"Broken Windows" is a name for a crime-fighting approach which says that society can reduce the overall level of severe crime if it takes action against the initial steps of lighter crime - vandalism, for example. You can see more information about it, as well as criticism, here.
I have found that the same approach helps with my continual search for greater kavvanah (focus) in my davening (prayer). There are initial steps that begin the distraction, and if I can catch those and halt/prevent them, I am more likely to succeed in davening as I wish.
Examples of "broken windows":
1. The first moment when a voice in my head says, "Have you taken care of..." or "What will you do about...". (When possible, I jot down the subject on a piece of paper, enabling me to dismiss it without fear of forgetting it.)
2. Having a distracting object in my line of sight. (See Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 90:23.)
3. Walking around while davening.
4. Coming into davening as it starts (or later).
5. Engaging in a serious conversation right before davening. (Yes, this is already identified as a problem in the fifth chapter of Berachot. For that matter, so is #4.)
6. Learning Torah during davening. (See my Chocolate Chip Pizza post here.)
7. Telling someone, "I'll speak with you right after davening." (cf. Rabbi Preida on Eruvin 54b.)
Does this resonate? What "broken windows" would you add?
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
If it were my parent...
[In case you are interested, I prepared a brief podcast for "The Famous Abba" for Parshas Shoftim; it's available here. The site also offers a "Shabbos Sheet" available here.]
The scene takes place all the time, in hospitals everywhere. An elderly patient is unconscious, and in danger of imminent death. Only dramatic medical intervention will save the patient's life. The family agonizes over the decision - What would Mom want?
The family consults medical staff, who explain the situation and outline the various options. And then a sympathetic doctor or nurse adds, "If it was my mother, I would..." "This happened with my father, and..."
The medical professionals mean well, of course; they are demonstrating that their advice is grounded in a sincere desire to help. What could be more sincere than their actions for their own parents?
Nonetheless, I fear that this approach is morally wrong.
It is true that medical professionals are more familiar with the treatments and their likely outcomes. And it is certainly true that they have a better medical understanding of what is happening. However: Whatever the doctor or nurse would do for their parents would not be a pure medical decision - it would involve many external factors, from their personal ethical codes to their relationships with their parents to their relationships with the other decision-makers, and so on. In short, this is not medical advice, but in our situation it is being offered with misplaced medical authority.
In the context of a hospital room, at a moment when medical professionals are speaking with authority on the medical situation, that authority is easily transferred to their non-medical advice. It is difficult for distraught families to discern where medical advice ends and non-medical advice begins. To my mind, trading on the respect patients have for their medical knowledge to promote a particular path is inappropriate.
To give an example from another field: If a stock broker were to advise me on my investments by saying, "I would suggest investing in XYZ mutual fund; that's where I've told my mother to invest," that would be inappropriate. Without explaining her mother's portfolio, stage in life, and personality, she would be presenting me with an incomplete picture - while giving it the weight of her authority in investing.
Twice, I've mentioned this problem when speaking to medical groups; each time, my perspective has been met by a mix of nodding heads and immobile heads. My sense is that the non-responsive participants think I'm wrong, but I'm not clear on why. Where is the flaw in my objection?
The scene takes place all the time, in hospitals everywhere. An elderly patient is unconscious, and in danger of imminent death. Only dramatic medical intervention will save the patient's life. The family agonizes over the decision - What would Mom want?
The family consults medical staff, who explain the situation and outline the various options. And then a sympathetic doctor or nurse adds, "If it was my mother, I would..." "This happened with my father, and..."
The medical professionals mean well, of course; they are demonstrating that their advice is grounded in a sincere desire to help. What could be more sincere than their actions for their own parents?
Nonetheless, I fear that this approach is morally wrong.
It is true that medical professionals are more familiar with the treatments and their likely outcomes. And it is certainly true that they have a better medical understanding of what is happening. However: Whatever the doctor or nurse would do for their parents would not be a pure medical decision - it would involve many external factors, from their personal ethical codes to their relationships with their parents to their relationships with the other decision-makers, and so on. In short, this is not medical advice, but in our situation it is being offered with misplaced medical authority.
In the context of a hospital room, at a moment when medical professionals are speaking with authority on the medical situation, that authority is easily transferred to their non-medical advice. It is difficult for distraught families to discern where medical advice ends and non-medical advice begins. To my mind, trading on the respect patients have for their medical knowledge to promote a particular path is inappropriate.
To give an example from another field: If a stock broker were to advise me on my investments by saying, "I would suggest investing in XYZ mutual fund; that's where I've told my mother to invest," that would be inappropriate. Without explaining her mother's portfolio, stage in life, and personality, she would be presenting me with an incomplete picture - while giving it the weight of her authority in investing.
Twice, I've mentioned this problem when speaking to medical groups; each time, my perspective has been met by a mix of nodding heads and immobile heads. My sense is that the non-responsive participants think I'm wrong, but I'm not clear on why. Where is the flaw in my objection?
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Another Seat Change Scandal
The stories are familiar from flights to/from Israel, but now we have one in Canada. Per CBC News, an "ultra-Orthodox" man on a Porter Airlines flight from Newark to Toronto requested that a woman, Christine Flynn, change her seat, so that he wouldn't need to sit next to her on the flight.
The article includes harsh indictments of the man and his religion:
Flynn said she might have been willing to accommodate the man had he spoken to her directly and politely asked her to switch seats. She admits language may have been a factor — saying his English "wasn't terrific" — but said his refusal to even make eye contact was offensive.
"He could have made a plan, he could have put in a request," Flynn said in an interview Wednesday on CBC Radio's Metro Morning. "When someone doesn't look at you, and when someone doesn't acknowledge you as person because of your gender, you're a lot less willing to be accommodating.
"Leaving it to the last minute and expecting me to move is appalling. He's expecting me to fall in to that archetypical feminine role and acquiesce."
And:
Flynn says she's frustrated she was asked to move and upset others on the flight were willing to help the man.
"I have a problem with that. He [the flight attendant] probably, maybe, didn't realize that asking a woman to move because the fact she had a uterus made the man next to her uncomfortable ... I don't think he even would have put it together that that's kind of insulting and maybe even discriminatory," she said.
"If someone had refused to sit next to me because I was gay and maybe they were some kind of old-school religion that doesn't like gay people no one would have switched with him. It would have been off the table," she said.
[Update: I have now seen another CBC article on the story, here. Not any better, sorry to say.]
My three thoughts:
1. The man should recognize that taking public transportation may involve sitting beside women. If he believes that sitting beside her is wrong (and he certainly has basis in Shulchan Aruch), then it is not her job to move; it's his job to move. If he doesn't want to sit next to a woman, and he cannot select a seat guaranteeing that, then he should find another means of travel.
2. The man is guilty of chillul HaShem, desecrating Gd's Name, for voluntarily taking public transportation and then practicing this discriminatory act.
And yes, I do believe this qualifies as discrimination, per the Supreme Court of Canada (Andrews v. Law Society of Canada, 1989): Discrimination may be described as a distinction, whether intentional or not but based on grounds relating to personal characteristics of the individual or group, which has the effect of imposing burdens, obligations, or disadvantages on such individual or group not imposed upon others, or which withholds or limits access to opportunities, benefits, and advantages available to other members of society.
Since a man would not have been asked to move, this is discriminatory.
3. The people interviewed in the article and writing in the comments are depressingly judgmental. I know that they feel no obligation to assume the best of someone, but do they really need to assume the worst?
They assume the man did this because he sees the woman as evil or dirty because she "had a uterus". In truth, separating men and women is simply a barrier against sexual impropriety - a woman might make the same request for a man to move.
Of course, society as a whole doesn't view sitting next to someone as a sexually charged situation - but society as a whole has an abysmal track record for sexual safety. I personally don't believe that switching seats was required by Jewish law, but frankly, if people would observe such strictures then we would be able to avoid much of the rampant sexual harassment and abuse we tolerate as "normal" in our world.
I wish the writer had interviewed someone with knowledge of Judaism.
The article includes harsh indictments of the man and his religion:
Flynn said she might have been willing to accommodate the man had he spoken to her directly and politely asked her to switch seats. She admits language may have been a factor — saying his English "wasn't terrific" — but said his refusal to even make eye contact was offensive.
"He could have made a plan, he could have put in a request," Flynn said in an interview Wednesday on CBC Radio's Metro Morning. "When someone doesn't look at you, and when someone doesn't acknowledge you as person because of your gender, you're a lot less willing to be accommodating.
"Leaving it to the last minute and expecting me to move is appalling. He's expecting me to fall in to that archetypical feminine role and acquiesce."
And:
Flynn says she's frustrated she was asked to move and upset others on the flight were willing to help the man.
"I have a problem with that. He [the flight attendant] probably, maybe, didn't realize that asking a woman to move because the fact she had a uterus made the man next to her uncomfortable ... I don't think he even would have put it together that that's kind of insulting and maybe even discriminatory," she said.
"If someone had refused to sit next to me because I was gay and maybe they were some kind of old-school religion that doesn't like gay people no one would have switched with him. It would have been off the table," she said.
[Update: I have now seen another CBC article on the story, here. Not any better, sorry to say.]
My three thoughts:
1. The man should recognize that taking public transportation may involve sitting beside women. If he believes that sitting beside her is wrong (and he certainly has basis in Shulchan Aruch), then it is not her job to move; it's his job to move. If he doesn't want to sit next to a woman, and he cannot select a seat guaranteeing that, then he should find another means of travel.
2. The man is guilty of chillul HaShem, desecrating Gd's Name, for voluntarily taking public transportation and then practicing this discriminatory act.
And yes, I do believe this qualifies as discrimination, per the Supreme Court of Canada (Andrews v. Law Society of Canada, 1989): Discrimination may be described as a distinction, whether intentional or not but based on grounds relating to personal characteristics of the individual or group, which has the effect of imposing burdens, obligations, or disadvantages on such individual or group not imposed upon others, or which withholds or limits access to opportunities, benefits, and advantages available to other members of society.
Since a man would not have been asked to move, this is discriminatory.
3. The people interviewed in the article and writing in the comments are depressingly judgmental. I know that they feel no obligation to assume the best of someone, but do they really need to assume the worst?
They assume the man did this because he sees the woman as evil or dirty because she "had a uterus". In truth, separating men and women is simply a barrier against sexual impropriety - a woman might make the same request for a man to move.
Of course, society as a whole doesn't view sitting next to someone as a sexually charged situation - but society as a whole has an abysmal track record for sexual safety. I personally don't believe that switching seats was required by Jewish law, but frankly, if people would observe such strictures then we would be able to avoid much of the rampant sexual harassment and abuse we tolerate as "normal" in our world.
I wish the writer had interviewed someone with knowledge of Judaism.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi's Tzion Halo Tishali
I have put together an English translation of Rabbi Yehudah haLevi's beautiful Tziyon Halo Tishali. Of course, you can find it translated in various Hebrew/English editions of kinot, but the translations I have seen on-line have not satisfied me.
To make reading easier, I have divided up the poem into six parts based on themes I see there:
Lines 1-8 - A sense of abandonment; does Zion cry for us?
Lines 9-20 - Zion as the spiritual home of the Shechinah
Lines 21-38 - I wish I were there in the Zion of the Shechinah, even as a mourner!
Lines 39-46 - Mourning for the devastation of physical Zion
Lines 47-56 - We miss you, as a nation
Lines 57-68 - Your glory is great, and we will return
Note that there are various lines which are subject to multiple editions; my text may not match yours. Check the Hebrew below.
I would welcome suggestions and corrections.
English:
Hebrew:
To make reading easier, I have divided up the poem into six parts based on themes I see there:
Lines 1-8 - A sense of abandonment; does Zion cry for us?
Lines 9-20 - Zion as the spiritual home of the Shechinah
Lines 21-38 - I wish I were there in the Zion of the Shechinah, even as a mourner!
Lines 39-46 - Mourning for the devastation of physical Zion
Lines 47-56 - We miss you, as a nation
Lines 57-68 - Your glory is great, and we will return
Note that there are various lines which are subject to multiple editions; my text may not match yours. Check the Hebrew below.
I would welcome suggestions and corrections.
English:
Zion,
will you not ask after the welfare of your prisoners,
Who
seek your welfare, and are the remnant of your flock?
From
west and east, and from north and south,
The
welfare of those far and near, inquire from all of your sides.
And
the welfare of the prisoner of hope, who sheds tears like Hermon’s dew,
And
yearns for them to descend upon your mountains.
Crying
for your suffering, I am a jackal,
And
when I dream of the return of your captives, I am a harp for your songs.
My
heart is to Bethel, and for Peniel it greatly yearns,
And
for Machanaim and all of the rendezvous of your pure ones,
There
the Shechinah resides for you,
And
your Creator opened your gates opposite the gates of Heaven,
And
the glory of Gd alone was your luminary,
And
the Sun, Moon and stars were not your luminaries.
I
would choose for my soul to be poured out
In
the place where the spirit of Gd was poured out upon your chosen ones.
You,
house of royalty, and you, throne of Gd,
How
could slaves now sit upon the thrones of your masters?
If
only I could wander
Upon
the places where Gd was revealed to your seers and messengers!
If
only I had wings, and I would fly far away,
I
would cause the pieces of my heart to wander among your pieces.
I
would fall on my face upon your earth,
And
I would desire your stones greatly, and favour your dust.
Even
when I would stand upon the graves of my ancestors,
And
I would be overwhelmed in Chevron, upon the choicest of your graves.
I
would travel your forests and Carmel, and stand in your Gilead,
And
I would be overwhelmed upon the mountain of your crossing,
Har
ha’Avarim and Hor haHar,
The
places of the two great lights, your luminaries and teachers.
The
life of souls, air of your earth,
And
the dust of your dirt better than sweet myrrh, and your rivers better than the
drippings of honeycombs.
It
would be pleasant for my spirit, to walk unclothed and barefoot
Upon
the desolate ruins which were your Holy of Holies,
In
the place where your Ark was hidden,
And
in the place of your cherubs, which resided in your rooms within rooms.
I
would shear off and cast down the splendour of my crown, and curse the time
When
your nazirites were desecrated in an impure land.
How
could eating and drinking be sweet for me, when I see
That
dogs drag away your young lions?
Or
how could the light of day be sweet for my eyes,
When
I see in the mouth of ravens the corpses of your nesharim?
The
cup of misery, slow! Release a bit,
For
my innards and soul are already full of your bitterness.
When
I remember Oholoh, I drink of your wine,
And
when I remember Oholibah I squeeze out your sediment.
Zion,
crown of beauty, braided with love and favour since back then,
And
in you are braided the souls of your friends.
They
are the ones who rejoice at your peace,
And
who are pained at your desolaton, and who cry upon your ruins.
From
the pit of captivity, they yearn toward you,
And
they bow, each from his place, toward your gates,
The
flocks of your multitudes, who were exiled,
And
who were scattered from mountain to hill, but did not forget your pastures.
Who
hold your hems, and struggle to ascend,
And
to hold the branches of your dates.
Will
Shinar and Patros compare with you in their size,
And
will their futility be compared with your Urim v’Tummim?
To
whom will they compare your anointed and your prophets,
And
to whom your Levites and your singers?
Let
all of the idolatrous empires change and pass entirely,
Your
strength is forever, your crown for all generations.
He
desired you for the dwelling of your Gd,
Fortunate
is the one who will choose, draw near, and dwell in your streets.
Fortunate
is the one who waits and arrives and sees the rising of your light,
And
your dawns will break upon him,
To
see the good of your chosen ones, and to celebrate in your joy
When you return to your early youth.Hebrew:
צִיּוֹן, הֲלֹא תִשְׁאֲלִי לִשְׁלוֹם אֲסִירַיִךְ,
דּוֹרְשֵׁי שְׁלוֹמֵךְ וְהֵם יֶתֶר עֲדָרָיִךְ?
מִיָּם וּמִזְרָח וּמִצָּפוֹן וְתֵימָן
שְׁלוֹם רָחוֹק וְקָרוֹב שְׂאִי מִכֹּל עֲבָרָיִךְ.
וּשְׁלוֹם אֲסִיר תּקוָה, נוֹתֵן דְּמָעָיו כְּטַל חֶרְמוֹן
וְנִכְסַף לְרִדְתָּם עַל הֲרָרָיִךְ.
לִבְכּוֹת עֱנוּתֵךְ אֲנִי תַנִּים,
וְעֵת אֶחֱלֹם שִׁיבַת שְׁבוּתֵך אֲנִי כִנּוֹר לְשִׁירָיִךְ.
לִבִּי לְבֵית-אֵל וְלִפְנִיאֵל מְאֹד יֶהֱמֶה
וּלְמַחֲנַיִם וְכֹל פִּגְעֵי טְהוֹרָיִךְ,
שָׁם הַשְּׁכִינָה שְׁכֵנָה לָךְ,
וְיּוֹצְרֵךְ פָּתַח לְמוּל שַׁעֲרֵי שַׁחַק שְׁעָרָיִךְ,
וּכְבוֹד ד' לְבַד הָיָה מְאוֹרֵךְ,
וְאֵין שֶׁמֶשׁ וְסַהַר וְכוֹכָבִים מְאִירָיִךְ.
אֶבְחַר לְנַפְשִׁי לְהִשְׁתַּפֵּךְ
בְּמָקוֹם אֲשֶר רוּחַ אלקים שְׁפוּכָה עַל בְּחִירָיִךְ.
אַתְּ בֵּית מְלוּכָה וְאַתְּ כִּסֵּא ד',
וְאֵיךְ יָשְׁבוּ עֲבָדִים עֲלֵי כִסְאוֹת גְּבִירָיִךְ?
מִי יִתְּנֵנִי מְשׁוֹטֵט
בַּמְּקוֹמוֹת אֲשֶׁר נִגְלוּ אלקים לְחוֹזַיִךְ וְצִירָיִךְ.
מִי יַעֲשֶׂה לִי כְנָפַיִם וְאַרְחִיק נְדוֹד,
אָנִיד לְבִתְרֵי לְבָבִי בֵּין בְּתָרָיִךְ.
אֶפֹּל לְאַפַּי עֲלֵי אַרְצֵךְ
וְאֶרְצֶה אֲבָנַיִךְ מְאֹד וַאֲחֹנֵן אֶת-עֲפָרָיִךְ,
אַף כִּי בְעָמְדִי עֲלֵי קִבְרוֹת אֲבֹתַי
וְאֶשְׁתּוֹמֵם בְּחֶבְרוֹן עֲלֵי מִבְחַר קְבָרָיִךְ.
אֶעְבֹר בְּיַעְרֵךְ וְכַרְמִלֵּךְ וְאֶעְמֹד בְּגִלְעָדֵךְ
וְאֶשְׁתּוֹמֲמָה אֶל הַר עֲבָרָיִךְ,
הַר הָעֲבָרִים וְהֹר הָהָר,
אֲשֶׁר שָׁם שְׁנֵי אוֹרִים גְּדוֹלִים מְאִירַיִךְ
וּמוֹרָיִךְ.
חַיֵּי נְשָׁמוֹת אֲוִיר אַרְצֵךְ,
וּמִמָּר דְרוֹר אַבְקַת עֲפָרֵךְ, וְנֹפֶת צוּף נְהָרָיִךְ.
יִנְעַם לְנַפְשִׁי הֲלֹךְ עָרֹם וְיָחֵף
עֲלֵי חָרְבוֹת שְׁמָמָה אֲשֶׁר הָיוּ דְבִירָיִךְ,
בִּמְקוֹם אֲרוֹנֵךְ אֲשֶׁר נִגְנַז,
וּבִמְקוֹם כְּרוּבַיִךְ אֲשֶׁר שָׁכְנוּ חַדְרֵי חֲדָרָיִךְ.
אָגֹז וְאַשְׁלִיךְ פְּאֵר נִזְרִי וְאֶקֹּב זְמָן,
חִלֵּל בְּאֶרֶץ טְמֵאָה אֶת נְזִירָיִךְ.
אֵיךְ יֶעֱרַב לִי אֲכֹל וּשְׁתוֹת בְּעֵת אֶחֱזֶה,
כִּי יִּסְחֲבוּ הַכְּלָבִים אֶת כְּפִירָיִךְ?
אוֹ אֵיךְ מְאוֹר יוֹם יְהִי מָתוֹק לְעֵינַי
בְּעוֹד אֶרְאֶה בְּפִי עֹרְבִים פִּגְרֵי נְשָׁרָיִךְ?
כּוֹס הַיְגוֹנִים, לְאַט, הַרְפִּי מְעַט,
כִּי כְבָר מָלְאוּ כְסָלַי וְנַפְשִׁי מַמְּרוֹרָיִךְ.
עֵת אֶזְכְּרָה אָהֳלָה אֶשְׁתֶּה חֲמָרֵךְ,
וְאֶזְכֹּר אָהֳלִיבָה וְאֶמְצֶה אֶת-שְׁמָרָיִךְ.
צִיּוֹן כְּלִילַת יֳפִי, אַהְבָה וְחֵן תִּקְשְׁרִי מֵאָז,
וּבָךְ נִקְשְׁרוּ נַפְשׁוֹת חֲבֵרָיִךְ.
הֵם הַשְּׂמֵחִים לְשַׁלְוָתֵךְ,
וְהַכּוֹאֲבִים עַל שׁוֹמֲמוּתֵךְ וּבוֹכִים עַל שְׁבָרָיִךְ.
מִבּוֹר שְׁבִי שׁוֹאֲפִים נֶגְדֵּךְ
וּמִשְׁתַּחֲוִים אִישׁ מִמְּקוֹמוֹ אֱלֵי נֹכַח שְׁעָרָיִךְ,
עֶדְרֵי הֲמוֹנֵךְ, אֲשֶׁר גָּלוּ
וְהִתְפַּזְּרוּ מֵהַר לְגִבְעָה וְלֹא שָׁכְחוּ גְדֵרָיִךְ,
הַמַּחֲזִיקִים בְּשׁוּלַיִךְ וּמִתְאַמְּצִים לַעְלוֹת
וְלֶאְחֹז בְּסַנְסִנֵּי תְּמָרָיִךְ.
שִׁנְעָר וּפַתְרוֹס הֲיַעַרְכוּךְ בְּגָדְלָם,
וְאִם הֶבְלָם יְדַמּוּ לְתֻמַּיִךְ וְאוּרָיִךְ?
אֶל מִי יְדַמּוּ מְשִׁיחַיִךְ וְאֶל מִי נְבִיאַיִךְ
וְאֶל מִי לְוִיַּיִךְ וְשָׁרָיִךְ?
יִשְׁנֶה וְיַחְלֹף כְּלִיל כָּל מַמְלְכוֹת הָאֱלִיל,
חָסְנֵךְ לְעוֹלָם, לְדוֹר וָדוֹר נְזָרָיִךְ.
אִוָּךְ לְמוֹשָׁב אלקיִךְ,
וְאַשְׁרֵי אֱנוֹשׁ יִבְחַר יְקָרֵב וְיִשְׁכֹּן בַּחֲצֵרָיִךְ.
אַשְׁרֵי מְחַכֶּה וְיַגִּיעַ וְיִרְאֶה עֲלוֹת אוֹרֵךְ
וְיִבָּקְעוּ עָלָיו שְׁחָרָיִךְ,
לִרְאוֹת בְּטוֹבַת בְּחִירַיִךְ וְלַעְלֹז בְּשִׂמְחָתֵךְ
בְּשׁוּבֵךְ
אֱלֵי קַדְמַת נְעוּרָיִךְ.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
A poem of Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi - The Hall of G-d
I'm working on translating a poem of Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi. I find this challenging because I prefer to be literal, but I want to preserve the poetry. I'd welcome corrections/suggestions:
The Hebrew:
The Hebrew:
הֵיכַל ד' וּמִקְדַּשׁ הֲדֹמוֹ
,גָּלָה כְבוֹדוֹ וְנִפְזַר עַמּוֹ
וּמִמֶרְחַקִּים יִדְרְשׁוּ שְׁלוֹמוֹ
.וְיִשְׁתַּחֲווּ לוֹ אִישׁ מִמְּקוֹמוֹ
גּוֹלִים בְּמַעֲרָב בְּכוּשׁ וּמִצְרָיִם
,מְגַמַּת פְּנֵיהֶם יְרוּשָׁלָיִם
,אֶל אֲבִיהֶם אֲשֶׁר בַּשָּׁמָיִם
.לַעֲמֹד לְשָׁרְתוֹ וּלְבָרֵךְ בִּשְׁמוֹ
אוֹבֵד בְּעֵילָם וְנִדָּח בְּשִׁנְעָר
.לְדֶרֶךְ אַרְצוֹ פִּיהוּ יִפְעַר
מִבֵּין שִׁנֵּי זְאֵבֵי יָעַר
.וּמִתּוֹךְ צַעַר יַחֲזִיק בְּתֻמּוֹ
,גָּלוּת צִיּוֹן אֲשֶר בִּסְפָרַד
בַּעֲרָב מְפֻזָּר וּבֶאֱדוֹם מְפֹרָד
לִפְאַת מִקְדָּשׁ יִתַּר וְיֵחֱרַד
.לְבָבוֹ, כְּגָמוּל עֲלֵי אִמּוֹ
,שָׁפַךְ תְּפִלָּה, וְצוּר מִתְעַלֵּם
.וְשָׁמַע חֲרָפוֹת וַיְהִי כְאִלֵּם
בְשׁוּב שְׁבוּת צִיּוֹן הָיָה כְּחוֹלֵם
.ובַהֲקִיצוֹ, אֵין פּוֹתֵר חֲלוֹמוֹ
מָתַי אֶקְרָא וְאַתָּה תִרְצֶה
,וְאֶת מִשְׁפָּטִי לָאוֹר תּוֹצֵא
,וְיִוָּדַע, יוֹם תַּצִּיל וְתִפְצֶה
?אֱמֶת כִּי רוֹצֶה ד‘ בְּעַמּוֹ
Translation:
The Hall of G-d, the Sanctuary that is His footstool,1
His honour is exiled, His nation scattered,2
and from afar they seek His welfare,3
and bow to Him, each from his place.4
Exiled in the West, in Kush and Egypt,5
the goal of their faces is Jerusalem,6
toward their Father in the heavens,
to stand to serve Him and to bless in His Name.7
Wandering in Elam and pushed away in Shinar,8
to the path toward his land he opens his mouth.9
From between the teeth of the wolves of the forest,10
and in the midst of pain he maintains his purity.11
The exile of Zion in Spain,12
in Arabia scattered, and in Rome divided,13
in the direction of the Sanctuary will leap and tremble14
his heart, like a weaned child for his mother.15
He pours out prayer, and the Rock remains hidden,16
and he hears calumny, and is as one mute.
Of the return of Zion’s captives he is as a dreamer,17
and when he awakes – none can explain his dream.18
When will I cry out and You will desire,19
and You will produce my verdict before the light,20
and it will be known, on the day You rescue and release,21
that in truth, G-d desires His nation?
Related verses:
1 Yeshayah 66:1
2 Shemuel I 4:21, Esther 3:8
3 Yirmiyahu 8:19
4 Tzefaniah 2:11
5 Yeshayah 11:11
6 Chavakuk 1:9, Daniel 6:11
7 Devarim 10:8
8 Yeshayah 11:11, 27:13
9 Iyov 29:23
10 Yirmiyahu 5:6
11 Iyov 2:3
12 Ovadia 1:20
13 Esther 3:8
14 Iyov 37:1
15 Tehillim 131:2
16 Tehillim 102:1
17 Tehillim 126:1
18 Bereishit 41:8
19 Yeshayah 58:9
20 Yeshayah 51:4
21 Yirmiyahu 9:17, Tehillim 144:10
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Motivating the second generation?
From time to time, I hear from self-described baalei teshuvah - people who grew up in non-observant homes, and then came to observance of halachah in adulthood - that their children have left that path. Indeed, it seems to me that I hear it more from that demographic than from people who grew up observant.
The sample I have been dealing with is not statistically significant, and I have not been keeping score, so my observations are irrelevant. Still, the conversations have made me wonder: Might it be easier or harder for baalei teshuvah to raise children in observance?
[Just to note something I have written on other occasions: All parents, regardless of background, must recognize that their influence on their children's chosen paths is limited.]
On one hand, I could contend that baalei teshuvah would have an easier time -
* Baalei teshuvah have thought through a broad range of religious options, and chosen observance. Their religious practice could be more heartfelt and authentic than that of someone who is motivated by peers and family;
* Baalei teshuvah can speak with their children from the experience of a range of lifestyles (although really, who accepts the word of a parent who says 'I've been there'...?);
* Self-aware baalei teshuvah can understand their children's need to chart their own path, and address it in a way that does not drive those children further away.
On the other hand, I can think of several reasons why it might be more difficult for them:
* Not having been raised in such a home, the baalei teshuvah might have greater difficulty finding a good balance between openness and restriction, which is necessary to encourage healthy observance;
* Baalei teshuvah may be psychologically disposed toward breaking with the previous generation, and their children might absorb that - consciously or subconsciously - from their attitudes and behaviour;
* The absence of observant grandparents for the children may be a factor;
* The next generation might feel that just as their parents had the opportunity to sample different lifestyles, they should be able to do the same (and the baalei teshuvah themselves may think likewise);
* Baalei teshuvah, having come to Torah and learning late, may not have the knowledge to properly address their children's questions;
* The religious catalysts of baalei teshuvah may not inspire their children. Baalei teshuvah may be motivated by specific personal experiences they had as teens and adults, while others may be motivated by the more transmittable motivations of family tradition, community, role models and years of religious instruction.
I don't know; what do you think?
The sample I have been dealing with is not statistically significant, and I have not been keeping score, so my observations are irrelevant. Still, the conversations have made me wonder: Might it be easier or harder for baalei teshuvah to raise children in observance?
[Just to note something I have written on other occasions: All parents, regardless of background, must recognize that their influence on their children's chosen paths is limited.]
On one hand, I could contend that baalei teshuvah would have an easier time -
* Baalei teshuvah have thought through a broad range of religious options, and chosen observance. Their religious practice could be more heartfelt and authentic than that of someone who is motivated by peers and family;
* Baalei teshuvah can speak with their children from the experience of a range of lifestyles (although really, who accepts the word of a parent who says 'I've been there'...?);
* Self-aware baalei teshuvah can understand their children's need to chart their own path, and address it in a way that does not drive those children further away.
On the other hand, I can think of several reasons why it might be more difficult for them:
* Not having been raised in such a home, the baalei teshuvah might have greater difficulty finding a good balance between openness and restriction, which is necessary to encourage healthy observance;
* Baalei teshuvah may be psychologically disposed toward breaking with the previous generation, and their children might absorb that - consciously or subconsciously - from their attitudes and behaviour;
* The absence of observant grandparents for the children may be a factor;
* The next generation might feel that just as their parents had the opportunity to sample different lifestyles, they should be able to do the same (and the baalei teshuvah themselves may think likewise);
* Baalei teshuvah, having come to Torah and learning late, may not have the knowledge to properly address their children's questions;
* The religious catalysts of baalei teshuvah may not inspire their children. Baalei teshuvah may be motivated by specific personal experiences they had as teens and adults, while others may be motivated by the more transmittable motivations of family tradition, community, role models and years of religious instruction.
I don't know; what do you think?
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Modern davening, in one sentence
The weakness of a significant chunk of modern Judaism is reflected in one sentence I overheard after a Shacharit minyan several days ago:
Person speaking to Chazan: That was quick.
Chazan: I have things to do today!
[My point is not the speed; I didn't find the davening that day to be any faster or slower than the norm at that minyan. Rather, my point is the philosophy.]
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Nothing if not consistent
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.
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.
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...
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