nuff said.

My Inspiration

I won't deny that starting a new beit midrash is somewhat frightening. Although I am working with great people all around, the idea of moving to a new country, leaving my shul-rabbinate comfort zone, venturing into a community with greater sophistication than any I have served before, etc, is scary. I have wondered, off and on, whether I'm in over my head.

Two weeks ago, though, in packing up sefarim, I came across a document I had long forgotten. It's a paper my parents saved from my freshman year in high school - my "Jewish Studies Department" report card, filled out by my rebbe, Rabbi Yitzchok Cohen.

I've already discussed part of Rabbi Cohen's impact on me, in this post. But here's more of it.

(First, a tangential note: Where he was to fill in his name, Rabbi Cohen crossed out "Rabbi" and just filled in "Yitzchok Cohen." I love that.)

Talmud - 90 Dinim - 82 Chumash - 80 Average - 88

Bechinah [test]
Gemara - 84 Dinim - 70 Chumash - 76

Behavior - Gem of a boy. Class participation - Good at times

Okay, so I wasn't exactly top of the shiur. But the really good part is in the "Rebbi's Comments" section:

מרדכי נ"י is very interested in learning and yet doesn't know the gemara well enough. He is somewhat confused. מרדכי needs a chavruta at nights. There is no need why מרדכי shouldn't do better on chumash and mishnayot tests. מרדכי is not working as hard as he could. A boy who is blessed with a good mind and loves learning and most of all is sincere and pure. I expect much more from him. 'בעזרת ה there will be improvement. מרדכי has all the makings in becoming a true תלמיד חכם and ירא שמים (Gd-fearing person).

Now, that was a rebbe. I don't know about the sincere, pure, gem parts - maybe it was a way to soften the blow for my parents - but regarding the rest, my rebbe was straight on.

"doesn't know the gemara well enough"
"confused"
"needs a chavruta"
"no reason why מרדכי shouldn't do better"
"not working as hard as he could"

All true.

So now I look back at that report, remember what life in the shiur that year was like and what has happened since, and know that if Gd could bring me all this way, then anything is, indeed, possible.

I need to get that paper framed.

From Shifchah Charufah to Theodicy, “I don’t know” is the right answer

Over the years, I have learned to love the magic words “I don’t know” on many levels.

It started with my high school entrance interview with Rabbi Yitzchak Cohen, for MTA (Yeshiva University’s boys’ high school – aka TMSTAYUHSFB). Rabbi Cohen came to our elementary school, Hebrew Academy of Long Beach, and he interviewed us as a group, and then one by one.

Rabbi Cohen was very intimidating for me; I was a skinny 5-1 or 5-2 kid, and to me he looked like he was about 6-6. He had a long beard, black-framed glasses, and intense expression. His accent (Detroit?) and speech pattern were unusual for me, too, and I didn’t catch everything he said. It isn’t that he wasn’t kindly; I was just automatically intimidated. (Over the years since, I have come to respect and love him, and see him as a great role model.)

At one point during the 1-on-1, Rabbi Cohen began asking me questions. "What does X mean?" "Can you explain Y," that sort of thing. I did pretty well; thank Gd, I had a strong education and a good command of Hebrew, and knew what one would hope an eighth-grade Jewish boy would know.

Until he pulled out the stumper – “What is a Shifchah Charufah?”

I had no idea. I had heard the term somewhere, but I couldn’t remember what it meant. So I did the best I could – I knew shifchah was a maid, and charufah might be linked to חרפה, meaning embarrassment, so I tried, “An embarrassed maid.”

(The right answer: A חציה שפחה חציה בת חורין who is betrothed to an עבד עברי and then becomes involved with another man. Or, according to one view, a regular שפחה כנענית who is betrothed to an עבד עברי and then becomes involved with another man.

Yeah, I knew you knew that.)

That was when Rabbi Cohen taught me a lesson I haven’t forgotten in the 22 years since, and I hope never to forget: If you don’t know, say “I don’t know.” I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s not the end of the world, pal – just say it. I don’t know.

I think he knew that his question would stump me. I think he asked that question just to be able to teach me that lesson in humility and honesty… for which I am very grateful today, although I wasn’t at the time.

The story comes to mind now for two reasons:
1. We’ve been discussing the bizarre case of the Shifchah Charufah in Daf Yomi this week, and
I was reminded again yesterday of this important lesson.
2. It goes back to my post from yesterday, about the funeral of a young woman, as great a person as I know here in Allentown, who died of an extremely painful disease.

After the funeral I was approached by someone who asked me the age-old question, “What is it about? Why does this happen? Is it just that Gd wasn’t looking, was busy somewhere else?”

I do feel, often, like I should have an answer, like I’m expected to have the answer. "Rabbi, you've been at this for a dozen years; what can we say when something like this happens?" And I’m supposed to say something which will give all of this meaning.

But I’m no closer to understanding this than I was to knowing the meaning of shifchah charufah as a fourteen year old kid.

Oh, on a theoretical level I can talk about the gemara’s four approaches to suffering and Rav Soloveitchik’s “what now” instead of “why” question, but, ultimately, when dealing with מתו מוטל לפניו, an actual case, Rabbi Cohen was right: When you don’t know, say I don’t know.

It’s the right answer.