In my days as a Rav haMachshir [head of a kosher supervision agency], I heard quite a few people say they could buy filleted, skinned fish at the fish counter at their local supermarket, trusting the store management to be honest because of the risk they would run in playing games.
Of course, even if the fish is the right fish, there still are problems from non-kosher fish residue on the equipment, and from the common practice of leaving all of the fish in buckets overnight, leaking brine on each other.
But trusting the fish counter is, itself, problematic. This in from ABC News this past week:
Investigation Uncovers Rampant Fish Fraud
A new investigation provides fresh evidence that restaurants and markets continue to dupe seafood lovers into paying top dollar for low-grade fish.
As part of a special “Fishy Business” series, the Boston Globe spent five months buying fish from dozens of establishments throughout Massachusetts and sending the samples off to a lab in Canada. DNA tests found 48 percent of the fish had been mislabeled as a more expensive type of fish.
Fish samples were gathered from 134 restaurants, grocery stores and seafood markets, and the results were staggering. Every one of 23 white tuna samples tested turned out to be something other than tuna. In most cases the fish labeled tuna was escolar, which the Globe said was “nicknamed the Ex-Lax of fish by some in the industry for the digestion problems it can cause.”
Milk remains unique in its acceptability without kosher supervision in North America, because there is no incentive for milk producers and distributors to cheat - it would be ridiculously counterproductive for them to raise pigs and milk them. But many other products, including products people take for granted, are often adulterated or outright switched with inexpensive substitutes. Hence the need for hashgachah.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Patriotism
This past summer, I had the opportunity to sit on a Toronto panel of chaplains and religious figures addressing a range of legal/ethical questions – organ transplant, contraception, battlefield ethics and more.
When the discussion turned to the death penalty, another panelist criticized the American use of capital punishment. An Anglican priest took the opportunuty to mock the American practice of giving medical treatment to prisoners on Death Row.
Part of me was upset because her point was morally repugnant – to suggest that prisoners should be allowed to suffer because they are going to be executed anyway is absurd, and would amount to legalized prison cruelty.
But part of me was upset as an American, taking her knock on the government and criminal justice system personally. The setting was wrong for calling her on it [the context was a talk with a group of Canadian, Israeli and Arab medical students – not the time/place to discuss America-bashing], so I had to let it go. But I stewed after that one for a long time.
I'm still surprised by how strongly I reacted. I am proud of much of America, but as someone who has wanted to make aliyah for the past 20 years, and as someone who has a decent degree of cynicism about American government and its system of justice, I would not have expected to take her comment so personally. Go figure.
When the discussion turned to the death penalty, another panelist criticized the American use of capital punishment. An Anglican priest took the opportunuty to mock the American practice of giving medical treatment to prisoners on Death Row.
Part of me was upset because her point was morally repugnant – to suggest that prisoners should be allowed to suffer because they are going to be executed anyway is absurd, and would amount to legalized prison cruelty.
But part of me was upset as an American, taking her knock on the government and criminal justice system personally. The setting was wrong for calling her on it [the context was a talk with a group of Canadian, Israeli and Arab medical students – not the time/place to discuss America-bashing], so I had to let it go. But I stewed after that one for a long time.
I'm still surprised by how strongly I reacted. I am proud of much of America, but as someone who has wanted to make aliyah for the past 20 years, and as someone who has a decent degree of cynicism about American government and its system of justice, I would not have expected to take her comment so personally. Go figure.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
A sound rebuke from the Chafetz Chaim
I remember one of my rebbeim, Rav Yitzchak Cohen, noting the hypocrisy of saying about the words of Torah "כי הם חיינו ואורך ימינו ובהם נהגה יומם ולילה (These are our life and the length of our days, and we will speak them day and night)" in the daily Maariv prayer, and then not living them and committing serious time to learn Torah. How can we call these "our life", and not treat them that way?
Rav Cohen had similar feelings about the line at the end of the amidah, "יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך (May the declarations of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart be desirable before You)," a declaration that often comes right after 3-4 minutes of meandering thoughts. Am I asking for my thoughts about exams, sports, and who knows what else to be desirable to Gd?
I was reminded of that the other day, when I read the Chafetz Chaim's words in Shem Olam, Volume 2, Chapter 11:
One comes to shul and stands and declares before Gd that he will sanctify His Name in the world as do the celestial hosts of Heaven. In the course of this he departs the Beit Midrash and someone offends his honor, and fire comes from his mouth and he removes his mind entirely from serving Gd, and he dirties his soul with various prohibitions, harmful speech, gossip, strife, mockery, sometimes also theft and taking by force.
Within some hours he returns to the Beit Midrash to daven minchah with the community before Gd, and he returns and cloaks himself in the sanctity of an angel, saying, 'We will sanctify Your Name in the world, as they sanctify it in the Heavens!'
'Nuff said.
Rav Cohen had similar feelings about the line at the end of the amidah, "יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך (May the declarations of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart be desirable before You)," a declaration that often comes right after 3-4 minutes of meandering thoughts. Am I asking for my thoughts about exams, sports, and who knows what else to be desirable to Gd?
I was reminded of that the other day, when I read the Chafetz Chaim's words in Shem Olam, Volume 2, Chapter 11:
One comes to shul and stands and declares before Gd that he will sanctify His Name in the world as do the celestial hosts of Heaven. In the course of this he departs the Beit Midrash and someone offends his honor, and fire comes from his mouth and he removes his mind entirely from serving Gd, and he dirties his soul with various prohibitions, harmful speech, gossip, strife, mockery, sometimes also theft and taking by force.
Within some hours he returns to the Beit Midrash to daven minchah with the community before Gd, and he returns and cloaks himself in the sanctity of an angel, saying, 'We will sanctify Your Name in the world, as they sanctify it in the Heavens!'
'Nuff said.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Happy Rabbis!
Several years back I kept an anonyblog for a while, and every once in a while I enjoy looking at those old articles. Here's a fun one from mid-2007, mildly edited. Keep in mind that I wrote it with Pesach's stress fresh in my mind:
I know it's hard to believe, but the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago says it, and they have a long name with catchy initials and lots of researchers researching the opinions of lots of centers, so they must be right.
So stop the presses, print banner headlines, notify the long-lost Renegade Rebbetzin and shout it from the rooftops: The happiest profession is CLERGY!
I feel like emailing Dave Barry, the idea is so ridiculous.
Maybe they polled a bunch of rabbis, asking "How do you feel," and the rabbis all said "Thank G-d," which the researchers took to mean they were actually happy.
Happy? As in waking up smiling in the morning, nodding in a friendly way at joggers, drinking the morning coffee with a grin? As in whistling a peppy tune while waiting for the elevator, throwing caution to the wind and going for a walk without a coat, feeling generally satisfied with the way life is going?
What rabbi planet do you live on?
I suppose it could be the priests are really happy, and they just outnumbered the rabbis in the survey... cuz I'm pretty sure it's not the imams saying "I rate my personal happiness, on the scale of 1 to 10, as an 11!"
Roofers, apparently, are not happy at all; they're the absolute bottom of the list. This is interesting; there must be a connection between the dissatisfaction of workers who sit on rooves, and the satisfaction of rabbis who feel like jumping off rooves. Is jumping off a high structure the key to happiness? Or just dreaming of it? Or is it that roofers have the same dream, and are frustrated by living so close to the fantasy and not fulfilling it?
One final note: You know who was Number 2? Firefighters. This actually made a lot of sense to me. Because the next-happiest people, after rabbis, are totally people who run into burning buildings for a living.
I know it's hard to believe, but the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago says it, and they have a long name with catchy initials and lots of researchers researching the opinions of lots of centers, so they must be right.
So stop the presses, print banner headlines, notify the long-lost Renegade Rebbetzin and shout it from the rooftops: The happiest profession is CLERGY!
I feel like emailing Dave Barry, the idea is so ridiculous.
Maybe they polled a bunch of rabbis, asking "How do you feel," and the rabbis all said "Thank G-d," which the researchers took to mean they were actually happy.
Happy? As in waking up smiling in the morning, nodding in a friendly way at joggers, drinking the morning coffee with a grin? As in whistling a peppy tune while waiting for the elevator, throwing caution to the wind and going for a walk without a coat, feeling generally satisfied with the way life is going?
What rabbi planet do you live on?
I suppose it could be the priests are really happy, and they just outnumbered the rabbis in the survey... cuz I'm pretty sure it's not the imams saying "I rate my personal happiness, on the scale of 1 to 10, as an 11!"
Roofers, apparently, are not happy at all; they're the absolute bottom of the list. This is interesting; there must be a connection between the dissatisfaction of workers who sit on rooves, and the satisfaction of rabbis who feel like jumping off rooves. Is jumping off a high structure the key to happiness? Or just dreaming of it? Or is it that roofers have the same dream, and are frustrated by living so close to the fantasy and not fulfilling it?
One final note: You know who was Number 2? Firefighters. This actually made a lot of sense to me. Because the next-happiest people, after rabbis, are totally people who run into burning buildings for a living.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sufi Marriage Counseling
I was privileged to hear an interesting dvar torah over Yom Tov on the meaning of "havdalah [separation]" in biblical Creation, and the application of this "havdalah" to marriage and divorce. One of the speaker's core ideas was that humans who wed become one, and should not, under normal circumstances, be divided.
Then today, in reading a presentation on Public Health planning, I came across the following Sufi saying:
You think that if you understand one, you understand two, because one and one are two. But you must also understand 'and'.
The point regarding Public Health planning related to the way that scale changes our treatment recommendations – we cannot recommend for millions what we would recommend for a single patient in a clinic. One patient plus one patient does not yield multiple patients with a multiple of the same recommendation.
However, I also see applications for marriage counseling. One and One make two, so I might assume that if I know the husband and I know the wife then I know the couple. But we must also understand the "and", the way in which they combine, in order to truly comprehend what this couple becomes when they are together.
Hmm….
Then today, in reading a presentation on Public Health planning, I came across the following Sufi saying:
You think that if you understand one, you understand two, because one and one are two. But you must also understand 'and'.
The point regarding Public Health planning related to the way that scale changes our treatment recommendations – we cannot recommend for millions what we would recommend for a single patient in a clinic. One patient plus one patient does not yield multiple patients with a multiple of the same recommendation.
However, I also see applications for marriage counseling. One and One make two, so I might assume that if I know the husband and I know the wife then I know the couple. But we must also understand the "and", the way in which they combine, in order to truly comprehend what this couple becomes when they are together.
Hmm….
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Haveil Havalim #335 - The Gilad is Free! edition
Welcome to Haveil Havalim #335, the Gilad is Free edition!
But 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. And as usual, I include all posts submitted, regardless of my personal opinion on their contents, and I added some from my own browsing.
First, and definitely foremost: Gilad Shalit's release
Batya presents her opinions in Not To Rain on The Shalit "Parade", comparing the deal to a flimsy succah, as well as Gilad Shalit versus Natan Sharansky and Next Time Will Be Worse.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver has a lot to say in The Shalit deal—disgraceful and deadly, and Cosmic-X calls it A Criminal Mistake. The Muqata shows why, with a Freed Terrorist's vow, and Yisrael Medad (who did not submit anything this week?) may have a report of the first victim of the released terrorists.
Sharon A offers a series of photographs of the Shalit tent, and related scenes, in Gilad Shalit Home.
Frume Sarah will exhale, while Esser Agaroth presents Welcome Home, Gilad Shalit!
Mrs. S. presents PM Netanyahu's speech in “And the sons will return to their border”.
Leah-Perl Shollar writes about pregnancy, the Hoshanos prayers and Gilad Shalit's time as a hostage, in "Deliver Us!"
Simply Jews offers us Understanding the Swap, and Treppenwitz offers us Perspective, while Life In Israel presents the view of Rabbi Nir ben Artzi.
As for the media, rickismom doesn't see coverage of the deal for Gilad's release in the international media, in The World Ignores; We Are “Sweet and Sour”. While Jewlicious says the New York Times gets it wrong on Israel yet again.
And who's about to forget that it's been Yom Tov for the past three-plusmonths weeks?
Susan Barnes talks Community and High Holidays in Were High Holy Day Services Boring? Next Year, Try This.
Want some great Succos pictures? Check out Sharon A's unique 'Occupy' demonstration in Occupied on Sukkot, and then see My Shtub's A Simple Sukkah in the Fall.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents The four kinds: Individuality, complementarity, and unity and Sukkah: Unity through transcending all divisions.
Mrs. S. suggests The latest hiddur for preserving your arba minim, while Adventures in Mama-Land takes the kids on a Chol haMoed trip.
Rivkah Lambert Adler discusses, describes and dissects her Simchat Torah in Simchat Torah Redux.
Jacob Richman presents Good News from Israel: New Video: The Jerusalem Sukkot March and Photos of Second Hakafot.
Next, here are some personal posts
Ki Yachol Nuchal offers some great photos and a chain of reminiscences in 4 years. 22 years. 1941 days.
Chaviva mourns Professor Gerald Shapiro.
The estimable Jack has musings on fatherhood and the dad blogosphere in The Media Does Not Define Me, while Crazy Jewish Convert reflects on One Year of Blogging.
Ima Bima (and David) review The Princess and the Peanut, while Elle muses on the passing of a year, and the changes it brings.
And some Israel News, beyond Gilad
Bibi has a meme! See it in The First Israeli Meme.
Joel Katz presents Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 1) and Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 2).
Fun Joel is starting a series with Top 10 Things to Do in Jerusalem – Part 1.
Food!
Steve Ornstein offers Israel's BIRA 2011 – Beer Festival, while Kosher Beers reviews New Belgium Belgo.
Yosef gives us a pareve dessert recipe in Chocolate Avocado Mousse with Fresh Raspberries (Dairy Free).
Okay, not really under "Food", but Modern Uberdox has an observation on the relative kashrut of Starbucks and Hulu.
And to close this issue, let's have some Judaism, please
R' Gil Student has an interesting bit of history in The Chazon Ish vs. Rav Soloveitchik.
Harry Maryles discusses Gadol criteria in A Gadol in Name Only?
Susan Barnes talks about a key mitzvah in Visiting the Sick: Lesser Standing and Greater Stature.
Esser Agaroth is none too happy in Rashi's Daughters. [For my own critique of the scholarship in the Rashi's Daughters series, click here and here.]
And in reading Baruch she'Amar closely, I realize that Life is a Verb.
And that’s it for this week; the next hosted listed is for two weeks hence, at The Velveteen Rabbi! Submit your posts here.
But 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. And as usual, I include all posts submitted, regardless of my personal opinion on their contents, and I added some from my own browsing.
First, and definitely foremost: Gilad Shalit's release
Batya presents her opinions in Not To Rain on The Shalit "Parade", comparing the deal to a flimsy succah, as well as Gilad Shalit versus Natan Sharansky and Next Time Will Be Worse.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver has a lot to say in The Shalit deal—disgraceful and deadly, and Cosmic-X calls it A Criminal Mistake. The Muqata shows why, with a Freed Terrorist's vow, and Yisrael Medad (who did not submit anything this week?) may have a report of the first victim of the released terrorists.
Sharon A offers a series of photographs of the Shalit tent, and related scenes, in Gilad Shalit Home.
Frume Sarah will exhale, while Esser Agaroth presents Welcome Home, Gilad Shalit!
Mrs. S. presents PM Netanyahu's speech in “And the sons will return to their border”.
Leah-Perl Shollar writes about pregnancy, the Hoshanos prayers and Gilad Shalit's time as a hostage, in "Deliver Us!"
Simply Jews offers us Understanding the Swap, and Treppenwitz offers us Perspective, while Life In Israel presents the view of Rabbi Nir ben Artzi.
As for the media, rickismom doesn't see coverage of the deal for Gilad's release in the international media, in The World Ignores; We Are “Sweet and Sour”. While Jewlicious says the New York Times gets it wrong on Israel yet again.
And who's about to forget that it's been Yom Tov for the past three-plus
Susan Barnes talks Community and High Holidays in Were High Holy Day Services Boring? Next Year, Try This.
Want some great Succos pictures? Check out Sharon A's unique 'Occupy' demonstration in Occupied on Sukkot, and then see My Shtub's A Simple Sukkah in the Fall.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents The four kinds: Individuality, complementarity, and unity and Sukkah: Unity through transcending all divisions.
Mrs. S. suggests The latest hiddur for preserving your arba minim, while Adventures in Mama-Land takes the kids on a Chol haMoed trip.
Rivkah Lambert Adler discusses, describes and dissects her Simchat Torah in Simchat Torah Redux.
Jacob Richman presents Good News from Israel: New Video: The Jerusalem Sukkot March and Photos of Second Hakafot.
Next, here are some personal posts
Ki Yachol Nuchal offers some great photos and a chain of reminiscences in 4 years. 22 years. 1941 days.
Chaviva mourns Professor Gerald Shapiro.
The estimable Jack has musings on fatherhood and the dad blogosphere in The Media Does Not Define Me, while Crazy Jewish Convert reflects on One Year of Blogging.
Ima Bima (and David) review The Princess and the Peanut, while Elle muses on the passing of a year, and the changes it brings.
And some Israel News, beyond Gilad
Bibi has a meme! See it in The First Israeli Meme.
Joel Katz presents Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 1) and Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 2).
Fun Joel is starting a series with Top 10 Things to Do in Jerusalem – Part 1.
Food!
Steve Ornstein offers Israel's BIRA 2011 – Beer Festival, while Kosher Beers reviews New Belgium Belgo.
Yosef gives us a pareve dessert recipe in Chocolate Avocado Mousse with Fresh Raspberries (Dairy Free).
Okay, not really under "Food", but Modern Uberdox has an observation on the relative kashrut of Starbucks and Hulu.
And to close this issue, let's have some Judaism, please
R' Gil Student has an interesting bit of history in The Chazon Ish vs. Rav Soloveitchik.
Harry Maryles discusses Gadol criteria in A Gadol in Name Only?
Susan Barnes talks about a key mitzvah in Visiting the Sick: Lesser Standing and Greater Stature.
Esser Agaroth is none too happy in Rashi's Daughters. [For my own critique of the scholarship in the Rashi's Daughters series, click here and here.]
And in reading Baruch she'Amar closely, I realize that Life is a Verb.
And that’s it for this week; the next hosted listed is for two weeks hence, at The Velveteen Rabbi! Submit your posts here.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Life is a Verb
No, this isn't a self-help column or a motivational speech; it's just a brief note on "Baruch she'Amar", the opening blessing of the "psukei d'zimra" collection of psalms and passages from Tanach recited each morning.
The blessing's first half reads:
Blessed is the One who spoke and the world existed
Blessed is He.
Blessed is the One who performs "In the beginning"
Blessed is the One who speaks and performs
Blessed is the One who decrees and fulfills
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the land
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the creatures
Blessed is the One who pays good reward to those who are in awe of Him
Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally
Blessed is the One who redeems and rescues
Blessed is His Name.
As is true for much of psukei d'zimra, I find it easy to become numb to the meaning of each individual line – but picking out a line and focussing on it can help me find new meaning each day. Some time back, the 9th line, "Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally", caught my eye, because it doesn’t fit the overall structure.
I have two questions:
1. The rest of the lines describe Divine actions; is "lives" really an action?
2. The rest of the lines describe things Gd does on behalf of the universe; how is Divine existence an action taken on behalf of the universe?
Here's what I have come up with (and, of course, a note in my siddur hints to this, as a reminder when I say Baruch she'Amar each day):
Life implies action. To live is not merely to exist, to inhale and exhale (for us air-breathers, anyway). To live is to act. So, for example, Torah is described as עץ חיים, a Tree of Life, not in that it provides continued existence but in the sense that it fuels (positive) action. This answers the first question.
And then answering the second question: For Gd to live means for Gd to act – on our behalf, in all of the ways listed here, creating life and decreeing and acting with mercy and rewarding. And the emphasis is upon the eternity of it because this immortality guarantees that all of these actions will persist in the future, throughout human existence.
Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally – who acts, and will continue to act, for us all.
And the take-away beyond davening, for me, goes into traditional "self-help" territory but it still worthwhile – Is my life a verb? Am I cycling air, or am I doing?...
The blessing's first half reads:
Blessed is the One who spoke and the world existed
Blessed is He.
Blessed is the One who performs "In the beginning"
Blessed is the One who speaks and performs
Blessed is the One who decrees and fulfills
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the land
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the creatures
Blessed is the One who pays good reward to those who are in awe of Him
Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally
Blessed is the One who redeems and rescues
Blessed is His Name.
As is true for much of psukei d'zimra, I find it easy to become numb to the meaning of each individual line – but picking out a line and focussing on it can help me find new meaning each day. Some time back, the 9th line, "Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally", caught my eye, because it doesn’t fit the overall structure.
I have two questions:
1. The rest of the lines describe Divine actions; is "lives" really an action?
2. The rest of the lines describe things Gd does on behalf of the universe; how is Divine existence an action taken on behalf of the universe?
Here's what I have come up with (and, of course, a note in my siddur hints to this, as a reminder when I say Baruch she'Amar each day):
Life implies action. To live is not merely to exist, to inhale and exhale (for us air-breathers, anyway). To live is to act. So, for example, Torah is described as עץ חיים, a Tree of Life, not in that it provides continued existence but in the sense that it fuels (positive) action. This answers the first question.
And then answering the second question: For Gd to live means for Gd to act – on our behalf, in all of the ways listed here, creating life and decreeing and acting with mercy and rewarding. And the emphasis is upon the eternity of it because this immortality guarantees that all of these actions will persist in the future, throughout human existence.
Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally – who acts, and will continue to act, for us all.
And the take-away beyond davening, for me, goes into traditional "self-help" territory but it still worthwhile – Is my life a verb? Am I cycling air, or am I doing?...
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Yom Tov: When Family and Religion Clash
Yom Tov [the 'holiday' season] brings family reunions, and along with family reunions can come strife of all kinds, including religious strife. What shul rabbi or yeshiva rebbe hasn't heard these questions:
"My parents' succah isn't really kosher. How can I get them to change it?"
"Our son came home from college for Yom Tov, but he doesn't want to go to shul with us; he'd prefer to lie in bed all morning. What are we supposed to do with him?"
"My family doesn't understand that a Yom Tov meal should be all about Torah. How am I supposed to maintain my intensity around them?"
The problem is complex, of course; it combines personality, stress, insecurity and history with the personal and deep nature of religious conviction, and the resulting clashes can be disastrous.
The best overarching advice I've heard is really just common sense; I wouldn't post it at all, except that sometimes we benefit even from the obvious:
1. Ask: Are you obligated to say anything?
Does the issue affect your own observance, or only theirs?
Do you think the obligation of 'tochachah' [educating others] requires you to speak up? Have you clarified that with a halachic authority?
2. Do your homework
If you are about to ask someone to change his time-honored tradition ("You must stop using horseradish for marror!"), make sure you know what you're talking about.
Prepare the source material, so you can explain the issue well.
And give plenty of notice in advance of the situation.
3. Always tell the truth... although not necessarily all of it
Using mis-direction in explaining yourself ("I don't feel like eating" in a kashrus situation) is a poor strategy, and quite likely to lead to disaster in the long term. Better to speak truthfully.
On the other hand, one doesn't need to say everything that's on his mind ("You will burn in Gehennom for skipping Shalom Aleichem on Friday night after a Yom Tov"); a gentle explanation of the problem, worded in a positive way, can go far.
4. Remember: People are fundamentally good
For the most part, when parents welcome home a child whose religious observance has changed, angst is present on both sides. The less stringent one wants the more stringent one to be comfortable. The more stringent one is nervous about imposing on the less stringent one.
Everyone means well, and no one is trying to make someone else look bad or feel bad – and keeping that in mind, and using it as a basis for approaching situations, can soften disagreements.
Disagree? Or do you have other tips?
"My parents' succah isn't really kosher. How can I get them to change it?"
"Our son came home from college for Yom Tov, but he doesn't want to go to shul with us; he'd prefer to lie in bed all morning. What are we supposed to do with him?"
"My family doesn't understand that a Yom Tov meal should be all about Torah. How am I supposed to maintain my intensity around them?"
The problem is complex, of course; it combines personality, stress, insecurity and history with the personal and deep nature of religious conviction, and the resulting clashes can be disastrous.
The best overarching advice I've heard is really just common sense; I wouldn't post it at all, except that sometimes we benefit even from the obvious:
1. Ask: Are you obligated to say anything?
Does the issue affect your own observance, or only theirs?
Do you think the obligation of 'tochachah' [educating others] requires you to speak up? Have you clarified that with a halachic authority?
2. Do your homework
If you are about to ask someone to change his time-honored tradition ("You must stop using horseradish for marror!"), make sure you know what you're talking about.
Prepare the source material, so you can explain the issue well.
And give plenty of notice in advance of the situation.
3. Always tell the truth... although not necessarily all of it
Using mis-direction in explaining yourself ("I don't feel like eating" in a kashrus situation) is a poor strategy, and quite likely to lead to disaster in the long term. Better to speak truthfully.
On the other hand, one doesn't need to say everything that's on his mind ("You will burn in Gehennom for skipping Shalom Aleichem on Friday night after a Yom Tov"); a gentle explanation of the problem, worded in a positive way, can go far.
4. Remember: People are fundamentally good
For the most part, when parents welcome home a child whose religious observance has changed, angst is present on both sides. The less stringent one wants the more stringent one to be comfortable. The more stringent one is nervous about imposing on the less stringent one.
Everyone means well, and no one is trying to make someone else look bad or feel bad – and keeping that in mind, and using it as a basis for approaching situations, can soften disagreements.
Disagree? Or do you have other tips?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
On studying History: Rav Hirsch and the Netziv
I used the following two sources in a recent class on History and Memory.
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, early 19th century Germany, The Relevance of Secular Studies, Collected Writings 7:97 (From an essay available on-line at http://www.stevens.edu/golem/llevine/rsrh/relevance_secular_studies_jewish_education.pdf)
Here, then, we have a people that emerged from the course of world history, that was placed into the midst of the nations to advance the goals of world history, and that was endowed with historical vision. Should not the sons of such a people understand that historical studies of the development of nations are truly not superfluous, but that they are, in fact, virtually indispensable? Will the sons of the Jewish people even begin to understand that ancient vision defining the missions of the three basic national prototypes of mankind if they know nothing about the influence of the Yaphetic-Hellenic spirit on the civilization of other nations, an influence that endures to this day?
And then here is Rabbi Chaim Berlin, late 19th century Russia, writing in the foreword to his father the Netziv's Meromei Sadeh regarding his father's approach to biography (not the same as history, perhaps, but I think close enough for our purposes):
I think Rav Hirsch (source 1) views the study of world history as important to the fulfillment of the Jew's mission as Jew. But what do you make of the Netziv's view (source 2) - Is it a rejection of the study of history, or is it simply a different derech in studying history? And is it depersonalizing, or more personalizing?
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, early 19th century Germany, The Relevance of Secular Studies, Collected Writings 7:97 (From an essay available on-line at http://www.stevens.edu/golem/llevine/rsrh/relevance_secular_studies_jewish_education.pdf)
Here, then, we have a people that emerged from the course of world history, that was placed into the midst of the nations to advance the goals of world history, and that was endowed with historical vision. Should not the sons of such a people understand that historical studies of the development of nations are truly not superfluous, but that they are, in fact, virtually indispensable? Will the sons of the Jewish people even begin to understand that ancient vision defining the missions of the three basic national prototypes of mankind if they know nothing about the influence of the Yaphetic-Hellenic spirit on the civilization of other nations, an influence that endures to this day?
And then here is Rabbi Chaim Berlin, late 19th century Russia, writing in the foreword to his father the Netziv's Meromei Sadeh regarding his father's approach to biography (not the same as history, perhaps, but I think close enough for our purposes):
באזני שמעתי מפיו הקדוש, בעת שהגיע לעיניו תולדות רע״א ז״ל... שנדפס בברלין בשנת תרכ״ב, לא רצה להביט עליו אף במעוף קל, ואמר שכל זה בכלל האמור בירושלמי אין עושין נפשות לצדיקים שדבריהם הן זכרונם, ומה מני יהלוך לדעת יום הולדתו או יום פטירתו, או תואר פרצוף תמונתו אם כה היה או כה, והעיקר לשום עין ולב על דברי תורתו
With my own ears I heard from his holy mouth, when the biography of Rabbi Akiva Eiger was brought before his eyes, published for the first time in Berlin in 1862: He did not want to look at it for so much as an instant, saying, "All of this is within the Jerusalem Talmud's statement, 'We do not construct monuments for the righteous; their words are their memorial.' What will come of my knowing the day of his birth or death, or whether his face looked thus or thus? The essence is to put our eye and heart to the words of his teachings."I think Rav Hirsch (source 1) views the study of world history as important to the fulfillment of the Jew's mission as Jew. But what do you make of the Netziv's view (source 2) - Is it a rejection of the study of history, or is it simply a different derech in studying history? And is it depersonalizing, or more personalizing?
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Of Wikileaks and Gilad Schalit
Two brief thoughts this morning:
Wikileaks: An Arm of US government policy?
That's a little sensationalist, but here's my point: The US government has a new pretext for measures against Iran, because Iranian agents sought to assassinate the Saudi ambassador to the US, and Saudi royal advisor, Adel al-Jubeir.
One logical explanation for the Iranian move: The fact that Adel al-Jubeir is on record telling US government officials, "He [the king of Saudi Arabia] told you to cut off the head of the snake," and more. Those statements only became public because Wikileaks disclosed it - triggering Iranian outrage and, quite plausibly, the botched assassination attempt.
And now the US and the Saudis are contemplating action...
The release of Gilad Schalit
We've been praying for Gilad Schalit's continued health, and ultimate release, for five years, and it looks like our prayers for his health have been answered, and our prayers for his ultimate release are about to come to fruition as well, thank Gd.
Of course, much human effort went into both of those - but the fact that we pray for these results is evidence of our belief that all comes from Gd.
If so: Perhaps our shuls, schools and community organizations should plan "thanksgiving" events of some kind, sort of a "birkat hagomeil", in honor of Gilad Schalit's release? If we ask, do not also say Thank You?
Wikileaks: An Arm of US government policy?
That's a little sensationalist, but here's my point: The US government has a new pretext for measures against Iran, because Iranian agents sought to assassinate the Saudi ambassador to the US, and Saudi royal advisor, Adel al-Jubeir.
One logical explanation for the Iranian move: The fact that Adel al-Jubeir is on record telling US government officials, "He [the king of Saudi Arabia] told you to cut off the head of the snake," and more. Those statements only became public because Wikileaks disclosed it - triggering Iranian outrage and, quite plausibly, the botched assassination attempt.
And now the US and the Saudis are contemplating action...
The release of Gilad Schalit
We've been praying for Gilad Schalit's continued health, and ultimate release, for five years, and it looks like our prayers for his health have been answered, and our prayers for his ultimate release are about to come to fruition as well, thank Gd.
Of course, much human effort went into both of those - but the fact that we pray for these results is evidence of our belief that all comes from Gd.
If so: Perhaps our shuls, schools and community organizations should plan "thanksgiving" events of some kind, sort of a "birkat hagomeil", in honor of Gilad Schalit's release? If we ask, do not also say Thank You?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Write in your siddur
I always write in my sefarim, all of them. I recently suggested to a class that they write in their Tanach's, and was rewarded with expressions of shock – but I believe that most of us need to write in order to remember, and what better place than in the sefer from which we learn?
But that's not the subject of this post. Here, I'm expanding on a suggestion I made in the derashah here, that we should write in our siddurim, to help ourselves focus.
It's a way to corral ourselves during our distracted moments, and draw ourselves back.
It's a way to personalize our davening, by highlighting elements that matter to us.
It's a way to remember the items that catch our eye or ear and inspire us once, for the next time we daven.
So here's what I do:
I underline key words and phrases that I want to have special meaning, to ensure that I think when I get there.
Example: The word ואהבת ("And you shall love HaShem your Gd") in Shma. בכל יום אברכך ("I will praise You daily") in Ashrei. והשב את העבודה לדביר ביתך ("Return the service to Your home") in the amidah. The verbs in Psalm 100 (Mizmor l'Todah).
I make notations to call attention to interesting structural/poetic elements.
Examples: The Heaven/Earth contrast in Psalm 148 (aka "the third Hallelukah"), the thematic sets of lines in Avinu Malkeinu, and the Personal/Communal/Global sets in Ashrei.
I add reminders.
Examples: "מצות עשה (This fulfills a commandment)" before Shma, or circling רפאנו (the first word of the blessing for healing in the amidah).
I write in food for thought.
Examples: In תקע בשופר (the blessing for redemption in the Amidah) I have a question mark which reminds me to think about the difference between the roles of a שופר and a נס. In the first pre-Shma blessing in Shacharit, I note Rav Kook's thought from Orot on the link between Gd as "master of wars" and "seeder of justice".
I'm sure there's a lot more people could do with this. What would you add? Or are you horrified by the whole concept?
But that's not the subject of this post. Here, I'm expanding on a suggestion I made in the derashah here, that we should write in our siddurim, to help ourselves focus.
It's a way to corral ourselves during our distracted moments, and draw ourselves back.
It's a way to personalize our davening, by highlighting elements that matter to us.
It's a way to remember the items that catch our eye or ear and inspire us once, for the next time we daven.
So here's what I do:
I underline key words and phrases that I want to have special meaning, to ensure that I think when I get there.
Example: The word ואהבת ("And you shall love HaShem your Gd") in Shma. בכל יום אברכך ("I will praise You daily") in Ashrei. והשב את העבודה לדביר ביתך ("Return the service to Your home") in the amidah. The verbs in Psalm 100 (Mizmor l'Todah).
I make notations to call attention to interesting structural/poetic elements.
Examples: The Heaven/Earth contrast in Psalm 148 (aka "the third Hallelukah"), the thematic sets of lines in Avinu Malkeinu, and the Personal/Communal/Global sets in Ashrei.
I add reminders.
Examples: "מצות עשה (This fulfills a commandment)" before Shma, or circling רפאנו (the first word of the blessing for healing in the amidah).
I write in food for thought.
Examples: In תקע בשופר (the blessing for redemption in the Amidah) I have a question mark which reminds me to think about the difference between the roles of a שופר and a נס. In the first pre-Shma blessing in Shacharit, I note Rav Kook's thought from Orot on the link between Gd as "master of wars" and "seeder of justice".
I'm sure there's a lot more people could do with this. What would you add? Or are you horrified by the whole concept?
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Taking Shul: The Challenge of Shul Fundraising
Yom Kippur ended a few hours ago, and I'm giddy. This is no surprise – I'm always giddy after Yom Kippur. Sugar and forgiveness are a potent combination.
But I've been mulling a serious topic for a while now, and I want to put some preliminary thoughts down on 'paper'. The topic is Shuls: Giving and Taking.
Story #1 – At one point early in my rabbinate, I needed to raise funds for a community project. I approached someone for help, and was surprised to be turned down flat. Why? As he explained it, he was saving up for a particularly large expense – but, more, he had never been in my office before. He had learned at dozens of classes, davened at plenty of minyanim, but he had never been in my office, and so he didn't feel our relationship was at a point at which I could ask him for help. [Yes, I learned a lot from this encounter.]
Story #2 – A woman in our shul received a tzedakah box from Chabad, to be used for any tzedakah she chose. She commented to me something along the lines of, "See, they aren't always taking. Why can't our shul also give sometimes?" [Of course, we regularly raised funds for ARMDI and other Israeli causes, as well as our local Federation campaigns, Jewish Family Service, Jewish Day School, and Benevolent Fund... sigh.]
The parties involved were regular recipients of the shul's "giving" through davening and classes and aliyos and shul-sponsored kiddushes, but they saw the shul as a Taker rather than a Giver. This makes life difficult for synagogue fundraisers, since one of the most basic rules of fundraising is to make even the Taking feel like Giving [as in "We're giving you an opportunity to do something great"]. Instead, even the shul's Giving doesn't feel like Giving!
Why?
1. One part of the problem is that the synagogue does spend so much time Taking: Taking the time, effort and stress of volunteers, in addition to the money required to run a shul.
2. Another part of the problem is that people view the shul's Giving as automatic, since anyone can enjoy the benefits without paying for them.
3. Another part of the problem is that even when a shul Gives, it does it in the form of Taking. Shuls recruit would-be recipients, advertising their 'gifts' and campaigning to get people to take advantage of these wonderful opportunities. "Please come to minyan!" "Come to a shiur!" "Participate in our youth programs!" "Hear this speaker!"
Tell me this: If you need to sell me on your gifts, are they really gifts? The result is that people feel the shul is Taking even when it's Giving.
4. Yet another part of the problem is that when the shul rewards a member's Giving, as in a Thank You call/note/meeting by the Rabbi and/or Synagogue President, it's more likely to be seen as an individual doing the the thanking, rather than the shul as an institution. The result is that the institution Takes, while individuals offer reward.
5. And yet another part of the problem is that shuls don't have products to sell for fundraising, so that fundraising often involves selling what should be their gifts. Schools are forever generating projects to endow. Various types of tzedakah-based organizations perpetually acquire and dedicate new equipment in honor of donors. Shuls, on the other hand, can only raise dues, or charge for their 'gifts' – aliyos, classes and programs. [Cookbook fundraisers and the like don't count; they raise a tiny percentage of the funds a shul needs.]
The upshot: The shul is not seen as a giver, because 1) It takes so much, 2) Its gifts are taken for granted, 3) Its gifts are seen as just another way the shul takes, 4) The institution takes, while its individual leaders are the ones who give back, and 5) it ends up selling its gifts, instead of giving them away.
This is the problem. Solutions will need to wait for another post…
But I've been mulling a serious topic for a while now, and I want to put some preliminary thoughts down on 'paper'. The topic is Shuls: Giving and Taking.
Story #1 – At one point early in my rabbinate, I needed to raise funds for a community project. I approached someone for help, and was surprised to be turned down flat. Why? As he explained it, he was saving up for a particularly large expense – but, more, he had never been in my office before. He had learned at dozens of classes, davened at plenty of minyanim, but he had never been in my office, and so he didn't feel our relationship was at a point at which I could ask him for help. [Yes, I learned a lot from this encounter.]
Story #2 – A woman in our shul received a tzedakah box from Chabad, to be used for any tzedakah she chose. She commented to me something along the lines of, "See, they aren't always taking. Why can't our shul also give sometimes?" [Of course, we regularly raised funds for ARMDI and other Israeli causes, as well as our local Federation campaigns, Jewish Family Service, Jewish Day School, and Benevolent Fund... sigh.]
The parties involved were regular recipients of the shul's "giving" through davening and classes and aliyos and shul-sponsored kiddushes, but they saw the shul as a Taker rather than a Giver. This makes life difficult for synagogue fundraisers, since one of the most basic rules of fundraising is to make even the Taking feel like Giving [as in "We're giving you an opportunity to do something great"]. Instead, even the shul's Giving doesn't feel like Giving!
Why?
1. One part of the problem is that the synagogue does spend so much time Taking: Taking the time, effort and stress of volunteers, in addition to the money required to run a shul.
2. Another part of the problem is that people view the shul's Giving as automatic, since anyone can enjoy the benefits without paying for them.
3. Another part of the problem is that even when a shul Gives, it does it in the form of Taking. Shuls recruit would-be recipients, advertising their 'gifts' and campaigning to get people to take advantage of these wonderful opportunities. "Please come to minyan!" "Come to a shiur!" "Participate in our youth programs!" "Hear this speaker!"
Tell me this: If you need to sell me on your gifts, are they really gifts? The result is that people feel the shul is Taking even when it's Giving.
4. Yet another part of the problem is that when the shul rewards a member's Giving, as in a Thank You call/note/meeting by the Rabbi and/or Synagogue President, it's more likely to be seen as an individual doing the the thanking, rather than the shul as an institution. The result is that the institution Takes, while individuals offer reward.
5. And yet another part of the problem is that shuls don't have products to sell for fundraising, so that fundraising often involves selling what should be their gifts. Schools are forever generating projects to endow. Various types of tzedakah-based organizations perpetually acquire and dedicate new equipment in honor of donors. Shuls, on the other hand, can only raise dues, or charge for their 'gifts' – aliyos, classes and programs. [Cookbook fundraisers and the like don't count; they raise a tiny percentage of the funds a shul needs.]
The upshot: The shul is not seen as a giver, because 1) It takes so much, 2) Its gifts are taken for granted, 3) Its gifts are seen as just another way the shul takes, 4) The institution takes, while its individual leaders are the ones who give back, and 5) it ends up selling its gifts, instead of giving them away.
This is the problem. Solutions will need to wait for another post…
Thursday, October 6, 2011
In memory of Steve Jobs
[This week's Haveil Havalim is up early, here]
This came to me from a friend and chavrusa, Craig Guttmann; reprinted here with permission:
This is what Steve Jobs meant to me. I can’t even believe that I feel the urge to write this, so it gives you an idea of how profound an impact Steve had on my life.
Just before we had moved to Israel for the year in August of 2002, Apple had released its second generation of the iPod. In October 2003, Apple launched iTunes for Windows which essentially married the iPod for Windows based users. I will never forget the day that my tekki showed me the release on my trip back to Canada. I ran downtown and bought my first iPod. I figured I would have music in my ears for those 10 and 13 hours journeys to China and Israel, and many in between. (In August of 2011, Air Canada sent me a welcome letter into their “Million Mile Club”) How wonderful is that?
On a flight in December, 2002 from Toronto to Israel, I bumped into a friend who had discovered the iPod too. Except, he had figured out, that not only could you load music on your iPod, but you could load comedy! Brilliant! So I began loading some of my most cherished comedians. Bob Newhart, Eddie Murphy, George Carlin. Now flying was funny! Have you ever heard Carlin’s piece about flying and stewardesses (that’s what they were called in the old days) while flying?
Living in Israel and having time on my hands in the morning in particular because of the time difference with my office in Toronto, allowed me to surf the internet. And one day, I happened across the site dafyomi.org. The daf yomi shiurim were posted and free to download. If I could load music and comedy, how cool would it be to be able to travel the world and have my maggid shir with me at all times. I would never have an excuse to not be able to do Daf Yomi. I downloaded the mesachet of the day, Horayos. Not the easiest gemara to start out with, and I quickly realized that I needed the Artscroll Gemara. So, I ran into town and picked up the Gemara and eagerly whisked home to try learning Daf Yomi. The rest is history.
I have learned Daf Yomi all over the world the first time around.
Seven and half years later, on October 29, 2010, I completed my first cycle of Shas!
I firmly believe that the iPod was created for me to learn Daf Yomi. That’s what so special about Steve Jobs. Every product that he has developed, feels like it was made for them.
With much gratitude Steve Jobs! Thank You and Yishar Koach!
Craig Guttmann
Thornhill, ON, CA
P.S. Yes, I’m on my second cycle!
This came to me from a friend and chavrusa, Craig Guttmann; reprinted here with permission:
This is what Steve Jobs meant to me. I can’t even believe that I feel the urge to write this, so it gives you an idea of how profound an impact Steve had on my life.
Just before we had moved to Israel for the year in August of 2002, Apple had released its second generation of the iPod. In October 2003, Apple launched iTunes for Windows which essentially married the iPod for Windows based users. I will never forget the day that my tekki showed me the release on my trip back to Canada. I ran downtown and bought my first iPod. I figured I would have music in my ears for those 10 and 13 hours journeys to China and Israel, and many in between. (In August of 2011, Air Canada sent me a welcome letter into their “Million Mile Club”) How wonderful is that?
On a flight in December, 2002 from Toronto to Israel, I bumped into a friend who had discovered the iPod too. Except, he had figured out, that not only could you load music on your iPod, but you could load comedy! Brilliant! So I began loading some of my most cherished comedians. Bob Newhart, Eddie Murphy, George Carlin. Now flying was funny! Have you ever heard Carlin’s piece about flying and stewardesses (that’s what they were called in the old days) while flying?
Living in Israel and having time on my hands in the morning in particular because of the time difference with my office in Toronto, allowed me to surf the internet. And one day, I happened across the site dafyomi.org. The daf yomi shiurim were posted and free to download. If I could load music and comedy, how cool would it be to be able to travel the world and have my maggid shir with me at all times. I would never have an excuse to not be able to do Daf Yomi. I downloaded the mesachet of the day, Horayos. Not the easiest gemara to start out with, and I quickly realized that I needed the Artscroll Gemara. So, I ran into town and picked up the Gemara and eagerly whisked home to try learning Daf Yomi. The rest is history.
I have learned Daf Yomi all over the world the first time around.
Thornhill • Jerusalem • Ramot • New York • Los Angeles • Rochester • St.Maarten • Pittsburgh • Miami • Boca Raton • St.Thomas • Vancouver • Cincinnati • Boston • San Francisco • Cabo San Lucas • Mazatlan • Honolulu • Maui • Frankfurt • Munich • Venice • Bellagio • Freeport • Puerto Plata • San Jose • Aruba • Puerta Vallarta • Englewood • Mumbai • Delhi • Ludhiana • Qingdao • Guangzhou • Seoul • Taipei • Hong Kong • Shenzhen • Shanghai • Beijing • Tokyo • Pusan • Incheon • Taichung • Paris • Honfleur • Bordeaux • Uzes • Tainan • Koahsiung • Jiagmin • Shanghai • Bangkok
11.3 GB • 5,406 Files • 97,308 Minutes • 1,621 Hours • 3 iPods • 1 iPad • 1 iPhone
May 29, 2003-October 29, 2010 • 2,716 Days
11.3 GB • 5,406 Files • 97,308 Minutes • 1,621 Hours • 3 iPods • 1 iPad • 1 iPhone
May 29, 2003-October 29, 2010 • 2,716 Days
Seven and half years later, on October 29, 2010, I completed my first cycle of Shas!
I firmly believe that the iPod was created for me to learn Daf Yomi. That’s what so special about Steve Jobs. Every product that he has developed, feels like it was made for them.
With much gratitude Steve Jobs! Thank You and Yishar Koach!
Craig Guttmann
Thornhill, ON, CA
P.S. Yes, I’m on my second cycle!
Take a tank to the mikvah
First, to follow up on my Rosh HaShanah derashah about paying attention, a suggestion: Take your Yom Kippur machzor now, and write in it. An asterisk next to an important line. A note reminding you that saying מקדש השבת וישראל ויום הכיפורים counts as Kiddush. An underline of a sentence so that it will catch your eye when your concentration flags. A quick commentary on something you've noticed in the davening.
I want to put up a post, How to Write in a Siddur, but I haven't made the time yet; let this suffice for now.
I'm always unsure how to approach speaking at Kol Nidrei, a time when people are so tense and tired and exhausted and full of food. This year I'm going to center my remarks on a story which I heard in the name of Rav Simcha haKohen Kook several years ago. Here's the story; I'll save the remarks for Kol Nidrei night itself.
My basic theme: When was the last time I took a tank to the mikvah, moving heaven and earth for a mitzvah?
A young soldier, an American named Motti, called me from a town in Aza called Netzarim… At first I questioned the soldier. "You don't mean you are in Netzarim, you mean you are in an army base near Netzarim."
"No," came the reply, “I am in Netzarim.”
I knew that there were only two ways to reach Netzarim: By tank, or by helicopter at night. So I asked him: "How did you get there?"
"I told my commander that it was my custom to go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur, and the only Mikvah around was in the Jewish community of Netzarim. So he let me use a tank."
Now came the reason for the young soldier's call: "I am borrowing a Torah scroll from the community synagogue to take back to the base. The Jews of Netzarim have donated enough Tzitziot for my whole platoon. My question is, what kind of Yom Kippur Tefillah can I conduct. Besides myself there is only one other observant soldier on the base. Most of the other soldiers have, believe it or not, never attended a Yom Kippur service in their lives."
"Don't worry," I assured him. "You just conduct the service and you instruct them to say "Amen" to your blessing and it will be as if they were praying themselves."
That night, Rav Simcha Kook got up in shul before Kol Nidrei and said:
“Dear Gd, there are many countries in this great world of yours who have armies. And many of these armies have tanks. Some have many tanks and some have fewer tanks. But Gd, is there another country in this world that used a tank to help someone go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur? Is there another country that used a tank to bring a Torah to an army base so they could have a Minyan for Yom Kippur? Gd, only in Israel are tanks used this way so you must protect your country Israel.”
I want to put up a post, How to Write in a Siddur, but I haven't made the time yet; let this suffice for now.
I'm always unsure how to approach speaking at Kol Nidrei, a time when people are so tense and tired and exhausted and full of food. This year I'm going to center my remarks on a story which I heard in the name of Rav Simcha haKohen Kook several years ago. Here's the story; I'll save the remarks for Kol Nidrei night itself.
My basic theme: When was the last time I took a tank to the mikvah, moving heaven and earth for a mitzvah?
A young soldier, an American named Motti, called me from a town in Aza called Netzarim… At first I questioned the soldier. "You don't mean you are in Netzarim, you mean you are in an army base near Netzarim."
"No," came the reply, “I am in Netzarim.”
I knew that there were only two ways to reach Netzarim: By tank, or by helicopter at night. So I asked him: "How did you get there?"
"I told my commander that it was my custom to go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur, and the only Mikvah around was in the Jewish community of Netzarim. So he let me use a tank."
Now came the reason for the young soldier's call: "I am borrowing a Torah scroll from the community synagogue to take back to the base. The Jews of Netzarim have donated enough Tzitziot for my whole platoon. My question is, what kind of Yom Kippur Tefillah can I conduct. Besides myself there is only one other observant soldier on the base. Most of the other soldiers have, believe it or not, never attended a Yom Kippur service in their lives."
"Don't worry," I assured him. "You just conduct the service and you instruct them to say "Amen" to your blessing and it will be as if they were praying themselves."
That night, Rav Simcha Kook got up in shul before Kol Nidrei and said:
“Dear Gd, there are many countries in this great world of yours who have armies. And many of these armies have tanks. Some have many tanks and some have fewer tanks. But Gd, is there another country in this world that used a tank to help someone go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur? Is there another country that used a tank to bring a Torah to an army base so they could have a Minyan for Yom Kippur? Gd, only in Israel are tanks used this way so you must protect your country Israel.”
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Working hard doesn't mean you're doing a good job
Our culture emphasizes effort, and the Torah does likewise. We are taught in the Talmud, "Whether you do a lot or a little, the key is that your heart should be for heaven," "Gd desires the heart," and so on.
This is religious truth, certainly. We would never want to reward laziness, and we believe in the value of the heart. Nonetheless, a culture that honors effort runs the risk of accidentally encouraging mediocrity.
Case in point: Some time back, I had my WebShas website critiqued by someone who told me, "The front end stinks." It stung - getting slapped in the face hurts - but he was right. (And he remains right; I don't have the time to work on improving it.)
More recently, I had another on-line project of mine ridiculed by an observer. Granted, the observer didn’t really understand the goal and emphasis of the project, and his version of mussar was so vintage technogeek kaltkeit that I couldn't take it seriously, but his remarks, combined with the remarks about WebShas, reminded me of a basic principle: The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
Another example of this lesson: I loaded my schedule with shiurim and programs during Elul, including a five-day stretch from September 20-24 when I completely overloaded. I worked hard and made it through - but to be frank, by the end the shiurim were not my best, and I felt terrible for letting people down.
The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
I'm reminded of that now as I work through my pre-Yom Kippur cheshbon hanefesh, my accounting of what I have done and what I have not done, of what I have accomplished and what I have failed to accomplish. I work hard. By the standards of effort, I'm doing all right. But effort is not the same as achievement.
Take the slap in the face. The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
This is religious truth, certainly. We would never want to reward laziness, and we believe in the value of the heart. Nonetheless, a culture that honors effort runs the risk of accidentally encouraging mediocrity.
Case in point: Some time back, I had my WebShas website critiqued by someone who told me, "The front end stinks." It stung - getting slapped in the face hurts - but he was right. (And he remains right; I don't have the time to work on improving it.)
More recently, I had another on-line project of mine ridiculed by an observer. Granted, the observer didn’t really understand the goal and emphasis of the project, and his version of mussar was so vintage technogeek kaltkeit that I couldn't take it seriously, but his remarks, combined with the remarks about WebShas, reminded me of a basic principle: The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
Another example of this lesson: I loaded my schedule with shiurim and programs during Elul, including a five-day stretch from September 20-24 when I completely overloaded. I worked hard and made it through - but to be frank, by the end the shiurim were not my best, and I felt terrible for letting people down.
The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
I'm reminded of that now as I work through my pre-Yom Kippur cheshbon hanefesh, my accounting of what I have done and what I have not done, of what I have accomplished and what I have failed to accomplish. I work hard. By the standards of effort, I'm doing all right. But effort is not the same as achievement.
Take the slap in the face. The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.
Monday, October 3, 2011
My grandmother's tefillin bag
[Interesting development in an on-going saga: Have tzedakah organizations crossed the line?]
My grandmother made the above-pictured tefillin bag for me, for my bar mitzvah, more than 25 years ago. At the time there was a trend for custom-embroidered zeklach; I see them often among others my age. Thank Gd, it has held up very well; the zipper isn't great, but the rest is intact.
I still remember when my grandmother asked me about the design, and about the colors. I remember when I first held it. {Side note: I have no idea why I wanted red, green and silver on the crown. I think I remember my parents asking me, "Are you sure?" and me not knowing why they were asking. Now, when I put my tefillin bag down among strangers, I know they are wondering what the deal is with those colors.}
My bag is important for me, independent of the tefillin it holds. I don't get to see my grandmother very often, so this is like having her with me wherever I go. I am connected to my tefillin, of course, but this bag is emotionally irreplaceable.
Do you have a mitzvah-peripheral item like that, which carries meaning independent of the mitzvah object itself?
My grandmother made the above-pictured tefillin bag for me, for my bar mitzvah, more than 25 years ago. At the time there was a trend for custom-embroidered zeklach; I see them often among others my age. Thank Gd, it has held up very well; the zipper isn't great, but the rest is intact.
I still remember when my grandmother asked me about the design, and about the colors. I remember when I first held it. {Side note: I have no idea why I wanted red, green and silver on the crown. I think I remember my parents asking me, "Are you sure?" and me not knowing why they were asking. Now, when I put my tefillin bag down among strangers, I know they are wondering what the deal is with those colors.}
My bag is important for me, independent of the tefillin it holds. I don't get to see my grandmother very often, so this is like having her with me wherever I go. I am connected to my tefillin, of course, but this bag is emotionally irreplaceable.
Do you have a mitzvah-peripheral item like that, which carries meaning independent of the mitzvah object itself?
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Questions from Rosh HaShanah
[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]
While we wait for post-Yom Tov "Derashah Reviews"...
As we have discussed, I keep a hard and fast rule: I don't answer halachic questions that require anything more than "See this note in the Mishneh Berurah/Aruch haShulchan", referring them instead to the Rabbi of whichever shul is involved. I have a few reasons for this, including respect for the shul Rav, necessity for consistency in communal psak, and a feeling that psak should be rendered by the one who is responsible for communal needs and fallout.
Nonetheless, I am sometimes the first stop on the way to the Rabbi of the shul. Here are some of the interesting questions I was involved with over Yom Tov; some of them may come up for you, too:
• May I braid challah on Yom Tov?
This is actually more complex than it may sound. On the one hand, acts from kneading and onward in the bread-making process are permitted on Yom Tov. On the other hand, the reason we don't braid dough is because it is "construction", and construction is prohibited on Yom Tov. Indeed, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach is cited in Shemiras Shabbos k'Hilchasah, Chapter 11 foonote 43 as opposing the practice, although he does offer a potential halachic justification.
• Why do we recite Shehechiyanu on shofar on the second day of Yom Tov, but not on lulav for the second day of Succos?
For shofar we recite Shechiyanu, but the reason is not clear (indeed, the tokeia may wear an appropriate new garment in order to remove doubt regarding the Shehechiyanu). For lulav, though, I see less reason to recite Shehechiyanu. One could argue that we must recite Shehechiyanu for shofar, since the only way we should blow shofar is if it's Day 1. For lulav, though, we pick up the lulav even for days 2-7.
• If the kitchen sink stops up on the first night of a three-day Yom Tov, may we plunge it?
If there is a great need, one may use a plunger for a sink, ideally in an unusual way. See Shemirat Shabbat k'Hilchatah Chapter 12, footnote 50, for more on this.
• May one change the orientation of a ceiling light in shul, to aid davening?
The answer seems to be Yes; we generally permit moving a lamp altogether on Shabbos and Yom Tov.
• We say (see Igrot Moshe Orach Chaim 2:36) that one should not interrupt between the berachah on the shofar and the end of the blasts blown in the repetition of the Amidah. What if one interrupted after the first 30?
It seems that there is nothing to do at this point. The reason to be silent through the second set of 30 is in order to tie the berachos of the repetition of the amidah to the shofar blowing; if that doesn't happen, one certainly doesn't daven musaf a second time.
• What melachah has one performed, if one cuts a worm in half (without moving it) on Shabbos or Yom Tov, and both halves of the worm live?
Okay, this one is weird, fine. It was my own, sparked when I saw someone step on a worm in a park on Yom Tov. It's interesting, though:
One is not guilty of netilas neshamah, taking a life, since the worm lives.
One may help an animal give birth on Shabbos, but one may not physically pull the young out (Shabbos 128b); what is the status of the cutting action?
Should we contend that this is an act of tearing for a constructive purpose, if it is done intentionally?
One didn't move a muktzeh entity.
Would it bleed? But even if so, would the blood be coming from inside the flesh, or from a cavity? (mifkad pakid vs chiburei michbar, in Kesuvos-speak)
Is one guilty of molid, creating something new, as in creation of a spark or investment of scent in a garment?
Dunno. Ask the Rabbi.
While we wait for post-Yom Tov "Derashah Reviews"...
As we have discussed, I keep a hard and fast rule: I don't answer halachic questions that require anything more than "See this note in the Mishneh Berurah/Aruch haShulchan", referring them instead to the Rabbi of whichever shul is involved. I have a few reasons for this, including respect for the shul Rav, necessity for consistency in communal psak, and a feeling that psak should be rendered by the one who is responsible for communal needs and fallout.
Nonetheless, I am sometimes the first stop on the way to the Rabbi of the shul. Here are some of the interesting questions I was involved with over Yom Tov; some of them may come up for you, too:
• May I braid challah on Yom Tov?
This is actually more complex than it may sound. On the one hand, acts from kneading and onward in the bread-making process are permitted on Yom Tov. On the other hand, the reason we don't braid dough is because it is "construction", and construction is prohibited on Yom Tov. Indeed, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach is cited in Shemiras Shabbos k'Hilchasah, Chapter 11 foonote 43 as opposing the practice, although he does offer a potential halachic justification.
• Why do we recite Shehechiyanu on shofar on the second day of Yom Tov, but not on lulav for the second day of Succos?
For shofar we recite Shechiyanu, but the reason is not clear (indeed, the tokeia may wear an appropriate new garment in order to remove doubt regarding the Shehechiyanu). For lulav, though, I see less reason to recite Shehechiyanu. One could argue that we must recite Shehechiyanu for shofar, since the only way we should blow shofar is if it's Day 1. For lulav, though, we pick up the lulav even for days 2-7.
• If the kitchen sink stops up on the first night of a three-day Yom Tov, may we plunge it?
If there is a great need, one may use a plunger for a sink, ideally in an unusual way. See Shemirat Shabbat k'Hilchatah Chapter 12, footnote 50, for more on this.
• May one change the orientation of a ceiling light in shul, to aid davening?
The answer seems to be Yes; we generally permit moving a lamp altogether on Shabbos and Yom Tov.
• We say (see Igrot Moshe Orach Chaim 2:36) that one should not interrupt between the berachah on the shofar and the end of the blasts blown in the repetition of the Amidah. What if one interrupted after the first 30?
It seems that there is nothing to do at this point. The reason to be silent through the second set of 30 is in order to tie the berachos of the repetition of the amidah to the shofar blowing; if that doesn't happen, one certainly doesn't daven musaf a second time.
• What melachah has one performed, if one cuts a worm in half (without moving it) on Shabbos or Yom Tov, and both halves of the worm live?
Okay, this one is weird, fine. It was my own, sparked when I saw someone step on a worm in a park on Yom Tov. It's interesting, though:
One is not guilty of netilas neshamah, taking a life, since the worm lives.
One may help an animal give birth on Shabbos, but one may not physically pull the young out (Shabbos 128b); what is the status of the cutting action?
Should we contend that this is an act of tearing for a constructive purpose, if it is done intentionally?
One didn't move a muktzeh entity.
Would it bleed? But even if so, would the blood be coming from inside the flesh, or from a cavity? (mifkad pakid vs chiburei michbar, in Kesuvos-speak)
Is one guilty of molid, creating something new, as in creation of a spark or investment of scent in a garment?
Dunno. Ask the Rabbi.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Solutions for "scattered soul" syndrome (Derashah, Rosh HaShanah 5772)
I'm speaking at a minyan on the second day of Rosh HaShanah, before shofar; here's what I plan to say. Critiques very welcome. My derashah owes a lot to Dr. David Pelcovitz of Yeshiva University, and the comments he offered on the below-cited Yerushalmi and Chovos haLevavos during a visit to our Beit Midrash. Sources are listed at the end.
"When I stand in Shemoneh Esreih, I count birds," said one.
"I count the bricks in the wall!" said another
"I'm grateful for my head, because when I arrive at Modim it bows on its own", even if I'm not thinking about the words! said a third.
No, these weren't answers to a shul poll – all of these lines came from amoraim, sages of the gemara, in a Yerushalmi.
Some chachamim have offered alternative, less indicting ways to read this gemara, but as Tosafos said, the bottom line is that even our greatest sages had trouble concentrating.
Personally, I don't count birds or bricks. I count my kollel families and their needs. I think about my kids –not necessarily in a davening-for-their-welfare way. Shiurim. Problems. Disagreements. Jobs. And so on.
The gemara says אין אדם ניצול בכל יום, no one escapes distraction during davening, every single day. The distraction may start with something worthy, like Torah, but before you know it we're in the land of birds and bricks.
This problem of distraction has a source, named by Rabbeinu Bahya ibn Paquda in Chovos haLevavos 950 years ago. It's פיזור הנפש (pizur hanefesh), scattering of the soul. Rabbeinu Bahya quoted an anonymous elder's daily prayer, "המקום יצילני מפיזור הנפש," Gd save me from a scattered soul.
We scatter our souls when we embed pieces of ourselves in a million worthy causes, in work and spouses and colleagues and learning and kids and parents and cousins and friends and vacations and organizations and sports and hobbies and investments - this is פיזור הנפש. Many of these are important – but collectively, they leave us drained and empty.
Henry David Thoreau saw the problem in the 19th century; his solution, as he wrote to Emerson, was, "Simplify, simplify, simplify!" [To which Emerson replied, "I think one 'simplify' would have sufficed."]
Think of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, pieces of his soul embedded in objects that had some significance to him, to the point that he drained his humanity.
Contrary to the counsel of many psychologists, today's multi-tasking didn't invent the problem; it's just made our פיזור הנפש worse, and we need a way out.
When I first thought about speaking about this issue on Rosh haShanah, I worried it was too pedestrian compared to more momentous themes like the Day of Judgment, Israel and the UN, and the Leafs' playoff chances. But I believe this is up there with the most important of our concerns, because פיזור הנפש is not a narrow issue; פיזור הנפש drags down every aspect of our lives.
It kills relationships. Do you know that voice someone gets when he's talking to you but he's also scrolling through his email? The longer-than-expected pauses, the repeating of the last words you said while his conscious mind catches up with his subconscious? It's not just when we're checking email, either; we hold too many goals in our minds.
More - פיזור הנפש means we have trouble sticking with projects and fulfilling commitments.
And פיזור הנפש fuels stress levels, with pressure from deadlines and concerns in too many diverse areas.
פיזור הנפש invades and undermines our spiritual, social and personal existence; it demands a voice on Rosh haShanah, when we chart our path for the year.
Fortunately, Rosh haShanah also offers antidotes for פיזור הנפש: By reviewing three different roles of the shofar, we can learn three ways to treat our distraction.
First: The historical shofar, with its overpowering blast. The shofar of Jewish history is an overwhelming, ever-intensifying, limitless assault which brooks no disruption. From the start of our Jewish national existence at Sinai, to the end of history with the arrival of Mashiach, the shofar's voice resounds, a קול שופר חזק מאד ויחרד כל העם אשר במחנה. This historical shofar crushes outside noise – specifically, the distractions and ambitions that drain our focus.
This means emulating Thoreau by simplifying our lives:
• Figuring out which involvements have become more of a drain than they are worth, and which ones we need to cut even though they are very worthy.
• Turning off our phones and external distractions whenever we need to focus.
• And here's an experiment which may sound a little odd, but it has worked for me: During davening on a weekday, or during telephone calls, or while learning with a chavrusa, keep a piece of paper and pencil nearby. As extraneous topics come to mind, jot them down - not during Shemoneh Esreih, of course. This will tell us what is occupying our minds. This will be the list of our horcruxes, the domains which hold hostage fragments of our souls, and it should give us some idea of what we need to drown out with our historical shofar.
Simplifying our lives is instrumental in reclaiming them.
And second: The halachic shofar, with its status as a mitzvas aseh, an action performed to fulfill the expectations of our Divine Creator. A mitzvah demands כוונה, it demands focus. The sages of the mishnah offered us simple advice for developing that focus: Stop and think before the mitzvah. Ask: "What am I about to do?"
About fifteen years ago, I had the opportunity to hear lectures by Rabbi Maurice Lamm – author of "The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning" – on visiting the sick and grieving. For me, his greatest recommendation was actually the same advice from that mishnah: Before you enter the hospital room, before you enter the shivah house, stop and ask, "What am I going to say?"
Think of the הנני מוכן ומזומן or לשם יחוד that some of us say before mitzvos or before berachos - it's that concept, expanded.
This is a step toward establishing dominance over our lives: Before any activity, the halachic shofar asks, "What am I about to do? What is my kavvanah?"
And third: The prophetic shofar, invoked by Hosheia and Amos and Yoel and other neviim, is a siren.
• As the Rambam put it, עורו ישנים משנתכם והקיצו נרדמים מתרדמתכם, the shofar cries, "Wake up!"
• The Meiri added, "שכל שומע קול שופר הוא נזהר ומתבונן שאין תקיעתו בלא סבה," "Anyone who hears the sound of the shofar is moved to contemplation, for the shofar's blast is never without purpose."
The prophetic shofar is an alarm, calling us to cut our distractions and to concentrate before we act. But this prophetic shofar is insufficient; it's just one alarm clock, once a year, and thinking about distractions once a year will achieve nothing. If we are to eliminate our life-eroding distractions and restore our selves to ourselves, we will need such shofar reminders all through the year:
• A note for a particular day in our on-line calendar, or in our pocket calendar for those who still use such things.
• A message we write to ourselves in our siddur, "Are you still focussed?" or "This part is important." I write all over my siddur.
The prophetic shofar shows that reminders can accomplish a great deal in gaining our attention.
Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch noted that Tehillim 81 links the Shofar of Rosh haShanah with the harp used in the Beit haMikdash on Succos. Rav Hirsch explained, "Only the shofar leads to the harp."
Succos is זמן שמחתנו, the time of our great joy and satisfaction – and in order to achieve those heights of rejoicing, we need to first use the Shofar to eliminate our פיזור הנפש, the dispersion of focus that keeps us from fulfilling our spiritual and personal potential.
• To channel the historic shofar by eliminating the distractions which claim pieces of our souls.
• To channel the halachic shofar by thinking and planning before we act.
• To channel the prophetic shofar by sounding the alarm regularly, all year.
If we want to keep our minds from the birds and the bricks, if we want to bow for Modim because we feel humility and not because our heads are on springs, if we want to avoid the stress and disconnection of fragmented lives, if we want to earn a כתיבה וחתימה טובה, let's learn from the shofar now, and so merit the joy of the harp in the future.
-
Notes:
1. The opening gemara is from Yerushalmi Berachos 2:4. There are variant explanations of אפרחייא there. The Pnei Moshe suggests these amoraim were distracted by thoughts of Torah. See, too, Rav Tzaddok in Pri Tzaddik to Vayyeshev, and Belzer thoughts at http://www.temanim.org/shtaygen/dvr_tora/70/2-8.pdf. The Tosafos I mentioned is found in two places - Rosh haShanah 16b and Bava Batra 164b.
2. Bava Batra 164b says the distractions in davening are daily. For a strong rebuke on the topic of distraction during mitzvos, see Rambam's Moreh haNevuchim 3:51.
3. The Chovos haLevavos actually talked about pizur hanefesh in terms of finances, and Rav Zev Wolf haLevi of Zhitomir, in his 18th century Or haMeir, expanded it to include the other goals and ambitions which we invest with pieces of our selves.
4. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 589:8, Taz 589:3 rule that shofar requires kavvanah.
5. The advice of waiting before davening is in Mishnah Berachos 5:1.
6. The Rambam's description of the shofar as an alert is in Hilchos Teshuvah 3:4; the Meiri's comments are in Chibur haTeshuvah 2:3 ועל דעת ז"ל.
7. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch's observation, part of a great essay, is printed in Collected Writings Vol II pg. 69.
"When I stand in Shemoneh Esreih, I count birds," said one.
"I count the bricks in the wall!" said another
"I'm grateful for my head, because when I arrive at Modim it bows on its own", even if I'm not thinking about the words! said a third.
No, these weren't answers to a shul poll – all of these lines came from amoraim, sages of the gemara, in a Yerushalmi.
Some chachamim have offered alternative, less indicting ways to read this gemara, but as Tosafos said, the bottom line is that even our greatest sages had trouble concentrating.
Personally, I don't count birds or bricks. I count my kollel families and their needs. I think about my kids –not necessarily in a davening-for-their-welfare way. Shiurim. Problems. Disagreements. Jobs. And so on.
The gemara says אין אדם ניצול בכל יום, no one escapes distraction during davening, every single day. The distraction may start with something worthy, like Torah, but before you know it we're in the land of birds and bricks.
This problem of distraction has a source, named by Rabbeinu Bahya ibn Paquda in Chovos haLevavos 950 years ago. It's פיזור הנפש (pizur hanefesh), scattering of the soul. Rabbeinu Bahya quoted an anonymous elder's daily prayer, "המקום יצילני מפיזור הנפש," Gd save me from a scattered soul.
We scatter our souls when we embed pieces of ourselves in a million worthy causes, in work and spouses and colleagues and learning and kids and parents and cousins and friends and vacations and organizations and sports and hobbies and investments - this is פיזור הנפש. Many of these are important – but collectively, they leave us drained and empty.
Henry David Thoreau saw the problem in the 19th century; his solution, as he wrote to Emerson, was, "Simplify, simplify, simplify!" [To which Emerson replied, "I think one 'simplify' would have sufficed."]
Think of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's horcruxes, pieces of his soul embedded in objects that had some significance to him, to the point that he drained his humanity.
Contrary to the counsel of many psychologists, today's multi-tasking didn't invent the problem; it's just made our פיזור הנפש worse, and we need a way out.
When I first thought about speaking about this issue on Rosh haShanah, I worried it was too pedestrian compared to more momentous themes like the Day of Judgment, Israel and the UN, and the Leafs' playoff chances. But I believe this is up there with the most important of our concerns, because פיזור הנפש is not a narrow issue; פיזור הנפש drags down every aspect of our lives.
It kills relationships. Do you know that voice someone gets when he's talking to you but he's also scrolling through his email? The longer-than-expected pauses, the repeating of the last words you said while his conscious mind catches up with his subconscious? It's not just when we're checking email, either; we hold too many goals in our minds.
More - פיזור הנפש means we have trouble sticking with projects and fulfilling commitments.
And פיזור הנפש fuels stress levels, with pressure from deadlines and concerns in too many diverse areas.
פיזור הנפש invades and undermines our spiritual, social and personal existence; it demands a voice on Rosh haShanah, when we chart our path for the year.
Fortunately, Rosh haShanah also offers antidotes for פיזור הנפש: By reviewing three different roles of the shofar, we can learn three ways to treat our distraction.
First: The historical shofar, with its overpowering blast. The shofar of Jewish history is an overwhelming, ever-intensifying, limitless assault which brooks no disruption. From the start of our Jewish national existence at Sinai, to the end of history with the arrival of Mashiach, the shofar's voice resounds, a קול שופר חזק מאד ויחרד כל העם אשר במחנה. This historical shofar crushes outside noise – specifically, the distractions and ambitions that drain our focus.
This means emulating Thoreau by simplifying our lives:
• Figuring out which involvements have become more of a drain than they are worth, and which ones we need to cut even though they are very worthy.
• Turning off our phones and external distractions whenever we need to focus.
• And here's an experiment which may sound a little odd, but it has worked for me: During davening on a weekday, or during telephone calls, or while learning with a chavrusa, keep a piece of paper and pencil nearby. As extraneous topics come to mind, jot them down - not during Shemoneh Esreih, of course. This will tell us what is occupying our minds. This will be the list of our horcruxes, the domains which hold hostage fragments of our souls, and it should give us some idea of what we need to drown out with our historical shofar.
Simplifying our lives is instrumental in reclaiming them.
And second: The halachic shofar, with its status as a mitzvas aseh, an action performed to fulfill the expectations of our Divine Creator. A mitzvah demands כוונה, it demands focus. The sages of the mishnah offered us simple advice for developing that focus: Stop and think before the mitzvah. Ask: "What am I about to do?"
About fifteen years ago, I had the opportunity to hear lectures by Rabbi Maurice Lamm – author of "The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning" – on visiting the sick and grieving. For me, his greatest recommendation was actually the same advice from that mishnah: Before you enter the hospital room, before you enter the shivah house, stop and ask, "What am I going to say?"
Think of the הנני מוכן ומזומן or לשם יחוד that some of us say before mitzvos or before berachos - it's that concept, expanded.
This is a step toward establishing dominance over our lives: Before any activity, the halachic shofar asks, "What am I about to do? What is my kavvanah?"
And third: The prophetic shofar, invoked by Hosheia and Amos and Yoel and other neviim, is a siren.
• As the Rambam put it, עורו ישנים משנתכם והקיצו נרדמים מתרדמתכם, the shofar cries, "Wake up!"
• The Meiri added, "שכל שומע קול שופר הוא נזהר ומתבונן שאין תקיעתו בלא סבה," "Anyone who hears the sound of the shofar is moved to contemplation, for the shofar's blast is never without purpose."
The prophetic shofar is an alarm, calling us to cut our distractions and to concentrate before we act. But this prophetic shofar is insufficient; it's just one alarm clock, once a year, and thinking about distractions once a year will achieve nothing. If we are to eliminate our life-eroding distractions and restore our selves to ourselves, we will need such shofar reminders all through the year:
• A note for a particular day in our on-line calendar, or in our pocket calendar for those who still use such things.
• A message we write to ourselves in our siddur, "Are you still focussed?" or "This part is important." I write all over my siddur.
The prophetic shofar shows that reminders can accomplish a great deal in gaining our attention.
Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch noted that Tehillim 81 links the Shofar of Rosh haShanah with the harp used in the Beit haMikdash on Succos. Rav Hirsch explained, "Only the shofar leads to the harp."
Succos is זמן שמחתנו, the time of our great joy and satisfaction – and in order to achieve those heights of rejoicing, we need to first use the Shofar to eliminate our פיזור הנפש, the dispersion of focus that keeps us from fulfilling our spiritual and personal potential.
• To channel the historic shofar by eliminating the distractions which claim pieces of our souls.
• To channel the halachic shofar by thinking and planning before we act.
• To channel the prophetic shofar by sounding the alarm regularly, all year.
If we want to keep our minds from the birds and the bricks, if we want to bow for Modim because we feel humility and not because our heads are on springs, if we want to avoid the stress and disconnection of fragmented lives, if we want to earn a כתיבה וחתימה טובה, let's learn from the shofar now, and so merit the joy of the harp in the future.
-
Notes:
1. The opening gemara is from Yerushalmi Berachos 2:4. There are variant explanations of אפרחייא there. The Pnei Moshe suggests these amoraim were distracted by thoughts of Torah. See, too, Rav Tzaddok in Pri Tzaddik to Vayyeshev, and Belzer thoughts at http://www.temanim.org/shtaygen/dvr_tora/70/2-8.pdf. The Tosafos I mentioned is found in two places - Rosh haShanah 16b and Bava Batra 164b.
2. Bava Batra 164b says the distractions in davening are daily. For a strong rebuke on the topic of distraction during mitzvos, see Rambam's Moreh haNevuchim 3:51.
3. The Chovos haLevavos actually talked about pizur hanefesh in terms of finances, and Rav Zev Wolf haLevi of Zhitomir, in his 18th century Or haMeir, expanded it to include the other goals and ambitions which we invest with pieces of our selves.
4. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 589:8, Taz 589:3 rule that shofar requires kavvanah.
5. The advice of waiting before davening is in Mishnah Berachos 5:1.
6. The Rambam's description of the shofar as an alert is in Hilchos Teshuvah 3:4; the Meiri's comments are in Chibur haTeshuvah 2:3 ועל דעת ז"ל.
7. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch's observation, part of a great essay, is printed in Collected Writings Vol II pg. 69.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Review the Rabbi's Speech
First: I request forgiveness from anyone I have hurt this year. More, please let me know (privately, thanks) if I did anything hurtful; I'd like to learn.
Here’s a Rosh HaShanah request: After Rosh haShanah and Shabbos, please post here your review of your rabbi’s derashot – Rosh haShanah and/or Shabbos Shuvah.
Many rabbis (although clearly not the ones who come to my blog via searches for "Rosh Hashanah sermon") put an inordinate amount of work into crafting these messages. This is their chance to reach people who are otherwise absent from shul, and draw them in. This is their chance to inspire people to daven the most serious tefillos of the year. This is their chance to chart a visionary path for the shul for the year ahead, and beyond. So rabbis often come across ideas as early as Kislev or Shevat and write them down, saving them for just this occasion. This is Prime Time.
I would love to hear reviews from as many people as possible – not just for the vicarious pleasure of hearing rabbis reviewed, but also so that my rabbinic readership (including the "Rosh Hashanah sermon" Googlers) can steal their material for next year.
Among the areas in which reviews would be welcome:
Theme – What was the topic of the speech? Was it a dvar torah about the Torah reading or Shofar? Did they include the Palestinians and the UN? The economy? The NBA strike?
Message – What was the chief message? Was it a call for personal growth, for community activism, for unity, for learning Torah and davening? Did it happen to also appear in the YU Rosh haShanah To Go?
Target audience - Was the target audience the year-round crowd, or the once-a-year attendees, or a blend? If it was a blend, how did he manage the trick of speaking to both?
Rants – How much mussar made it into the Shabbos Shuvah derashah? And about what?
Midrash pliah - Did the rabbi cite any midrashim that were just bizarre? You know what I mean - the ones we use to wake you up and get your attention, and that we say we will explain but that really defy our forced explanations?
Jokes – Did the rabbi dare to start a Rosh haShanah or Shabbos Shuvah derashah with a joke? If it was good, feel free to repeat it here.
Stories – I love it when rabbis tell good stories, particularly original stories; these can be a great way to get a point across. Were there any particularly memorable ones?
Endings – Did the rabbi end speeches with “and so we will merit a kesivah vachasimah tovah / to be inscribed and sealed for a good year,” or “mashiach tzidkeinu amen?” Or did he just finish his topic and sit down? Or did he have a great big bang of an ending?
There is only one rule for this survey: Please respect your rabbi’s anonymity. I will have to delete any comment that gives away a rabbi’s identity. Thank you.
May all of us be blessed with a happy and healthy new year, a year of blessing, a year of peace, a year in which HaShem will grant us the fulfillment of all of our wishes, for the best.
Here’s a Rosh HaShanah request: After Rosh haShanah and Shabbos, please post here your review of your rabbi’s derashot – Rosh haShanah and/or Shabbos Shuvah.
Many rabbis (although clearly not the ones who come to my blog via searches for "Rosh Hashanah sermon") put an inordinate amount of work into crafting these messages. This is their chance to reach people who are otherwise absent from shul, and draw them in. This is their chance to inspire people to daven the most serious tefillos of the year. This is their chance to chart a visionary path for the shul for the year ahead, and beyond. So rabbis often come across ideas as early as Kislev or Shevat and write them down, saving them for just this occasion. This is Prime Time.
I would love to hear reviews from as many people as possible – not just for the vicarious pleasure of hearing rabbis reviewed, but also so that my rabbinic readership (including the "Rosh Hashanah sermon" Googlers) can steal their material for next year.
Among the areas in which reviews would be welcome:
Theme – What was the topic of the speech? Was it a dvar torah about the Torah reading or Shofar? Did they include the Palestinians and the UN? The economy? The NBA strike?
Message – What was the chief message? Was it a call for personal growth, for community activism, for unity, for learning Torah and davening? Did it happen to also appear in the YU Rosh haShanah To Go?
Target audience - Was the target audience the year-round crowd, or the once-a-year attendees, or a blend? If it was a blend, how did he manage the trick of speaking to both?
Rants – How much mussar made it into the Shabbos Shuvah derashah? And about what?
Midrash pliah - Did the rabbi cite any midrashim that were just bizarre? You know what I mean - the ones we use to wake you up and get your attention, and that we say we will explain but that really defy our forced explanations?
Jokes – Did the rabbi dare to start a Rosh haShanah or Shabbos Shuvah derashah with a joke? If it was good, feel free to repeat it here.
Stories – I love it when rabbis tell good stories, particularly original stories; these can be a great way to get a point across. Were there any particularly memorable ones?
Endings – Did the rabbi end speeches with “and so we will merit a kesivah vachasimah tovah / to be inscribed and sealed for a good year,” or “mashiach tzidkeinu amen?” Or did he just finish his topic and sit down? Or did he have a great big bang of an ending?
There is only one rule for this survey: Please respect your rabbi’s anonymity. I will have to delete any comment that gives away a rabbi’s identity. Thank you.
May all of us be blessed with a happy and healthy new year, a year of blessing, a year of peace, a year in which HaShem will grant us the fulfillment of all of our wishes, for the best.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Shailophobia: The fear of answering Shailos
I first wrote the post below in a different forum, in Sept '06. I still feel much the same.
It comes to mind now as I draft my viduy for another Rosh HaShanah, and I recall a dozen Yom Kippur viduys in which I apologized for any psak in which I may have erred.
One of the perks of being out of the shul rabbinate is that Shailophobia is mostly academic for me these days.
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I don’t know whether my experience reflects that of other rabbis or not, but I become very nervous when faced with a shailoh (question of Jewish law).
Over the years I’ve dealt with such commonplaces as Living Will/Power of Attorney, brain death, organ donation, meat-lid/dairy-pot, mikvah chatzitzah (items on one’s skin that disqualify ritual immersion), personal eruv extensions, taharah (preparation for burial) problems, fertility treatments, etc - the sort of thing that every rav has to be able to handle, whether personally or with the help of a serious posek (legal authority).
I’m not that nervous about the knowledge issues - Thank Gd, I know where to look for answers. If need be, I know who to ask for help. My problem is with the application to real-life situations, and the nuances of psak for real, sensitive, people.
It’s hard to know when people are up for the l’chatchilah (ideal answer) and when the bedieved (ex post facto leniency, often employed under duress as well) is called for. It’s about knowing what their background is and how they’ll respond here. It’s about the strength of their commitment. It’s about whether they can afford to buy a new one. It’s about how they’ll handle future issues.
It’s about their friends, who will hear about this and make their own judgments as well as their own extrapolations to other circumstances. It’s about their cousin who’s a rabbi and who will hear my kula (leniency) and think I must be a lunatic lefty. It’s about their sister who will hear my chumra (stringency) and try to convince them I’m a right-wing nut. It’s about my own yom hadin, when I’ll have to answer for my mistakes in allowing that which was prohibited, or prohibiting that which was allowed.
There really is no up-side in psak (issuing legal decisions). At best you handle the situation correctly; at worst you fouled up her kitchen or his taharah or her tvilah or his tfilah, etc. But poskim are needed, nonetheless.
It comes to mind now as I draft my viduy for another Rosh HaShanah, and I recall a dozen Yom Kippur viduys in which I apologized for any psak in which I may have erred.
One of the perks of being out of the shul rabbinate is that Shailophobia is mostly academic for me these days.
-
I don’t know whether my experience reflects that of other rabbis or not, but I become very nervous when faced with a shailoh (question of Jewish law).
Over the years I’ve dealt with such commonplaces as Living Will/Power of Attorney, brain death, organ donation, meat-lid/dairy-pot, mikvah chatzitzah (items on one’s skin that disqualify ritual immersion), personal eruv extensions, taharah (preparation for burial) problems, fertility treatments, etc - the sort of thing that every rav has to be able to handle, whether personally or with the help of a serious posek (legal authority).
I’m not that nervous about the knowledge issues - Thank Gd, I know where to look for answers. If need be, I know who to ask for help. My problem is with the application to real-life situations, and the nuances of psak for real, sensitive, people.
It’s hard to know when people are up for the l’chatchilah (ideal answer) and when the bedieved (ex post facto leniency, often employed under duress as well) is called for. It’s about knowing what their background is and how they’ll respond here. It’s about the strength of their commitment. It’s about whether they can afford to buy a new one. It’s about how they’ll handle future issues.
It’s about their friends, who will hear about this and make their own judgments as well as their own extrapolations to other circumstances. It’s about their cousin who’s a rabbi and who will hear my kula (leniency) and think I must be a lunatic lefty. It’s about their sister who will hear my chumra (stringency) and try to convince them I’m a right-wing nut. It’s about my own yom hadin, when I’ll have to answer for my mistakes in allowing that which was prohibited, or prohibiting that which was allowed.
There really is no up-side in psak (issuing legal decisions). At best you handle the situation correctly; at worst you fouled up her kitchen or his taharah or her tvilah or his tfilah, etc. But poskim are needed, nonetheless.
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