I was just preparing for the daf yomi shiur this Shabbos (Nedarim 34a), and having difficulty following the discussion. I noted that the Ran's edition was the reverse of the one that appears in the standard Vilna Shas, and I wrote in the margin, "לר"ן גירסא אחרת בכל סוגיין" ("The Ran has a different edition in our entire passage.")
After struggling further, I pulled out an old gemara, which I had used for Nedarim 20-25 years ago. I opened to that page, and found I had made the following notation, in the identical part of the page: "לר"ן יש גיר' אחרת בסוגיתינו" ("The Ran has a different edition in our passage").
Consistent, if nothing else...
...and I think I'm going to work with the Rosh on the passage.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
The Pun and The Primordial
A thought for Parshat Chukat:
At the start of the Jewish nation’s fortieth year in the wilderness, they again protested their desert predicament. “The nation’s spirit became short, due to their travels,” we are told, and they rejected the Divine gift of manna. The Divine reaction was harsh; G-d sent poisonous serpents, which began to bite and kill the wayward Jews. The nation admitted their sin, and called upon Moshe to pray to G-d on their behalf. Moshe interceded, and G-d told him, “Make a serpent, and place it atop a pole. All those who are bitten should look upon it, and live.” Moshe formed a snake of nechoshet [a copper alloy, either brass or bronze] and brought the plague to an end. (Bamidbar 21:4-9)
This story introduces obvious problems of theology, but a midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 31:8) seizes upon an apparently minor detail to make a major theological statement.
Our midrash cites four cases in which G-d instructs a human being “Aseh lecha,” “Make for yourself.” In three out of the four – Noach’s boat of gopher wood; Joshua’s circumcision knives of stone; Moshe’s trumpets of silver – G-d specifies the material to use. In our case, though, no material is specified. [Our midrash omits Aseh lecha instructions that appear in Yirmiyahu 27:2 and Yechezkel 12:3. Perhaps this is because those items are not truly “for yourself”; they are only prophetic props, and have no further function.] And so our midrash asks: How did Moshe know to use nechoshet?
Medieval commentators noted the same problem, and offered a range of solutions:
Our midrash provides a different approach, though: A pun.
Rabbi Yudin explains in our midrash, citing Rabbi Eivo: “[Moshe] said: If I would make it of gold, the term for one [nachash] would not flow into the term for the other [zahav]. If I would make it of silver, the term for one [nachash] would not flow into the term for the other [kesef]. I will make it of nechoshet, language flowing into language.”
In other words: Moshe used a pun to determine that he should use nechoshet to form the serpent.
Of course, the use of the nachash in this story is itself a pun. The Hebrew word nachash refers not only to a serpent, but also to secret knowledge (see Bereishit 44:5 and Vayikra 19:26) – as seen in the Garden of Eden, and as seen with this serpent which conveyed the Divine cure. Moshe, then, layered pun upon pun.
While the midrash’s acknowledgement of a biblical pun is interesting, its next step is profound. Rabbi Eivo adds, “From here we see that the Torah was given in the sacred tongue.” Rabbi Pinchas and Rabbi Chizkiyah then cite Rabbi Simon, “Just as the Torah was given in the sacred tongue, so the world was created with the sacred tongue.” The association between serpent and copper alloy is fundamental to their natures, and it is expressed in the Torah’s Hebrew words for both of them, because Hebrew is the language of Torah and of Creation. [See, too, Bereishit Rabbah 17:4 and 18:4, and Shabbat 104a.] In other words: The Pentateuchal pun is pre-ordained, primordial.
What is the point of linking Hebrew with Creation? Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi (Kuzari II 67-68) explains that this is evidence of the elevated character of the Hebrew language. However, one might also suggest that this link teaches the importance of the Jew, speaker of Hebrew, in the plan of Divine Creation.
Reading the Torah plainly, I could have assumed that Jews were the beneficiaries of a handful of superlative ancestors and serendipitous incidents. If not for the daring of Avraham and Sarah, we might have remained in Aram; if not for Eliezer’s prayer at the well, we might have been a one-generation wonder. This midrash argues for Jewish exceptionalism, claiming that Jews are no product of fortune; rather, the Jew is hardwired into the universe, his language the code of Creation, her destiny the primordial plan.
This perspective on the role of the Jew is at once daunting and inspiring. It demands that we view our next move as more than the expression of personal whim, and as necessary for the success of the Divine will. The universe, crafted with our tongue, is playing our song. Moshe’s decision to fashion the nachash of nechoshet teaches us that not only is Hebrew a tool of G-d – but so are we.
At the start of the Jewish nation’s fortieth year in the wilderness, they again protested their desert predicament. “The nation’s spirit became short, due to their travels,” we are told, and they rejected the Divine gift of manna. The Divine reaction was harsh; G-d sent poisonous serpents, which began to bite and kill the wayward Jews. The nation admitted their sin, and called upon Moshe to pray to G-d on their behalf. Moshe interceded, and G-d told him, “Make a serpent, and place it atop a pole. All those who are bitten should look upon it, and live.” Moshe formed a snake of nechoshet [a copper alloy, either brass or bronze] and brought the plague to an end. (Bamidbar 21:4-9)
This story introduces obvious problems of theology, but a midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 31:8) seizes upon an apparently minor detail to make a major theological statement.
Our midrash cites four cases in which G-d instructs a human being “Aseh lecha,” “Make for yourself.” In three out of the four – Noach’s boat of gopher wood; Joshua’s circumcision knives of stone; Moshe’s trumpets of silver – G-d specifies the material to use. In our case, though, no material is specified. [Our midrash omits Aseh lecha instructions that appear in Yirmiyahu 27:2 and Yechezkel 12:3. Perhaps this is because those items are not truly “for yourself”; they are only prophetic props, and have no further function.] And so our midrash asks: How did Moshe know to use nechoshet?
Medieval commentators noted the same problem, and offered a range of solutions:
- Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra suggests that G-d told Moshe to use nechoshet, but the text did not record it.
- Ramban offers that nechoshet would be a particularly good material for simulating a serpent.
- Rabbi Chizkiyah ben Manoach (Chizkuni) contends that nechoshet was a practical choice, due to its visibility from afar.
Our midrash provides a different approach, though: A pun.
Rabbi Yudin explains in our midrash, citing Rabbi Eivo: “[Moshe] said: If I would make it of gold, the term for one [nachash] would not flow into the term for the other [zahav]. If I would make it of silver, the term for one [nachash] would not flow into the term for the other [kesef]. I will make it of nechoshet, language flowing into language.”
In other words: Moshe used a pun to determine that he should use nechoshet to form the serpent.
Of course, the use of the nachash in this story is itself a pun. The Hebrew word nachash refers not only to a serpent, but also to secret knowledge (see Bereishit 44:5 and Vayikra 19:26) – as seen in the Garden of Eden, and as seen with this serpent which conveyed the Divine cure. Moshe, then, layered pun upon pun.
While the midrash’s acknowledgement of a biblical pun is interesting, its next step is profound. Rabbi Eivo adds, “From here we see that the Torah was given in the sacred tongue.” Rabbi Pinchas and Rabbi Chizkiyah then cite Rabbi Simon, “Just as the Torah was given in the sacred tongue, so the world was created with the sacred tongue.” The association between serpent and copper alloy is fundamental to their natures, and it is expressed in the Torah’s Hebrew words for both of them, because Hebrew is the language of Torah and of Creation. [See, too, Bereishit Rabbah 17:4 and 18:4, and Shabbat 104a.] In other words: The Pentateuchal pun is pre-ordained, primordial.
What is the point of linking Hebrew with Creation? Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi (Kuzari II 67-68) explains that this is evidence of the elevated character of the Hebrew language. However, one might also suggest that this link teaches the importance of the Jew, speaker of Hebrew, in the plan of Divine Creation.
Reading the Torah plainly, I could have assumed that Jews were the beneficiaries of a handful of superlative ancestors and serendipitous incidents. If not for the daring of Avraham and Sarah, we might have remained in Aram; if not for Eliezer’s prayer at the well, we might have been a one-generation wonder. This midrash argues for Jewish exceptionalism, claiming that Jews are no product of fortune; rather, the Jew is hardwired into the universe, his language the code of Creation, her destiny the primordial plan.
This perspective on the role of the Jew is at once daunting and inspiring. It demands that we view our next move as more than the expression of personal whim, and as necessary for the success of the Divine will. The universe, crafted with our tongue, is playing our song. Moshe’s decision to fashion the nachash of nechoshet teaches us that not only is Hebrew a tool of G-d – but so are we.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Women's Ordination: The Price of Choosing Rambam?
The headline isn't clickbait; hear me out, please, on what may be entirely wrong... but I think it's not.
Going back to biblical times, the attitude of Judaism toward foreign ideologies was uniform and simple: Keep them out. It begins with Avraham and the idolatries of Aram and Canaan, it continues when Yaakov's family requests a residence away from that of the Egyptians, and it certainly carries through into the ideology of the Jews who emerge from the wilderness to enter Canaan. Ditto in the time of the prophets, for whom many examples can be brought; the traditional Jewish ideology (whether practiced by all Jews or not) was to exclude foreign ideologies.
The same phenomenon appears in post-biblical times. Consider the reactions to Greek thought in the times of the Chashmonaim, and then the Talmud. Again, some might note that not all Jews were hostile to Greek ideas, and that there is even some respect in certain Talmudic sources for the Greek language. Nonetheless, the victors of that era in Jewish history are the ones who deny Greek culture any place in the life of the Jew.
The theme persists through early Christianity, as well as the rabbinic response to the Sadducees. Where things get interesting is with Islam, as well as the acceptance of certain Greek ideas by Arab thinkers. For the first time, we find serious Jewish thinkers, respected links in our masorah (tradition), defining Judaism in ways that include, rather than reject, apparently foreign ideologies. Rav Saadia Gaon, then Rambam, demonstrate harmonies between Judaism and Arabic/Greek thought.
Neither Rav Saadia Gaon, nor Rambam, accept Arabic/Greek philosophy wholesale, and they are clear about their disagreements. Nonetheless, their approach differs starkly from Rabbi Yehudah haLevi's outright rejection of foreign material. [Note, added in response to Avi's comment: Rabbi Yehudah haLevi does not reject foreign culture - his poetry makes that clear. However, he rejects foreign ideology.]
Fast-forward to the Jewish reaction to the Enlightenment, from the 18th century forward. Some Jewish thinkers rejected Enlightenment ideas entirely, but others - Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch most clearly - explained Judaism in a way that did not write out foreign ideas, which had the effect of leaving the door open for Jewish students of the Enlightenment to make their peace with Judaism. I am not suggesting that they were intellectually dishonest in the name of outreach; I believe that their vision of Judaism was really that broad.
And so we move into our own day, and the debate continues. Chassidim and some of the yeshivish continue the approach of Rabbi Yehudah haLevi, drawing a line between Us and Them. But Yeshiva University argues that Them can still join Us, without surrendering their Them-ish values. And in the world of kiruv, Chabad, Aish and NCSY all hold out that promise to newcomers: There is a place in Judaism for the ideas you bring to the table. Devorah is a feminist! Avraham challenges G-d! The Torah militates on behalf of the needy and downtrodden, and inveighs against unbridled capitalism! Torah can be harmonized not only with science, but with every altruistic ism you can name, from rationalism to egalitarianism to athleticism to universalism.
Which brings me back to the heading of this post. Reading the Times of Israel's piece on women's ordination, and the interviews with various proponents, it dawned on me that this truly is the logical result of choosing the approach of Rav Saadia Gaon and Rambam.
Jewish communities that have kept up the walls will never see this, for all of their problems and failings, because the values that set the table for it are verboten in their camp. But for the rest of us, well, we can't tell people that their egalitarian instincts have a place in Torah, and not expect them to take us at our word.
To be clear: Even though I believe that some of the move for women's ordination is terribly misguided, I am not promoting an exclusion of the modern isms which I mentioned above. I do believe that quite a bit that is modern can be compatible with Torah, and that one can even find their roots, to some extent, in Torah. Intellectual honest demands that acknowledgement.
My point is only to say that when those who are upset about women's ordination try to figure out where to point their disapproving finger, they might consider whether a community that embraced the approach of Rav Saadia Gaon and Rambam, over Rabbi Yehudah haLevi, and that told young men and women that the ideals of the greater world could be reconciled with Torah, didn't bring this upon itself.
Going back to biblical times, the attitude of Judaism toward foreign ideologies was uniform and simple: Keep them out. It begins with Avraham and the idolatries of Aram and Canaan, it continues when Yaakov's family requests a residence away from that of the Egyptians, and it certainly carries through into the ideology of the Jews who emerge from the wilderness to enter Canaan. Ditto in the time of the prophets, for whom many examples can be brought; the traditional Jewish ideology (whether practiced by all Jews or not) was to exclude foreign ideologies.
The same phenomenon appears in post-biblical times. Consider the reactions to Greek thought in the times of the Chashmonaim, and then the Talmud. Again, some might note that not all Jews were hostile to Greek ideas, and that there is even some respect in certain Talmudic sources for the Greek language. Nonetheless, the victors of that era in Jewish history are the ones who deny Greek culture any place in the life of the Jew.
The theme persists through early Christianity, as well as the rabbinic response to the Sadducees. Where things get interesting is with Islam, as well as the acceptance of certain Greek ideas by Arab thinkers. For the first time, we find serious Jewish thinkers, respected links in our masorah (tradition), defining Judaism in ways that include, rather than reject, apparently foreign ideologies. Rav Saadia Gaon, then Rambam, demonstrate harmonies between Judaism and Arabic/Greek thought.
Neither Rav Saadia Gaon, nor Rambam, accept Arabic/Greek philosophy wholesale, and they are clear about their disagreements. Nonetheless, their approach differs starkly from Rabbi Yehudah haLevi's outright rejection of foreign material. [Note, added in response to Avi's comment: Rabbi Yehudah haLevi does not reject foreign culture - his poetry makes that clear. However, he rejects foreign ideology.]
Fast-forward to the Jewish reaction to the Enlightenment, from the 18th century forward. Some Jewish thinkers rejected Enlightenment ideas entirely, but others - Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch most clearly - explained Judaism in a way that did not write out foreign ideas, which had the effect of leaving the door open for Jewish students of the Enlightenment to make their peace with Judaism. I am not suggesting that they were intellectually dishonest in the name of outreach; I believe that their vision of Judaism was really that broad.
And so we move into our own day, and the debate continues. Chassidim and some of the yeshivish continue the approach of Rabbi Yehudah haLevi, drawing a line between Us and Them. But Yeshiva University argues that Them can still join Us, without surrendering their Them-ish values. And in the world of kiruv, Chabad, Aish and NCSY all hold out that promise to newcomers: There is a place in Judaism for the ideas you bring to the table. Devorah is a feminist! Avraham challenges G-d! The Torah militates on behalf of the needy and downtrodden, and inveighs against unbridled capitalism! Torah can be harmonized not only with science, but with every altruistic ism you can name, from rationalism to egalitarianism to athleticism to universalism.
Which brings me back to the heading of this post. Reading the Times of Israel's piece on women's ordination, and the interviews with various proponents, it dawned on me that this truly is the logical result of choosing the approach of Rav Saadia Gaon and Rambam.
Jewish communities that have kept up the walls will never see this, for all of their problems and failings, because the values that set the table for it are verboten in their camp. But for the rest of us, well, we can't tell people that their egalitarian instincts have a place in Torah, and not expect them to take us at our word.
To be clear: Even though I believe that some of the move for women's ordination is terribly misguided, I am not promoting an exclusion of the modern isms which I mentioned above. I do believe that quite a bit that is modern can be compatible with Torah, and that one can even find their roots, to some extent, in Torah. Intellectual honest demands that acknowledgement.
My point is only to say that when those who are upset about women's ordination try to figure out where to point their disapproving finger, they might consider whether a community that embraced the approach of Rav Saadia Gaon and Rambam, over Rabbi Yehudah haLevi, and that told young men and women that the ideals of the greater world could be reconciled with Torah, didn't bring this upon itself.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Bruce, Caitlyn and the Death of Neutrality
I grew up seeing Bruce Jenner on Wheaties boxes for his success in the 1976 Olympic decathlon, but I had largely forgotten the name until Bruce emerged in the media this week as Caitlyn Jenner, having undergone transgender surgery. One question this has birthed is whether to identify Caitlyn Jenner as the winner of Olympic gold. However, everyone is clear regarding the present: Caitlyn expects to be called Caitlyn, and not Bruce. Using the name "Bruce" intentionally would be an insulting rejection of this new identity.
This is a halachic question. There is decades-old debate in Jewish law regarding the male/female status of someone who has undergone transgender surgery, but it is clear that halachah prohibits a male from undergoing such surgery, since the Torah explicitly prohibits the removal of male genitalia (Vayikra 22:24, Shabbat 110b). So if I were to meet Bruce/Caitlyn, would it be halachically incorrect for me to say, "Hello Caitlyn"? Would I be endorsing a biblical transgression?
The same question comes up in relating to the quite-common phenomenon of intermarried Jews. Is it appropriate to invite a Jewish man and his non-Jewish wife to a wedding, addressing the invitation to "Mr. and Mrs."?
Of course, a halachah-abiding Jew never wishes to insult and hurt people. And let's not be cynical; saying Bruce would hurt Caitlyn. I cannot imagine the depth of the feelings of a morphological male who believes himself to be herself, and who would go under the knife in such dramatic ways to gain a new image. But does that justify counterfeiting Jewish law, by approving of that which Jewish law forbids?
In truth, this question is old. In one example, a millenia-old mishnah talks about how a Jew should relate to another Jew who farms illegally during the shemitah (Sabbatical) year. This mishnah teaches that one may not "strengthen their hand" by encouraging them in their activity - but that one must promote peace and greet them with a "Shalom aleichem". (Mishnah Sheviit 5:9)
In other words, the mishnah instructs us to keep the peace, by greeting warmly but withholding approval.
However, there is a new, complicating element: the death of neutrality. Perhaps one could have maintained an inoffensive ground in the past and everyone would have understood, and hopefully respected, the tactful disagreement. Today, though, there is no middle ground; speaking with Bruce/Caitlyn and awkwardly avoiding use of a first name or a gender-specific pronoun would be perceived as an insult. [Indeed, don't we often expect non-Jewish society's approval, and reject their neutrality, for our choices as Jews?] And so we are told to choose: Are you with us, or are you against us?
I am not sure what to conclude on this point; I'm still looking for relevant halachic background, and thinking it through. [Update 6:50 AM: To clarify: My current inclination is to say that one would not be justified in using Caitlyn. But I think there are nuances to discuss - for example, is this surgery halachically irreversible, such that the problem of lifnei iver (causing the blind to stumble) might be less relevant)?] Either way, I think this new element - a modern intolerance and sense of entitlement, in which our personal decisions must be accepted and approved of by third parties - is worth contemplating. On one hand, I don't want to voice approval, coerced or not. On the other hand, isn't preservation of peace a great value?
How would you greet a transgender relative? And do you have a Torah source to back it up?
This is a halachic question. There is decades-old debate in Jewish law regarding the male/female status of someone who has undergone transgender surgery, but it is clear that halachah prohibits a male from undergoing such surgery, since the Torah explicitly prohibits the removal of male genitalia (Vayikra 22:24, Shabbat 110b). So if I were to meet Bruce/Caitlyn, would it be halachically incorrect for me to say, "Hello Caitlyn"? Would I be endorsing a biblical transgression?
The same question comes up in relating to the quite-common phenomenon of intermarried Jews. Is it appropriate to invite a Jewish man and his non-Jewish wife to a wedding, addressing the invitation to "Mr. and Mrs."?
Of course, a halachah-abiding Jew never wishes to insult and hurt people. And let's not be cynical; saying Bruce would hurt Caitlyn. I cannot imagine the depth of the feelings of a morphological male who believes himself to be herself, and who would go under the knife in such dramatic ways to gain a new image. But does that justify counterfeiting Jewish law, by approving of that which Jewish law forbids?
In truth, this question is old. In one example, a millenia-old mishnah talks about how a Jew should relate to another Jew who farms illegally during the shemitah (Sabbatical) year. This mishnah teaches that one may not "strengthen their hand" by encouraging them in their activity - but that one must promote peace and greet them with a "Shalom aleichem". (Mishnah Sheviit 5:9)
In other words, the mishnah instructs us to keep the peace, by greeting warmly but withholding approval.
However, there is a new, complicating element: the death of neutrality. Perhaps one could have maintained an inoffensive ground in the past and everyone would have understood, and hopefully respected, the tactful disagreement. Today, though, there is no middle ground; speaking with Bruce/Caitlyn and awkwardly avoiding use of a first name or a gender-specific pronoun would be perceived as an insult. [Indeed, don't we often expect non-Jewish society's approval, and reject their neutrality, for our choices as Jews?] And so we are told to choose: Are you with us, or are you against us?
I am not sure what to conclude on this point; I'm still looking for relevant halachic background, and thinking it through. [Update 6:50 AM: To clarify: My current inclination is to say that one would not be justified in using Caitlyn. But I think there are nuances to discuss - for example, is this surgery halachically irreversible, such that the problem of lifnei iver (causing the blind to stumble) might be less relevant)?] Either way, I think this new element - a modern intolerance and sense of entitlement, in which our personal decisions must be accepted and approved of by third parties - is worth contemplating. On one hand, I don't want to voice approval, coerced or not. On the other hand, isn't preservation of peace a great value?
How would you greet a transgender relative? And do you have a Torah source to back it up?
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Why didn't Rav Soloveitchik make aliyah?
This week, I came across a remarkable letter, written by Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik shortly after his Rebbetzin's passing, in 1967. An Israeli schoolteacher who had just taught her students Rav Soloveitchik's inspirational writings on Zionism wrote to him, to ask why he had not actualized his ideals by moving to Israel, and he responded most movingly.
The text of the Hebrew letter is found on Page רנד of מפניני הרב, as well as toward the end of an article available here. Here is my attempt at an English translation:
17 Tammuz 5767 (1967)
Her honour, Madam Miriam Shiloh, שתחיה,
Shalom uBerachah! I request forgiveness for not addressing her letter immediately, and delaying until now. It was difficult for me, and it remains difficult, to write. I am immersed in mourning for the death of my beloved wife, the pupil of my eye and beloved of my soul, of blessed memory. My world has collapsed and is ruined. Even now, I write with tears and with the blood of my torn and agitated heart.
I thank her for her words, and I accept her rebuke willingly. In truth, I have sinned against the Holy Land. I am among those who have been slow. Of course, many causes, which do not depend upon me, have delayed me – but I do not seek an excuse, and I do not justify myself. I have sinned, and the [prisoner's] chain hangs from my neck.
Last year we decided, my wife z"l and I, to come to the Land and to spend six months there, to see the land and the nation dwelling there. But many thoughts are in the heart of man, and what happened happened, and my sighs are many and my heart grieves!
Many of my acquaintances and friends who dwell in the Land and in the Diaspora encourage me to come now. Madam also emphasized in her letter that it is now a propitious time as well as a time of spiritual crisis. But our sages tell us of an "Arch of Accounting" which was situated outside of Jerusalem, because one who takes accounts and finds his account lacking is upset, and regarding Jerusalem it is written, "the joy of the entire earth". How much more so for the "Arch of Black Mourning" in which I am currently found, that it must be outside Jerusalem. How could I now ascend to Jerusalem, when I am a man of a harsh and bitter spirit? G-d is not manifest when one is depressed, upset and pained.
Madam need not justify her words. I, too, am a simple Jew. In the language of the Sages of Yavneh (Berachot 17), I would say: I am a teacher, and many work with the community in the field of Torah education, as teachers. My work is in the large city of New York, in an institution with many students, and their work is in Givat Washington or in another community in a small institution. Whether one does much or little, so long as one directs his heart toward Heaven. The work all of us do is dedicated to nurturing the values of Judaism, the ancestral tradition and the Torah of our masters, authors of the tradition and its sages.
With great respect,
Yosef Dov haLevi Soloveitchik
To this I can add nothing...
The text of the Hebrew letter is found on Page רנד of מפניני הרב, as well as toward the end of an article available here. Here is my attempt at an English translation:
17 Tammuz 5767 (1967)
Her honour, Madam Miriam Shiloh, שתחיה,
Shalom uBerachah! I request forgiveness for not addressing her letter immediately, and delaying until now. It was difficult for me, and it remains difficult, to write. I am immersed in mourning for the death of my beloved wife, the pupil of my eye and beloved of my soul, of blessed memory. My world has collapsed and is ruined. Even now, I write with tears and with the blood of my torn and agitated heart.
I thank her for her words, and I accept her rebuke willingly. In truth, I have sinned against the Holy Land. I am among those who have been slow. Of course, many causes, which do not depend upon me, have delayed me – but I do not seek an excuse, and I do not justify myself. I have sinned, and the [prisoner's] chain hangs from my neck.
Last year we decided, my wife z"l and I, to come to the Land and to spend six months there, to see the land and the nation dwelling there. But many thoughts are in the heart of man, and what happened happened, and my sighs are many and my heart grieves!
Many of my acquaintances and friends who dwell in the Land and in the Diaspora encourage me to come now. Madam also emphasized in her letter that it is now a propitious time as well as a time of spiritual crisis. But our sages tell us of an "Arch of Accounting" which was situated outside of Jerusalem, because one who takes accounts and finds his account lacking is upset, and regarding Jerusalem it is written, "the joy of the entire earth". How much more so for the "Arch of Black Mourning" in which I am currently found, that it must be outside Jerusalem. How could I now ascend to Jerusalem, when I am a man of a harsh and bitter spirit? G-d is not manifest when one is depressed, upset and pained.
Madam need not justify her words. I, too, am a simple Jew. In the language of the Sages of Yavneh (Berachot 17), I would say: I am a teacher, and many work with the community in the field of Torah education, as teachers. My work is in the large city of New York, in an institution with many students, and their work is in Givat Washington or in another community in a small institution. Whether one does much or little, so long as one directs his heart toward Heaven. The work all of us do is dedicated to nurturing the values of Judaism, the ancestral tradition and the Torah of our masters, authors of the tradition and its sages.
With great respect,
Yosef Dov haLevi Soloveitchik
To this I can add nothing...
Thursday, April 30, 2015
A Jewish Response to Nepal
In a message I sent to our Beit Midrash email list this week, I asked people to contribute to our UJA's Emergency Relief Fund for humanitarian aid, to be administered via the Jewish Joint Distribution Committee.
As I wrote the request, I remembered a brief exchange I had with a congregant about a dozen years ago. In the wake of another natural disaster, I had encouraged people to contribute to an aid campaign. My congregant said to me, "We need to use our money to help our own community; the outside world isn't going to help us, when we need it." He was factually correct; I don't imagine that the Nepalese will build bomb shelters in Israel (although Israeli relations with Nepal aren't bad), or support Jewish schools in Toronto.
I was also reminded of another congregant, who noted to me that the Torah's commandment to love others applies specifically to your fellow Jew (Vayikra 19:18) or to a non-Jew who comes to Judaism (ibid. 19:33). He, too, was correct.
I feel that both of my interlocutors were missing a key point, though.
It is true that the nations of the world will likely not come to view us as family, even when Israeli aid arrives in the form of a mission more than double the size of any other. And it is true that the Torah limits love - the state in which we identify with others, seeing them as part of ourselves, loving them "as ourselves" - specifically to those with whom we share the most intimate values and beliefs. [See, for example, Rambam to Avot 1:6, who specifies sharing of values as the highest form of kinship.] Nonetheless, our tolerance for suffering shouldn't depend on the identity of the sufferer. How can our pure soul not writhe in pain when it witnesses others in agony? How can it not be personally offended by the existence of unremedied suffering?
This is why we act on behalf of those who will not reciprocate and who are not "ours". As I once heard Rabbi Baruch Weintraub note, the Talmud (Bava Metzia 33a) writes that when we are sensitive to the pain of others, when we are personally offended by the suffering of others, then we are obligated to act.
Our sages taught us this lesson of action in numerous ways. They criticized Noach for failing to reach out sufficiently to his neighbours, and praised Avraham for attempting to influence the fate of his. (Bereishit Rabbah 30:9-10, although one could also read this source as a function of love for G-d) Rambam wrote that we dare not fall into cruelty; we aspire to the sensitivity displayed by G-d, regarding whom King David wrote, "His mercy is upon all of His creations." (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Avadim 9:8 and Hilchot Melachim 10:12) Our Sages wanted us to understand that even when we don't share a common identity with others, we do share a common humanity with them.
I have made a contribution; I hope that the readers of this blog will be able to do so as well.
As I wrote the request, I remembered a brief exchange I had with a congregant about a dozen years ago. In the wake of another natural disaster, I had encouraged people to contribute to an aid campaign. My congregant said to me, "We need to use our money to help our own community; the outside world isn't going to help us, when we need it." He was factually correct; I don't imagine that the Nepalese will build bomb shelters in Israel (although Israeli relations with Nepal aren't bad), or support Jewish schools in Toronto.
I was also reminded of another congregant, who noted to me that the Torah's commandment to love others applies specifically to your fellow Jew (Vayikra 19:18) or to a non-Jew who comes to Judaism (ibid. 19:33). He, too, was correct.
I feel that both of my interlocutors were missing a key point, though.
It is true that the nations of the world will likely not come to view us as family, even when Israeli aid arrives in the form of a mission more than double the size of any other. And it is true that the Torah limits love - the state in which we identify with others, seeing them as part of ourselves, loving them "as ourselves" - specifically to those with whom we share the most intimate values and beliefs. [See, for example, Rambam to Avot 1:6, who specifies sharing of values as the highest form of kinship.] Nonetheless, our tolerance for suffering shouldn't depend on the identity of the sufferer. How can our pure soul not writhe in pain when it witnesses others in agony? How can it not be personally offended by the existence of unremedied suffering?
This is why we act on behalf of those who will not reciprocate and who are not "ours". As I once heard Rabbi Baruch Weintraub note, the Talmud (Bava Metzia 33a) writes that when we are sensitive to the pain of others, when we are personally offended by the suffering of others, then we are obligated to act.
Our sages taught us this lesson of action in numerous ways. They criticized Noach for failing to reach out sufficiently to his neighbours, and praised Avraham for attempting to influence the fate of his. (Bereishit Rabbah 30:9-10, although one could also read this source as a function of love for G-d) Rambam wrote that we dare not fall into cruelty; we aspire to the sensitivity displayed by G-d, regarding whom King David wrote, "His mercy is upon all of His creations." (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Avadim 9:8 and Hilchot Melachim 10:12) Our Sages wanted us to understand that even when we don't share a common identity with others, we do share a common humanity with them.
I have made a contribution; I hope that the readers of this blog will be able to do so as well.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
The Hagbah Shrug
A few weeks ago, in a morning minyan, I saw a gabbai offer hagbah (the honour of lifting the Torah and displaying it to the community after the public Torah reading) to someone near me in shul. He did what I think of as the "Hagbah Shrug", telegraphing in a simple gesture: I don't really want to do this, but I'll do it if you have no one else.
It bothered me.
On one hand, we are taught to humbly refuse honours; see Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 53:16, for example, encouraging limited refusal of a request to lead the davening, unless invited by someone of great status. Shunning the spotlight isn't a bad thing; it's a function of humility and of tzniut (privacy).
But on the other hand, refusal strikes me as arrogant, and insulting to the Torah itself. It feels like an expression of indifference. Rav Moshe Sternbuch (Teshuvos v'Hanhagos 2:319) reports that on Simchas Torah, Rav Chaim Brisker would not give away the Torah he was holding at the end of a hakafah, unless someone requested the Torah. This reflects love and respect for the Torah. So what is the message reflected by shrugging, "I'll do it if I must"?
And consider the impact on the next generation. Our teens are already practiced in demonstrating cool disregard for society's honours; it's a natural part of growing up. Do we need to add incentive by showing that everyone does it?
[Not to mention what this does to the poor gabbai; see my 2009 post, Not Me is alive and well in Gabbailand.]
I would suggest an intermediate reaction, displaying respect as well as humility. Perhaps, something along the lines of, "I am honoured to be asked, but I wouldn't mind if someone more worthy would receive it." And if you really don't want to do it, then, "I'm sorry to decline, but I'd really prefer not to, today."
Am I just being hypersensitive?
It bothered me.
On one hand, we are taught to humbly refuse honours; see Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 53:16, for example, encouraging limited refusal of a request to lead the davening, unless invited by someone of great status. Shunning the spotlight isn't a bad thing; it's a function of humility and of tzniut (privacy).
But on the other hand, refusal strikes me as arrogant, and insulting to the Torah itself. It feels like an expression of indifference. Rav Moshe Sternbuch (Teshuvos v'Hanhagos 2:319) reports that on Simchas Torah, Rav Chaim Brisker would not give away the Torah he was holding at the end of a hakafah, unless someone requested the Torah. This reflects love and respect for the Torah. So what is the message reflected by shrugging, "I'll do it if I must"?
And consider the impact on the next generation. Our teens are already practiced in demonstrating cool disregard for society's honours; it's a natural part of growing up. Do we need to add incentive by showing that everyone does it?
[Not to mention what this does to the poor gabbai; see my 2009 post, Not Me is alive and well in Gabbailand.]
I would suggest an intermediate reaction, displaying respect as well as humility. Perhaps, something along the lines of, "I am honoured to be asked, but I wouldn't mind if someone more worthy would receive it." And if you really don't want to do it, then, "I'm sorry to decline, but I'd really prefer not to, today."
Am I just being hypersensitive?
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Ulshoneinu Rinah
In advance of my daughter Rena's Bat Mitzvah this past Shabbos, we learned the part of the sixth chapter of Pirkei Avos that lists 48 traits needed for success in studying Torah.
We put together a mini-sefer which collects the ideas we developed regarding the 48 traits. It's downloadable from YUTorah.org here; feedback would be welcome.
We put together a mini-sefer which collects the ideas we developed regarding the 48 traits. It's downloadable from YUTorah.org here; feedback would be welcome.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Kashrut: Of Labels Permanent and Transient
Some thoughts on kashrut, from an article appearing in this week's Toronto Torah:
Twenty years ago, a student asked me, “If G-d made a cow, and G-d made a pig, then why am I allowed to eat a cow, but not a pig?” The student was not asking about kashrut as a whole; he wanted to know how our Torah portion could identify particular creations of G-d as permanently impure and off-limits, while marking other Divine creations as pure and permitted. It’s a very old question, and its answer may provide insight into a deep message regarding human nature.
One classic answer is that G-d created certain animals for a purpose other than consumption; eating them would actually harm us. (Yoma 39a, Moreh haNevuchim 3:48) The danger may be physical, or metaphysical; we might even absorb moral character from the permitted and prohibited beasts. (Horeb 454) Each prohibited creature harbours an intrinsic threat.
Another traditional approach suggests that the creatures G-d formed are neither toxic nor beneficial. Nonetheless, G-d provided detailed dietary rules in order to improve our discipline. (Bereishit Rabbah 44:1; Moreh haNevuchim 3:26) Among the benefits of this discipline may be to perpetually recall Divine Truth (Ramban to Devarim 22:6) or to draw closer to G-d. (Maharal, Tiferet Yisrael 7) Each instruction further envelops the Jew in an all-encompassing life of law.
We might suggest a third idea, based on the Torah’s emphasis on distinguishing between kosher and non-kosher creatures (Vayikra 11:47), and the Talmud’s explanation of two verses in the book of Iyov.
Iyov complained to G-d, “If You wished [to make it so], I would not sin; but none can save from Your Hand.” (Iyov 10:7) The sage Rava expands, “Iyov sought to exempt the entire world from judgment. He said before G-d: Master of the Universe! You created the ox with split hooves and You created the donkey with sealed hooves! You created Gan Eden and You created Gehennom! You created righteous people and You created wicked people! Who can stop You?” (Bava Batra 16a) In other words, Iyov claimed that Man is like the beast, lacking the freedom to choose between the paths of good and evil. Just as a donkey’s sealed hooves mark it as non-kosher for life, so certain people are created as wicked, and they cannot shift their steps from the road to Gehennom. We enter this world bearing the label under which we depart.
With his mention of the ox and the donkey, Iyov identified a critical lesson of the Torah’s division of animals between kosher and non-kosher: the legitimacy of permanent labels. As our Torah portion states in summing up this division, “You are to distinguish between impure and pure, between the beast which may be consumed and the beast which may not be consumed.” (Vayikra 11:47) Every time she decides what to eat, the Jew is warned that there are permanent labels in this world. G-d created the good, and G-d created the malignant, and you are tasked – not only in eating but in life – with identifying the malignant and steering clear of its influence. Do not permit shifting cultural mores and claims of progress to sway your good judgment; among animals and among ideas, there is good which is timeless, and there is evil which is eternally so, and some labels never change.
However, the permanent labels of the animal kingdom are alien to human beings; it is an offense to G-d and Man to typecast any human being for life. As the Talmud interprets the response of Iyov’s visitor Eliphaz, “You would nullify reverence and reduce the study of Torah [sichah] before G-d!” (Iyov 15:4) Yes, human beings exhibit natural weakness, but G-d has provided the influence of Torah to rescue the human being from any depth to which she may sink. Our labels are as transient as we wish them to be.
We might add that the transient label even exists in the world of kashrut, when the human hand intervenes. All animals are non-kosher, until they undergo the shechitah rite of kosher slaughter. Then again, one can transform kosher meat to non-kosher by combining it with milk. Humanity is empowered to alter certain labels.
This may answer the question I was asked twenty years ago. The laws of kashrut teach that there are permanent labels and judgments in our world. However, these laws also demonstrate that labels of the descendants of Adam and Chavah are transient; it is possible for a human being, via Torah, to change her own label from non-kosher to kosher and back. Determining which labels should be transient, and how to alter them, is challenging, but may this moral lesson, which the Talmud sees in Iyov’s dialogue with Eliphaz, inspire us to examine, and alter where appropriate, the labels in our lives.
Twenty years ago, a student asked me, “If G-d made a cow, and G-d made a pig, then why am I allowed to eat a cow, but not a pig?” The student was not asking about kashrut as a whole; he wanted to know how our Torah portion could identify particular creations of G-d as permanently impure and off-limits, while marking other Divine creations as pure and permitted. It’s a very old question, and its answer may provide insight into a deep message regarding human nature.
One classic answer is that G-d created certain animals for a purpose other than consumption; eating them would actually harm us. (Yoma 39a, Moreh haNevuchim 3:48) The danger may be physical, or metaphysical; we might even absorb moral character from the permitted and prohibited beasts. (Horeb 454) Each prohibited creature harbours an intrinsic threat.
Another traditional approach suggests that the creatures G-d formed are neither toxic nor beneficial. Nonetheless, G-d provided detailed dietary rules in order to improve our discipline. (Bereishit Rabbah 44:1; Moreh haNevuchim 3:26) Among the benefits of this discipline may be to perpetually recall Divine Truth (Ramban to Devarim 22:6) or to draw closer to G-d. (Maharal, Tiferet Yisrael 7) Each instruction further envelops the Jew in an all-encompassing life of law.
We might suggest a third idea, based on the Torah’s emphasis on distinguishing between kosher and non-kosher creatures (Vayikra 11:47), and the Talmud’s explanation of two verses in the book of Iyov.
Iyov complained to G-d, “If You wished [to make it so], I would not sin; but none can save from Your Hand.” (Iyov 10:7) The sage Rava expands, “Iyov sought to exempt the entire world from judgment. He said before G-d: Master of the Universe! You created the ox with split hooves and You created the donkey with sealed hooves! You created Gan Eden and You created Gehennom! You created righteous people and You created wicked people! Who can stop You?” (Bava Batra 16a) In other words, Iyov claimed that Man is like the beast, lacking the freedom to choose between the paths of good and evil. Just as a donkey’s sealed hooves mark it as non-kosher for life, so certain people are created as wicked, and they cannot shift their steps from the road to Gehennom. We enter this world bearing the label under which we depart.
With his mention of the ox and the donkey, Iyov identified a critical lesson of the Torah’s division of animals between kosher and non-kosher: the legitimacy of permanent labels. As our Torah portion states in summing up this division, “You are to distinguish between impure and pure, between the beast which may be consumed and the beast which may not be consumed.” (Vayikra 11:47) Every time she decides what to eat, the Jew is warned that there are permanent labels in this world. G-d created the good, and G-d created the malignant, and you are tasked – not only in eating but in life – with identifying the malignant and steering clear of its influence. Do not permit shifting cultural mores and claims of progress to sway your good judgment; among animals and among ideas, there is good which is timeless, and there is evil which is eternally so, and some labels never change.
However, the permanent labels of the animal kingdom are alien to human beings; it is an offense to G-d and Man to typecast any human being for life. As the Talmud interprets the response of Iyov’s visitor Eliphaz, “You would nullify reverence and reduce the study of Torah [sichah] before G-d!” (Iyov 15:4) Yes, human beings exhibit natural weakness, but G-d has provided the influence of Torah to rescue the human being from any depth to which she may sink. Our labels are as transient as we wish them to be.
We might add that the transient label even exists in the world of kashrut, when the human hand intervenes. All animals are non-kosher, until they undergo the shechitah rite of kosher slaughter. Then again, one can transform kosher meat to non-kosher by combining it with milk. Humanity is empowered to alter certain labels.
This may answer the question I was asked twenty years ago. The laws of kashrut teach that there are permanent labels and judgments in our world. However, these laws also demonstrate that labels of the descendants of Adam and Chavah are transient; it is possible for a human being, via Torah, to change her own label from non-kosher to kosher and back. Determining which labels should be transient, and how to alter them, is challenging, but may this moral lesson, which the Talmud sees in Iyov’s dialogue with Eliphaz, inspire us to examine, and alter where appropriate, the labels in our lives.
Monday, April 13, 2015
Of Teaching and Chesed
About a month ago, I posted a question on this blog: "Is teaching a class an act of chesed (generosity)?" I received some insightful emails, as well as good comments on the post; thank you.
As I said on that post, teaching a class just doesn't feel like chesed. I'd like to unpack that here.
I can see three definitions of Chesed:
1) Filling the need of a recipient;
2) Sacrificing personal resources for a recipient;
3) Connecting with a recipient.
In truth, I believe that teaching a class does qualify as Chesed, within all three definitions. A good teacher:
(1) provides for the educational needs of the students;
(2) expends real effort and time in planning how best to convey Torah to the students; and
(3) connects and builds relationships with the students.
So why doesn't it feel like chesed? A few reasons, I think, all tied to the different definitions of chesed I mentioned above:
1) Filling a need - Rabbis need to advertise and recruit people to shiurim; if this were filling a need, would we need to work so hard to persuade people to take advantage? Further, however well-intentioned, a Rabbi may misunderstand or misstate his Torah. A shiur may be wrong without the teacher realizing it, but the benefits of a hospital visit, counseling, a relationship are often visible.
2) Sacrificing personal resources – If I am paid to teach classes, then whatever I do is a fulfillment of that job. It is equally true that a shul rabbi is paid for rabbinic chesed, but when a rabbi sacrifices to go above and beyond in chesed – as happens regularly – it feels more like an uncompensated "extra" than when I learn with a chavruta or give a shiur despite being exhausted.
3) Connecting with others - One can teach Torah without investing emotionally; I believe that such teaching is less successful, but it can be done. On the other hand, the relationship aspect of chesed requires at least sympathy, if not empathy.
I don't see a moral to this story; it may just be something I find interesting. But then again, this is a blog, so I suppose that's okay.
As I said on that post, teaching a class just doesn't feel like chesed. I'd like to unpack that here.
I can see three definitions of Chesed:
1) Filling the need of a recipient;
2) Sacrificing personal resources for a recipient;
3) Connecting with a recipient.
In truth, I believe that teaching a class does qualify as Chesed, within all three definitions. A good teacher:
(1) provides for the educational needs of the students;
(2) expends real effort and time in planning how best to convey Torah to the students; and
(3) connects and builds relationships with the students.
So why doesn't it feel like chesed? A few reasons, I think, all tied to the different definitions of chesed I mentioned above:
1) Filling a need - Rabbis need to advertise and recruit people to shiurim; if this were filling a need, would we need to work so hard to persuade people to take advantage? Further, however well-intentioned, a Rabbi may misunderstand or misstate his Torah. A shiur may be wrong without the teacher realizing it, but the benefits of a hospital visit, counseling, a relationship are often visible.
2) Sacrificing personal resources – If I am paid to teach classes, then whatever I do is a fulfillment of that job. It is equally true that a shul rabbi is paid for rabbinic chesed, but when a rabbi sacrifices to go above and beyond in chesed – as happens regularly – it feels more like an uncompensated "extra" than when I learn with a chavruta or give a shiur despite being exhausted.
3) Connecting with others - One can teach Torah without investing emotionally; I believe that such teaching is less successful, but it can be done. On the other hand, the relationship aspect of chesed requires at least sympathy, if not empathy.
I don't see a moral to this story; it may just be something I find interesting. But then again, this is a blog, so I suppose that's okay.
Monday, April 6, 2015
The Tzaddik at the Seder?
In the run-up to Pesach, I delivered a shiur on "Pesach: When the Questions Matter More than the Answers" in a few different venues. On a couple of those occasions, as a tangent to the shiur, I asked this question: Why do we have a wise, wicked, simple and unquestioning child in our list of four, but we don't have a tzaddik (righteous child) in the list?
Some suggested that the wise child is righteous, but I disagree.
Some suggested that we cannot ascribe righteousness to our children, but I disagree for two reasons: 1) These are not necessarily small children, and 2) If we cannot ascribe righteousness, how can we ascribe wickedness?
Some suggested that each of these characteristics is only a trait, and not a complete person, and so we cannot discuss a child as righteous, which is a collective trait. I personally agree that these are traits, but I don't see how one could apply this to righteousness and not to wickedness.
At our Seder, I noted that the four children are all presented to us by the Torah in the context of telling our children about our departure from Egypt. The Torah is advising us that we must speak to each of these children in a manner appropriate to them - regardless of their disparate religious personalities.
If so, then perhaps the message of the omission of the tzaddik is this: Each of our children needs the conversation about the Exodus, in a different way. We should see none of them (and none of ourselves, although we may be parents and uncles and aunts and grandparents) as "tzaddik", meaning complete, and being beyond that conversation. The goal is to educate them properly, so that they will grow toward that state, but a parent should never assume that the child is already there. Look for your child's particular need, and address it, to initiate your child into the history and religious identity of our nation.
Some suggested that the wise child is righteous, but I disagree.
Some suggested that we cannot ascribe righteousness to our children, but I disagree for two reasons: 1) These are not necessarily small children, and 2) If we cannot ascribe righteousness, how can we ascribe wickedness?
Some suggested that each of these characteristics is only a trait, and not a complete person, and so we cannot discuss a child as righteous, which is a collective trait. I personally agree that these are traits, but I don't see how one could apply this to righteousness and not to wickedness.
At our Seder, I noted that the four children are all presented to us by the Torah in the context of telling our children about our departure from Egypt. The Torah is advising us that we must speak to each of these children in a manner appropriate to them - regardless of their disparate religious personalities.
If so, then perhaps the message of the omission of the tzaddik is this: Each of our children needs the conversation about the Exodus, in a different way. We should see none of them (and none of ourselves, although we may be parents and uncles and aunts and grandparents) as "tzaddik", meaning complete, and being beyond that conversation. The goal is to educate them properly, so that they will grow toward that state, but a parent should never assume that the child is already there. Look for your child's particular need, and address it, to initiate your child into the history and religious identity of our nation.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
How I learned to love Mah Nishtanah
I want to write many posts, but I have far too many responsibilities to indulge in writing them. I can justify spending time on this post, though, because it is a מצוה עוברת - it is relevant for our upcoming celebration of Pesach.
I cannot recall ever liking Mah Nishtanah. The contrived set of four questions, taught to children so that they would be able to ask them, just never appealed to me. And then, just last week, my perspective changed entirely.
I was presenting a shiur which was supposed to have a brief "Pesach Halachah: Questions and Answers" component, followed by a dvar torah, but then we began talking about what counts for karpas, and then for marror, and the Q/A expanded to take over the shiur.
My thoughts on karpas are a bit outside the mainstream, as I advocate for pineapple and banana. Ditto re: marror; I believe that horseradish root should not be used for marror.
At the same time, I am a strong believer in minhag (custom), as the glue that holds Jewish families together across time. Those actions we pioneer express our individuality and concretize our special relationship with Gd and with the Torah. Whether the song we sing first at a Shabbos table, or the order in which we bless our children, or the special garment we wear when davening, we stamp our Judaism with our own seal. When our descendants keep these for themselves, that overlay of family links them back to us, merging generations of Jewish identity.
This is not something to be trifled with.
So I don't want people to change their family minhag for karpas, even as I advocate these other species. (Changing marror is more complicated, as I seriously question - echoing the words of many great poskim - the eligibility of horseradish root.) And I tried to explain that at the class. And I hit upon the perfect example of why minhag is so wonderful: Mah Nishtanah.
The script for Mah Nishtanah goes back to the Beit haMikdash (Temple) itself; one of the questions was altered when we were no longer able to bring the korban pesach (Pesach offering), but the rest remained the same. Which means that for well more than 2,000 years - we don't know just how far back, only that this text was common in Temple times, which ended in the year 68 C.E. - Jews, every year, around the world, living in a broad range of conditions, have sat at a seder table and put forth these same questions.
I try to imagine my great-grandparents in Western Europe; their great-grandparents in Poland; their great-grandparents in Turkey; before that in Spain; before that in Germany; before that in England; before that in Morocco; and so on. All of them, reclining at the table and listening to the youngest children ask these questions.
These particular questions are not a halachic requirement for the Seder; they are custom - but how could anyone remove them?
In truth, Mah Nishtanah is not the only text we have kept reciting for millenia; Shma is far older, and it is said daily. But the image of the family gathering, and the communal recitation, grabs me.
I am not fully articulating what is in my heart here; I am rushing this post, because there is no time to write it properly. But I hope I have conveyed the main point: for me, the connection is what minhag is all about. And finally, I have come to appreciate Mah Nishtanah.
I cannot recall ever liking Mah Nishtanah. The contrived set of four questions, taught to children so that they would be able to ask them, just never appealed to me. And then, just last week, my perspective changed entirely.
I was presenting a shiur which was supposed to have a brief "Pesach Halachah: Questions and Answers" component, followed by a dvar torah, but then we began talking about what counts for karpas, and then for marror, and the Q/A expanded to take over the shiur.
My thoughts on karpas are a bit outside the mainstream, as I advocate for pineapple and banana. Ditto re: marror; I believe that horseradish root should not be used for marror.
At the same time, I am a strong believer in minhag (custom), as the glue that holds Jewish families together across time. Those actions we pioneer express our individuality and concretize our special relationship with Gd and with the Torah. Whether the song we sing first at a Shabbos table, or the order in which we bless our children, or the special garment we wear when davening, we stamp our Judaism with our own seal. When our descendants keep these for themselves, that overlay of family links them back to us, merging generations of Jewish identity.
This is not something to be trifled with.
So I don't want people to change their family minhag for karpas, even as I advocate these other species. (Changing marror is more complicated, as I seriously question - echoing the words of many great poskim - the eligibility of horseradish root.) And I tried to explain that at the class. And I hit upon the perfect example of why minhag is so wonderful: Mah Nishtanah.
The script for Mah Nishtanah goes back to the Beit haMikdash (Temple) itself; one of the questions was altered when we were no longer able to bring the korban pesach (Pesach offering), but the rest remained the same. Which means that for well more than 2,000 years - we don't know just how far back, only that this text was common in Temple times, which ended in the year 68 C.E. - Jews, every year, around the world, living in a broad range of conditions, have sat at a seder table and put forth these same questions.
I try to imagine my great-grandparents in Western Europe; their great-grandparents in Poland; their great-grandparents in Turkey; before that in Spain; before that in Germany; before that in England; before that in Morocco; and so on. All of them, reclining at the table and listening to the youngest children ask these questions.
These particular questions are not a halachic requirement for the Seder; they are custom - but how could anyone remove them?
In truth, Mah Nishtanah is not the only text we have kept reciting for millenia; Shma is far older, and it is said daily. But the image of the family gathering, and the communal recitation, grabs me.
I am not fully articulating what is in my heart here; I am rushing this post, because there is no time to write it properly. But I hope I have conveyed the main point: for me, the connection is what minhag is all about. And finally, I have come to appreciate Mah Nishtanah.
Monday, March 9, 2015
A question regarding Chesed
When I switched from the synagogue rabbinate to my primarily-educational role in Toronto's YU Torah MiTzion Beit Midrash, I wrestled with a particular dissatisfaction that came from leaving the shul rabbinate. In retrospect, several years down the road, I have come to realize that part of my discomfort came from the following question:
Is teaching a class an act of chesed (generosity)?
I have my own thoughts, and I may expand on them later this week, but what do you think?
Is teaching a class an act of chesed (generosity)?
I have my own thoughts, and I may expand on them later this week, but what do you think?
Monday, March 2, 2015
Purim Torah 5775
Since I've been speaking about death so much lately, here's my contribution to Purim Torah 5775: The Torah's 616th mitzvah, Assisted Suicide:
Vayikra 19:16 warns, “You shall not stand by as the blood of your friend is shed.” From this verse, the Supreme Court of Canada shli”t derives the Torah’s 616th mitzvah: To assist your friend in dying. This active commandment is an aseh haba michlal lav, a command derived from a prohibition: You must not stand by, but rather, you must act.
Writing in Carter v. Canada (Attorney General), 2015 SCC 5, the Supreme Court explained further that prohibitions against helping others to die are misguided, as they cause early death. They wrote, “[T]he prohibition deprives some individuals of life, as it has the effect of forcing some individuals to take their own lives prematurely, for fear that they would be incapable of doing so when they reached the point where suffering was intolerable.” Therefore, the Court concluded, it is better to pledge to assist someone to end his life, so that he will live long enough for you to end it, and not kill himself earlier. [Note: This was not a Purim paragraph; this is part of their actual decision. You can look it up.]
The decision did not come without controversy. Rabbi Moshe L’chaim shli”t argued that the talmudic principle, “We do not sin in order to provide merit for another (Shabbat 4a)” should apply, since the killer here sins (murder) in order to prevent his victim from sinning (suicide). However, an amicus brief filed by the KFMI (Kosher Frozen Meals Industry) contended that assisting others in dying is a time-honoured religious practice, and it should be protected regardless of talmudic logic.
Scholars disagree regarding whether it is appropriate to recite a blessing when assisting at the time of death. Igeret She’ol suggests that m’chayeh hameitim (“He who gives life to the dead”) should be recited, since the assister has lengthened the life of his victim by killing him. In response, Bila haMavet argues that no blessing should be recited; the mitzvah of extending the victim’s life has concluded, and therefore the blessing would not be recited over la’asiyato (preceding the mitzvah), as is required.
There is also considerable disagreement regarding the appropriate punishment for a physician who refuses to assist in ending a life. The Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada favours lashes, but Gesher haMavet disagrees, because failure to assist is a lav she’ein bo maaseh (a prohibition violated via inaction), and therefore there is no corporal punishment.
Another question arises regarding the proper means of assisting. Per Maavir Yabok, it would be best to minimize one’s assistance by using a shinui (an abnormal action), as well as grama (an action which does not directly cause the result). An example would be to place an obstruction in a breathing tube, then use the back of one’s thumb to push a button which would cause carbon dioxide to vent into the tube (shinui), and then to remove the obstruction from the breathing tube (grama). However, Artscroll’s Laws of Assisting Death contends that use of grama could invalidate the mitzvah.The Artscroll guide prefers direct administration of a poison pill, but it acknowledges some debate regarding the blessing the patient should recite upon the pill.
Vayikra 19:16 warns, “You shall not stand by as the blood of your friend is shed.” From this verse, the Supreme Court of Canada shli”t derives the Torah’s 616th mitzvah: To assist your friend in dying. This active commandment is an aseh haba michlal lav, a command derived from a prohibition: You must not stand by, but rather, you must act.
Writing in Carter v. Canada (Attorney General), 2015 SCC 5, the Supreme Court explained further that prohibitions against helping others to die are misguided, as they cause early death. They wrote, “[T]he prohibition deprives some individuals of life, as it has the effect of forcing some individuals to take their own lives prematurely, for fear that they would be incapable of doing so when they reached the point where suffering was intolerable.” Therefore, the Court concluded, it is better to pledge to assist someone to end his life, so that he will live long enough for you to end it, and not kill himself earlier. [Note: This was not a Purim paragraph; this is part of their actual decision. You can look it up.]
The decision did not come without controversy. Rabbi Moshe L’chaim shli”t argued that the talmudic principle, “We do not sin in order to provide merit for another (Shabbat 4a)” should apply, since the killer here sins (murder) in order to prevent his victim from sinning (suicide). However, an amicus brief filed by the KFMI (Kosher Frozen Meals Industry) contended that assisting others in dying is a time-honoured religious practice, and it should be protected regardless of talmudic logic.
Scholars disagree regarding whether it is appropriate to recite a blessing when assisting at the time of death. Igeret She’ol suggests that m’chayeh hameitim (“He who gives life to the dead”) should be recited, since the assister has lengthened the life of his victim by killing him. In response, Bila haMavet argues that no blessing should be recited; the mitzvah of extending the victim’s life has concluded, and therefore the blessing would not be recited over la’asiyato (preceding the mitzvah), as is required.
There is also considerable disagreement regarding the appropriate punishment for a physician who refuses to assist in ending a life. The Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada favours lashes, but Gesher haMavet disagrees, because failure to assist is a lav she’ein bo maaseh (a prohibition violated via inaction), and therefore there is no corporal punishment.
Another question arises regarding the proper means of assisting. Per Maavir Yabok, it would be best to minimize one’s assistance by using a shinui (an abnormal action), as well as grama (an action which does not directly cause the result). An example would be to place an obstruction in a breathing tube, then use the back of one’s thumb to push a button which would cause carbon dioxide to vent into the tube (shinui), and then to remove the obstruction from the breathing tube (grama). However, Artscroll’s Laws of Assisting Death contends that use of grama could invalidate the mitzvah.The Artscroll guide prefers direct administration of a poison pill, but it acknowledges some debate regarding the blessing the patient should recite upon the pill.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Environment Canada: Cloudy with a chance of making stuff up
This, from a friend in Pennsylvania, is priceless:
Because yes, I really do feel better when the forecast says +1...
Because yes, I really do feel better when the forecast says +1...
Death, death and more death
When I was a synagogue rabbi, I bemoaned the fact that so much of what I did was death-centered. Well, the past couple of weeks have been a throwback to that time, due to a confluence of events: An interest by local organizations in having seminars on "end of life" care, and the Supreme Court of Canada's ruling, on February 6, that physician-assisted suicide should be legal.
The result is that this is the major topic everyone wants to hear about. So on Monday evening I spoke at a synagogue on Assisted Death, and Tuesday evening I spoke for a UJA program on end of life care. On Wednesday I have a lunch and learn at an accounting firm, and they want to talk about assisted death. Then, on Sunday of next week, I am to speak at another synagogue on End of Life care.
It's good that people want to hear Judaism speak to these issues, and I'm honoured to be asked, but boy... what I wouldn't give to be asked to speak about fertility treatments instead...
The result is that this is the major topic everyone wants to hear about. So on Monday evening I spoke at a synagogue on Assisted Death, and Tuesday evening I spoke for a UJA program on end of life care. On Wednesday I have a lunch and learn at an accounting firm, and they want to talk about assisted death. Then, on Sunday of next week, I am to speak at another synagogue on End of Life care.
It's good that people want to hear Judaism speak to these issues, and I'm honoured to be asked, but boy... what I wouldn't give to be asked to speak about fertility treatments instead...
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Esther's Bloody War?
In case the few remaining readers have been wondering where I've been, quite a bit of my time in the past week has been dedicated to writing a new edition of Shiur Theatre - "Esther's War" - for our Beit Midrash. In a presentation this Shabbos, we will look at the halachic and ethical questions raised by the bloodshed, and fear-based conversion, that occurred in the events of the original Purim.
I don't expect to share the script here (at least, not until I see how it is received on Shabbos...), but here is the accompanying source sheet. I don't imagine it will be all that intelligible without the script, but some of the sources may be interesting. It is also downloadable in pdf here.
I don't expect to share the script here (at least, not until I see how it is received on Shabbos...), but here is the accompanying source sheet. I don't imagine it will be all that intelligible without the script, but some of the sources may be interesting. It is also downloadable in pdf here.
Persian conversion to Judaism out of fear: Is it
legitimate?
1. Esther 8:17
וְרַבִּים מֵעַמֵּי הָאָרֶץ מִתְיַהֲדִים כִּי־נָפַל פַּחַד־הַיְּהוּדִים
עֲלֵיהֶם:
And many from the population converted themselves to
Judaism, for the fear of Mordechai had fallen upon them.
2. Talmud, Yevamot 24b
וכן מי שנתגייר לשום שולחן מלכים, לשום עבדי שלמה, אינן גרים, דברי ר'
נחמיה; שהיה רבי נחמיה אומר: אחד גירי אריות, ואחד גירי חלומות, ואחד גירי מרדכי
ואסתר אינן גרים... א"ר יצחק בר שמואל בר מרתא משמיה דרב: הלכה כדברי האומר
כולם גרים הם...
One who converts in order to partake of a royal table,
or to be among Solomon's servants, is not a valid convert, per Rabbi Nechemiah.
For Rabbi Nechemiah said: Those who have converted for fear of wild animals or
due to dreams, and those who converted in the days of Mordechai and Esther,
are not valid converts…
Rav said: The law follows the view that they are all
valid converts [after the fact].
3. Shulchan Aruch Yoreh
Deah 268:12
כשיבא הגר להתגייר, בודקים אחריו שמא בגלל ממון שיטול או בשביל שררה שיזכה
לה או מפני הפחד בא ליכנס לדת.
When one comes to convert, we investigate whether he
might be trying to enter the religion to acquire money, or to achieve power, or
out of fear.
4. Tosafot, Yevamot 24b לא
קשה דאמרינן בהערל (עט.) גבי מעשה דגבעונים דבימי דוד נתוספו גרים על ישראל
ק"ן אלף וי"ל דמעצמן נתגיירו כדאשכחן גבי מרדכי ואסתר ורבים מעמי הארץ
מתיהדים
But doesn't the Talmud (Yevamot 79a) say regarding the
event with the Gibeonites in King David's day, that 150,000 people converted? Perhaps
they converted independently, as occurred in the days of Mordechai and
Esther…
The invasion of Canaan: Does the Torah endorse
bloodshed beyond self-defense, and looting?
5. Bereishit 34:25-27
וַיְהִי בַיּוֹם הַשְּׁלִישִׁי בִּהְיוֹתָם כֹּאֲבִים וַיִּקְחוּ
שְׁנֵי־בְנֵי־יַעֲקֹב שִׁמְעוֹן וְלֵוִי אֲחֵי דִינָה אִישׁ חַרְבּוֹ וַיָּבֹאוּ
עַל־הָעִיר בֶּטַח וַיַּהַרְגוּ כָּל־זָכָר: וְאֶת־חֲמוֹר וְאֶת־שְׁכֶם בְּנוֹ
הָרְגוּ לְפִי־חָרֶב וַיִּקְחוּ אֶת־דִּינָה מִבֵּית שְׁכֶם וַיֵּצֵאוּ: בְּנֵי
יַעֲקֹב בָּאוּ עַל־הַחֲלָלִים וַיָּבֹזּוּ הָעִיר אֲשֶׁר טִמְּאוּ אֲחוֹתָם:
And on the third day, when they were in pain, two sons
of Yaakov, Shimon and Levi, brothers of Dinah, took their swords and came upon
the secure city, and killed every male. And they killed Chamor and his son
Shechem by the sword, and they took Dinah from the house of Shechem, and they
left. The sons of Yaakov came upon the corpses and despoiled the city, for
contaminating their sister.
6. Yehoshua 12:7-24
וְאֵלֶּה מַלְכֵי הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר הִכָּה יְהוֹשֻׁעַ וּבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל...
מֶלֶךְ יְרִיחוֹ אֶחָד מֶלֶךְ הָעַי אֲשֶׁר־מִצַּד בֵּית־אֵל אֶחָד: מֶלֶךְ
יְרוּשָׁלִַם אֶחָד מֶלֶךְ חֶבְרוֹן אֶחָד: מֶלֶךְ יַרְמוּת אֶחָד מֶלֶךְ לָכִישׁ
אֶחָד:... כָּל־מְלָכִים שְׁלֹשִׁים וְאֶחָד:
And these are the kings of the land whom Yehoshua and
the Children of Israel struck… One was the king of Jericho, one was the king of
Ai beside Bethel. One was the king of Jerusalem, one was the king of Hebron.
One was the king of Yarmut, one was the king of Lachish… all of the kings
were 31.
7. Devarim 20:10
כִּי־תִקְרַב אֶל־עִיר לְהִלָּחֵם עָלֶיהָ וְקָרָאתָ אֵלֶיהָ לְשָׁלוֹם:
When you draw near to a city, to battle it, you shall
call to it for peace.
8. Commentary of Rabbi
Samson Raphael Hirsch to Devarim 23:10
הספרי מדגיש "על - איביך - כנגד אויביך אתה נלחם"; התורה מניחה
שתילחם רק באלה שהראו את עצמם כאויביך, שסבלת מאיבתם ואתה מצפה מהם למעשי איבה,
ולפיכך אפילו תתקיף אותם, רק תגן על עצמך; דברים אלה שוללים כל מלחמת כיבוש
"When you go to war against
your enemy" – A midrash emphasizes, "against your enemy – you wage
war against your enemies." The Torah establishes that you will battle
only those who show themselves to be your enemy, from whose enmity you have
suffered, and from whom you anticipate acts of enmity. Therefore, even should
you strike them, you shall only defend yourself. This message rejects all wars
of conquest.
9. Rabbi Moses Maimonides,
Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Melachim 6:7
כשצרין על עיר לתפשה, אין מקיפין אותה מארבע רוחותיה אלא משלש רוחותיה,
ומניחין מקום לבורח ולכל מי שירצה להמלט על נפשו
When besieging a city to capture it, we do not
surround it on its four sides, but only from three sides. And we leave a space
to flee, and all who wish may flee for their lives.
10. Rabbi Moses Maimonides,
Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Melachim 9:14
חייבין להושיב דיינין ושופטים בכל פלך ופלך לדון בשש מצות אלו, ולהזהיר את
העם... ומפני זה נתחייבו כל בעלי שכם הריגה, שהרי שכם גזל והם ראו וידעו ולא דנוהו...
Noachides are obligated to establish judges in every
place to judge these six commands and instruct the nation… and this is why all
of the members of Shechem were liable for death. Shechem kidnapped, and they
saw and knew and did not judge him…
11. Devarim 9:5
לֹא בְצִדְקָתְךָ וּבְיֹשֶׁר לְבָבְךָ אַתָּה בָא לָרֶשֶׁת אֶת־אַרְצָם
כִּי בְּרִשְׁעַת הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה ד' אֱלֹקֶיךָ מוֹרִישָׁם מִפָּנֶיךָ...
Not due to your
righteousness and the straightness of your heart do you come to take their
land, but due to the wickedness of these nations does your G-d take them
from before you…
12. Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli,
Amud haYemini 16:2
אין יסוד מספיק להתיר פעולה נגד הציבור שנמנע למלא חובתו ולבער מתוכו את
המרצחים, כל עוד שיתכן שיש להם אמתלא של פחד או לחץ וכוצא בו.
There are insufficient grounds to permit action
against a community that refuses to fulfill its obligation and eliminate
murderers from their midst, so long as they may have the excuse of fear,
pressure and the like.
13. Rabbi Yehudah Loeb
(Maharal), Gur Aryeh to Bereishit 34:13
ואף על גב דאמרה התורה (דברים כ, י) "כי תקרב אל עיר להלחם עליה וקראת
אליה לשלום", היינו היכי דלא עשו לישראל דבר, אבל היכי דעשו לישראל דבר, כגון
זה שפרצו בהם לעשות להם נבלה, אף על גב דלא עשה רק אחד מהם - כיון דמכלל העם הוא,
כיון שפרצו להם תחלה - מותרים ליקח נקמתם מהם.
Deuteronomy 20:10 says, "you shall call to it for
peace", but that is where they have not acted upon Israel. Where they have
acted toward Israel, such as here [Shechem] where they had broken forth, doing
this repellent thing, then even though only one of them had done it, since
they had attacked first, Israel was permitted to respond. So, too, for all
wars, even where only one of them had acted, he is part of the nation. Since
they attacked first, we were permitted to go to war against them…
14. Talmud Yerushalmi,
Sheviit 6:1
שלש פרסטיניות שלח יהושע לארץ ישראל עד שלא
יכנסו לארץ מי שהוא רוצה להפנות יפנה להשלים ישלים לעשות מלחמה יעשה
Joshua sent three messages
into Israel, before the Jews entered the land: Those who want to leave, may do
so. Those who want to make peace, may do so. Those who want to make war,
may do so.
15. Rabbi Moses Maimonides,
Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Melachim 6:1
אין עושין מלחמה עם אדם בעולם עד שקוראין לו שלום אחד
מלחמת הרשות ואחד מלחמת מצוה, שנאמר כי תקרב אל עיר להלחם עליה וקראת אליה לשלום,
אם השלימו וקבלו שבע מצות שנצטוו בני נח עליהן אין הורגין מהן נשמה והרי הן למס,
שנאמר יהיו לך למס ועבדוך
We may not declare war upon
any human being, anywhere, until we first sue for peace.
This applies both to "authorized wars" and "obligatory
wars," as it is written, "When you draw near to a city to fight
against her, you shall call to her for peace." Should they make peace and
accept the laws in which Noachides are instructed, we would not kill anyone
there. We would collect taxes, as it is written, "They will be tribute to
you, and will serve you."
16. Commentary of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch to Bereishit
34:25
עתה מתחילה הגנות, ואין בדעתנו לחפות עליה. אילו הרגו את שכם וחמור, ודאי
היה הדין עמהם. אך הם לא חסו על אנשים חסרי מגן, המסורים בידיהם בלא כוח. גדולה
מזו, הם שדדו, ובדרך כלל פקדו על אנשי העיר את עוון אדוניהם. לכך לא היתה כל
הצדקה.
Now the disgrace begins, and
we do not intend to cover it up. Had they killed Shechem and Chamor, justice
would certainly have been with them. But they did not spare the defenseless
men who were given into their hands, who had no strength. Worse, they
looted, and generally made the inhabitants pay for the crime of their
master. For this there was no justification.
17. Rabbi Avraham Shapira, War
and Ethics, Techumin 4, pg. 182
כל עוד אין סכנה
ממשית לחיילינו אין היתר לפגוע בנפש ואף לא ברכוש. אולם כאשר הסכנה היא מוחשית,
הרי שיש לזכור שעל כף המאזניים אין עומדת רק היחידה הלוחמת מול האוכלוסיה האזרחית,
איבודה של יחידה אחת או חלק ממנה עלול לפגוע במערכת המלחמה כולה.
When there is no substantive risk to our soldiers, there is no permission to strike lives or property.
However, when there is a discernible risk, one must remember that it is not
only a matter of weighing one unit opposite a civilian population on the scale.
The loss of one unit, or part of it, can affect the entire battle…
18. Rabbi Aharon
Lichtenstein, Ethics and War, Techumin 4, pg. 185
המחיר נתבע גם
מהאויב, שאף הוא נחון בצלם אלוהים, ויש לדאוב בכל מקרה שמעשה ידיו של הקב"ה
טובעים בים. בנקודה זו מהווה הגורם הכמותי גורם בעל משמעות, ויש בהחלט לשקול את
מידת הצידוק שבפגיעה ברבים על מנת להציל את היחיד.
The price [of war] is also paid by the enemy, who is
also graced with the Divine image, and one should grieve whenever G-d's creations drown in the sea. On
this point, the issue of quantity is meaningful, and one certainly must weigh
the justifications for harming many in order to save an individual.
The eternal war with Amalek: Where does it come from,
and where is it going?
19. Verses of Amalek
- Bereishit 36:12 Amalek is the
grandson of Esav
- Shemot 17 Amalek's first unprovoked attack in the
wilderness
- Bamidbar 14 Amalek's second unprovoked attack in the
wilderness
- Devarim 25 Amalek's first unprovoked attack in the
wilderness, re-told
- Shoftim 3 Amalek and Moav join forces against the
Jews
- Shoftim 6 Amalek and Midian join forces against the
Jews
- Shemuel I 15 King Saul leads a war against Amalek
- Shemuel I 27 Future-King David raids Amalek
- Shemuel I 30 Amalek burns down the Jewish city of Tziklag
- Shemuel II 1 An Amalekite claims to have murdered King Saul
- Divrei haYamim I 4 The tribe of Shimon wages war upon
Amalek
20. Talmud Yerushalmi,
Yevamot 2:6
"כי המן בן המדתא".
וכי בן המדתא היה? אלא צורר בן צורר אוף הכא קוצץ בן קוצץ.
"For Haman, son of Hamedata" – Was Haman
really a son of Hamedata? No; the text is simply identifying Haman as an
enemy, "son of" an enemy.
21. Talmud, Gittin 57b
מבני בניו של המן למדו תורה בבני ברק
Some of Haman's grandchildren learned Torah in Bnei
Brak.
22. Rabbi Joseph Dov Soloveitchik, Fate and Destiny,
footnote 25, citing Rabbi Moshe Soloveitchik
If any people seeks to
destroy us, we are commanded to do battle against it when it
rises up against us, and this battle of ours is an obligatory war on the basis
of the verse from Exodus (17:16), "The Lord will have war with Amalek
from generation to generation."
23. Elliott Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the
Legacy of Jewish Violence, pg. 1
In the spring of 2004, as this book was slouching
toward completion, Jeffrey Goldberg reported in the New Yorker about a series of disturbIing
interviews he had recently conducted with Jewish settlers in the West Bank and
Gaza. "The Palestinians are Amalek," he was told by Benzi Lieberman,
chairman of the Council of Settlements. "We will destroy them,"
Lieberman continued. "We won't kill them all. But we will destroy their
ability to think as a nation. We will destroy Palestinian nationalism."
And Moshe Feiglin, a leading Likud activist, told Goldberg: "The Arabs
engage in typical Amalek behavior. I can't prove this genetically, but this is
the behavior of Amalek."
The bloody war of Purim: How bloody was it?
24. Esther 8:5-8
וַתֹּאמֶר אִם־עַל־הַמֶּלֶךְ טוֹב וְאִם־מָצָאתִי חֵן לְפָנָיו וְכָשֵׁר
הַדָּבָר לִפְנֵי הַמֶּלֶךְ וְטוֹבָה אֲנִי בְּעֵינָיו יִכָּתֵב לְהָשִׁיב
אֶת־הַסְּפָרִים מַחֲשֶׁבֶת הָמָן בֶּן־הַמְּדָתָא הָאֲגָגִי אֲשֶׁר כָּתַב
לְאַבֵּד אֶת־הַיְּהוּדִים אֲשֶׁר בְּכָל־מְדִינוֹת הַמֶּלֶךְ... וַיֹּאמֶר
הַמֶּלֶךְ אֲחַשְׁוֵרֹשׁ לְאֶסְתֵּר הַמַּלְכָּה וּלְמָרְדֳּכַי הַיְּהוּדִי
הִנֵּה בֵית־הָמָן נָתַתִּי לְאֶסְתֵּר וְאֹתוֹ תָּלוּ עַל־הָעֵץ עַל
אֲשֶׁר־שָׁלַח יָדוֹ בַּיְּהוּדִים: וְאַתֶּם כִּתְבוּ עַל־הַיְּהוּדִים כַּטּוֹב
בְּעֵינֵיכֶם בְּשֵׁם הַמֶּלֶךְ וְחִתְמוּ בְּטַבַּעַת הַמֶּלֶךְ כִּי־כְתָב
אֲשֶׁר־נִכְתָּב בְּשֵׁם־הַמֶּלֶךְ וְנַחְתּוֹם בְּטַבַּעַת הַמֶּלֶךְ אֵין
לְהָשִׁיב:
And Esther said: If it would be good before the king,
and if I have found favour before him, and if it would be appropriate before
the king, and if I would be good in his eyes, let it be recorded to retract
the scrolls, the plan of Haman son of Hamedata the Aggagite, who has
written to destroy the Jews in all of the king's lands!...
And King Achashverosh said to Queen Esther and to Mordechai
the Jew: Behold, I have given the house of Haman to Esther, and they have hung
him upon the tree for sending his hand against the Jews. Now, write upon the
Jews as is good in your eyes in the name of the king, and seal it with the
king's ring, for one may not retract a text written in the king's name and
sealed with the king's ring.
25. Esther 8:10-11
וַיִּכְתֹּב בְּשֵׁם הַמֶּלֶךְ אֲחַשְׁוֵרֹשׁ וַיַּחְתֹּם בְּטַבַּעַת
הַמֶּלֶךְ וַיִּשְׁלַח סְפָרִים בְּיַד הָרָצִים בַּסּוּסִים רֹכְבֵי הָרֶכֶשׁ
הָאֲחַשְׁתְּרָנִים בְּנֵי הָרַמָּכִים: אֲשֶׁר נָתַן הַמֶּלֶךְ לַיְּהוּדִים
אֲשֶׁר בְּכָל־עִיר־וָעִיר לְהִקָּהֵל וְלַעֲמֹד עַל־נַפְשָׁם לְהַשְׁמִיד
וְלַהֲרֹג וּלְאַבֵּד אֶת־כָּל־חֵיל עַם וּמְדִינָה הַצָּרִים אֹתָם טַף וְנָשִׁים
וּשְׁלָלָם לָבוֹז:
And he wrote in the name of King Achashverosh… that
the king had permitted the Jews of every city to gather and stand upon their
lives, to destroy and kill and eliminate the collective might of the nations
who had besieged them, children and women, and take their spoils.
26. Esther 9:15-16
וַיִּקָּהֲלוּ הַיְּהוּדִים אֲשֶׁר־בְּשׁוּשָׁן גַּם בְּיוֹם אַרְבָּעָה
עָשָׂר לְחֹדֶשׁ אֲדָר וַיַּהַרְגוּ בְשׁוּשָׁן שְׁלֹשׁ מֵאוֹת אִישׁ וּבַבִּזָּה
לֹא שָׁלְחוּ אֶת־יָדָם: וּשְׁאָר הַיְּהוּדִים אֲשֶׁר בִּמְדִינוֹת הַמֶּלֶךְ
נִקְהֲלוּ וְעָמֹד עַל־נַפְשָׁם וְנוֹחַ מֵאֹיְבֵיהֶם וְהָרֹג בְּשֹׂנְאֵיהֶם
חֲמִשָּׁה וְשִׁבְעִים אָלֶף וּבַבִּזָּה לֹא שָׁלְחוּ אֶת־יָדָם
And the Jews of Shushan gathered on the 14th
of Adar as well, and they killed in Shushan 300 men, and they did not extend
their hand to the spoils. And the rest of the Jews in the king's lands
gathered and stood for their lives, and gained reprieve from their foes,
and killed their enemies, 75,000, and they did not extend their hand
to the spoils.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
The Supreme Court of Canada Recognizes a Right to Die
This past Friday, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled that the federal ban on assisting suicide violates the rights of Canadian citizens. As they put it here, "The prohibition on physician‑assisted dying infringes the right to life, liberty and security of the person in a manner that is not in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice." They ruled that the prohibition is "of no force or effect to the extent that they prohibit physician-assisted death for a competent adult person who (1) clearly consents to the termination of life and (2) has a grievous and irremediable medical condition (including an illness, disease or disability) that causes enduring suffering that is intolerable to the individual in the circumstances of his or her condition." The Canadian legislature now has twelve months to re-write the law to accommodate the view of the Supreme Court.
This is not the space for a full treatment of this subject (feel free to come to my upcoming talk on the subject at Shaarei Shomayim in Toronto on February 23rd). I will not go into halachah here, other than to say that Jewish law is very clear in forbidding actively ending a patient's life.
In this space, I'd just like to point out a tried and true legal principle: Hard cases make bad law. It would be inhuman and un-Jewish to deny the wishes of people who are suffering without remedy - but crafting legislation to address exceptionally difficult situations will produce laws that endanger the rest of society.
Here are some of the challenges such laws would need to address:
* Will we impose age limits, or will we go the way of Belgium, which permits the death of minors? In the Netherlands, a 17 year old - who cannot be trusted to vote - can override parental refusal and choose death.
* How will we avoid pressure on patients to choose assisted death? As Margaret Dore, a lawyer in the state of Washington, has testified from her experience with their legalized assisted suicide, the existence of this option leads to subtle and unsubtle pressure upon patients to choose death.
* Who will advise the patient in this matter? Will we ask doctors, who function as the protectors of our healthcare resources, to counsel patients on whether or not to tax those resources? [Indeed, the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada notes that doctors must be able to "Appreciate the possibility of conflict inherent in their role as a health advocate for a patient or community with that of manager or gatekeeper".]
* Who will testify as to the patient's wishes, where the patient cannot speak? Paragraph 27 of Quebec's Assisted Suicide bill permits relatives to testify [only minors and members of the healthcare "team" may not do so]. Mind you, our Succession Law will not allow relatives to testify regarding the authenticity of a will, because of conflict of interest... but they could testify that a patient wanted to die?
* Will physicians be compelled to help end lives of patients? As noted by the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario, physicians are not necessarily permitted to refuse to treat on moral or religious grounds.
* Who is going to pay for this - should OHIP (Ontario's provincial health insurance), which doesn't cover routine dental and eye exams, pay for death? [Paragraph 26 of Quebec's Act seems to say that Quebec's provincial health insurance does cover the cost of ending a patient's life.] And if not, then could a suffering person be denied death - a human right, per the Supreme Court - because he couldn't pay for it?
As I said above, we must find a way to help people who are suffering. But in my view, licensing assisted suicide is fraught with so many problems as to make responsible legislation an impossibility.
This is not the space for a full treatment of this subject (feel free to come to my upcoming talk on the subject at Shaarei Shomayim in Toronto on February 23rd). I will not go into halachah here, other than to say that Jewish law is very clear in forbidding actively ending a patient's life.
In this space, I'd just like to point out a tried and true legal principle: Hard cases make bad law. It would be inhuman and un-Jewish to deny the wishes of people who are suffering without remedy - but crafting legislation to address exceptionally difficult situations will produce laws that endanger the rest of society.
Here are some of the challenges such laws would need to address:
* Will we impose age limits, or will we go the way of Belgium, which permits the death of minors? In the Netherlands, a 17 year old - who cannot be trusted to vote - can override parental refusal and choose death.
* How will we avoid pressure on patients to choose assisted death? As Margaret Dore, a lawyer in the state of Washington, has testified from her experience with their legalized assisted suicide, the existence of this option leads to subtle and unsubtle pressure upon patients to choose death.
* Who will advise the patient in this matter? Will we ask doctors, who function as the protectors of our healthcare resources, to counsel patients on whether or not to tax those resources? [Indeed, the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada notes that doctors must be able to "Appreciate the possibility of conflict inherent in their role as a health advocate for a patient or community with that of manager or gatekeeper".]
* Who will testify as to the patient's wishes, where the patient cannot speak? Paragraph 27 of Quebec's Assisted Suicide bill permits relatives to testify [only minors and members of the healthcare "team" may not do so]. Mind you, our Succession Law will not allow relatives to testify regarding the authenticity of a will, because of conflict of interest... but they could testify that a patient wanted to die?
* Will physicians be compelled to help end lives of patients? As noted by the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario, physicians are not necessarily permitted to refuse to treat on moral or religious grounds.
* Who is going to pay for this - should OHIP (Ontario's provincial health insurance), which doesn't cover routine dental and eye exams, pay for death? [Paragraph 26 of Quebec's Act seems to say that Quebec's provincial health insurance does cover the cost of ending a patient's life.] And if not, then could a suffering person be denied death - a human right, per the Supreme Court - because he couldn't pay for it?
As I said above, we must find a way to help people who are suffering. But in my view, licensing assisted suicide is fraught with so many problems as to make responsible legislation an impossibility.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Why ISIS burned the pilot
Since ISIS began spreading a video showing their burning of captured Jordanian pilot Moath al-Kasaesbeh, various writers have tried to explain the psychology behind both the burning and its publication. CNN posted a piece suggesting the act was meant to communicate fearlessness. Forbes added that it was a recruiting tool, meant to appeal to those who would find it attractive. The Observer explained the video as intimidation of potential opposition.
I believe there is merit to all of those points, but to me there is another, deeper issue involved: Religion. Put simply, burning Moath al-Kasaesbeh alive, and posting the video, was not necessarily part of a strategy. Rather, it was a religious act for ISIS. Indeed, along with the video they disseminated "talking points" providing an Islamic justification for their actions.
It is fundamental to the nature of a religious cult that members of the cult see inherent beauty in fulfilling its religious demands - and the more demanding, the better. To a member of a religious cult, the sight of cult members joyously carrying out their duties is the most attractive and inspiring scene imaginable. (Indeed, ISIS made sure to air footage of cheering crowds, including young children.) As far as the objections of outsiders - they are simply uninformed non-initiates, who don't understand. So ISIS had no concern for international revulsion; to them, any objective observer would recognize the beauty in the burning. Anyone else is simply a fool unworthy of consideration.
But if that's correct, then we must ask: what about us? Jews also see inherent beauty in fulfillment of our religion's demands. And indeed, when people outside our community express hostile opinions of our practices - shechitah (kosher animal slaughter), for example, or brit milah (circumcision) - we, too, might write them off as uninformed. So if religious fervor can so drastically corrupt the human moral compass, how can we prevent ourselves from misinterpreting Judaism and descending to ISIS-level depravity?
Judaism has an important, albeit fragile, safety net: respect for the opinion of non-Jewish society. From the biblical message (Bereishit 1:27) that all human beings are created "in the image of G-d"...
to the biblical examples of non-Hebrews like Malkitzedek (Bereishit 14) and Yitro (Shemot 18) as people whose opinions mattered to our righteous ancestors...
to the talmudic declaration that "The law of the government is the law" (Bava Kama 113a)...
to the talmudic observation that "The pious of the nations of the world also gain admittance to the next world" (Taanit 29a, Yalkut Shimoni 765)...
to the legal obligation of kiddush HaShem (sanctifying G-d's Name in the eyes of the world) (Yechezkel 38:23, Yoma 86a, Yerushalmi Bava Metzia 2:5)...
...Jewish tradition teaches the Jew to value the opinion of his non-Jewish neighbours. Not to the extent of denying G-d's Word and cancelling the Torah, but to the extent of compelling us to think very carefully when our values don't fit those of general society, and to accept outside wisdom when appropriate.
Of course, there are areas in which the Torah's laws ultimately do run counter to society's values, where society and Jewish tradition view each other reciprocally as benighted. Some areas cannot be reconciled, and that's why I view this safety net as "fragile". But overall, our respect for the opinions of those who are outside our circle plays an important self-policing role, ensuring that we do not fall into self-absorbed, ISIS-style excesses. Thank G-d for this very important element of Judaism.
May we always be careful to preserve that respect, and the self-awareness it brings.
I believe there is merit to all of those points, but to me there is another, deeper issue involved: Religion. Put simply, burning Moath al-Kasaesbeh alive, and posting the video, was not necessarily part of a strategy. Rather, it was a religious act for ISIS. Indeed, along with the video they disseminated "talking points" providing an Islamic justification for their actions.
It is fundamental to the nature of a religious cult that members of the cult see inherent beauty in fulfilling its religious demands - and the more demanding, the better. To a member of a religious cult, the sight of cult members joyously carrying out their duties is the most attractive and inspiring scene imaginable. (Indeed, ISIS made sure to air footage of cheering crowds, including young children.) As far as the objections of outsiders - they are simply uninformed non-initiates, who don't understand. So ISIS had no concern for international revulsion; to them, any objective observer would recognize the beauty in the burning. Anyone else is simply a fool unworthy of consideration.
But if that's correct, then we must ask: what about us? Jews also see inherent beauty in fulfillment of our religion's demands. And indeed, when people outside our community express hostile opinions of our practices - shechitah (kosher animal slaughter), for example, or brit milah (circumcision) - we, too, might write them off as uninformed. So if religious fervor can so drastically corrupt the human moral compass, how can we prevent ourselves from misinterpreting Judaism and descending to ISIS-level depravity?
Judaism has an important, albeit fragile, safety net: respect for the opinion of non-Jewish society. From the biblical message (Bereishit 1:27) that all human beings are created "in the image of G-d"...
to the biblical examples of non-Hebrews like Malkitzedek (Bereishit 14) and Yitro (Shemot 18) as people whose opinions mattered to our righteous ancestors...
to the talmudic declaration that "The law of the government is the law" (Bava Kama 113a)...
to the talmudic observation that "The pious of the nations of the world also gain admittance to the next world" (Taanit 29a, Yalkut Shimoni 765)...
to the legal obligation of kiddush HaShem (sanctifying G-d's Name in the eyes of the world) (Yechezkel 38:23, Yoma 86a, Yerushalmi Bava Metzia 2:5)...
...Jewish tradition teaches the Jew to value the opinion of his non-Jewish neighbours. Not to the extent of denying G-d's Word and cancelling the Torah, but to the extent of compelling us to think very carefully when our values don't fit those of general society, and to accept outside wisdom when appropriate.
Of course, there are areas in which the Torah's laws ultimately do run counter to society's values, where society and Jewish tradition view each other reciprocally as benighted. Some areas cannot be reconciled, and that's why I view this safety net as "fragile". But overall, our respect for the opinions of those who are outside our circle plays an important self-policing role, ensuring that we do not fall into self-absorbed, ISIS-style excesses. Thank G-d for this very important element of Judaism.
May we always be careful to preserve that respect, and the self-awareness it brings.
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