The hoariest of hoary Jewish jokes describes the plot of the Jewish holiday as, “They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.” The point could be challenged regarding most of our national celebrations, but for this Sunday night’s holiday, Tu b’Av [the 15th of Av], out-running our enemies actually seems to define the day.
The gemara (Taanit 30b-31a) lists seven reasons to celebrate Tu b’Av, and three of them offer the underwhelming applause line, “We didn’t die!”:
• HaShem informed the Jews who had listened to the Spies that they would perish in the desert, over a period of 40 years. Annually, a segment of that population passed away on Tishah b'Av, until the year finally came when the full moon shone on Tu b’Av and yet no one had passed on. Their failure to expire is our cue to strike up the band. (See Tosafot Taanit 30b for more on this.)
• After a woman was tortured and murdered in the territory of Binyamin, the Jewish national army took up their weapons against that tribe. The war decimated Binyamin, and it was followed by a decree lest any woman from outside Binyamin marry any of their males. The tribe teetered on the brink of extermination, until the decree was revoked on Tu b’Av – another trigger for joy and celebration. (See Shoftim 19-21 for additional information.)
• Approximately sixty years after the Second Temple was destroyed, our ancestors revolted against Roman tyranny. The Romans crushed their revolt and demolished the mighty fortress at Betar, murdering thousands. For years thereafter, Roman authorities refused to allow the Jews to bury their dead fighters; Tu b’Av was the day when we were able to bury the dead of the Betar revolt. We held funerals for the miraculously preserved remains of our heroes, and this, too, is cause for an annual national festival.
Normal nations celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, revolutions – would anyone other than a Jew institute a holiday to celebrate that his ancestors stopped dying, that a tribe didn’t plummet from the precipice of extermination, that murdered soldiers were interred? How could the Talmud (Taanit 30b) identify this as the “best day on the calendar,” above Pesach, above Shavuot, even above Succot with its title of “Zman Simchateinu - the time of our joy?”
The answer may be that “best day” does not necessarily equal “happiest day.” We celebrate many happy days, including the aforementioned Shalosh Regalim, but Tu b’Av is not a day of joy. Tu b’Av is a good day, the best day – because on Tu b’Av we hit rock bottom.
The greatness of hitting rock bottom may be best explained through a comment by Rav Chaim Vital, as cited in Rav Dovid Eibeschutz’s Arvei Nachal (Behar, Derush 2): “שמי שידע שיעור המדריגות וישער איך ירידת המדריגות בכל יום ויום תרד פלאים, יוכל לידע מתי קץ הגאולה, כי כאשר שחה לעפר נפשנו דבקה לארץ בטננו אז קומה עזרתה לנו (ע' תהלים מד, כו - כז) כי כאשר תפול כל כך עד סוף שאין מקום עוד ליפול יותר, אז היא הגאולה של בעתה (סנהדרין צח. עה"פ ישעיה ס כב), כמו שאמר הכתוב (עמוס ה, ב) נפלה ולא תוסיף, ר"ל כאשר נפלה כל כך עד שלא תוסיף עוד ליפול דהיינו נפילה לארץ שהיא סופה דכל דרגין, אז קום בתולת ישראל. - One who knows the measure of the levels [to the bottom], and who can measure our shocking daily descent, can know when the moment of redemption will arrive. After our soul will descend to the dust and our belly will stick to the ground, then G-d will rise and help us, for when the nation falls until there is no more room to fall, then will come the redemption described by G-d as coming ‘at its proper time.’ It is written (Amos 5:2), ‘She has fallen, and she will not continue,’ meaning that when the Jewish nation has fallen so far that she cannot fall further, meaning she has fallen to the ground, the end of all levels, then [G-d will say], ‘Rise, betulah of Israel.’”
In other words: Hitting rock bottom is a positive experience because we are promised that it will be followed by redemption.
This is why the punishment for the Golden Calf is considered worse than the punishment for the Spies – because the punishment for the Golden Calf is postponed for an undefined future (Shemot 32:34), while the punishment for the Spies ends after forty years. This is also why the Talmud (Sotah 9a) takes comfort in the Divine malediction, “I will finish My arrows upon them,” for even though G-d will launch many arrows at us, there will be a finish and conclusion, and yet we will survive and be redeemed.
On Tu b’Av we recognize that the punishment for the sin of the Spies is over. On Tu b’Av we recognize that the threat to the tribe of Binyamin has passed. On Tu b’Av we recognize the conclusion of Roman aggression. There is no joy in these bitter recognitions, but there is the empowering, invigorating, rejuvenating hope that from these depths we will ascend and emerge.
R’ Menachem Meiri saw this message of hope, too, in the abrupt talmudic transition from discussing Tishah b'Av to discussing Tu b’Av: “ לבאר שאין להתיאש לרוב הצרות אבל כל אשר יענו אותנו כן נרבה בהיות ד' אתנו בלכתנו בדרכיו To show that we should not lose hope under the strain of our troubles. However much they oppress us, so we will multiply, as long as HaShem will be with us, as we follow His path."
We are taught (Nedarim 39b) that G-d created the possibility of teshuvah, of return to G-d, even before creating this universe. Teshuvah is more fundamental than the fundamental elements of our world, more natural than nature itself. This is true even after the dramatic descent of Tishah b'Av, and it is the theme of the best day on our calendar.
When Moshe ascended Mount Sinai, he entered a cloud which the Torah describes as “Arafel,” utter darkness. Moshe entered this Arafel, because, “Asher Sham ha’Elokim,” “that’s where HaShem is.” When the Jews go through the three weeks of mourning, when we endure a Tishah b'Av, we are in the Arafel, we are in the darkness – but so is HaShem. And the 15th of Av promises that having hit bottom, we will always emerge, with HaShem, from that Arafel.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Kollel Vacation
Revelation: I am not good at everything. Among the things I don’t do well: Vacation.
I’ve known about this problem for a long time; almost two years ago, I posted here about my inadequate vacation skills. That was okay, though; since there was no local substitute to teach the Daf Yomi, not to mention to run the halachic aspects of the vaad hakashrut, eruv, mikvah, and so on, my inability to properly vacate dovetailed nicely with the requirements of my pulpit.
But with my transition to running a kollel, I thought I might manage to ratchet it down a bit during the month of summer bein hazemanim. [See also my post on vacations from this past Pesach.]
So far this year, no such luck; the learning and administration are still going at full steam, and then some.
Part of that is practical – I still have some shiur responsibilities, and I have a few articles to write. I’m also working on setting things up for next year, upgrading our website, modifying budget, meeting with people, answering email, keeping track of office and personnel issues and so on.
But another part of it is the guilt that comes with stepping back. You’re a Rosh Kollel, for goodness sake – how can you stop learning? (Well, a Rosh Beit Midrash, by title, but we’ll skip the nuance for now.) Are you not supposed to be תורתו אומנתו, immersed in Torah as your lifeblood around the clock? Don't you breathe, eat and sleep Torah? Since when does Torah take a vacation, pal?
Yes, I know that taking a break is healthy in the long run, that human beings need to breathe, etc. I’m not intellectually opposed to the idea of closing a sefer to pause and regenerate. And I see the effect – poor judgment, slow emotional reflexes – when I don’t take a break. But it’s hard to carry this out.
The solution: Israel. Gd-willing, and through the wonderful kindness of babysitting relatives, the Rebbetzin’s Husband’s Rebbetzin and I will spend 11 days in the greatest place on Earth.
Of course, I’ll still be Net-connected, and there will still be some work to do. I’ll have my sefarim with me. But we’re planning a full travel schedule that will keep me away from the computer (No Blackberry! Hooray!), and the time difference between Israel and Toronto will further slow communication. A vacation will be had, by gum.
Last note: This will not, of course, keep me from blogging. A guy’s got to have priorities, you know.
I’ve known about this problem for a long time; almost two years ago, I posted here about my inadequate vacation skills. That was okay, though; since there was no local substitute to teach the Daf Yomi, not to mention to run the halachic aspects of the vaad hakashrut, eruv, mikvah, and so on, my inability to properly vacate dovetailed nicely with the requirements of my pulpit.
But with my transition to running a kollel, I thought I might manage to ratchet it down a bit during the month of summer bein hazemanim. [See also my post on vacations from this past Pesach.]
So far this year, no such luck; the learning and administration are still going at full steam, and then some.
Part of that is practical – I still have some shiur responsibilities, and I have a few articles to write. I’m also working on setting things up for next year, upgrading our website, modifying budget, meeting with people, answering email, keeping track of office and personnel issues and so on.
But another part of it is the guilt that comes with stepping back. You’re a Rosh Kollel, for goodness sake – how can you stop learning? (Well, a Rosh Beit Midrash, by title, but we’ll skip the nuance for now.) Are you not supposed to be תורתו אומנתו, immersed in Torah as your lifeblood around the clock? Don't you breathe, eat and sleep Torah? Since when does Torah take a vacation, pal?
Yes, I know that taking a break is healthy in the long run, that human beings need to breathe, etc. I’m not intellectually opposed to the idea of closing a sefer to pause and regenerate. And I see the effect – poor judgment, slow emotional reflexes – when I don’t take a break. But it’s hard to carry this out.
The solution: Israel. Gd-willing, and through the wonderful kindness of babysitting relatives, the Rebbetzin’s Husband’s Rebbetzin and I will spend 11 days in the greatest place on Earth.
Of course, I’ll still be Net-connected, and there will still be some work to do. I’ll have my sefarim with me. But we’re planning a full travel schedule that will keep me away from the computer (No Blackberry! Hooray!), and the time difference between Israel and Toronto will further slow communication. A vacation will be had, by gum.
Last note: This will not, of course, keep me from blogging. A guy’s got to have priorities, you know.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Rebbe, the Messiah and the Scandal of Orthodox Infallibility
[Warning: Depressing pre-Tisha b'Av post ahead.]
Remember the poem, Moshiach’s Hat, about how Mashiach arrived and no one would believe that he was Mashiach because he didn’t look like them? He had the wrong type of yarmulka, gartel or no gartel, curled payes or not, and so on?
["He's not the Moshiach!" -- Said one with a grin,
"Just look at his hat, -- At the pinches and brim!"
"That's right!" cried another -- With a grimace and frown,
"Whoever heard of Moshiach, -- With a brim that's turned down?"]
In the past I took that as Hallmark mussar, long on sentiment and short on substance. But lately I’ve been re-thinking it, because it has come to seem spot-on.
Before the last Lubavitcher Rebbe's passing, when I was asked what I thought about the question of his Mashiach-hood, my stock answer was, “He has my vote.” After all, the Rambam defines Mashiach, in part, as someone who leads/compels the Jewish people to follow Torah, and I felt he was doing a good job of it.
Maybe it's because in those days, I didn't have enough of a thought-through ideology to feel that my way was right. I don't know, but in the years since then I’ve changed, I think. Not about a hat, necessarily, but about other matters.
Today, what if I would hear about a Breslover who was doing just that, would I give him my vote? Or would I say, “Great man, but for his shtick of handing out books?”
Or if it was a Yeshivish leader who said secular studies were treif?
Or a political left-winger who wanted to exchange land and create a Palestinian state?
Orthodoxy, by definition, demands that I make the correct decisions, that I use the best information at my disposal and the best talents assigned to me to develop the “right” ideology and practice. But that easily leads me into believing that my approach is, in fact, the right approach, when in fact there is a difference between demanding perfection and guaranteeing perfection.
Over the years, I have come to believe, on some level, in my own Orthodox Infallibility, such that I would have difficulty trusting a Mashiach whose platform did not match mine.
This is wrong, and on Erev Tisha b’Av it does not give me a lot of hope.
Remember the poem, Moshiach’s Hat, about how Mashiach arrived and no one would believe that he was Mashiach because he didn’t look like them? He had the wrong type of yarmulka, gartel or no gartel, curled payes or not, and so on?
["He's not the Moshiach!" -- Said one with a grin,
"Just look at his hat, -- At the pinches and brim!"
"That's right!" cried another -- With a grimace and frown,
"Whoever heard of Moshiach, -- With a brim that's turned down?"]
In the past I took that as Hallmark mussar, long on sentiment and short on substance. But lately I’ve been re-thinking it, because it has come to seem spot-on.
Before the last Lubavitcher Rebbe's passing, when I was asked what I thought about the question of his Mashiach-hood, my stock answer was, “He has my vote.” After all, the Rambam defines Mashiach, in part, as someone who leads/compels the Jewish people to follow Torah, and I felt he was doing a good job of it.
Maybe it's because in those days, I didn't have enough of a thought-through ideology to feel that my way was right. I don't know, but in the years since then I’ve changed, I think. Not about a hat, necessarily, but about other matters.
Today, what if I would hear about a Breslover who was doing just that, would I give him my vote? Or would I say, “Great man, but for his shtick of handing out books?”
Or if it was a Yeshivish leader who said secular studies were treif?
Or a political left-winger who wanted to exchange land and create a Palestinian state?
Orthodoxy, by definition, demands that I make the correct decisions, that I use the best information at my disposal and the best talents assigned to me to develop the “right” ideology and practice. But that easily leads me into believing that my approach is, in fact, the right approach, when in fact there is a difference between demanding perfection and guaranteeing perfection.
Over the years, I have come to believe, on some level, in my own Orthodox Infallibility, such that I would have difficulty trusting a Mashiach whose platform did not match mine.
This is wrong, and on Erev Tisha b’Av it does not give me a lot of hope.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Nachem: What Yerushalayim lacks in the absence of a Beit haMikdash
[Haveil Havalim is here; see it before or after Tisha b'Av]
This morning I delivered a brief shiur on the status of “Nachem” today; you can catch the audio here and the video here. As part of the shiur, we explored the idea that Yerushalayim is incomplete without a Beit haMikdash.
As I presented it, with a few of the relevant sources [and see the full source sheet here]:
Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the miracle of goodwill toward each other which was one of the miracles associated with the Beit haMikdash;
Pirkei Avot 5:5
Talmud, Bava Metzia 30b
Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the Sanhedrin and Avodah which help people feel awe of Gd;
Talmud Yerushalmi Sotah 9:12
Tosafot, Bava Batra 21a כי
Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the beauty that came from the Bikkurim, Maaser Sheni and Neta Revay produce brought to the city.
Mishnah, Bikkurim 3:3-5
Talmud, Rosh haShanah 31b
After the shiur, a Yerushalmi [Jerusalemite] approached me and protested gently that Yerushalayim still possesses tremendous kedushah and beauty. This, of course, is a point that I would never contest; even if I disagreed, who am I, a chutznik, to speak of the beauty and stature of our national capital?! But denigrating Yerushalayim wasn’t my point; I was not trying to detract from what we have.
My point is that we do still lack for something.
When we complain about the strife that splits Yerushalayim’s residents, about this sect and that group being at each other’s throats and making the headlines for all of the wrong reasons, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, we were miraculously granted a spirit of שמח בחלקו, of being happy with what we had, and of not envying others their lot.
When we are upset by the way the municipality fails to honor Shabbat and the way that bachurim from yeshivot sometimes behave in ways that lack awe of Gd, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, the Sanhedrin and the Beit haMikdash formed an awe-inspiring presence.
And when we complain about the poverty and lack of urban infrastructure in Yerushalayim [despite its beauty!], we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash this was a wealthy city.
We must be grateful for what we have, celebrating on Yom Yerushalayim this great gift we have been given. But we do still have a long way to go.
May all of us who mourn for Yerushalayim merit to see its complete reconstruction.
This morning I delivered a brief shiur on the status of “Nachem” today; you can catch the audio here and the video here. As part of the shiur, we explored the idea that Yerushalayim is incomplete without a Beit haMikdash.
As I presented it, with a few of the relevant sources [and see the full source sheet here]:
Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the miracle of goodwill toward each other which was one of the miracles associated with the Beit haMikdash;
Pirkei Avot 5:5
עשרה נסים נעשו לאבותינו בבית המקדש... ולא אמר אדם לחברו צר לי המקום שאלין בירושלים
Ten miracles were performed for our ancestors in the Beit haMikdash… And no one ever said to his friend, ‘Space is too tight for me to stay in Yerushalayim.’Talmud, Bava Metzia 30b
לא נחרבה ירושלים אלא מפני שהעמידו דבריהם על דין תורה
Yerushalayim was destroyed only because they stood on the letter of Torah law.Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the Sanhedrin and Avodah which help people feel awe of Gd;
Talmud Yerushalmi Sotah 9:12
אבא בר רב ירמיה אמר זקינים משער שבתו וגו' אמר רב חסדא בראשונה היתה אימת סנהדרין עליהן ולא היו אומר' דברי נבלה בשיר אבל עכשיו שאין אימת סנהדרין עליהן הן אומרי' דברי נבלה בשיר
Rav Chisda said: In the beginning the awe of the Sanhedrin was upon them, and they did not say repellent things in their songs. Now that the awe of the Sanhedrin is not upon them, they say repellent things in their songs.Tosafot, Bava Batra 21a כי
כי מציון תצא תורה - לפי שהיה רואה קדושה גדולה וכהנים עוסקים בעבודה היה מכוון לבו יותר ליראת שמים וללמוד תורה כדדרשי' בספרי למען תלמד ליראה וגו' גדול מעשר שני שמביא לידי תלמוד לפי שהיה עומד בירושלים עד שיאכל מעשר שני שלו והיה רואה שכולם עוסקים במלאכת שמים ובעבודה היה גם הוא מכוון ליראת שמים ועוסק בתורה.
When one would see the great sanctity, and the Kohanim involved in the service, one would direct his heart toward awe of Heaven and to learn Torah, as we learn: Maaser sheni is great, for it brings people to learn…Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the beauty that came from the Bikkurim, Maaser Sheni and Neta Revay produce brought to the city.
Mishnah, Bikkurim 3:3-5
הקרובים מביאים התאנים והענבים והרחוקים מביאים גרוגרות וצמוקים והשור הולך לפניהם וקרניו מצופות זהב ועטרת של זית בראשו החליל מכה לפניהם עד שמגיעים קרוב לירושלם הגיעו קרוב לירושלם שלחו לפניהם ועטרו את בכוריהם הפחות הסגנים והגזברים יוצאים לקראתם לפי כבוד הנכנסים היו יוצאים וכל בעלי אומניות שבירושלם עומדים לפניהם ושואלין בשלומם אחינו אנשי המקום פלוני באתם לשלום: החליל מכה לפניהם עד שמגיעין להר הבית הגיעו להר הבית אפילו אגריפס המלך נוטל הסל על כתפו ונכנס עד שמגיע לעזרה הגיע לעזרה ודברו הלוים בשיר ארוממך ד' כי דליתני ולא שמחת אויבי לי (תהלים ל): הגוזלות שעל גבי הסלים היו עולות ומה שבידם נותנים לכהנים:
Those who lived nearby brought figs and grapes; those who were more distant brought dried figs and raisins. Oxen walked before them, horns plated with gold and olive wreaths on their heads and the chalil banging before them until they neared Yerushalayim. Then they sent messengers before them, and decorated their fruit. The officers came out to greet them, according to the status of those who were entering. Every tradesman in Yerushalayim stood up before them and greeted them, “Our brothers from X, you have come in peace!” The chalil was struck before them until they reached Har haBayit; at that point even King Agrippas put a basket on his shoulder and entered, until they reached the azarah…Talmud, Rosh haShanah 31b
כרם רבעי היה עולה לירושלים מהלך יום לכל צד... מה טעם כדי לעטר שוקי ירושלים בפירות
The fourth-year grapes were brought to Yerushalayim from a day’s radius… to decorate the markets with produce.After the shiur, a Yerushalmi [Jerusalemite] approached me and protested gently that Yerushalayim still possesses tremendous kedushah and beauty. This, of course, is a point that I would never contest; even if I disagreed, who am I, a chutznik, to speak of the beauty and stature of our national capital?! But denigrating Yerushalayim wasn’t my point; I was not trying to detract from what we have.
My point is that we do still lack for something.
When we complain about the strife that splits Yerushalayim’s residents, about this sect and that group being at each other’s throats and making the headlines for all of the wrong reasons, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, we were miraculously granted a spirit of שמח בחלקו, of being happy with what we had, and of not envying others their lot.
When we are upset by the way the municipality fails to honor Shabbat and the way that bachurim from yeshivot sometimes behave in ways that lack awe of Gd, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, the Sanhedrin and the Beit haMikdash formed an awe-inspiring presence.
And when we complain about the poverty and lack of urban infrastructure in Yerushalayim [despite its beauty!], we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash this was a wealthy city.
We must be grateful for what we have, celebrating on Yom Yerushalayim this great gift we have been given. But we do still have a long way to go.
May all of us who mourn for Yerushalayim merit to see its complete reconstruction.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Re-post - Avoiding the appearance of showmanship is also showmanship
Tomorrow will be the first Shabbat Chazon that I am off the bimah since 1996. This is significant for me; those who know me are aware of the emotional toll the Haftorah of Chazon takes on me, and how hard it was for me to lein it annually.
Below is a post I first published, on this topic, two years ago; I'm still mulling this one.
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Once I landed on the bimah I was surprised to learn that somewhere inside me lurks a tendency to tear up. I cry on happy occasions and sad occasions. I cry when speaking at Kol Nidrei. I cry during Tefilat Geshem, especially if I am chazan (תולדותם נשפך דמם עליך כמים). I cry at Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.
Which brings me to the following incident: On the first Shabbos after it became clear that Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, ה' יקום דמם, had been killed, I stopped including their names in our shul’s prayer on behalf of hostages. That first week, I reached the spot where their names ought to have been inserted, and I just couldn’t go on. It took me a couple of minutes to be able to continue.
The following week, I received an email from someone assuring me that he believed wholeheartedly that what I had done was genuine, and not at all theatrical.
Of course, I now had to wonder: Did someone actually think that my crying was theatricality? Theatricality when crying over dead Israelis?!
Then, a couple of weeks later, I spoke in shul about a family who was moving out of our area. I have a longstanding emotional bond with this family. It was no surprise to me that I got choked up while speaking about them. But later I wondered: Did someone think that this, too, was rabbinic theatricality?
I don’t want to have people analyzing my tears and judging them authentic or phony, emotion or showmanship.
That discomfort shaped a decision I made this past week. In retrospect, think it was the wrong decision, but now it’s too late:
I cry every year as I read the Haftorah of Chazon. Some years it starts while I’m reciting the berachot, other years it waits for devastating lines like “מי בקש זאת מידכם רמוס חצרי, Who asked you for this, for you to come trample in My courtyard?” But it has happened pretty much every year, as best I can recall, since I started leining Chazon some fifteen years ago.
So this year, in the wake of that email and its implicit skepticism, I decided to ask someone else to read Chazon.
My replacement did a fine job on the Haftorah, and no one could see my emotion this year, but after having pondered my decision through Shabbat and Tisha b’Av, I think I was wrong to back out:
- Wrong for this specific case because, as I was told by a few people afterwards, my public emotion in reading Chazon helps them feel the impact of Tisha b’Av.
- Wrong in a more general sense because my crying is the “heter” allowing other people (yes, particularly men,) to express emotion in a public, religious context.
- And wrong a third time, because that email has, paradoxically, made me phony, or at least less authentic. That emailer convinced me I had to pretend not to cry; this Shabbat I was not the real me.
I’m still uncomfortable about crying, wondering what people think when they see the tears well up. But I don’t see that I have a choice. Gd-willing there will be no Shabbat Chazon next year… but if it should come up again, I’d like to think I would reverse this year’s reversal, and let the tears flow where they may.
Below is a post I first published, on this topic, two years ago; I'm still mulling this one.
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Once I landed on the bimah I was surprised to learn that somewhere inside me lurks a tendency to tear up. I cry on happy occasions and sad occasions. I cry when speaking at Kol Nidrei. I cry during Tefilat Geshem, especially if I am chazan (תולדותם נשפך דמם עליך כמים). I cry at Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.
Which brings me to the following incident: On the first Shabbos after it became clear that Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, ה' יקום דמם, had been killed, I stopped including their names in our shul’s prayer on behalf of hostages. That first week, I reached the spot where their names ought to have been inserted, and I just couldn’t go on. It took me a couple of minutes to be able to continue.
The following week, I received an email from someone assuring me that he believed wholeheartedly that what I had done was genuine, and not at all theatrical.
Of course, I now had to wonder: Did someone actually think that my crying was theatricality? Theatricality when crying over dead Israelis?!
Then, a couple of weeks later, I spoke in shul about a family who was moving out of our area. I have a longstanding emotional bond with this family. It was no surprise to me that I got choked up while speaking about them. But later I wondered: Did someone think that this, too, was rabbinic theatricality?
I don’t want to have people analyzing my tears and judging them authentic or phony, emotion or showmanship.
That discomfort shaped a decision I made this past week. In retrospect, think it was the wrong decision, but now it’s too late:
I cry every year as I read the Haftorah of Chazon. Some years it starts while I’m reciting the berachot, other years it waits for devastating lines like “מי בקש זאת מידכם רמוס חצרי, Who asked you for this, for you to come trample in My courtyard?” But it has happened pretty much every year, as best I can recall, since I started leining Chazon some fifteen years ago.
So this year, in the wake of that email and its implicit skepticism, I decided to ask someone else to read Chazon.
My replacement did a fine job on the Haftorah, and no one could see my emotion this year, but after having pondered my decision through Shabbat and Tisha b’Av, I think I was wrong to back out:
- Wrong for this specific case because, as I was told by a few people afterwards, my public emotion in reading Chazon helps them feel the impact of Tisha b’Av.
- Wrong in a more general sense because my crying is the “heter” allowing other people (yes, particularly men,) to express emotion in a public, religious context.
- And wrong a third time, because that email has, paradoxically, made me phony, or at least less authentic. That emailer convinced me I had to pretend not to cry; this Shabbat I was not the real me.
I’m still uncomfortable about crying, wondering what people think when they see the tears well up. But I don’t see that I have a choice. Gd-willing there will be no Shabbat Chazon next year… but if it should come up again, I’d like to think I would reverse this year’s reversal, and let the tears flow where they may.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Talking to children about depression
[My Tisha b'Av article for YU To Go is now on-line here.]
Here’s a question I’ve asked and been asked over the years: At what point should parents talk to their children about depression?
The question arises for two reasons:
1. Stories in the news - From time to time there are news items about pre-adolescents, kids aged 9, 10, 11, taking their own lives, often in response to abuse from their schoolmates. The parents say the normal things – “We never knew it was this bad,” “He would swing in and out of moods, but he never talked as though he was a danger to himself,” and so on. And we wonder how we should introduce the question to our children. “Are you going through…?” “Are you thinking about…?”
2. Family histories - Studies show that one can, in fact, inherit a vulnerability to clinical depression. So when an adult is diagnosed with this condition, the follow-up questions include, “What about my children? Is there a way to test them for this? Do I warn them? How?”
It seems to me that normal child-rearing must include teaching, in an age-appropriate way, coping mechanisms for normal, non-biochemical depression. Dealing with frustration, with boredom, with tough peer groups, with love and loss – we cannot immunize our children against these situations, but we can, and I think must, help them find ways to cope, both directly and by modeling the behavior. This doesn’t require a conversation about clinical issues and genes and biochemistry.
But I’m asking about more than that, about helping our kids recognize when an emotion is outside of the normal range, and it’s time to call in the experts. Can that happen at age 10? Age 13? Age 15? Age 18?
I’m not suggesting that kids at these ages could diagnose an abnormal personal, emotional reaction – it’s hard enough for trained and objective adults – but perhaps we could tell them a little bit about the problem and its dangers, empowering them to seek out help… without terrorizing them and without leading them to a false self-diagnosis.
Obviously this not a one-size-fits-all subject, but surely someone with knowledge of developmental psychology could make some general recommendations.
I’m sending this question to my favorite Internet counseling resource. In addition, though, please comment with your thoughts, and any recommended reading material.
Here’s a question I’ve asked and been asked over the years: At what point should parents talk to their children about depression?
The question arises for two reasons:
1. Stories in the news - From time to time there are news items about pre-adolescents, kids aged 9, 10, 11, taking their own lives, often in response to abuse from their schoolmates. The parents say the normal things – “We never knew it was this bad,” “He would swing in and out of moods, but he never talked as though he was a danger to himself,” and so on. And we wonder how we should introduce the question to our children. “Are you going through…?” “Are you thinking about…?”
2. Family histories - Studies show that one can, in fact, inherit a vulnerability to clinical depression. So when an adult is diagnosed with this condition, the follow-up questions include, “What about my children? Is there a way to test them for this? Do I warn them? How?”
It seems to me that normal child-rearing must include teaching, in an age-appropriate way, coping mechanisms for normal, non-biochemical depression. Dealing with frustration, with boredom, with tough peer groups, with love and loss – we cannot immunize our children against these situations, but we can, and I think must, help them find ways to cope, both directly and by modeling the behavior. This doesn’t require a conversation about clinical issues and genes and biochemistry.
But I’m asking about more than that, about helping our kids recognize when an emotion is outside of the normal range, and it’s time to call in the experts. Can that happen at age 10? Age 13? Age 15? Age 18?
I’m not suggesting that kids at these ages could diagnose an abnormal personal, emotional reaction – it’s hard enough for trained and objective adults – but perhaps we could tell them a little bit about the problem and its dangers, empowering them to seek out help… without terrorizing them and without leading them to a false self-diagnosis.
Obviously this not a one-size-fits-all subject, but surely someone with knowledge of developmental psychology could make some general recommendations.
I’m sending this question to my favorite Internet counseling resource. In addition, though, please comment with your thoughts, and any recommended reading material.
Monday, July 12, 2010
A new Outreach approach: Blame secular Jews for the Holocaust
[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]
Note: I first published most of this article in a different venue, before Tisha b'Av of 5767. I still find it relevant, so I'm posting it here. [I did not end up airing the video in question.]
I think I need a reality check, so please help me out here.
A major Kiruv organization is advertising a video for Tisha b'Av. I watched their preview, and I'm not sure I can use the video.
The opening segment of the preview includes the following declaration: “…but there’s something quite harsh and that is that HaShem has demands. HaShem made demands on Klal Yisrael, Europe was destroyed because of the spiritual state of Klal Yisrael there, and if that happened then, it's very scary as to where we are holding today. If we understand that what the Holocaust did was, destroyed what Gedolei Yisrael called a business that was running bankrupt, because Klal Yisrael was really falling part, the minority, just the minority was still Torah-true, if that happened there, well, what's going to happen to Jewry today? And that's scary.”
The same theme runs throughout the preview.
I am a fan of this kiruv organization, which has done an incredible amount of good with a high degree of professionalism. I know and respect quite a few of their personnel, and I like a great many of the programs they put out. But is this a kiruv message, or a richuk [distancing] message?
As a relevant aside, the accuracy of the message is debatable. Suffering is, sometimes, Divine punishment; that's clear in Tanach and Gemara. But it's equally clear in Tanach and Gemara that suffering, sometimes, comes about for reasons other than Divine punishment, as we have discussed elsewhere.
Certainly, one could argue that the Holocaust, at least in some part, may have involved punishment for sin. Nonetheless, the words of Rav Aharon Soloveitchik, from a public shiur recorded in 1989, come back to me:
Because if one tries to explain the Holocaust, he will be nichshal [stumble] in one of two things. If he will try to explain the Holocaust under the secular perspective he will be nichshal in blasphemy. And if he will try to explain from a religious perspective, and point a finger at certain people, why the Holocaust took place, then he will speak stupidity and gasus haruach [arrogance].
But beyond the debatable accuracy, to return to our main point: Is this something to disseminate? Is the Jewish public ready to use the Holocaust as a kiruv tool? “Gd punished you sixty years ago, so you had better shape up now before you get whacked again?”
Perhaps the makers of the video weren't hearing the screams of tortured Jews when they taped those words. Perhaps they weren't thinking about the raped women of the liquidated ghettoes, the rabbis whose beards were torn off and who were otherwise disgraced before they were killed. Perhaps the staff that reviewed the film didn't, during their work, call to mind the thousands of babies who were brutally massacred.
Or the opposite - perhaps they did call all of those things to mind, and that's exactly what motivated them to call Jewry to Wake Up, in a Kahanaesque attempt to wake the masses with harsh truths... but I'm not sure that Kahanaism works as good kiruv. My experience is that it does not.
The key questions, to me:
Is the message going to make a single Jew commit herself to greater observance?
Or is the message going to turn off a single Jew who feels that the memory of her parents, grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts is being sullied?
My gut feeling is that this does not qualify as proper תוכחה (instruction). The Holocaust is still אבילות חדשה (mourning for recent loss), an open and fresh wound; I think that calling it Divine punishment would be a turnoff. Rabbonim far greater than me have balked at that approach.
What do you think?
Note: I first published most of this article in a different venue, before Tisha b'Av of 5767. I still find it relevant, so I'm posting it here. [I did not end up airing the video in question.]
I think I need a reality check, so please help me out here.
A major Kiruv organization is advertising a video for Tisha b'Av. I watched their preview, and I'm not sure I can use the video.
The opening segment of the preview includes the following declaration: “…but there’s something quite harsh and that is that HaShem has demands. HaShem made demands on Klal Yisrael, Europe was destroyed because of the spiritual state of Klal Yisrael there, and if that happened then, it's very scary as to where we are holding today. If we understand that what the Holocaust did was, destroyed what Gedolei Yisrael called a business that was running bankrupt, because Klal Yisrael was really falling part, the minority, just the minority was still Torah-true, if that happened there, well, what's going to happen to Jewry today? And that's scary.”
The same theme runs throughout the preview.
I am a fan of this kiruv organization, which has done an incredible amount of good with a high degree of professionalism. I know and respect quite a few of their personnel, and I like a great many of the programs they put out. But is this a kiruv message, or a richuk [distancing] message?
As a relevant aside, the accuracy of the message is debatable. Suffering is, sometimes, Divine punishment; that's clear in Tanach and Gemara. But it's equally clear in Tanach and Gemara that suffering, sometimes, comes about for reasons other than Divine punishment, as we have discussed elsewhere.
Certainly, one could argue that the Holocaust, at least in some part, may have involved punishment for sin. Nonetheless, the words of Rav Aharon Soloveitchik, from a public shiur recorded in 1989, come back to me:
Because if one tries to explain the Holocaust, he will be nichshal [stumble] in one of two things. If he will try to explain the Holocaust under the secular perspective he will be nichshal in blasphemy. And if he will try to explain from a religious perspective, and point a finger at certain people, why the Holocaust took place, then he will speak stupidity and gasus haruach [arrogance].
But beyond the debatable accuracy, to return to our main point: Is this something to disseminate? Is the Jewish public ready to use the Holocaust as a kiruv tool? “Gd punished you sixty years ago, so you had better shape up now before you get whacked again?”
Perhaps the makers of the video weren't hearing the screams of tortured Jews when they taped those words. Perhaps they weren't thinking about the raped women of the liquidated ghettoes, the rabbis whose beards were torn off and who were otherwise disgraced before they were killed. Perhaps the staff that reviewed the film didn't, during their work, call to mind the thousands of babies who were brutally massacred.
Or the opposite - perhaps they did call all of those things to mind, and that's exactly what motivated them to call Jewry to Wake Up, in a Kahanaesque attempt to wake the masses with harsh truths... but I'm not sure that Kahanaism works as good kiruv. My experience is that it does not.
The key questions, to me:
Is the message going to make a single Jew commit herself to greater observance?
Or is the message going to turn off a single Jew who feels that the memory of her parents, grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts is being sullied?
My gut feeling is that this does not qualify as proper תוכחה (instruction). The Holocaust is still אבילות חדשה (mourning for recent loss), an open and fresh wound; I think that calling it Divine punishment would be a turnoff. Rabbonim far greater than me have balked at that approach.
What do you think?
Friday, July 9, 2010
Why does Cleveland hate LeBron James?
After listening to radio shows, reading articles, hearing from Clevelanders and watching clips from The Decision, I think I understand why Cleveland hates LeBron.
It’s not that he left; on some level, everyone understands that he had the right to make his decision about where to play.
It’s not that he left on national television; everyone understands the hype.
It’s not that he dissed his teammates and told them they’ll never win; lots of people thought that.
It’s not disappointment in his tacit admission that he lacks the Jordanesque talent to carry a team to the championship; he isn’t Michael Jordan, or Kobe Bryant, or Magic or Bird. He's just not that good or he's just not that tough, MVP or not.
It’s not the economic impact on Cleveland; everyone knows that if they want to point a finger for their economic woes, it should be at politicians, bankers and businessmen rather than the Cavaliers’ star forward.
I think it’s that LeBron’s radiating satisfaction with the decision. He seems so comfortable with his choice, so happy to be playing with his buddies, that he gives a sense that he made this decision long ago, that this was rigged from the start, and everything since the end of May was just playing out the string, leading Cleveland on, making fans look silly for stunts like this. Despite his statement that the verdict was not in until Thursday morning, a lot of people think he led them on.
Especially with his one-hour ESPN special, it feels like he led them on like Lucy talking Charlie Brown into taking a kick at the football (starts 36 seconds in):
Or it’s a girl leading a guy to think he can propose at halfcourt during an NBA game, only to reject him:
It's one thing to lose; it's another to be humiliated.
Is this really true? Did he make up his mind long ago? I don’t know. But I can’t see how he’s ever going to walk the streets in that town again. I’d lay odds he sits out the Heat’s games in Cleveland this year.
It’s not that he left; on some level, everyone understands that he had the right to make his decision about where to play.
It’s not that he left on national television; everyone understands the hype.
It’s not that he dissed his teammates and told them they’ll never win; lots of people thought that.
It’s not disappointment in his tacit admission that he lacks the Jordanesque talent to carry a team to the championship; he isn’t Michael Jordan, or Kobe Bryant, or Magic or Bird. He's just not that good or he's just not that tough, MVP or not.
It’s not the economic impact on Cleveland; everyone knows that if they want to point a finger for their economic woes, it should be at politicians, bankers and businessmen rather than the Cavaliers’ star forward.
I think it’s that LeBron’s radiating satisfaction with the decision. He seems so comfortable with his choice, so happy to be playing with his buddies, that he gives a sense that he made this decision long ago, that this was rigged from the start, and everything since the end of May was just playing out the string, leading Cleveland on, making fans look silly for stunts like this. Despite his statement that the verdict was not in until Thursday morning, a lot of people think he led them on.
Especially with his one-hour ESPN special, it feels like he led them on like Lucy talking Charlie Brown into taking a kick at the football (starts 36 seconds in):
Or it’s a girl leading a guy to think he can propose at halfcourt during an NBA game, only to reject him:
It's one thing to lose; it's another to be humiliated.
Is this really true? Did he make up his mind long ago? I don’t know. But I can’t see how he’s ever going to walk the streets in that town again. I’d lay odds he sits out the Heat’s games in Cleveland this year.
In memory of Aharon
[The following post was my contribution to this week's Toronto Torah, which is downloadable here; enjoy!]
Am I doomed to play out my family’s traits in my own life? Aharon haKohen, whose yahrtzeit is observed this coming Sunday night and Monday, Rosh Chodesh Av, is proof that I am not.
We are familiar with the stories of peace and goodwill associated with Aharon. Avot d’Rabbi Natan 12 describes how Aharon involved himself in mediating people’s personal quarrels. Midrashic sources demonstrate Aharon’s conciliatory nature in dealing with the creators of the Golden Calf. Rashi (Bamidbar 20:29) states that every Jew mourned Aharon’s death because of his peace-pursuing traits. The purveyor of Peace and Torah described in Malachi 2:5-6 is said to be Aharon haKohen, who brought peace between individuals and between G-d and the Jewish people. And so on.
What we often miss, though, is that Aharon’s pursuit of peace broke from his family’s dominant trend toward קנאות , zealotry. Aharon’s great-grandfather, Levi, responded with violent outrage to Dinah’s kidnapping and to Yosef’s presumption. Aharon’s elder sister Miriam expressed indignation toward her parents and toward Moshe, and Aharon’s younger brother Moshe displayed outrage numerous times in his career. Aharon’s nephew Chur stood against the Golden Calf to the point of sacrificing his life; Aharon’s family rallied to Moshe’s call, executing the ringleaders of the Calf’s idolatry. Aharon’s grandson Pinchas crowned himself judge and executioner for Zimri; Aharon’s descendants, the Chashmonaim, did likewise against the Hellenists in the era of Chanukah. Eliyahu haNavi, who proclaimed, “I have been zealous for G-d,” was a descendant of Aharon.
Talmudic sources (such as Bava Batra 160b) identify a demanding nature – קפדנות - as an eternal hallmark of kohen conduct, such that the sages needed to create obstacles to prevent them from hasty divorce. The gemara (Sanhedrin 82b) depicts Aharon’s grandson Pinchas challenging Divine justice, and then HaShem justifying this hubris because it was the result of family influence.
Aharon’s family was known for their fiery commitment to proper religious and social conduct, and for putting their lives on the line to defend those principles. Aharon held those same values, but he acted peacefully rather than with anger. Indeed, Ramban (Bamidbar 20:8) asserts, “אהרן לא כעס מימיו, Aharon was never angered.”
Certainly, defying so thoroughly an engrained family trait requires great strength and independence, but how did Aharon even know he was right in shattering this family mold? Where did Aharon find the courage to support his iconoclasm?
Perhaps the answer lies in a brief comment by Ibn Ezra (Shemot 6:13). The Torah describes HaShem’s initial charge to Moshe and Aharon, “ויצום אל בני ישראל,He instructed them regarding the Jewish people.” Ibn Ezra explained, “יש אומרים שצוה שלא יכעסו על ישראל כי רוחם קצרה, Some say that He instructed them not to be angry at the Jewish people, for the people’s spirits were limited.” In other words, HaShem warned Moshe and Aharon to recognize the shortcomings of their generation, and to govern with patience and understanding.
Aharon accepted that the people for whom he was responsible were limited, tortured into smallness by their Egyptian masters and the suffering of exile. He resolved that despite the gene-fueled cauldron burning inside him, he would direct his energy away from the flames of outrage and toward finding creative ways to lead the nation positively, peacefully, and prosperously.
This is the Aharon haKohen who was Miriam and Moshe’s complement in government for forty years, and whose passing we commemorate in the coming week. This is the Aharon haKohen for whom the Torah records (Bamidbar 20:29), “They cried for Aharon for thirty days – the entire house of Israel.” This is the Aharon haKohen who offered korbanot to atone for a nation, and who kindled the lights of the menorah. תהיה נשמתו צרורה בצרור החיים, may his soul be bound in the bond of life.
Certainly, we need leaders of fire and strength, but in our own days of limited spirits may we also merit to be led by the students of Aharon.
Am I doomed to play out my family’s traits in my own life? Aharon haKohen, whose yahrtzeit is observed this coming Sunday night and Monday, Rosh Chodesh Av, is proof that I am not.
We are familiar with the stories of peace and goodwill associated with Aharon. Avot d’Rabbi Natan 12 describes how Aharon involved himself in mediating people’s personal quarrels. Midrashic sources demonstrate Aharon’s conciliatory nature in dealing with the creators of the Golden Calf. Rashi (Bamidbar 20:29) states that every Jew mourned Aharon’s death because of his peace-pursuing traits. The purveyor of Peace and Torah described in Malachi 2:5-6 is said to be Aharon haKohen, who brought peace between individuals and between G-d and the Jewish people. And so on.
What we often miss, though, is that Aharon’s pursuit of peace broke from his family’s dominant trend toward קנאות , zealotry. Aharon’s great-grandfather, Levi, responded with violent outrage to Dinah’s kidnapping and to Yosef’s presumption. Aharon’s elder sister Miriam expressed indignation toward her parents and toward Moshe, and Aharon’s younger brother Moshe displayed outrage numerous times in his career. Aharon’s nephew Chur stood against the Golden Calf to the point of sacrificing his life; Aharon’s family rallied to Moshe’s call, executing the ringleaders of the Calf’s idolatry. Aharon’s grandson Pinchas crowned himself judge and executioner for Zimri; Aharon’s descendants, the Chashmonaim, did likewise against the Hellenists in the era of Chanukah. Eliyahu haNavi, who proclaimed, “I have been zealous for G-d,” was a descendant of Aharon.
Talmudic sources (such as Bava Batra 160b) identify a demanding nature – קפדנות - as an eternal hallmark of kohen conduct, such that the sages needed to create obstacles to prevent them from hasty divorce. The gemara (Sanhedrin 82b) depicts Aharon’s grandson Pinchas challenging Divine justice, and then HaShem justifying this hubris because it was the result of family influence.
Aharon’s family was known for their fiery commitment to proper religious and social conduct, and for putting their lives on the line to defend those principles. Aharon held those same values, but he acted peacefully rather than with anger. Indeed, Ramban (Bamidbar 20:8) asserts, “אהרן לא כעס מימיו, Aharon was never angered.”
Certainly, defying so thoroughly an engrained family trait requires great strength and independence, but how did Aharon even know he was right in shattering this family mold? Where did Aharon find the courage to support his iconoclasm?
Perhaps the answer lies in a brief comment by Ibn Ezra (Shemot 6:13). The Torah describes HaShem’s initial charge to Moshe and Aharon, “ויצום אל בני ישראל,He instructed them regarding the Jewish people.” Ibn Ezra explained, “יש אומרים שצוה שלא יכעסו על ישראל כי רוחם קצרה, Some say that He instructed them not to be angry at the Jewish people, for the people’s spirits were limited.” In other words, HaShem warned Moshe and Aharon to recognize the shortcomings of their generation, and to govern with patience and understanding.
Aharon accepted that the people for whom he was responsible were limited, tortured into smallness by their Egyptian masters and the suffering of exile. He resolved that despite the gene-fueled cauldron burning inside him, he would direct his energy away from the flames of outrage and toward finding creative ways to lead the nation positively, peacefully, and prosperously.
This is the Aharon haKohen who was Miriam and Moshe’s complement in government for forty years, and whose passing we commemorate in the coming week. This is the Aharon haKohen for whom the Torah records (Bamidbar 20:29), “They cried for Aharon for thirty days – the entire house of Israel.” This is the Aharon haKohen who offered korbanot to atone for a nation, and who kindled the lights of the menorah. תהיה נשמתו צרורה בצרור החיים, may his soul be bound in the bond of life.
Certainly, we need leaders of fire and strength, but in our own days of limited spirits may we also merit to be led by the students of Aharon.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Dead for a moment
We’re having work done on some of the kids’ bedrooms, with the side effect of our bedroom becoming a storage center (Canadians: storage centre) for a whole lot of stuff. The result was that I had to sleep in the basement last night.
[Sleeping downstairs was not a bad idea anyway, given this heat. It seems the designers of this home and its A/C thought that we should all be moles and live underground; no discernible cold air reaches the air ducts on the second floor. Our children's toys are well-chilled.]
So I came upstairs this morning and found the Rebbetzin asleep in my bed. The switch made sense, given that hers was loaded down with assorted childrenswear, but it still threw me for a minute. When I opened the door and took in the scene, it was a Ghost-like moment, like I was gone… For a moment I felt like I was actually dead, and seeing the room from another plane.
I’ve always had serious death fears, and although I’ve come a long way, I still think about death a great deal more than is healthy. So this was a natural leap for my imagination.
I've done the same thing in traffic - after narrowly missing an accident, feeling momentarily like my body actually was in the accident, and now I'm moving along in spirit alone. [Am I the only one who does this?]
Spooky.
[Sleeping downstairs was not a bad idea anyway, given this heat. It seems the designers of this home and its A/C thought that we should all be moles and live underground; no discernible cold air reaches the air ducts on the second floor. Our children's toys are well-chilled.]
So I came upstairs this morning and found the Rebbetzin asleep in my bed. The switch made sense, given that hers was loaded down with assorted childrenswear, but it still threw me for a minute. When I opened the door and took in the scene, it was a Ghost-like moment, like I was gone… For a moment I felt like I was actually dead, and seeing the room from another plane.
I’ve always had serious death fears, and although I’ve come a long way, I still think about death a great deal more than is healthy. So this was a natural leap for my imagination.
I've done the same thing in traffic - after narrowly missing an accident, feeling momentarily like my body actually was in the accident, and now I'm moving along in spirit alone. [Am I the only one who does this?]
Spooky.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Why a rabbi teaches Jewish History, Part II
In Part I, I talked about why I teach classes about Jewish History. In the Comments section, we entered a debate about the practical benefits of studying history as it is usually taught in the one-shot class format.
I came across two relevant items the other day:
This from the Chazon Ish's Emunah uBitachon (פרק א, סעיף ח); the translation is mine:
Chronicles of time and histories of the world guide a wise person a great deal in his path; such a person establishes the basis of his wisdom on the events of the past.
However, because people love to be creative and to speak publicly, many falsehoods have collected in the books of these events; people do not have a native distaste for falsehood, and many people love it and treat it with friendship. Therefore, a wise person must sift in the books by these authors in order to accept the truth and winnow out the deceptions.
Here there is great room for imagination; it is the nature of imagination to hasten and speak a sentence quickly, before the intellect has been able to prepare the scales of justice, to weigh the matter appropriately. Imagination passes its judgment in a moment, whether from truth or from deception.
And then this from the New York Times, regarding the work of two economists in assembling data on centuries of economic disasters:
Like a pair of financial sleuths, Ms. Reinhart and her collaborator from Harvard, Kenneth S. Rogoff, have spent years investigating wreckage scattered across documents from nearly a millennium of economic crises and collapses. They have wandered the basements of rare-book libraries, riffled through monks’ yellowed journals and begged central banks worldwide for centuries-old debt records. And they have manually entered their findings, digit by digit, into one of the biggest spreadsheets you’ve ever seen.
Their handiwork is contained in their recent best seller, “This Time Is Different,” a quantitative reconstruction of hundreds of historical episodes in which perfectly smart people made perfectly disastrous decisions. It is a panoramic opus, both geographically and temporally, covering crises from 66 countries over the last 800 years...
In the past, other economists often took the same empirical approach as the Reinhart-Rogoff team. But this approach fell into disfavor over the last few decades as economists glorified financial papers that were theory-rich and data-poor.
Much of that theory-driven work, critics say, is built on the same disassembled and reassembled sets of data points — generally from just the last 25 years or so and from the same handful of rich countries — that quants have whisked into ever more dazzling and complicated mathematical formations.
The two pieces both highlight the value of studying history in order to determine proper future behavior, but from two complementary approaches. The Chazon Ish points out the need for עיון, for examining the data, filtering it, studying it and so developing greater understanding. But the economists note the need to make sure we assemble proper data, taking a בקיאות approach to ensure that we are working with sufficient material from which to draw our conclusions.
Neither approach stands alone, of course. I bring them here not to contrast them, but to underscore my message from Part I: Learning history by attending a class here and there, or reading a book on occasion, does not serve the goal of gaining wisdom from history. Such superficial attempts may do more harm than good.
In order to gain the benefits of learning history, one must commit to real study. Like most other fields. This is why I say that my reasons for teaching History are not for the inherent value of studying History, but rather for the secondary benefits of deepening my understanding of Torah and of drawing people into more general learning.
I came across two relevant items the other day:
This from the Chazon Ish's Emunah uBitachon (פרק א, סעיף ח); the translation is mine:
Chronicles of time and histories of the world guide a wise person a great deal in his path; such a person establishes the basis of his wisdom on the events of the past.
However, because people love to be creative and to speak publicly, many falsehoods have collected in the books of these events; people do not have a native distaste for falsehood, and many people love it and treat it with friendship. Therefore, a wise person must sift in the books by these authors in order to accept the truth and winnow out the deceptions.
Here there is great room for imagination; it is the nature of imagination to hasten and speak a sentence quickly, before the intellect has been able to prepare the scales of justice, to weigh the matter appropriately. Imagination passes its judgment in a moment, whether from truth or from deception.
And then this from the New York Times, regarding the work of two economists in assembling data on centuries of economic disasters:
Like a pair of financial sleuths, Ms. Reinhart and her collaborator from Harvard, Kenneth S. Rogoff, have spent years investigating wreckage scattered across documents from nearly a millennium of economic crises and collapses. They have wandered the basements of rare-book libraries, riffled through monks’ yellowed journals and begged central banks worldwide for centuries-old debt records. And they have manually entered their findings, digit by digit, into one of the biggest spreadsheets you’ve ever seen.
Their handiwork is contained in their recent best seller, “This Time Is Different,” a quantitative reconstruction of hundreds of historical episodes in which perfectly smart people made perfectly disastrous decisions. It is a panoramic opus, both geographically and temporally, covering crises from 66 countries over the last 800 years...
In the past, other economists often took the same empirical approach as the Reinhart-Rogoff team. But this approach fell into disfavor over the last few decades as economists glorified financial papers that were theory-rich and data-poor.
Much of that theory-driven work, critics say, is built on the same disassembled and reassembled sets of data points — generally from just the last 25 years or so and from the same handful of rich countries — that quants have whisked into ever more dazzling and complicated mathematical formations.
The two pieces both highlight the value of studying history in order to determine proper future behavior, but from two complementary approaches. The Chazon Ish points out the need for עיון, for examining the data, filtering it, studying it and so developing greater understanding. But the economists note the need to make sure we assemble proper data, taking a בקיאות approach to ensure that we are working with sufficient material from which to draw our conclusions.
Neither approach stands alone, of course. I bring them here not to contrast them, but to underscore my message from Part I: Learning history by attending a class here and there, or reading a book on occasion, does not serve the goal of gaining wisdom from history. Such superficial attempts may do more harm than good.
In order to gain the benefits of learning history, one must commit to real study. Like most other fields. This is why I say that my reasons for teaching History are not for the inherent value of studying History, but rather for the secondary benefits of deepening my understanding of Torah and of drawing people into more general learning.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Why Rabbis Stop Believing
Following on the heels of last week’s Orthoprax Rabbi discussions, I thought I’d add a more general note on the problem of Emunah in the Rabbinate. Specifically: There are few professions which are worse for one’s belief in Gd and Judaism than the rabbinate.
Certainly, there are reasons why a pulpit rabbi should have greater faith than others do: Training, regular exposure to wonderful people in their congregations, chizuk [reinforcement] from colleagues, the ability to spend much of the day involved in Torah study.
Nonetheless, I reiterate: The pulpit rabbbinate is bad for Emunah.
It’s not [only] because of the practical joke that Gd played on rabbis by creating the month of Tishrei; it’s a deeper, and more serious, issue. Here are the problems I see:
• A rabbi who really engages a community lives his life under theological siege, constantly facing people’s questions and challenges against faith. It’s like water sitting on a roof; eventually, some will seep in;
• A rabbi sees all sorts of tragedy and pain, and no one comes along to reassure him as he reassures others;
• A rabbi has no time for emotional bounceback, let alone philosophical bounceback, from the pain he sees;
• A rabbi lacks the space to step back and work through his theological challenges; he gets no religious Time Out. Whether they are right or wrong, other people can and do drop out of minyan or shiur for a few days, but the rabbi has no such option;
• A rabbi normally devotes little time to read works of hashkafah that might reinforce his belief; all of his time goes into the community. Reading it in order to teach it doesn’t count!;
• A rabbi sees the weak reasons behind some people's belief;
• A rabbi sees how some people turn to Judaism not out of strength, but out of absence of anywhere else to turn;
• A rabbi sees the professed believers who act immorally and corruptly, and knows what others get away with.
[Interesting: I imagine these items apply equally to priests,ministers, imams, etc.]
Clearly, there are ways to deal with this. Many rabbis, like myself, have found ways to manage. A rabbi can and should deal with a lot of these problems by scheduling time to learn mussar and machshavah (ethical instruction and Jewish belief), as well as scheduling vacation. But this definitely requires a certain mindfulness, an awareness of what is happening to him, why it’s happening, and how to address it.
There are a lot of pitfalls in this business.
Certainly, there are reasons why a pulpit rabbi should have greater faith than others do: Training, regular exposure to wonderful people in their congregations, chizuk [reinforcement] from colleagues, the ability to spend much of the day involved in Torah study.
Nonetheless, I reiterate: The pulpit rabbbinate is bad for Emunah.
It’s not [only] because of the practical joke that Gd played on rabbis by creating the month of Tishrei; it’s a deeper, and more serious, issue. Here are the problems I see:
• A rabbi who really engages a community lives his life under theological siege, constantly facing people’s questions and challenges against faith. It’s like water sitting on a roof; eventually, some will seep in;
• A rabbi sees all sorts of tragedy and pain, and no one comes along to reassure him as he reassures others;
• A rabbi has no time for emotional bounceback, let alone philosophical bounceback, from the pain he sees;
• A rabbi lacks the space to step back and work through his theological challenges; he gets no religious Time Out. Whether they are right or wrong, other people can and do drop out of minyan or shiur for a few days, but the rabbi has no such option;
• A rabbi normally devotes little time to read works of hashkafah that might reinforce his belief; all of his time goes into the community. Reading it in order to teach it doesn’t count!;
• A rabbi sees the weak reasons behind some people's belief;
• A rabbi sees how some people turn to Judaism not out of strength, but out of absence of anywhere else to turn;
• A rabbi sees the professed believers who act immorally and corruptly, and knows what others get away with.
[Interesting: I imagine these items apply equally to priests,ministers, imams, etc.]
Clearly, there are ways to deal with this. Many rabbis, like myself, have found ways to manage. A rabbi can and should deal with a lot of these problems by scheduling time to learn mussar and machshavah (ethical instruction and Jewish belief), as well as scheduling vacation. But this definitely requires a certain mindfulness, an awareness of what is happening to him, why it’s happening, and how to address it.
There are a lot of pitfalls in this business.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Haveil Havalim #274 - The Experimental Edition
Welcome to Haveil Havalim #274 - the Experimental Edition!
First, the boilerplate:
Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish and Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It's hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by the formidable Jack.
So what's the Experiment?
Usually, we divide up Haveil Havalim categories based on the subjects of the posts – Israel, Personal, Torah, Humor, and so on. This time around, though, I thought I might do it a bit differently; I tried to categorize posts based on the way the blogger’s voice came across to me.
We have close to 70 links here, about two-thirds of which came by submission; this edition took considerable work, so I hope I haven't botched it completely with my experiment.
And on that upbeat note: Onward!
Comedians
Benji Lovitt offers the experiences of an American in Israel watching a European game in Show Saturday Night and More World Cup.
Jack offers Don’t Mess with the Uni-Blogger. He may not have intended it as comedy, but I’m laughing…
And A Time of the Signs found a great bargain on chicken tights for only 100 shekel!
Teachers
Joshua Waxman walks us through a fascinating interplay of apparently conflicting midrashim in Was Pinchas descended from Yisro or Yosef?
Therapydoc counsels with great insight on fitting in with a demanding set of in-laws.
What should be in a yeshiva curriculum? Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents the views of a Lubavitcher Rebbe in Vital skills and knowledge for Yeshivah students.
Financial Advice for Newlyweds is available from the expert at Orthonomics.
Homeshuling talks about the value of engaging children through involvement in key Jewish celebrations in Experiential Jewish Education. With cake.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver discusses the greatness of the Alter Rebbe's mother.
Conversations in Klal presents thoughts on the use of social labels in looking at the Klal.
The Curious Jew offers material from Rav Yaakov Weinberg on the Rambam’s Eighth Principle of Faith.
Linkers
Leora offers a beautiful edition of JPIX Spring 2010!
Jacob Richman offers resources related to the Three Weeks with Online Educational Resources about the 3 weeks and Tisha B'Av.
R’ Gil Student links to an essay on the position of Rav Soloveichik regarding Women Rabbis.
Jack gives us a link to Elena Kagan’s answer to the question of where she was on December 25th.
Joel Katz offers a potpourri of Israel- and Judaism-related news articles.
Life in Israel notes the restoration of Lebanon’s only synagogue.
Chefs and Foodies
My brother rates Coors Light in his weekly Kosher Beer review. I’m pretty sure it was a thumbs-down, although he worded it pretty gently.
Jameel advertises a waffle breakthrough at Will the Muqata ever be the same?
Mirjam Weiss offers a shoo-in candidate for the Kosher Cooking Carnival, with lifelong friendships and good food in Lambs to the Daughter, and then she follows up with Shmaltz ? The Sequel.
alto artist presents 928. Chocolate on her momentous childhood discovery that food allergies can change, and contrasts this with the theoretical immutability of religious conviction.
Harry talks Israeli fashion, and food, in Marzipan Hats.
Observers
Jack offers us Reality, and I can only smile and think, “Been there, done that….”
Hadassah discusses the demands she makes of her children when they are Dressing for shul [bringing to mind my own Synagogue Dress Codes post from two summers back].
Mrs. S. describes the remarkable success of R’ Moshe Abu Aziz in A hero of Biblical proportions, and rutimizrachi offers a video of a young Israeli singer in "Only Israel" [note: kol isha], while Jameel presents the first religious female Israeli Air Force cadet.
Yoav B offers a soldier’s view of IDF-related film in Recommended IDF films from all times.
Minnesota Mamaleh celebrates her eighth anniversary with Eight Going on Nine.
I could have just as easily put this one in Teachers: Israeli Soldier’s Mother talks about Gilad Shalit and her reaction to her son’s army experiences, in Do you know how close I was to Lebanon?.
Frume Sarah talks about not making Newsweek’s Top 50 Influential Rabbis in America list. Neither did I – but then, I’m in Canada.
Elianah-Sharon presents a tear-jerker of a memorial post with Today I wore pink.
With a light-hearted post, Rickismom presents The Drink.
Ilana-Davita offers a thought-provoking Weekly Interview: William Kolbrener.
Harry talks about a new Israeli law prohibiting use of underweight models in Israeli models can pack it on.
Editorialists
Harry leads us off with the Free Gilad march, in Four years in a Hamas jail.
And on to Emmanuel, where Ben-Yehudah presents cogent thoughts in his Response To Stern's Arabs YES! Zionists NO!, and My Obiter Dicta sees blame all around in Emanuel Redux.
Jewlicious, unlike Professor Sagi, is glad to see the Education Ministry mandate knowledge of Judaism in the national curriculum, in Fear Not: The Torah Won’t Kill You Unless Someone Beats You With It.
Mother in Israel goes to town on a new study linking breastfeeding and dairy allergies.
Yisrael Medad notes the subtle and un-subtle tricks of anti-Israel journalism in UK Telegraph Tries its Hand At Anti-Israel Fauxtography.
Susan Barnes asks why Jews do not travel the newly excavated tunnels running north from the Western Wall, in Mah Zeh Achim?
Daniel Ben-Shmuel presents The Mixed Multitude Strikes Again!.
Independent Patriot presents Social Justice, Autism, Society and Acceptance: With a Little Politics Thrown In- OK Alot of Politics.
Creative Writing
Rachel Barenblat offers a beautiful and thought-provoking poem on motherhood, Creation and much more in Another mother psalm: song for the sixth day.
Jack offers up This Time, an installment in his Fragments of Fiction series.
I saw a woman on the roof of a parking garage, and was moved to wonder what was behind the scene.
Proliferants
Batya - Another: G-d's In Charge, Siyata d'Shamya, Story, Bad Definition and Translation Fouls Things Up, Does It Pay (Or Is It Safe) To Help Israel?, "Paying The Price", Life Isn't Fair, and There Are Things That Can't Be Equally Divided.
Lady-Light presents Nablopomo for July: Somebody SAVE Me... , I'm a Savta! (Again!), A Beautiful Name for a Beautiful Soul and The Emperor Has No Clothes: Hareidim Exposed.
The Orthoprax Rabbi
And one more category, for those who made it to the end: This past week, The Orthoprax Rabbi burst on the scene, partly boasting about leading an Orthodox synagogue without practicing Judaism and partly pleading for people’s sympathy. Response came quickly from various blogosphere voices, including:
Kvetching Editor,
Emes ve’Emunah,
AddeRabbi,
Daniel Saunders,
Fink or Swim,
and, of course, Yours Truly.
That concludes this edition. Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using the carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on the
blog carnival index page.
Friday, July 2, 2010
A last thought on the plight of the Orthoprax Rabbi
Something to ponder before Shabbos, following up on Part I and Part II, about the Orthoprax Rabbi.
I see the problem faced by someone who has been living a life of religion in a community of religion, and who depends on this life for his economic and social survival, and who then decides that he no longer believes in it. I have criticized his certitude, but I understand the situation as best one can without actually living it; as I noted in Part I, there was a time when I seriously feared I might end up that way, as well.
But living unethically is not going to solve his problem. It's not about Judaism or belief, it's about living a split life, and a deceptive life.
Michah 6:8 instructs us that Gd expects of us to, “Practice justice, love generosity and walk privately with Gd.”
Normally, we view the first two principles as social, and the third as covering our relationship with Gd. Rav Yaakov Ettlinger (19th century Germany, rebbe of Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch), though, saw them differently:
Translation:
Michah specified three activities, representing three types of mitzvot: Between Man and Gd, between Man and Other, and between Man and Self.
Between Man and Self – Practice justice, meaning to weigh all of one’s deeds to ensure that they are just, and he has no corruption in his hand.
Between Man and Other – Love generosity, meaning providing acts of generosity between himself and another.
Between Man and his Creator – Walk privately.
(Aruch l’Ner to Makkot 24a)
In other words: Justice is not only about ensuring the safety of those around me. Justice is also about ensuring my own inner balance. It's a responsibility to myself. This is one of the reasons why the great majority of atheists and agnostics live ethical lives.
So what can he do? I've known many people who have had to switch careers mid-stream - professors who received terrible student evaluations, businessmen who were cheated by their partners, stock traders who lost their shirts and their confidence. It happens.
Ofcourse, one difference between the cases above and that of the Orthoprax Rabbi is that these people were forced out by external circumstances; this rabbi has no external pressures, only internal ones. And on some level he probably tells himself that this could be temporary; he might still be able to return to his previous faith, rather than give up his trade.
Another difference is that those other jobs were primarily jobs, for financial survival. The rabbinate has so much family and social weight that it is much harder to leave the field.
But for his own health, aside from the ethical responsibility to his community I discussed in Part II, I think he would be better off looking into academia, administration and management professions, civil service, a transition to law school or accounting, freelance writing, anything rather than remain in the synagogue rabbinate. Tell the family and community it's because of the stress of the rabbinate. It's healthier for him, for his family and for the community that depends on him.
I see the problem faced by someone who has been living a life of religion in a community of religion, and who depends on this life for his economic and social survival, and who then decides that he no longer believes in it. I have criticized his certitude, but I understand the situation as best one can without actually living it; as I noted in Part I, there was a time when I seriously feared I might end up that way, as well.
But living unethically is not going to solve his problem. It's not about Judaism or belief, it's about living a split life, and a deceptive life.
Michah 6:8 instructs us that Gd expects of us to, “Practice justice, love generosity and walk privately with Gd.”
Normally, we view the first two principles as social, and the third as covering our relationship with Gd. Rav Yaakov Ettlinger (19th century Germany, rebbe of Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch), though, saw them differently:
והנה פרט מיכה ג' דברים נגד ג' מיני מצות, שבין אדם למקום, בין אדם לחבירו, ובין אדם לעצמו. נגד לעצמו אמר עשות משפט, שישקול כל מעשיו שיהיו במשפט ושלא יהיה עול בכפו. ונגד בינו לחבירו אמר ואהבת חסד, שהוא גמילות חסדים שבין אדם לחבירו. ונגד בינו לקונו אמר והצנע לכת
Translation:
Michah specified three activities, representing three types of mitzvot: Between Man and Gd, between Man and Other, and between Man and Self.
Between Man and Self – Practice justice, meaning to weigh all of one’s deeds to ensure that they are just, and he has no corruption in his hand.
Between Man and Other – Love generosity, meaning providing acts of generosity between himself and another.
Between Man and his Creator – Walk privately.
(Aruch l’Ner to Makkot 24a)
In other words: Justice is not only about ensuring the safety of those around me. Justice is also about ensuring my own inner balance. It's a responsibility to myself. This is one of the reasons why the great majority of atheists and agnostics live ethical lives.
So what can he do? I've known many people who have had to switch careers mid-stream - professors who received terrible student evaluations, businessmen who were cheated by their partners, stock traders who lost their shirts and their confidence. It happens.
Ofcourse, one difference between the cases above and that of the Orthoprax Rabbi is that these people were forced out by external circumstances; this rabbi has no external pressures, only internal ones. And on some level he probably tells himself that this could be temporary; he might still be able to return to his previous faith, rather than give up his trade.
Another difference is that those other jobs were primarily jobs, for financial survival. The rabbinate has so much family and social weight that it is much harder to leave the field.
But for his own health, aside from the ethical responsibility to his community I discussed in Part II, I think he would be better off looking into academia, administration and management professions, civil service, a transition to law school or accounting, freelance writing, anything rather than remain in the synagogue rabbinate. Tell the family and community it's because of the stress of the rabbinate. It's healthier for him, for his family and for the community that depends on him.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
On the Orthoprax Rabbi, Part II: Would you buy a used car from this man?
[This week’s Toronto Torah is here; enjoy!]
I’ve been asked to flesh out one point from Part I regarding The Orthoprax Rabbi: The unethical and unhealthy character of serving as a rabbi while thinking that Judaism is wrong.
Some have compared the rabbi to any other tradesman or professional, like a lawyer who renders technical legal advice regardless of his own faith in the legal system. But as I see it, a Rabbi is not only a technical functionary, a suited officiant; a Rabbi is also a marketer for Judaism, a salesman, on two levels, and on both levels a salesman must believe in his product:
• The rabbi markets practice: The rabbi is a role model, his example proving that the lifestyle he promotes can actually be lived. He’s like a car salesman who can proudly state, “I drive one, too.” And a rabbi who is not practicing is selling people a lifestyle he isn’t actually living. The Honda dealer is telling people he drives the Honda he is selling, but he actually drives a Chevrolet.
• And the rabbi markets belief: The rabbi is a resource to answer questions of philosophy and resolve Judaism’s internal conflicts. He’s like a car salesman who explains how the car operates and resolves any doubts about its function. And a rabbi who justifies pesukim and resolves doubts while not believing his own answers is like a car salesman who insists the transmission is fine while hiding a defect in the engine.
This is an unethical proposition; would you buy a car from this man? No one would want to buy from a salesman who thought his product was poor quality, who lied when he said that he drove the car, too, or who concealed defects from the consumer.
And this is an unhealthy proposition, because a normal human being who makes a living marketing defective products as though they were high quality will ultimately come to despise himself.
I suspect that this conflict is also what has led The Orthoprax Rabbi to start his blog. If I may play pop psychologist for a moment, I think he’s trying to find a way to vent what’s inside, to convince himself that he is living an honest life on some level. I don’t think it will work, though; doing it anonymously, and part-time, will not suffice as an outlet for a life of dissembling.
What could he do? Certainly, there are non-salesman aspects to the rabbinate. The Orthoprax Rabbi could become an officiant-for-hire, or an academic, or a writer of sefarim. But he should get out of Sales, for his shul’s sake and for his own, until he resolves his doubts to the extent that he achieves some level of personal confidence.
I’ve been asked to flesh out one point from Part I regarding The Orthoprax Rabbi: The unethical and unhealthy character of serving as a rabbi while thinking that Judaism is wrong.
Some have compared the rabbi to any other tradesman or professional, like a lawyer who renders technical legal advice regardless of his own faith in the legal system. But as I see it, a Rabbi is not only a technical functionary, a suited officiant; a Rabbi is also a marketer for Judaism, a salesman, on two levels, and on both levels a salesman must believe in his product:
• The rabbi markets practice: The rabbi is a role model, his example proving that the lifestyle he promotes can actually be lived. He’s like a car salesman who can proudly state, “I drive one, too.” And a rabbi who is not practicing is selling people a lifestyle he isn’t actually living. The Honda dealer is telling people he drives the Honda he is selling, but he actually drives a Chevrolet.
• And the rabbi markets belief: The rabbi is a resource to answer questions of philosophy and resolve Judaism’s internal conflicts. He’s like a car salesman who explains how the car operates and resolves any doubts about its function. And a rabbi who justifies pesukim and resolves doubts while not believing his own answers is like a car salesman who insists the transmission is fine while hiding a defect in the engine.
This is an unethical proposition; would you buy a car from this man? No one would want to buy from a salesman who thought his product was poor quality, who lied when he said that he drove the car, too, or who concealed defects from the consumer.
And this is an unhealthy proposition, because a normal human being who makes a living marketing defective products as though they were high quality will ultimately come to despise himself.
I suspect that this conflict is also what has led The Orthoprax Rabbi to start his blog. If I may play pop psychologist for a moment, I think he’s trying to find a way to vent what’s inside, to convince himself that he is living an honest life on some level. I don’t think it will work, though; doing it anonymously, and part-time, will not suffice as an outlet for a life of dissembling.
What could he do? Certainly, there are non-salesman aspects to the rabbinate. The Orthoprax Rabbi could become an officiant-for-hire, or an academic, or a writer of sefarim. But he should get out of Sales, for his shul’s sake and for his own, until he resolves his doubts to the extent that he achieves some level of personal confidence.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
On The Orthoprax Rabbi
Last night Isaac referred me to The Orthoprax Rabbi, a blog claiming to be the words of a non-believing, publicly-observing rabbi of an Orthodox synagogue, and asked me for comment.
To be blunt: That situation is my worst rabbinic nightmare. In my first year in the rabbinate, I nearly left the field out of concern that The Orthoprax Rabbi might someday be me.
Let’s unpack that a bit.
It began with a normal, healthy maturing process:
As a child, I - like many children - always took it for granted that there were experts who ran the show, making everything work as it should. From painters to plumbers to publishers to actors, the people who designed and produced my world seemed to possess perfect knowledge and tools, since everything around me looked as (I assumed) it should. Even as a teenager, I continued to maintain that assumption, for the most part. Doctors, judges, political leaders, rabbis, all of them most know what they’re doing.
Then my first name changed to Rabbi, and I began to learn the truth that all of us must learn as we mature: That many of the people given titles and respect are just like everyone else, muddling their way through. When people began to call me a talmid chacham and look to me for advice and decisions, I got scared. Is this what the world is like? Are people like me (as in, imperfect people with imperfect knowledge and tools,) the ones running business, government, Judaism?
That revelation led me to seriously reflect on the fallibility of many of Judaism's architects, and on the less-credible aspects of Judaism and Torah, and on the great masses of people who thought Jews were living an illusion, and on the somewhat smaller number of people who were relying on fallible me as I had once relied on fallible others.
And that led me to want out.
I wanted to have the freedom to work out these issues without having a responsibility to a community, without concern that my ultimate decisions would damage my shul.
I wanted to know that fear of harming a community, or hunger for a paycheck, wouldn’t force me to live a hypocritical life, pretending one thing to the world and living another in my heart.
In essence, I wanted to avoid becoming what The Orthoprax Rabbi seems to have become.
I didn’t exit the rabbinate. And I didn’t become The Orthoprax Rabbi, either. Instead, I spent years thinking through my doubts and concerns, resolved the great majority of the big ones and left a couple as standing questions, and continued onward with an awareness that I have yet to reach my ‘final’ understandings, and that I will likely spend my entire life oscillating between poles of conviction.
I feel bad for The Orthoprax Rabbi, who seems to have gone further in his certainty than I ever did. Such certainty is stultifying.
I also feel bad for The Orthoprax Rabbi because I believe he experiences great internal pain in living this split identity. Despite his insistence that there is no inconsistency in being an unbelieving rabbi, the fact that he must conceal his disbelief is proof otherwise. And I am convinced that psychologically healthy human beings naturally wish to live a unified life, sincere and honest, and are pained by concealing their souls.
Definitely my worst rabbinic nightmare.
Does that answer your question, Isaac?
To be blunt: That situation is my worst rabbinic nightmare. In my first year in the rabbinate, I nearly left the field out of concern that The Orthoprax Rabbi might someday be me.
Let’s unpack that a bit.
It began with a normal, healthy maturing process:
As a child, I - like many children - always took it for granted that there were experts who ran the show, making everything work as it should. From painters to plumbers to publishers to actors, the people who designed and produced my world seemed to possess perfect knowledge and tools, since everything around me looked as (I assumed) it should. Even as a teenager, I continued to maintain that assumption, for the most part. Doctors, judges, political leaders, rabbis, all of them most know what they’re doing.
Then my first name changed to Rabbi, and I began to learn the truth that all of us must learn as we mature: That many of the people given titles and respect are just like everyone else, muddling their way through. When people began to call me a talmid chacham and look to me for advice and decisions, I got scared. Is this what the world is like? Are people like me (as in, imperfect people with imperfect knowledge and tools,) the ones running business, government, Judaism?
That revelation led me to seriously reflect on the fallibility of many of Judaism's architects, and on the less-credible aspects of Judaism and Torah, and on the great masses of people who thought Jews were living an illusion, and on the somewhat smaller number of people who were relying on fallible me as I had once relied on fallible others.
And that led me to want out.
I wanted to have the freedom to work out these issues without having a responsibility to a community, without concern that my ultimate decisions would damage my shul.
I wanted to know that fear of harming a community, or hunger for a paycheck, wouldn’t force me to live a hypocritical life, pretending one thing to the world and living another in my heart.
In essence, I wanted to avoid becoming what The Orthoprax Rabbi seems to have become.
I didn’t exit the rabbinate. And I didn’t become The Orthoprax Rabbi, either. Instead, I spent years thinking through my doubts and concerns, resolved the great majority of the big ones and left a couple as standing questions, and continued onward with an awareness that I have yet to reach my ‘final’ understandings, and that I will likely spend my entire life oscillating between poles of conviction.
I feel bad for The Orthoprax Rabbi, who seems to have gone further in his certainty than I ever did. Such certainty is stultifying.
I also feel bad for The Orthoprax Rabbi because I believe he experiences great internal pain in living this split identity. Despite his insistence that there is no inconsistency in being an unbelieving rabbi, the fact that he must conceal his disbelief is proof otherwise. And I am convinced that psychologically healthy human beings naturally wish to live a unified life, sincere and honest, and are pained by concealing their souls.
Definitely my worst rabbinic nightmare.
Does that answer your question, Isaac?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Hand-to-Mouth: Honor, Trust or Something Else?
When I was in Kerem b’Yavneh, I had a Yemenite friend who would shake hands and then, after releasing your hand, raise his own hand to his mouth and kiss it.
I never asked after the meaning of the gesture (does anyone know where I can find Tomer Isaac these days?), but I assumed it was a display of honor: “I recognize that you are sacred, a pure soul, created in the image designated by Gd, a living, breathing sefer torah, and so I kiss my hand after touching you.” I was impressed; I felt this showed great respect to the other party. I began to incorporate the hand-to-mouth into my own behavior, and it became second nature.
Eventually I entered the rabbinate, and realized I needed to subdue the trait somewhat; it sort of weirded people out, this bearded rabbi putting his hand to his mouth, especially when I was among people who didn’t know me. Then the whole hand-kissing thing became doubly problematic with the advent of swine flu; why not just go ahead and sneeze on other people, while you’re at it? And so I trained myself out of the practice, for the most part.
Fast-forward to this past Shabbos, which I spent as a speaker in Ottawa, enjoying incredible hospitality (Hi, Bram!) and a great shul at Machzikei haDas. I received a truly warm welcome, and despite being away from my family I really felt at home - so much so, apparently, that I fell back into my old practice of shaking and then kissing my hand…
…until one person approached me about this hand-kissing, and presented a new explanation for the practice: The gemara (Berachot 62a) states that because one uses his right hand for eating or for various religious purposes, he should only use his left hand to clean himself in the washroom. So my new friend suggested that the idea of putting one’s hand to one’s mouth after shaking someone’s right hand is to display confidence that the other party is civilized, and would not have used his right hand to clean himself in the washroom.
Wow, was that different.
I mean, trust is good, and displaying trust is good, but still... the hand-kissing practice is kind of yuck, all of a sudden.
So here’s my question: Have you heard of this hand-to-mouth practice? And do you know its origin?
I never asked after the meaning of the gesture (does anyone know where I can find Tomer Isaac these days?), but I assumed it was a display of honor: “I recognize that you are sacred, a pure soul, created in the image designated by Gd, a living, breathing sefer torah, and so I kiss my hand after touching you.” I was impressed; I felt this showed great respect to the other party. I began to incorporate the hand-to-mouth into my own behavior, and it became second nature.
Eventually I entered the rabbinate, and realized I needed to subdue the trait somewhat; it sort of weirded people out, this bearded rabbi putting his hand to his mouth, especially when I was among people who didn’t know me. Then the whole hand-kissing thing became doubly problematic with the advent of swine flu; why not just go ahead and sneeze on other people, while you’re at it? And so I trained myself out of the practice, for the most part.
Fast-forward to this past Shabbos, which I spent as a speaker in Ottawa, enjoying incredible hospitality (Hi, Bram!) and a great shul at Machzikei haDas. I received a truly warm welcome, and despite being away from my family I really felt at home - so much so, apparently, that I fell back into my old practice of shaking and then kissing my hand…
…until one person approached me about this hand-kissing, and presented a new explanation for the practice: The gemara (Berachot 62a) states that because one uses his right hand for eating or for various religious purposes, he should only use his left hand to clean himself in the washroom. So my new friend suggested that the idea of putting one’s hand to one’s mouth after shaking someone’s right hand is to display confidence that the other party is civilized, and would not have used his right hand to clean himself in the washroom.
Wow, was that different.
I mean, trust is good, and displaying trust is good, but still... the hand-kissing practice is kind of yuck, all of a sudden.
So here’s my question: Have you heard of this hand-to-mouth practice? And do you know its origin?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Woman on the Roof of a Parking Garage
[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]
On Friday morning I flew to Ottawa, and from the Pearson Airport monorail I saw a single car occupying the top deck of a several-story parking garage. The car was in the far corner of the roof, and a woman stood beside it, right near the railing, writing something. It was a long way to the ground, the sun was shining, the car was alone on the rooftop, the woman was so intent on her writing… I wish I had been able to take a picture for you, but the moment was there and gone as the monorail moved along.
It was like a scene from a movie, either the beginning or the end.
Perhaps she was about to fly off to another country, and she was sending a Goodbye letter to her family, to a friend, to a boyfriend.
Maybe she was getting some last-minute work done before entering the hubbub of the airport.
Could be she just goes there because she likes the view, and she isn’t flying at all; the space is somewhat expensive, but it inspires her. Maybe she’s an artist, doing sketches for a painting.
Maybe she’s a poet or songwriter, and a thought just hit her, and she needed to catch the wave before it washed over her.
Possibly, she had just returned from a trip, and had a thought she wanted to jot down. Or maybe it was a harrowing flight, and she was writing a note to self: Make a Will!
Or, she could have been writing down her location so that she would remember where she had parked.
Or she was writing a note to drop off the edge of the building, to the ground below.
Or someone else was going to pick up the car, and she was leaving him/her a note.
Or she was planning to engage in some violent act in the airport, and she was leaving a message for investigators to find.
Many possibilities, of course, and my imagination is limited by my own experiences and identity. Could be something entirely different from my own dimension.
Funny. The exercise of pondering this was somewhat akin to one of the first steps in developing a dvar torah – looking at a source and contemplating what might lie behind it. Why did Bilam do that? Why did the Torah think it worthwhile to tell me about the dialogue between Balak and his messengers? What is that ox-tongue metaphor, anyway? And so on. [The difference between the dvar torah process and what happened Friday morning is in the steps toward answering those questions, but that's a topic for another time.]
And, of course, it reminded me of the novels I have not yet written…
A woman on the roof of a parking garage. Interesting.
On Friday morning I flew to Ottawa, and from the Pearson Airport monorail I saw a single car occupying the top deck of a several-story parking garage. The car was in the far corner of the roof, and a woman stood beside it, right near the railing, writing something. It was a long way to the ground, the sun was shining, the car was alone on the rooftop, the woman was so intent on her writing… I wish I had been able to take a picture for you, but the moment was there and gone as the monorail moved along.
It was like a scene from a movie, either the beginning or the end.
Perhaps she was about to fly off to another country, and she was sending a Goodbye letter to her family, to a friend, to a boyfriend.
Maybe she was getting some last-minute work done before entering the hubbub of the airport.
Could be she just goes there because she likes the view, and she isn’t flying at all; the space is somewhat expensive, but it inspires her. Maybe she’s an artist, doing sketches for a painting.
Maybe she’s a poet or songwriter, and a thought just hit her, and she needed to catch the wave before it washed over her.
Possibly, she had just returned from a trip, and had a thought she wanted to jot down. Or maybe it was a harrowing flight, and she was writing a note to self: Make a Will!
Or, she could have been writing down her location so that she would remember where she had parked.
Or she was writing a note to drop off the edge of the building, to the ground below.
Or someone else was going to pick up the car, and she was leaving him/her a note.
Or she was planning to engage in some violent act in the airport, and she was leaving a message for investigators to find.
Many possibilities, of course, and my imagination is limited by my own experiences and identity. Could be something entirely different from my own dimension.
Funny. The exercise of pondering this was somewhat akin to one of the first steps in developing a dvar torah – looking at a source and contemplating what might lie behind it. Why did Bilam do that? Why did the Torah think it worthwhile to tell me about the dialogue between Balak and his messengers? What is that ox-tongue metaphor, anyway? And so on. [The difference between the dvar torah process and what happened Friday morning is in the steps toward answering those questions, but that's a topic for another time.]
And, of course, it reminded me of the novels I have not yet written…
A woman on the roof of a parking garage. Interesting.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Free opening line for a derashah
Opening lines can be tough to develop, and they help shape the derashah experience. So here's a free opener, for any rabbis surfing the web just before shabbos in search of an opening line for this week's derashah:
Rabbis need to be careful in crafting their derashos, both in terms of what they include and in terms of what they leave out. Often, whatever a rabbi has been reading or pondering of late can make it into the speech, and the result can be funny, or disastrous.
For example, I know one rabbi who got really into 18th century English poetry, to the extent that he began to deliver his derashos in iambic pentameter.
Another rabbi I know became addicted to recipes, and his speeches came to focus exclusively on food. The shul decided to move his Shabbos morning speech after the kiddush, since he was making people so hungry.
I’m usually pretty careful to avoid this habit, but I’m warning you now because this week I spent considerable time following the Wimbledon tennis match between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut – you know, the one that lasted eleven hours and six minutes…
Rabbis need to be careful in crafting their derashos, both in terms of what they include and in terms of what they leave out. Often, whatever a rabbi has been reading or pondering of late can make it into the speech, and the result can be funny, or disastrous.
For example, I know one rabbi who got really into 18th century English poetry, to the extent that he began to deliver his derashos in iambic pentameter.
Another rabbi I know became addicted to recipes, and his speeches came to focus exclusively on food. The shul decided to move his Shabbos morning speech after the kiddush, since he was making people so hungry.
I’m usually pretty careful to avoid this habit, but I’m warning you now because this week I spent considerable time following the Wimbledon tennis match between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut – you know, the one that lasted eleven hours and six minutes…
Morality beyond the Torah
This Shabbos, I'll be in Ottawa, speaking a few times at Machzikei haDas. Our lunch topic is "Morality Beyond the Torah." For any who might be interested, here is the source sheet:
Introduction
How can I keep my child from growing up to become Bernard Madoff?
1. Patrick Sawer, Migrant ‘Fagin’ ran Tube gang of child pickpockets
An asylum seeker from former Yugoslavia ran a gang of child pickpockets, some as young as seven, preying on Tube commuters, it was revealed today.
Bearded Vaske Besic, 34, became a latterday Fagin shortly after his arrival in Britain and was responsible for doubling the amount of pickpocketing offences on the Underground.
Police, who today named Besic as the mastermind behind the operation, are unable to say just how much the children stole during their 18-month campaign, but some were found with up to £2,000.
2. Talmud, Eruvin 100b
3. Midrash, Vayyikra Rabbah 9:3
Our questions
• Does Judaism recognize a moral code beyond the Torah?
• Is this extra morality optional, or obligatory?
• If this is obligatory, why isn’t it in the Torah itself?
• How does this affect the way we instruct our children?
A moral code beyond the Torah
4. Bereishit 18:19
5. Talmud, Bava Metzia 30b
6. Ramban to Vayyikra 19:2
Who determines the morality of this new code?
7. R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, Horeb, Foreword
Because in the sphere of knowledge of the law everything rests on traditional principles peculiar to this sphere, and no individual view on the significance of or reason for a law can have any binding force, a greater measure of freedom has therefore been given to every individual mind to work out and form such views according to the thinker's own will.
"As a result, we possess a collection of the most diverse views of men of the highest gifts from the earliest times down to our own day. Nevertheless, the cautious thinker will find guidance for himself in the legal tradition itself."
Is this extra morality optional or obligatory?
8. Talmud, Ketuvot 103a
Rav Avira said: The tenant can say, “I can grind extra for you to sell or for you to store!” … And so, if the landlord has grain for grinding, then in a case like this we compel him to avoid the manner of Sdom.
9. R’ Yitzchak of Corbeille, Sefer Mitzvot Katan 49
Why was this moral code omitted from the Torah?
• Too broad
• Social obligations, rather than personal obligations
• The next step in developing our ethical personality
Evolving our ethical personality from the Torah
10. R’ Aharon Lichtenstein, Does Judaism Recognize an Ethic Independent of Halakhah?
If, however, we recognize that Halakhah is multiplanar and many dimensional; that, properly conceived, it includes much more than is explicitly required or permitted by specific rules, we shall realize that the ethical moment we are seeking is itself an aspect of Halakhah.
11. Talmud, Sanhedrin 76b
12. Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Theft and Lost Objects 11:3
13. R’ Moshe Ravkash, Be’er haGolah to Choshen Mishpat 266:2
14. R’ Yoel Sirkis, Bach to Choshen Mishpat 266
The way we educate our children
15. Dr. Jim Sabin, What if Madoff Took an Ethics Class?
In medical ethics teaching, most time is spent on teasing out the pros and cons of complex ethical conundrums. But in real life recognizing and acknowledging that there is a conundrum that requires contemplation is as important as the way we reason about it. Concluding that we should question the status quo is the starting point for ethical wisdom.
Introduction
How can I keep my child from growing up to become Bernard Madoff?
1. Patrick Sawer, Migrant ‘Fagin’ ran Tube gang of child pickpockets
An asylum seeker from former Yugoslavia ran a gang of child pickpockets, some as young as seven, preying on Tube commuters, it was revealed today.
Bearded Vaske Besic, 34, became a latterday Fagin shortly after his arrival in Britain and was responsible for doubling the amount of pickpocketing offences on the Underground.
Police, who today named Besic as the mastermind behind the operation, are unable to say just how much the children stole during their 18-month campaign, but some were found with up to £2,000.
2. Talmud, Eruvin 100b
אמר רבי יוחנן אילמלא לא ניתנה תורה היינו למידין צניעות מחתול וגזל מנמלה ועריות מיונה
Rabbi Yochanan said: Had the Torah not been given, we would have learned privacy from the cat, [the impropriety of] theft from the ant and fidelity from the dove.3. Midrash, Vayyikra Rabbah 9:3
א"ר ישמעאל בר רב נחמן עשרים וששה דורות קדמה דרך ארץ את התורה
Rabbi Yishmael bar Rav Nachman said: The way of the land preceded the Torah by 26 generations.Our questions
• Does Judaism recognize a moral code beyond the Torah?
• Is this extra morality optional, or obligatory?
• If this is obligatory, why isn’t it in the Torah itself?
• How does this affect the way we instruct our children?
A moral code beyond the Torah
4. Bereishit 18:19
כי ידעתיו למען אשר יצוה את בניו ואת ביתו אחריו ושמרו דרך ה' לעשות צדקה ומשפט
For I have loved him, because he will instruct his children and his household after him, and they will guard the path of G-d to perform acts of righteousness and justice.5. Talmud, Bava Metzia 30b
לא נחרבה ירושלים אלא מפני שהעמידו דבריהם על דין תורה
Yerushalayim was destroyed only because they stood on the letter of Torah law.6. Ramban to Vayyikra 19:2
התורה הזהירה בעריות ובמאכלים האסורים והתירה הביאה איש באשתו ואכילת הבשר והיין, א"כ ימצא בעל התאוה מקום להיות שטוף בזמת אשתו או נשיו הרבות, ולהיות בסובאי יין בזוללי בשר למו, וידבר כרצונו בכל הנבלות, שלא הוזכר איסור זה בתורה, והנה יהיה נבל ברשות התורה. לפיכך בא הכתוב, אחרי שפרט האיסורים שאסר אותם לגמרי, וצוה בדבר כללי שנהיה פרושים מן המותרות.
The Torah warned us regarding relations and forbidden foods, and permitted marital relations and eating meat and wine, such that a hedonist could find a way to be immersed in [impropriety], drinking wine and eating meat gluttonously, speaking as he wishes of all depravity, for no prohibition in this regard is mentioned in the Torah; he will be depraved within the bounds of the Torah. Therefore the text followed its list of explicit prohibitions by instructing as a general rule that we should be separated from [certain] permitted practices.Who determines the morality of this new code?
7. R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, Horeb, Foreword
Because in the sphere of knowledge of the law everything rests on traditional principles peculiar to this sphere, and no individual view on the significance of or reason for a law can have any binding force, a greater measure of freedom has therefore been given to every individual mind to work out and form such views according to the thinker's own will.
"As a result, we possess a collection of the most diverse views of men of the highest gifts from the earliest times down to our own day. Nevertheless, the cautious thinker will find guidance for himself in the legal tradition itself."
Is this extra morality optional or obligatory?
8. Talmud, Ketuvot 103a
ההוא גברא דאוגר ליה ריחיא לחבריה לטחינה לסוף איעתר זבין ריחיא וחמרא אמר ליה עד האידנא הוה טחיננא גבך השתא הב לי אגרא א"ל מיטחן טחיננא לך סבר רבינא למימר היינו מתניתין לא יאמרו שניהם הרי אנו זנין אותה כאחד אלא אחד זנה ואחד נותן לה דמי מזונות א"ל רב עוירא מי דמי התם חד כריסא אית לה תרתי כריסתא לית לה הכא מצי א"ל טחון וזבין טחון ואותיב ולא אמרן אלא דלית ליה טחינא לריחיא אבל אית ליה טחינא לריחיא כגון זו כופין אותו על מדת סדום
A man rented a mill to another, in exchange for doing his grinding. In the end he became wealthy, and he purchased another mill, with a donkey [to do the grinding]. The landlord said to the tenant, “Until now, I had you do my milling. Now, pay me money for rent.” The tenant said, “I would continue to grind for you.”…Rav Avira said: The tenant can say, “I can grind extra for you to sell or for you to store!” … And so, if the landlord has grain for grinding, then in a case like this we compel him to avoid the manner of Sdom.
9. R’ Yitzchak of Corbeille, Sefer Mitzvot Katan 49
לעשות לפנים משורת הדין דכתיב אשר יעשון ואמר רבי יוחנן לא נחרבה ירושלים אלא על שדנו בה דין תורה.
This is the commandment to exceed the line of the law, as it is written, ‘That they shall do.’ As Rabbi Yochanan said: Yerushalayim was destroyed only because they adjudicated on the basis of the letter of Torah law.Why was this moral code omitted from the Torah?
• Too broad
• Social obligations, rather than personal obligations
• The next step in developing our ethical personality
Evolving our ethical personality from the Torah
10. R’ Aharon Lichtenstein, Does Judaism Recognize an Ethic Independent of Halakhah?
If, however, we recognize that Halakhah is multiplanar and many dimensional; that, properly conceived, it includes much more than is explicitly required or permitted by specific rules, we shall realize that the ethical moment we are seeking is itself an aspect of Halakhah.
11. Talmud, Sanhedrin 76b
אמר רב יהודה אמר רב...המחזיר אבידה לנכרי עליו הכתוב אומר +דברים כ"ט+ למען ספות הרוה את הצמאה לא יאבה ה' סלח לו
12. Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Theft and Lost Objects 11:3
אבידת הגוי מותרת שנ' +דברים כ"ב ג'+ אבידת אחיך, והמחזירה הרי זה עובר עבירה מפני שהוא מחזיק ידי רשעי עולם, ואם החזירה לקדש את השם כדי שיפארו את ישראל וידעו שהם בעלי אמונה הרי זה משובח, ובמקום שיש חלול השם אבידתו אסורה וחייב להחזירה
13. R’ Moshe Ravkash, Be’er haGolah to Choshen Mishpat 266:2
וממה שכתב הרמב"ם הטעם... נראה לפי עניות דעתי דסבירא ליה דלא אמר רב אלא בעכו"מ עובדי כוכבים ומזלות ולא בעכו"מ שבזמן הזה שמודים בבורא עולם ונימוסיהם להחזיר אבידה
14. R’ Yoel Sirkis, Bach to Choshen Mishpat 266
דמראה בעצמו שאינה חשובה לו השבת אבידה למצות בוראו
The way we educate our children
15. Dr. Jim Sabin, What if Madoff Took an Ethics Class?
In medical ethics teaching, most time is spent on teasing out the pros and cons of complex ethical conundrums. But in real life recognizing and acknowledging that there is a conundrum that requires contemplation is as important as the way we reason about it. Concluding that we should question the status quo is the starting point for ethical wisdom.
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