Adrian Peterson is a top-level, record-setting, award-winning star athlete. He is also a father of six children, and this past week he was indicted by a grand jury for "reckless or negligent injury" for beating one of his children, age 4, with a switch - a leaf-stripped tree branch, apparently on bare skin, causing deep wounds.
Mr. Peterson's defense is simple: he never intended to cause harm, he was trying to help his child. "I disciplined my son the way I was disciplined as a child." Indeed, other athletes and public figures chimed in that this is a standard way to discipline children in contemporary society. The implication: I was disciplined with a switch and I grew up to be a healthy, well-adjusted, normal human being, and so in my mind, this is a good way to raise a child.
This is not the place for a discussion of Jewish tradition's complex approach to disciplining a child (but click here for a source sheet on the topic from a class of mine). Rather, I want to focus on Mr. Peterson's implication that he is healthy, well-adjusted, etc. It would be wrong for me to assume anything about him, especially when I have so many flaws and abnormalities of my own, but I would ask this about football players in general: are we sure that someone who makes his living playing a sport in which absurdly bulked-up humans crash into each other in front of millions of viewers on a weekly basis for several years (if they are lucky and good), before retiring with severely damaged backs and knees, and frequently with serious concussion damage suspected of leading to unusually high rates of depression and suicide, is... healthy?
Similarly, a while back I heard a radio pundit talk about how her parents were worried about the impact of high doses of television on the childrens of the '70s and '80s, and how "we turned out fine". Perhaps that generation - my generation - is fine, but when we read about out-of-control obesity, high rates of emotional and anxiety disorders, poor levels of social and civic engagement and so on, shouldn't we at least question whether we "turned out fine"?
Perhaps many of us naturally think of ourselves as having turned out fine, like Adrian Peterson and like the woman on the radio. But this is part of the Rosh HaShanah challenge: to look at ourselves and ask, "Are we healthy? Or do we need to change something?"
As long as we go about our lives believing that we are okay, we lack the impetus to re-evaluate and determine a more positive direction; we will go right on doing what we've always done. But consider the words of Cris Carter, a former football star: "My mom did the best job she could do, raising seven kids by herself. But there are thousands of things that I have learned since then that my mom was wrong... She did the best she could, but she was wrong about some of that stuff she taught me." The same is quite possibly true for ourselves; we've done our best, but that doesn't mean we've been right.
As we approach Rosh HaShanah, let us ask ourselves whether we are where we ought to be, whether the way we were raised and the way we have raised ourselves has brought us where we should be, and whether we want to try something different as we move forward.
May we thoughtfully re-examine ourselves in the coming days, and enter the year 5775 wiser, more realistic, and with a path toward the people we wish to become.
Showing posts with label Judaism: Self-improvement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judaism: Self-improvement. Show all posts
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Friday, October 5, 2012
Cesar Kuriyama, Rabbeinu Yonah and self-improvement
CNN.com has a feature here on a TED talk by artist Cesar Kuriyama on his project, "1 Second Everyday". It's the sort of thing that my friend Neil Harris at Modern Uberdox would love.
As Kuriyama explains it:
The one-second everyday project [in which he recorded 1 second of video of his life every day, for a year, and concatenated the videos] was something that originally started out as a way for me to chronicle my year off from work but really quickly after I started I realized that it was helping me in many more ways. It was allowing me to realize that I could remember everyday that I've lived; it was allowing me to quickly reflect back on the things that I had to done, to be able to zoom out from the past month and realize, "Oh wow, I sat around a lot this month." I instantly decided to do it for the rest of my life and realized the benefits were far greater than the amount of work I needed to put into it, which was just a quick second to remind me of that day.
I contrast this with the approach of Rabbeinu Yonah, in Yesod haTeshuvah:
This is the path he shall walk and the deed he shall perform to habituate himself to guard himself from sin. Each morning, when he rises from his sleep, he should set his mind to repent and he should examine his deeds... At the time for eating, before he eats, he should admit all of his sins, and if he corrupted anything then he should admit what he corrupted, and this very admission will distance him from all iniquity and sin...and so he should eat his morning meal, and then before eating in the evening he should admit all, as we have said, and then from the time of eating in the evening he should do the same until he lies down.
I see here two different approaches to the concept of cheshbon hanefesh, "personal accounting":
Kuriyama keeps a record, which he can turn back to over time to review where he has been. [Of course, Kuriyama isn't necessarily using this for self-examination leading to self-improvement, but I see this is a natural byproduct.]
Rabbeinu Yonah looks back at each one-second clip immediately afterward, in small increments, to catch problems immediately and steel himself against repeating them.
I do both; I keep a daily log of my activities, to which I can refer at year's end, and I also try to check in with myself pretty regularly.
which do you think works better?
As Kuriyama explains it:
The one-second everyday project [in which he recorded 1 second of video of his life every day, for a year, and concatenated the videos] was something that originally started out as a way for me to chronicle my year off from work but really quickly after I started I realized that it was helping me in many more ways. It was allowing me to realize that I could remember everyday that I've lived; it was allowing me to quickly reflect back on the things that I had to done, to be able to zoom out from the past month and realize, "Oh wow, I sat around a lot this month." I instantly decided to do it for the rest of my life and realized the benefits were far greater than the amount of work I needed to put into it, which was just a quick second to remind me of that day.
I contrast this with the approach of Rabbeinu Yonah, in Yesod haTeshuvah:
This is the path he shall walk and the deed he shall perform to habituate himself to guard himself from sin. Each morning, when he rises from his sleep, he should set his mind to repent and he should examine his deeds... At the time for eating, before he eats, he should admit all of his sins, and if he corrupted anything then he should admit what he corrupted, and this very admission will distance him from all iniquity and sin...and so he should eat his morning meal, and then before eating in the evening he should admit all, as we have said, and then from the time of eating in the evening he should do the same until he lies down.
I see here two different approaches to the concept of cheshbon hanefesh, "personal accounting":
Kuriyama keeps a record, which he can turn back to over time to review where he has been. [Of course, Kuriyama isn't necessarily using this for self-examination leading to self-improvement, but I see this is a natural byproduct.]
Rabbeinu Yonah looks back at each one-second clip immediately afterward, in small increments, to catch problems immediately and steel himself against repeating them.
I do both; I keep a daily log of my activities, to which I can refer at year's end, and I also try to check in with myself pretty regularly.
which do you think works better?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Solutions for "scattered soul" syndrome (Derashah, Rosh HaShanah 5772)
I'm speaking at a minyan on the second day of Rosh HaShanah, before shofar; here's what I plan to say. Critiques very welcome. My derashah owes a lot to Dr. David Pelcovitz of Yeshiva University, and the comments he offered on the below-cited Yerushalmi and Chovos haLevavos during a visit to our Beit Midrash. Sources are listed at the end.
"When I stand in Shemoneh Esreih, I count birds," said one.
"I count the bricks in the wall!" said another
"I'm grateful for my head, because when I arrive at Modim it bows on its own", even if I'm not thinking about the words! said a third.
No, these weren't answers to a shul poll – all of these lines came from amoraim, sages of the gemara, in a Yerushalmi.
Some chachamim have offered alternative, less indicting ways to read this gemara, but as Tosafos said, the bottom line is that even our greatest sages had trouble concentrating.
Personally, I don't count birds or bricks. I count my kollel families and their needs. I think about my kids –not necessarily in a davening-for-their-welfare way. Shiurim. Problems. Disagreements. Jobs. And so on.
The gemara says אין אדם ניצול בכל יום, no one escapes distraction during davening, every single day. The distraction may start with something worthy, like Torah, but before you know it we're in the land of birds and bricks.
This problem of distraction has a source, named by Rabbeinu Bahya ibn Paquda in Chovos haLevavos 950 years ago. It's פיזור הנפש (pizur hanefesh), scattering of the soul. Rabbeinu Bahya quoted an anonymous elder's daily prayer, "המקום יצילני מפיזור הנפש," Gd save me from a scattered soul.
We scatter our souls when we embed pieces of ourselves in a million worthy causes, in work and spouses and colleagues and learning and kids and parents and cousins and friends and vacations and organizations and sports and hobbies and investments - this is פיזור הנפש. Many of these are important – but collectively, they leave us drained and empty.
Henry David Thoreau saw the problem in the 19th century; his solution, as he wrote to Emerson, was, "Simplify, simplify, simplify!" [To which Emerson replied, "I think one 'simplify' would have sufficed."]
Think of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, pieces of his soul embedded in objects that had some significance to him, to the point that he drained his humanity.
Contrary to the counsel of many psychologists, today's multi-tasking didn't invent the problem; it's just made our פיזור הנפש worse, and we need a way out.
When I first thought about speaking about this issue on Rosh haShanah, I worried it was too pedestrian compared to more momentous themes like the Day of Judgment, Israel and the UN, and the Leafs' playoff chances. But I believe this is up there with the most important of our concerns, because פיזור הנפש is not a narrow issue; פיזור הנפש drags down every aspect of our lives.
It kills relationships. Do you know that voice someone gets when he's talking to you but he's also scrolling through his email? The longer-than-expected pauses, the repeating of the last words you said while his conscious mind catches up with his subconscious? It's not just when we're checking email, either; we hold too many goals in our minds.
More - פיזור הנפש means we have trouble sticking with projects and fulfilling commitments.
And פיזור הנפש fuels stress levels, with pressure from deadlines and concerns in too many diverse areas.
פיזור הנפש invades and undermines our spiritual, social and personal existence; it demands a voice on Rosh haShanah, when we chart our path for the year.
Fortunately, Rosh haShanah also offers antidotes for פיזור הנפש: By reviewing three different roles of the shofar, we can learn three ways to treat our distraction.
First: The historical shofar, with its overpowering blast. The shofar of Jewish history is an overwhelming, ever-intensifying, limitless assault which brooks no disruption. From the start of our Jewish national existence at Sinai, to the end of history with the arrival of Mashiach, the shofar's voice resounds, a קול שופר חזק מאד ויחרד כל העם אשר במחנה. This historical shofar crushes outside noise – specifically, the distractions and ambitions that drain our focus.
This means emulating Thoreau by simplifying our lives:
• Figuring out which involvements have become more of a drain than they are worth, and which ones we need to cut even though they are very worthy.
• Turning off our phones and external distractions whenever we need to focus.
• And here's an experiment which may sound a little odd, but it has worked for me: During davening on a weekday, or during telephone calls, or while learning with a chavrusa, keep a piece of paper and pencil nearby. As extraneous topics come to mind, jot them down - not during Shemoneh Esreih, of course. This will tell us what is occupying our minds. This will be the list of our horcruxes, the domains which hold hostage fragments of our souls, and it should give us some idea of what we need to drown out with our historical shofar.
Simplifying our lives is instrumental in reclaiming them.
And second: The halachic shofar, with its status as a mitzvas aseh, an action performed to fulfill the expectations of our Divine Creator. A mitzvah demands כוונה, it demands focus. The sages of the mishnah offered us simple advice for developing that focus: Stop and think before the mitzvah. Ask: "What am I about to do?"
About fifteen years ago, I had the opportunity to hear lectures by Rabbi Maurice Lamm – author of "The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning" – on visiting the sick and grieving. For me, his greatest recommendation was actually the same advice from that mishnah: Before you enter the hospital room, before you enter the shivah house, stop and ask, "What am I going to say?"
Think of the הנני מוכן ומזומן or לשם יחוד that some of us say before mitzvos or before berachos - it's that concept, expanded.
This is a step toward establishing dominance over our lives: Before any activity, the halachic shofar asks, "What am I about to do? What is my kavvanah?"
And third: The prophetic shofar, invoked by Hosheia and Amos and Yoel and other neviim, is a siren.
• As the Rambam put it, עורו ישנים משנתכם והקיצו נרדמים מתרדמתכם, the shofar cries, "Wake up!"
• The Meiri added, "שכל שומע קול שופר הוא נזהר ומתבונן שאין תקיעתו בלא סבה," "Anyone who hears the sound of the shofar is moved to contemplation, for the shofar's blast is never without purpose."
The prophetic shofar is an alarm, calling us to cut our distractions and to concentrate before we act. But this prophetic shofar is insufficient; it's just one alarm clock, once a year, and thinking about distractions once a year will achieve nothing. If we are to eliminate our life-eroding distractions and restore our selves to ourselves, we will need such shofar reminders all through the year:
• A note for a particular day in our on-line calendar, or in our pocket calendar for those who still use such things.
• A message we write to ourselves in our siddur, "Are you still focussed?" or "This part is important." I write all over my siddur.
The prophetic shofar shows that reminders can accomplish a great deal in gaining our attention.
Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch noted that Tehillim 81 links the Shofar of Rosh haShanah with the harp used in the Beit haMikdash on Succos. Rav Hirsch explained, "Only the shofar leads to the harp."
Succos is זמן שמחתנו, the time of our great joy and satisfaction – and in order to achieve those heights of rejoicing, we need to first use the Shofar to eliminate our פיזור הנפש, the dispersion of focus that keeps us from fulfilling our spiritual and personal potential.
• To channel the historic shofar by eliminating the distractions which claim pieces of our souls.
• To channel the halachic shofar by thinking and planning before we act.
• To channel the prophetic shofar by sounding the alarm regularly, all year.
If we want to keep our minds from the birds and the bricks, if we want to bow for Modim because we feel humility and not because our heads are on springs, if we want to avoid the stress and disconnection of fragmented lives, if we want to earn a כתיבה וחתימה טובה, let's learn from the shofar now, and so merit the joy of the harp in the future.
-
Notes:
1. The opening gemara is from Yerushalmi Berachos 2:4. There are variant explanations of אפרחייא there. The Pnei Moshe suggests these amoraim were distracted by thoughts of Torah. See, too, Rav Tzaddok in Pri Tzaddik to Vayyeshev, and Belzer thoughts at http://www.temanim.org/shtaygen/dvr_tora/70/2-8.pdf. The Tosafos I mentioned is found in two places - Rosh haShanah 16b and Bava Batra 164b.
2. Bava Batra 164b says the distractions in davening are daily. For a strong rebuke on the topic of distraction during mitzvos, see Rambam's Moreh haNevuchim 3:51.
3. The Chovos haLevavos actually talked about pizur hanefesh in terms of finances, and Rav Zev Wolf haLevi of Zhitomir, in his 18th century Or haMeir, expanded it to include the other goals and ambitions which we invest with pieces of our selves.
4. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 589:8, Taz 589:3 rule that shofar requires kavvanah.
5. The advice of waiting before davening is in Mishnah Berachos 5:1.
6. The Rambam's description of the shofar as an alert is in Hilchos Teshuvah 3:4; the Meiri's comments are in Chibur haTeshuvah 2:3 ועל דעת ז"ל.
7. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch's observation, part of a great essay, is printed in Collected Writings Vol II pg. 69.
"When I stand in Shemoneh Esreih, I count birds," said one.
"I count the bricks in the wall!" said another
"I'm grateful for my head, because when I arrive at Modim it bows on its own", even if I'm not thinking about the words! said a third.
No, these weren't answers to a shul poll – all of these lines came from amoraim, sages of the gemara, in a Yerushalmi.
Some chachamim have offered alternative, less indicting ways to read this gemara, but as Tosafos said, the bottom line is that even our greatest sages had trouble concentrating.
Personally, I don't count birds or bricks. I count my kollel families and their needs. I think about my kids –not necessarily in a davening-for-their-welfare way. Shiurim. Problems. Disagreements. Jobs. And so on.
The gemara says אין אדם ניצול בכל יום, no one escapes distraction during davening, every single day. The distraction may start with something worthy, like Torah, but before you know it we're in the land of birds and bricks.
This problem of distraction has a source, named by Rabbeinu Bahya ibn Paquda in Chovos haLevavos 950 years ago. It's פיזור הנפש (pizur hanefesh), scattering of the soul. Rabbeinu Bahya quoted an anonymous elder's daily prayer, "המקום יצילני מפיזור הנפש," Gd save me from a scattered soul.
We scatter our souls when we embed pieces of ourselves in a million worthy causes, in work and spouses and colleagues and learning and kids and parents and cousins and friends and vacations and organizations and sports and hobbies and investments - this is פיזור הנפש. Many of these are important – but collectively, they leave us drained and empty.
Henry David Thoreau saw the problem in the 19th century; his solution, as he wrote to Emerson, was, "Simplify, simplify, simplify!" [To which Emerson replied, "I think one 'simplify' would have sufficed."]
Think of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, pieces of his soul embedded in objects that had some significance to him, to the point that he drained his humanity.
Contrary to the counsel of many psychologists, today's multi-tasking didn't invent the problem; it's just made our פיזור הנפש worse, and we need a way out.
When I first thought about speaking about this issue on Rosh haShanah, I worried it was too pedestrian compared to more momentous themes like the Day of Judgment, Israel and the UN, and the Leafs' playoff chances. But I believe this is up there with the most important of our concerns, because פיזור הנפש is not a narrow issue; פיזור הנפש drags down every aspect of our lives.
It kills relationships. Do you know that voice someone gets when he's talking to you but he's also scrolling through his email? The longer-than-expected pauses, the repeating of the last words you said while his conscious mind catches up with his subconscious? It's not just when we're checking email, either; we hold too many goals in our minds.
More - פיזור הנפש means we have trouble sticking with projects and fulfilling commitments.
And פיזור הנפש fuels stress levels, with pressure from deadlines and concerns in too many diverse areas.
פיזור הנפש invades and undermines our spiritual, social and personal existence; it demands a voice on Rosh haShanah, when we chart our path for the year.
Fortunately, Rosh haShanah also offers antidotes for פיזור הנפש: By reviewing three different roles of the shofar, we can learn three ways to treat our distraction.
First: The historical shofar, with its overpowering blast. The shofar of Jewish history is an overwhelming, ever-intensifying, limitless assault which brooks no disruption. From the start of our Jewish national existence at Sinai, to the end of history with the arrival of Mashiach, the shofar's voice resounds, a קול שופר חזק מאד ויחרד כל העם אשר במחנה. This historical shofar crushes outside noise – specifically, the distractions and ambitions that drain our focus.
This means emulating Thoreau by simplifying our lives:
• Figuring out which involvements have become more of a drain than they are worth, and which ones we need to cut even though they are very worthy.
• Turning off our phones and external distractions whenever we need to focus.
• And here's an experiment which may sound a little odd, but it has worked for me: During davening on a weekday, or during telephone calls, or while learning with a chavrusa, keep a piece of paper and pencil nearby. As extraneous topics come to mind, jot them down - not during Shemoneh Esreih, of course. This will tell us what is occupying our minds. This will be the list of our horcruxes, the domains which hold hostage fragments of our souls, and it should give us some idea of what we need to drown out with our historical shofar.
Simplifying our lives is instrumental in reclaiming them.
And second: The halachic shofar, with its status as a mitzvas aseh, an action performed to fulfill the expectations of our Divine Creator. A mitzvah demands כוונה, it demands focus. The sages of the mishnah offered us simple advice for developing that focus: Stop and think before the mitzvah. Ask: "What am I about to do?"
About fifteen years ago, I had the opportunity to hear lectures by Rabbi Maurice Lamm – author of "The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning" – on visiting the sick and grieving. For me, his greatest recommendation was actually the same advice from that mishnah: Before you enter the hospital room, before you enter the shivah house, stop and ask, "What am I going to say?"
Think of the הנני מוכן ומזומן or לשם יחוד that some of us say before mitzvos or before berachos - it's that concept, expanded.
This is a step toward establishing dominance over our lives: Before any activity, the halachic shofar asks, "What am I about to do? What is my kavvanah?"
And third: The prophetic shofar, invoked by Hosheia and Amos and Yoel and other neviim, is a siren.
• As the Rambam put it, עורו ישנים משנתכם והקיצו נרדמים מתרדמתכם, the shofar cries, "Wake up!"
• The Meiri added, "שכל שומע קול שופר הוא נזהר ומתבונן שאין תקיעתו בלא סבה," "Anyone who hears the sound of the shofar is moved to contemplation, for the shofar's blast is never without purpose."
The prophetic shofar is an alarm, calling us to cut our distractions and to concentrate before we act. But this prophetic shofar is insufficient; it's just one alarm clock, once a year, and thinking about distractions once a year will achieve nothing. If we are to eliminate our life-eroding distractions and restore our selves to ourselves, we will need such shofar reminders all through the year:
• A note for a particular day in our on-line calendar, or in our pocket calendar for those who still use such things.
• A message we write to ourselves in our siddur, "Are you still focussed?" or "This part is important." I write all over my siddur.
The prophetic shofar shows that reminders can accomplish a great deal in gaining our attention.
Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch noted that Tehillim 81 links the Shofar of Rosh haShanah with the harp used in the Beit haMikdash on Succos. Rav Hirsch explained, "Only the shofar leads to the harp."
Succos is זמן שמחתנו, the time of our great joy and satisfaction – and in order to achieve those heights of rejoicing, we need to first use the Shofar to eliminate our פיזור הנפש, the dispersion of focus that keeps us from fulfilling our spiritual and personal potential.
• To channel the historic shofar by eliminating the distractions which claim pieces of our souls.
• To channel the halachic shofar by thinking and planning before we act.
• To channel the prophetic shofar by sounding the alarm regularly, all year.
If we want to keep our minds from the birds and the bricks, if we want to bow for Modim because we feel humility and not because our heads are on springs, if we want to avoid the stress and disconnection of fragmented lives, if we want to earn a כתיבה וחתימה טובה, let's learn from the shofar now, and so merit the joy of the harp in the future.
-
Notes:
1. The opening gemara is from Yerushalmi Berachos 2:4. There are variant explanations of אפרחייא there. The Pnei Moshe suggests these amoraim were distracted by thoughts of Torah. See, too, Rav Tzaddok in Pri Tzaddik to Vayyeshev, and Belzer thoughts at http://www.temanim.org/shtaygen/dvr_tora/70/2-8.pdf. The Tosafos I mentioned is found in two places - Rosh haShanah 16b and Bava Batra 164b.
2. Bava Batra 164b says the distractions in davening are daily. For a strong rebuke on the topic of distraction during mitzvos, see Rambam's Moreh haNevuchim 3:51.
3. The Chovos haLevavos actually talked about pizur hanefesh in terms of finances, and Rav Zev Wolf haLevi of Zhitomir, in his 18th century Or haMeir, expanded it to include the other goals and ambitions which we invest with pieces of our selves.
4. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 589:8, Taz 589:3 rule that shofar requires kavvanah.
5. The advice of waiting before davening is in Mishnah Berachos 5:1.
6. The Rambam's description of the shofar as an alert is in Hilchos Teshuvah 3:4; the Meiri's comments are in Chibur haTeshuvah 2:3 ועל דעת ז"ל.
7. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch's observation, part of a great essay, is printed in Collected Writings Vol II pg. 69.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Shechitah: A Guide for Evolution
[Click here for this week's three-minute Toronto Torah video from our Beit Midrash]
We realized very late this week that we were missing an article for our weekly Toronto Torah, so I was enlisted to draft a quick piece. I'm posting it here because I know I have some Daf-learning readers who may enjoy the Chullin-related material, and because a disruption of my schedule like that requires that I save time somewhere - like by doubling it as a blog post:
One might be forgiven for thinking of shechitah (kosher slaughter) as a dry topic, mind-numbing in its emphasis on minutiae. Indeed, the sage Rav (Bereishit Rabbah 44:1) argued that the point is obedience, and there is no inherent value in those fine points. Rav said, "Why would G-d care whether one performed shechitah from the front or back of the neck? The mitzvot were only given in order to refine [G-d's] creations."
Others would disagree, though. Many chachamim, and particularly the mystics, have contended that the design of each element of a mitzvah involves deep arcana and is of cosmic importance. And beyond that, our masters and mentors, particularly among the chassidim, have attached ethical and moral lessons to the most dry legal codicils.
In a striking example, Rav Yaakov Yechezkel Greenwald, author of "VaYaged Yaakov" and Pupa Rebbe until his passing in 1941, taught lessons in personal evolution based upon the five central potential disqualifications in an act of shechitah:
Shehiyah (pausing)
Shechitah is disqualified if the shocheit pauses during the act. So, too, we who would improve ourselves must act with alacrity, not pausing and not allowing ourselves to be distracted. It is not for naught that we are encouraged, "Those who are energetic rush to perform mitzvot first." Or as Pirkei Avot warns, one should never stall and say he will study when he finds free time, for with such an attitude he will never have free time.
Derasah (pressing)
A shocheit must slice an animal's trachea and esophagus in a back-and-forth cutting motion; if he becomes impatient and presses down into the neck, the shechitah is disqualified. In the same vein, we must be on guard against impatience with our own growth. We are expected to learn patiently, taking time and making certain that we truly understand the Torah we study. Further, we are expected to work on our character and our intellect simultaneously; one who sacrifices his personal growth in pursuit of rapid intellectual growth is guilty of derasah, pressing and trampling upon important components of self-development.
Chaladah (tunneling)
The shechitah knife must be visible to the shocheit as he cuts; tunneling into the neck so that the knife is hidden from view disqualifies the shechitah. Similarly, we must make sure not to hide our self-improvement from the public. Legitimate concern for modesty, or for embarrassment, might grow and cause us to go underground with our growth, but our commitment to HaShem and to Torah must include pride in our beliefs. As the Tur wrote (Orach Chaim 1), "One must be bold like a leopard, and not reticent before those who would mock him." If all who are committed to Torah will plead modesty, the result will be a world devoid of visible Torah.
Hagramah (veering)
Shechitah must be performed within a specific vertical space along an animal's neck, and veering out of that space invalidates the shechitah. The same applies to our development - a Jew must recognize that certain sites are better suited for growth than others. Rabbi Akiva warned his son (Pesachim 112a) not to set up his studies in the town square, lest passersby distract him from his learning. Pirkei Avot instructs us, "Go into exile, to place of Torah study." For a practical example: Our homes are comfortable, certainly, but they are as filled with distractions as the town square; better to go to a beit midrash or shul to study.
Ikkur (uprooting)
There is some debate regarding the proper definition of ikkur; students of Daf Yomi will recall Rashi Chullin 9a and Rosh Chullin 1:13 as essential sources. Rav Greenwald chooses to explain ikkur as shechitah with a flawed knife, such that the trachea or esophagus is pulled rather than sliced. Comparing the act of shechitah with our actions of self-improvement, Rav Greenwald adjured us to aspire to flawlessness in our actions, since each defect will affect our results.
Rav Greenwald saw in shechitah and its laws a metaphor for the work we do in evolving our best selves, slaughtering our old identities and replacing them with a new and improved version of ourselves. Pairing energetic alacrity with patient care, being unabashedly public in our commitment, selecting our venues for growth wisely, and demanding a commitment to excellence at all times, we will perpetually create ourselves anew, each day better than the last.
We realized very late this week that we were missing an article for our weekly Toronto Torah, so I was enlisted to draft a quick piece. I'm posting it here because I know I have some Daf-learning readers who may enjoy the Chullin-related material, and because a disruption of my schedule like that requires that I save time somewhere - like by doubling it as a blog post:
One might be forgiven for thinking of shechitah (kosher slaughter) as a dry topic, mind-numbing in its emphasis on minutiae. Indeed, the sage Rav (Bereishit Rabbah 44:1) argued that the point is obedience, and there is no inherent value in those fine points. Rav said, "Why would G-d care whether one performed shechitah from the front or back of the neck? The mitzvot were only given in order to refine [G-d's] creations."
Others would disagree, though. Many chachamim, and particularly the mystics, have contended that the design of each element of a mitzvah involves deep arcana and is of cosmic importance. And beyond that, our masters and mentors, particularly among the chassidim, have attached ethical and moral lessons to the most dry legal codicils.
In a striking example, Rav Yaakov Yechezkel Greenwald, author of "VaYaged Yaakov" and Pupa Rebbe until his passing in 1941, taught lessons in personal evolution based upon the five central potential disqualifications in an act of shechitah:
Shehiyah (pausing)
Shechitah is disqualified if the shocheit pauses during the act. So, too, we who would improve ourselves must act with alacrity, not pausing and not allowing ourselves to be distracted. It is not for naught that we are encouraged, "Those who are energetic rush to perform mitzvot first." Or as Pirkei Avot warns, one should never stall and say he will study when he finds free time, for with such an attitude he will never have free time.
Derasah (pressing)
A shocheit must slice an animal's trachea and esophagus in a back-and-forth cutting motion; if he becomes impatient and presses down into the neck, the shechitah is disqualified. In the same vein, we must be on guard against impatience with our own growth. We are expected to learn patiently, taking time and making certain that we truly understand the Torah we study. Further, we are expected to work on our character and our intellect simultaneously; one who sacrifices his personal growth in pursuit of rapid intellectual growth is guilty of derasah, pressing and trampling upon important components of self-development.
Chaladah (tunneling)
The shechitah knife must be visible to the shocheit as he cuts; tunneling into the neck so that the knife is hidden from view disqualifies the shechitah. Similarly, we must make sure not to hide our self-improvement from the public. Legitimate concern for modesty, or for embarrassment, might grow and cause us to go underground with our growth, but our commitment to HaShem and to Torah must include pride in our beliefs. As the Tur wrote (Orach Chaim 1), "One must be bold like a leopard, and not reticent before those who would mock him." If all who are committed to Torah will plead modesty, the result will be a world devoid of visible Torah.
Hagramah (veering)
Shechitah must be performed within a specific vertical space along an animal's neck, and veering out of that space invalidates the shechitah. The same applies to our development - a Jew must recognize that certain sites are better suited for growth than others. Rabbi Akiva warned his son (Pesachim 112a) not to set up his studies in the town square, lest passersby distract him from his learning. Pirkei Avot instructs us, "Go into exile, to place of Torah study." For a practical example: Our homes are comfortable, certainly, but they are as filled with distractions as the town square; better to go to a beit midrash or shul to study.
Ikkur (uprooting)
There is some debate regarding the proper definition of ikkur; students of Daf Yomi will recall Rashi Chullin 9a and Rosh Chullin 1:13 as essential sources. Rav Greenwald chooses to explain ikkur as shechitah with a flawed knife, such that the trachea or esophagus is pulled rather than sliced. Comparing the act of shechitah with our actions of self-improvement, Rav Greenwald adjured us to aspire to flawlessness in our actions, since each defect will affect our results.
Rav Greenwald saw in shechitah and its laws a metaphor for the work we do in evolving our best selves, slaughtering our old identities and replacing them with a new and improved version of ourselves. Pairing energetic alacrity with patient care, being unabashedly public in our commitment, selecting our venues for growth wisely, and demanding a commitment to excellence at all times, we will perpetually create ourselves anew, each day better than the last.
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