Class: Physicians and Intimate Care of Patients

I expect to give a class next week on physicians and intimate examinations. I hope to cover the following vignettes, and I'd appreciate feedback on them:

A. Charles, a medical student, wishes to become an OB/GYN, but he knows that halachah severely restricts men from seeing female genitalia or touching the female body. May he train as an OB/GYN, or need he change medical tracks?

B. Sally is a physical therapist, and her job requires her to manipulate the limbs of patients, both male and female, but halachah prohibits physical contact between women and men who are not their husbands and this is not a life-saving treatment. May Sally treat male patients?

C. Jason, a resident doing an OB/GYN rotation, is on rounds when his group enters the room of an unconscious female patient. The physician leading rounds instructs Jason to perform a pelvic exam, but permission has not been requested from the patient. May Jason conduct the exam?

D. Jonathan, a psychologist, conducts therapy sessions for men and women in the privacy of his office. Halachah prohibits men from being secluded with women who are not their wives. How may he treat female patients?

[Regarding case C, I was floored to be shown articles here, here and here. Granted that the stories are not as simple as presented, it still shocks me. Gd bless the litigious American society, in which there would be strong repercussions for that sort of thing.]

Do you run your synagogue "like a business"?

[The Kosher Cooking Carnival for Kislev is now on-line here]

Over the years, I've heard people say, from time to time, "We should run our synagogue like a business." This sentiment generally arises when discussing budget deficits, charging for shul programs, and raising dues.

I understand what they mean to suggest. They mean, "We should not give aliyot / classes / the rabbi's time away for free," "We should charge people based on the cost of our programs / staff time / facility maintenance."

What they don't really mean to suggest is, "We should run our synagogue like a business." Indeed, one board member of mine once commented that this sort of suggestion is rarely heard from people who have actually run businesses.

To me, running a shul like a business means studying the potential consumer base, broadening and deepening the product line, lowering the cost of entry, investing serious time and money in advertising, and building a community of committed consumers who will network with their friends to promote your product.

Businesses certainly do give things away for free. Businesses do not charge for their products/services based on their real costs. Businesses provide loss leaders and other incentives to get people in the door – just as synagogues do, actually.

I know of synagogues which think it "business-like" to charge people to be on the shul mailing list. But what business would do that? Businesses would gladly pay you for permission to send you information – and they do, regularly, in the form of raffles and the like which are created solely in order to harvest names and contact information.

I know of synagogues which think it "business-like" to publicize their programs only to their members. Is that "running the synagogue like a business"? What business would do that? Is this an attempt to squelch growth?

The truth is that synagogues have a hard time developing a good business model, because much of their product is generally available for free. It's hard to come up with a system by which the synagogue can provide a full range of services and survive economically. But if we think the answer is to run the synagogue "like a business", then let's do it for real – studying the market, designing a great product, reaching out, making sure our services are priced right, and welcoming in the masses of people we will doubtless attract.

Better to Give?

A quick thought that came to me as I woke up this morning:

Do we gauge the value of tzedakah based on what the recipient gets, or based on what the donor provides?

From a utilitarian ["Did the indigent receive help"] perspective, we would look at the benefit to the recipient – if I give him something he can’t use, there’s no mitzvah. If someone is starving and I give him a roll of gift wrap, I have not fulfilled my obligation. After all, the biblical mandate of די מחסורו, “Give whatever he lacks,” dictates that I base my gift on his needs.

On the other hand, from a mitzvah ["Did you fulfill your obligation"] perspective we do calculate based on what I give. Case: If I give an indigent person a ride to his relatives for Yom Tov, and it’s a 200 mile trip so that I saved him a great deal of money, that’s a tzedakah contribution. However, if I was going in that direction anyway then I can’t count that toward my maaser kesafim, my 10% tithe, because I didn’t actually give away anything.

Perhaps it’s a difference between the mitzvah of tzedakah and the practice of maaser kesafim, of tithing my income. For tzedakah purposes, we gauge by the recipient. For maaser, we gauge based on what I gave?

I think there’s a lot more to say here, but it’s time to go. Perhaps I'll add more later.

Class: How to write in your siddur

On Wednesday night I'm delivering a shiur for women on "How to write in your siddur", a development based on the blog posts that appear here and here.

Here is the majority of my source sheet, excluding passages which I'll use for a "Writing Workshop". [UPDATE: The audio of the session is now available here.]:

Why use a siddur
1. Talmud Yerushalmi, Berachot 2:4

נתפלל ומצא עצמו בשומע תפילה חזקה כוין... א"ר חייא רובא אנא מן יומיי לא כיונית אלא חד זמן בעי מכוונה והרהרית בלבי ואמרית מאן עליל קומי מלכא קדמי ארקבסה אי ריש גלותא שמואל אמר אנא מנית אפרוחיא רבי בון בר חייא אמר אנא מנית דימוסיא א"ר מתניה אנא מחזק טיבו לראשי דכד הוה מטי מודים הוא כרע מגרמיה

One who prays and finds himself at 'shomeia tefillah' may assume he had proper intent… R' Chiyya the Great said: I never concentrated properly; once I tried to concentrate, and then I began to wonder who goes before the king first, the officer or the exilarch. Shemuel said: I count clouds (other editions: birds). R' Bun bar Chiyya said: I could bricks. R' Matniyah said: I am grateful to my head, for when I reach Modim it bows on its own!

2. Tosefta Shabbat 13:4

הברכות אע"פ שיש בהן מאותות השם ומענינות הרבה שבתורה אין מצילין אותן אבל נשרפין במקומן מכן אמרו כותבי ברכות כשורפי תורה

Even though blessings contain the letters of the Name and many matters of Torah, one may not save them; they are burned where they are. Therefore they said: Those who write blessings are as those who burn Torah.

3. Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Tefilah 4:19

תפלות הפרקים כגון תפלת מוסף ראש חדש ותפלת מועדות צריך להסדיר תפלתו ואחר כך עומד ומתפלל כדי שלא יכשל בה

One must arrange his prayer for special occasions, such as musaf for Rosh Chodesh and prayers of holidays, and then stand and pray, so that he will not stumble.

4. Pri Megadim, Orach Chaim 53 Mishbetzot Zahav 15

ויש קהלות כותבין על קלף סידור מיוחד לש"ץ להתפלל מתוכו ונכון הוא, וראוי אף ליחיד להתפלל מתוך הסידור...

In some communities they write a special siddur for the chazan to use, and this is appropriate; it is appropriate even for individuals to pray from a siddur…

5. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 96:2

מותר לאחוז מחזור תפלות בידו בשעה שמתפלל הואיל ותופס לצורך תפלה עצמה לא טריד...

One may hold a book of prayers in his hand when praying; he will not be distracted since he holds it for prayer…

Our problems: Fixed text; Blob of text; Familiarity
6. Mishnah Berachot 4:4

רבי אליעזר אומר העושה תפלתו קבע אין תפלתו תחנונים

R' Eliezer said: One who makes his prayer 'fixed' – his prayer is not a proper plea.

7. Talmud, Bava Batra 164b-165a

שלש עבירות אין אדם ניצול מהן בכל יום הרהור עבירה ועיון תפלה ולשון הרע לשון הרע סלקא דעתך אלא אבק לשון הרע

One is not saved from three sins daily: Thoughts of immorality, examination of prayer, and [almost] harmful speech.

8. Rambam, Moreh haNevuchim 3:51

אם תתפלל בהנעת שפתיך ופניך אל הכותל ואתה חושב במקחך וממכרך... תהיה אז קרוב ממי שנאמר בהם, קרוב אתה בפיהם ורחוק מכליותיהם.

Should you pray with movement of your lips and your face to the wall but think about your commerce… you will be close to those regarding whom it is written, 'You are close to their mouths, but far from their innards.'

Writing in a siddur?
9. Mishneh Berurah 96:9

ונמצא באחרונים שאף בחזרת הש"ץ נכון הוא שיהיה הסידור פתוח לפניו להיות אזניו פקוחות על מה שאומר הש"ץ

The acharonim wrote that it is also appropriate to hold an open siddur during repetition of the amidah, so that one's ears will be open to that which the chazan says.

10. Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 90:23

הבגדים המצויירים.. אין נכון להתפלל כנגדם, ואם יקרה לו להתפלל כנגד בגד או כותל מצויר, יעלים עיניו. הגה: ולכן אסור ג"כ לצייר ציורים בספרים שמתפללין בהן, שלא תתבטל הכוונה

One should not pray opposite clothes with designs… and if one happens to pray opposite a garment or wall with a picture, he should close his eyes.
Rama: Therefore, one may not draw pictures in the books from which we pray, lest that prevent concentration.

11. Alternatives: http://lauramiller.typepad.com/lauramiller/2009/03/how-to-write-in-a-book.html

Practical tips
1. Mark phrases for special concentration
2. Mark structural/poetic elements that provide greater meaning
3. Add wake-up calls
4. Mark lines requiring explanation
5. Write in food for thought

Writing notes
1. Pencil, small marks, change them regularly
2. Spread marks throughout the various prayers
3. Be ready to replace your siddur
4. Don't distract from the davening

In lieu of the Workshop, here are some examples of items I have marked in my current siddur:
* Words and phrases for special concentration - ואהבת, באהבה, והשב את העבודה לדביר ביתך, ולעבדו בלבב שלם

* Poetic/structural elements - The imperatives in Mizmor l'Todah; The 3 types of Divine action requested in Al haTzaddikim; the theme-aligned sets of lines in Avinu Malkeinu; the two halves of Emes v'Emunah (across time / Yetzias Mitzrayim)

* Wake-up calls - Alerts for Shma, Morid haGeshem, Refa'einu

* Lines that require explanation - והושיענו למען שמך, שיבנה בית המקדש במהרה בימינו ותן חלקנו בתורתך

* Food for thought - Rav Kook's explanation of בעל מלחמות זורע צדקות, the two roles of Avinu and Malkeinu, the difference between a shofar and a nes in T'ka b'shofar.

Buying the nicest menorah for myself

After the Jews cross through Yam Suf they sing, זה קלי ואנוהו, which the gemara (Shabbos 133b) renders as 'I will glorify Him'. We are to use a beautiful succah, lulav, shofar and so on; this is the concept called 'hiddur mitzvah'.

But here is my question: Is hiddur mitzvah supposed to be a selfish value? Or are we meant to take it less literally, as an imperative to beautify mitzvos in general, including those performed by others? In other words: Have I fulfilled 'hiddur mitzvah' by purchasing a nice mitzvah item for someone else?

In my years as a shul rabbi in charge of distributing the shul's lulav and esrog sets, I never looked in the esrog boxes before selecting my own. I always paid for an esrog of a certain level, and took one of the boxes marked at that level without opening various boxes to compare the products within. [Other than the embarrassing year when a vendor specifically gave me a 'special' esrog – which raised serious questions of bribery in my mind.]

My logic was simple: If I take the nicest esrog, then I will have the most beautiful esrog and someone else will be forced to settle for less. I shouldn't have a beautiful mitzvah at the expense of someone else. Just last week I heard about a rosh yeshiva in Israel (I forget whom) who has the same practice – he takes a less-beautiful esrog, and leaves the nicest one for someone else. So I'm not the only one doing this.

In support of this approach, one could argue that 'beautiful' has multiple meanings: Holding an aesthetically appealing esrog is one type of beauty, but another, deeper beauty is found in offering aesthetically appealing esrogim to others. Perhaps if I enable someone else to perform a mitzvah beautifully, I can claim 'credit' for hiddur mitzvah.

But is that really a correct application of hiddur mitzvah? Perhaps we are meant to feel a degree of selfishness regarding our personal relationship with Gd.

Let's turn the question to Chanukah, since that's coming up: Is it better for me to buy a beautiful menorah for myself and let others use their less-nice models, or for me to give a less-fortunate person money so that he will be able to use a beautiful menorah, and I'll make do with an older, cheaper menorah? Or: In a family with multiple menorot, should I take a less-nice menorah, to permit another to use a better one? [Yes, I know it's actually a chanukiah. No, I'm not about to start calling it that.]

We might draw on the Mishneh Berurah's comments (694:3) regarding the Purim Seudah, when he says it would be better for a person to enjoy a basic meal and use the rest of his funds to increase his gifts to the needy for their Purim meals – but that's a Purim-related halachah, and not really about hiddur mitzvah.

I'm not sure.

We don't do Worship

A couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, I turned on the car radio and scanned for a station when a sentence from Yeshayah (40:12) caught my ear – as JPS renders it, "Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance?"

The speaker, a minister I assume, charged his audience: Gd is so great that He can hold the mountains in His hand! We can't even lift a heavy rock, and He can pick up all of the mountains and put them on a scale! How amazing He is! How mighty He is! We should all worship Him! How can we do anything but worship Him?!

I was left absolutely cold, and I wondered how anyone living in North America today could be left anything but cold by this call. Because Gd is big and strong, therefore we should worship Him?

First, the logic itself is poor. By this argument, should I also worship some person who is stronger than me? What about a person with a bigger gun than me? True, Judaism's classic approach is to be wowed by Divine might. We praise Gd for His might. But we don't use it as a reason for worship (I think, although I am not certain).

But beyond the logical argument, I see a cultural problem which might be endemic to North America but which poses a challenge to all Gd-centered religion: The whole idea of Worship is passe. Unmitigated devotion and respect and awe, dedicating myself to the service of another, is weird and out of place in our society. Even as our religious identity is informed by Psalms and framed by prayer, our cultural identity finds Psalms curious and prayer uncomfortable. Even were we to accept the minister's "Might makes right" philosophy, we could not easily go from "Right" to "Serve the One who is Right".

What happens when people read Psalm 150 in translation: "Praise Him with the shofar blast, Praise Him with the lyre and the harp, Praise Him with drum and dance, Praise Him with…"? I wonder how many people, particularly those unfamiliar with the synagogue and new to Jewish prayer, have trouble relating to those sentences.

To me, this discomfort is a product of our individualistic culture. Our cultural icons of the past 60-70 years have made much of their rebellious streaks; would James Dean worship? Elvis? How about Brando? Wayne? Bronson? De Niro? Pacino? Eastwood? Stallone? Clooney? Crowe? Jackman? 1940's Captain America would worship - but modern Batman? Never. [For some reason, I could imagine some of the parallel females being worshipful; the tough-guy character is not always seen in them. And, I'm not as familiar with them.]

Many of us find our way to Worship despite this problem, but I sense it is more an exercise of free will and choice than a sense of obligation, along the lines of gratitude and recognition of Goodness. I'm not entirely convinced this is ideal, though.

What do you think? Am I off-base? What is the driver for your worship?

And it was, in the middle of the night

As Douglas Adams wrote of his protagonist, Arthur Dent, in Chapter 8 of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish:
He almost danced to the fridge, found the three least hairy things in it, put them on a plate and watched them intently for two minutes. Since they made no attempt to move within that time he called them breakfast and ate them. Between them they killed a virulent space disease he'd picked up without knowing it in the Flargathon Gas Swamps a few days earlier, which otherwise would have killed off half the population of the Western Hemisphere, blinded the other half, and driven everyone else psychotic and sterile, so the Earth was lucky there.

I like that passage because it reminds me of strange hypotheses I had occasionally as a child, wondering if I had been immortal until I had eaten celery, or if turning right instead of left had saved me from some hideous disaster. I've always been addicted to the idea that a given moment, action or day might have unusual significance, which I could know if only I were a little wiser or more perceptive.

This idea survived my childhood; I still attach significance to the memories of nights preceding significant changes in my life: The night before I married the esteemed Rebbetzin, the night before I began as Rabbi in Rhode Island, the night before my job interview in Allentown (ah, the Ramada at the Malls in Whitehall – definitely not recommended, at least as it was in late 2000). Those were times of real change.

And then, of course, there were "nights before" when I thought something might occur, but that foreshadowed nothing at all – nights before plane flights when I wondered whether something might happen en route, moments during birkas hachodesh (the synagogue blessing of the new lunar month) when I thought this might be the month when I sold a manuscript, times when I bought a Powerball ticket and considered what would happen if this really was it.

This post is more than just a personal musing, though, because it strikes me that this idea of significant "nights before" is a central message in "ויהי בחצי הלילה, And it was, in the middle of the night," the Pesach Seder song which recounts watershed events from Tanach which occurred in the middle of the night. Rescues and vengeances and messages of portent for individuals and nations impact with shattering force at the apex of darkness, the moment when the balance tilts toward dawn.

I believe one of the themes conveyed in "And it was, in the middle of the night," is that every night has a middle of the night, every night is a potential "night before", every night can usher in salvation. ויהי ערב ויהי בקר, there is evening and then there is morning, and a new phase of Creation is struck.

To the Jew, every night can be more than just a joining of days, can in fact be a bridge between the mundane past and a glorious future. What remains is for us to capitalize on the opportunity… or to eat the three least hairy things in the fridge, anyway.

A different view of Shabbos

["Wow, now that's going to cause trouble" post of the day, at Life in Israel]

Jewish literature is replete with diverse praises of Shabbos for its regenerative and social elements:
• It's a day of rest from creativity, time to curl up with a good book, time to recharge.
• It's an opportunity to connect with spouses and children and siblings and friends.
• It's a chance to gather as a religious community, for study and prayer and – of course – kiddush.

Just look at the song מה ידידות, an educational poem traced to 11th century Germany, which describes the day as a time for eating, singing, learning with children, sleeping and enjoying.

But here's a description that doesn't get much airtime: Shabbos is a day to retreat from everything and everyone, and communicate with Gd. No family, no friends, no books, no garrulous kiddush.

Witness:

Talmud Yerushalmi, Shabbos 15:3

אמר רבי חנינא מדוחק התירו לשאול שלום בשבת אמר רבי חייא בר בא רבי שמעון בן יוחי כד הוה חמי לאימיה משתעיא סגין הוה אמר לה אימא שובתא היא

Rabbi Chanina said: It was only with difficulty that they permitted greeting people on Shabbat. Rabbi Chiyya bar Abba said: When Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai saw his mother speaking a great deal, he would say, 'Mother, it's Shabbos!'

Maimonides, Commentary to Mishnah, Shabbos 23:2

הטעם שאסרו למנותם מן הכתב שמא יקרא אגרות בשבת, וזה אסור, שכל זולת ספרי הנבואה ופירושיהם אסור לקרותו לא בשבת ולא ביום טוב, ואפילו היה בו דברי חכמה ומדע.

One may read nothing on Shabbat or Yom Tov, beyond the books of the Prophets and their explanations. This even applies to works of wisdom and knowledge.

Lest one think these represent extreme views of pietists, the former is codified in Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 307:1, the latter in Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 307:17. [The latter source does add the caveat that some disagree and permit reading 'books of wisdom'.]

On one hand, I like this; I need to spend more time thinking about Gd. If Gd created me, and the purpose of my existence is to satisfy Divine expectations [in social relations as well as spiritual development, of course], shouldn't I set aside a regular time to contemplate that relationship? And might that go some way toward helping me feel Gd's presence on an on-going basis?

On the other hand: If I were to dedicate my weekly Shabbos 'time-out' for this sort of monkhood, when would I spend time on all of those other necessities – recharging, family, community?

But that other hand may not be a legitimate point. A person who doesn't have a knife can't decide that his fork is a knife – it's a fork. A person who doesn't have money can't decide to use someone else's funds as his own. And a person who hasn’t set aside time for recharging, family and community can't decide to use Gd's time for those purposes.

And it may not be the point at all; does my concern for recharging, family and community simply mask a fear that I couldn't spend an entire day contemplating my relationship with Gd?

Something to think about.

Class: Attending conferences on Shabbos

I'm working on a shiur on "Attending conferences on Shabbos" at the moment. It's primarily intended for medical professionals, but it will have applications for others.

Because I've never attended a non-rabbinic conference, I'm relying on friends for input on the challenges involved, aside from the basic challenge of whether one may spend Shabbos in a professional milieu. I'd be glad to hear from readers: What issues are involved?

Here are the issues I am currently addressing:

Overarching Issues
* Is one permitted to study professional subjects on Shabbos?
* Is one permitted to put himself in a professional milieu for Shabbos?
* Is there a maris ayin issue involved in attending such a conference, even without violating any laws?

Positive Mitzvos
* How should one handle Shabbos and Havdalah candles in a hotel?
* Missing minyan for medical knowledge, or for parnassah
* Missing Krias haTorah for medical knowledge, or for parnassah

Prohibitions
* Attaching nametag stickers
* Wearing a nametag in walking to a convention center
* Carrying in a hallway between a hotel and a convention center
* Entering a room which is unlocked via electronic key
* Entering a session, when an attendant will check off your name
* Use of elevators
* Use of escalators
* Use of doors which open via sensors

What am I missing? (Oy - This session is supposed to be one hour...!)

Update: The shiur audio is now on-line here.

Jews and Politics

[The following is my article for this week's Toronto Torah; note the ubiquitous Canadian 'u' and the gratuitous injection of French!]

The sage Shemayah was a leading scholar of the first century BCE, and mentor of the great Hillel, but his words in Pirkei Avot have gained little traction with Jews over the centuries. Shemayah advised (Avot 1:10), "Love labour, hate positions of authority and do not make yourself known to the government." Ignoring this judicious counsel, we strive for early retirement, we clamour for authority, and we have a long, colourful history of cultivating relationships with the government du jour.

Shemayah's own flouting of his first two pearls of wisdom is fascinating; he held the sinecure of President of the Sanhedrin, so that his advice amounts to, "Do as I say, not as I do." But to focus on his third recommendation, that we not make ourselves known to government, why did so many giants of our past – Rabbi Yehudah haNasi, Mar Shemuel, Shemuel haNagid, Don Isaac Abarbanel, Sir Moses Montefiore, to name a few – cultivate relationships with the governments of their day?

On one level, our government alliances are simply a product of Pragmatism. We would like certain things from society: the right to practice our religion without being harrassed, the option of sending our children to Jewish schools, the freedom to take Shabbat and Yom Tov off of work without penalty. We would like certain ideals reflected in municipal and federal policy. A pragmatist says that if we want to achieve, we must involve ourselves, express our opinions, and contribute to the public good.

We find this point of view expressed by Rabbi Yissachar Techtel, author of the Em haBanim Smeichah, regarding Israel and the involvement of Torah-observant Jews in birthing the nascent state. Writing in 1942, Rav Techtel berated those who complained about the secular character of the Zionist leadership. He asked, “Were you involved when they started? Did you build their towns with them? Did you move to the land and help build it up?” We must be willing to be involved.

A second reason for investment is Gratitude. We receive food through society's system of highways, profit from its stable commercial environment, and live safely thanks to its police and courts. We enjoy parks in which to play, and roads on which to drive. Our taxes fund these services, but society provides the oversight, design and maintainenance of this grand system. Gratitude dictates that we pay for this service, and playing a role in government is part of that payment.

Gratitude is the model taken by Rav Moshe Feinstein, in a letter encouraging voter registration. He wrote: "A fundamental principle of Judaism is hakaras hatov – recognizing benefits afforded us and giving expression to our appreciation. Therefore, it is incumbent upon each Jewish citizen to participate in the democratic system which affords us the freedoms we enjoy. The most fundamental responsibility incumbent upon each individual is to register to vote."

Beyond pragmatism and gratitude, though, we have a tradition of flouting Shemayah's advice because we are taught to invest in Community. We are a Jewish community, but we are also part of a larger community, and we are responsible to that larger community.

As the gemara (Shabbat 33b) explains, Yaakov pioneered this community approach. When Yaakov moved his family to Shechem, he contributed to the infrastructure of the land; Rav said that Yaakov established a currency, Shemuel said that Yaakov founded a marketplace, and R’ Yochanan said that he constructed bathhouses for the population. Rashi explains that Yaakov did this when he purchased land in the area; upon becoming landed, he made an investment in the public good.

The same message may be seen in our ancestor Avraham's plea on behalf of the hypothetical righteous population of Sodom. Avraham contended, “Perhaps there are righteous people b'toch ha'ir, in the midst of the city,” emphasizing that the individuals who could forestall catastrophe would be people who functioned as part of the citizenry, not as an isolated enclave. The work Panim laTorah cites the Vilna Gaon as highlighting this language, and both Ibn Ezra and Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch did likewise in their commentaries to the Torah. The worth of the righteous stems from their involvement with the greater populace.

Given these three elements – Pragmatism, Gratitude and Community – why did Shemayah take a stand against making ourselves known to the government? Perhaps Shemayah's words were formed in response to the Sanhedrin he personally led, a group of sages who cowered before the murderous King Herod (Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 14:9; see a variant edition in Sanhedrin 19a). Shemayah was justly concerned that a nation which consorted closely with corrupt kings could be intimidated or bought. Nonetheless, the weight of Jewish tradition is with the Abarbanels and Montefiores; for reasons both selfish and selfless, we seek the good of the land we inhabit – investing, building, and governing as well.

Rabbinics 101: How to teach a class

[I can sympathize with this: Too Cool for Shul at Modern Uberdox]

I don't claim to be any sort of expert on teaching, but I have 15 years of experience in adult education across a pretty broad range of subjects and audiences at this point, and I do think I've absorbed some good lessons along the way. Here are four items, about presentation rather than content; feel free to add, or challenge, in the comments:

Make sure your enthusiasm is visible I learned this one when teaching a challenging, iyun series; after one class, one of the participants commented that I had clearly enjoyed that one. I realized then that I had not been very enthusiastic in presenting previous classes; I had been too caught up in the difficulty, and in insecurity about possibly making a mistake.

כמים הפנים אל הפנים, feelings are contagious. Human beings like to interact with human beings who are having a good time; people who seem stressed, tired or anxious make us feel likewise. Make sure people can see that you are having a good time.

And if you aren't having a good time, it's time to find out why and do something about it.

Over-prepare, but don't over-invest I am a strong believer in over-preparing, coming to class ready for tangents and questions that may never materialize; it's best to know the topic well, and have much more to say than you will ever get to voice. However, this comes with a risk – that we become attached to our content, on which we have worked so hard, and so we end up trying to cram in far more than we should. Our explanations lose clarity and our ideas are not expressed in a compelling way, and the result is a negative class experience. A rabbi should not become so invested in his material that he loses sight of the basic goal: Education.

And as anyone who has ever been in a class of mine knows, I violate this rule regularly.

I don't know, I'll check Never feel forced to answer a question on site; it's okay to do research and then get back to people, whether in matters of halachah, text, history or philosophy. This is also good because it generates post-class communication, which I find enhances the entire experience and helps create lasting relationships. It also demonstrates tangibly that the class is more than an intellectual exercise or fulfillment of a job responsibility; it matters.

Interactive! The people who come to classes may be doctors or lawyers or plumbers, teachers or mechanics or psychologists or accountants or businesspeople or middle managers or taxi drivers. Whoever they are, their lives are interactive – they are used to talking and listening and analyzing and responding and questioning and advising.

People may be accustomed to sitting in a movie for two hours or in front of a television for an hour, but human beings don't listen to other human beings talk at them for 45 minutes or an hour. Interactive is the key – icebreakers, questions, invitations to analyze.

What would you add?

To Educate or to Inspire?

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here!]

Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks was at our shul in Toronto this Shabbos, and one of his themes was the use of music to reach our souls.

At one point, the Chief Rabbi commented that Orthodoxy had made a critical mistake for decades, trying to reach people on the cognitive level – and, as he put it, "Cognitive is the English word for dull."

I don't think it's a mistake to reach out intellectually, framing Judaism's teachings in academic terms and attempting to teach text. For that matter, I don't think the Chief Rabbi believes that, either. To inspire the soul without informing the intellect would be to forsake the substance which anchors us as Jews, to abandon the eternal message of Sinai in favor of its ephemeral firework accompaniment, and to veer dangerously into cult territory.

But I do believe that reaching someone on an emotional level generally has a greater and more desirable impact than reaching him on an intellectual level.

Teaching a text can educate, but reaching a soul can awaken.

Teaching a text can inform practice, but reaching a soul can inspire it.

Teaching a text can reduce doubts, but reaching a soul can enable a person to live beyond them.

And while text might be a means of reaching some souls, I don't believe it is the means to reach most.

So why do rabbis traditionally spend so much time teaching text, and comparatively little time singing?

One reason is that inspiration doesn't require a rabbi; it can come from a garden or a song or a meditation or a prayer. Knowledge often requires specialized instruction, but inspiration may be found everywhere.

Another reason is that - in some ways - it's easier to teach text; read a book, explain it, rinse and repeat. It doesn't involve the deep personal relationship, and the associated investment of energy and passionate caring, needed to learn a soul and speak its language and embrace it and understand what moves it. But the results of speaking honestly to a soul are so much more significant – and, personally, I find the experience much more rewarding.

No surprise conclusion here – the two approaches go hand in hand. One who would impart Judaism must succeed at both. But I am with Rabbi Sacks: Shifting some focus from cognition to inspiration would do our Jewish world good.

Class: Medical Data Entry on Shabbat

Herewith the vignettes for a class this Sunday, geared toward medical professionals (and with CME credit available) but not limited to them. How would you answer these questions?

Category 1
Jim, a medical resident, is doing rounds in a neurology unit on Shabbat morning, and he notices that a recovering stroke victim is less responsive than he had been on the previous day. How should he record this information, or arrange for its recording?

or

Sam, 40 year old male normally in good health, presents to the doctor's house with fever and cough, and on auscultation has a pneumonia which does not require hospitalization, but does require antibiotics. May a prescription be written, and how?

Category 2
In a hospital's stepdown ICU unit, vital signs are checked every four hours. Sarah, a nurse, is charged with doing this on her Shabbat shift and recording the results, even if the signs are unchanged from the previous recording. How should she record this information, or arrange for its recording?

Category 3
Chaim is an ER nurse working in the hospital on Shabbat. A patient's wife needs to leave for several hours, and she wants to give Chaim her phone number as an emergency contact. In what way may Chaim record the information, or arrange for its recording?

Update: The shiur is now available on-line here.

Improving our yeshiva day school system

Much has been said, and much continues to be said, and much more needs to be said, about improving the economics of our yeshiva day schools. But what about improving the education, particularly in limudei kodesh [Judaic studies] - what would you do?

Of course, I always have ideas - Sunday School in limudei kodesh for girls, Judaic enrichment programs - but this is going to be an open thread: What would you suggest for our schools?

In order to provide something related to the conversation, though, here's a piece of an article slated to appear in this week's Toronto Torah, a translation of a segment of Rav Yair Bachrach's Chavos Yair Responsum 124. Rabbi Bachrach pessimistically answers a man who wants to know how to guide the education of his 13 year old son [translaton by Rabbi Ezra Goldschmiedt, one of our avreichim]:

Since you've made known to me that [your son] spoke beautifully at his Bar Mitzvah, I assume he's already learned matters of aggada such as Midrash Rabbah and Ein Yaakov that, in truth, are good for young men, like appetizers before the main course. They will also be glorious and beautiful in the ears of those who hear [from him] a particular peshat or derash, or when he hears a talk from a great [scholar] he will loudly interject and make known his knowledge and grasp [of the subject], by which he [himself] will become known as a distinguished scholar. After all that, perhaps he will find a wife and find goodness, wealth and riches.

However, this would be neither the proper path nor the proper city, nor is it the definition of a true scholar who has acquired wisdom, and grown to the point that we would hope he would be able to render good and just rulings in Israel, who is filled with the meat and wine of the [more] substantial matters of Torah.

Concerning the [management of the] stages [of your son's learning], this is a difficult matter for an individual – even one who is wealthy and distinguished – to manage for his son. [And this would be the case as well] even if one were to find a distinguished scholar who would teach for the sake of heaven, without deception and for whom personal gain and reward is not all they have in mind. This already is uncommon, and it may not even exist, but even if you were to look and find [such a person, you would have another difficulty].

All who have children who go to school adopt a manner of learning that is not proper – so what could one local [teacher] do, to go against his colleagues and change [this system] and adopt a proper approach against his peers? And even if one's father would hire a teacher for him [alone], is not the greatest need in study the bond with friends, as it is written (Taanit 7a) “[I have learned] more from my friends than my teachers”? There is no solution for this, unless one were to gather together five or six heads of household and hire a teacher for their sons, on condition that none could be added. They would provide [for the teacher] as befits him, as though he had double the students. Then, Divine counsel will be effective through this system of learning.

Still think you can trust the fish counter?

In my days as a Rav haMachshir [head of a kosher supervision agency], I heard quite a few people say they could buy filleted, skinned fish at the fish counter at their local supermarket, trusting the store management to be honest because of the risk they would run in playing games.

Of course, even if the fish is the right fish, there still are problems from non-kosher fish residue on the equipment, and from the common practice of leaving all of the fish in buckets overnight, leaking brine on each other.

But trusting the fish counter is, itself, problematic. This in from ABC News this past week:

Investigation Uncovers Rampant Fish Fraud

A new investigation provides fresh evidence that restaurants and markets continue to dupe seafood lovers into paying top dollar for low-grade fish.

As part of a special “Fishy Business” series, the Boston Globe spent five months buying fish from dozens of establishments throughout Massachusetts and sending the samples off to a lab in Canada. DNA tests found 48 percent of the fish had been mislabeled as a more expensive type of fish.

Fish samples were gathered from 134 restaurants, grocery stores and seafood markets, and the results were staggering. Every one of 23 white tuna samples tested turned out to be something other than tuna. In most cases the fish labeled tuna was escolar, which the Globe said was “nicknamed the Ex-Lax of fish by some in the industry for the digestion problems it can cause.”

Milk remains unique in its acceptability without kosher supervision in North America, because there is no incentive for milk producers and distributors to cheat - it would be ridiculously counterproductive for them to raise pigs and milk them. But many other products, including products people take for granted, are often adulterated or outright switched with inexpensive substitutes. Hence the need for hashgachah.

Patriotism

This past summer, I had the opportunity to sit on a Toronto panel of chaplains and religious figures addressing a range of legal/ethical questions – organ transplant, contraception, battlefield ethics and more.

When the discussion turned to the death penalty, another panelist criticized the American use of capital punishment. An Anglican priest took the opportunuty to mock the American practice of giving medical treatment to prisoners on Death Row.

Part of me was upset because her point was morally repugnant – to suggest that prisoners should be allowed to suffer because they are going to be executed anyway is absurd, and would amount to legalized prison cruelty.

But part of me was upset as an American, taking her knock on the government and criminal justice system personally. The setting was wrong for calling her on it [the context was a talk with a group of Canadian, Israeli and Arab medical students – not the time/place to discuss America-bashing], so I had to let it go. But I stewed after that one for a long time.

I'm still surprised by how strongly I reacted. I am proud of much of America, but as someone who has wanted to make aliyah for the past 20 years, and as someone who has a decent degree of cynicism about American government and its system of justice, I would not have expected to take her comment so personally. Go figure.

A sound rebuke from the Chafetz Chaim

I remember one of my rebbeim, Rav Yitzchak Cohen, noting the hypocrisy of saying about the words of Torah "כי הם חיינו ואורך ימינו ובהם נהגה יומם ולילה (These are our life and the length of our days, and we will speak them day and night)" in the daily Maariv prayer, and then not living them and committing serious time to learn Torah. How can we call these "our life", and not treat them that way?

Rav Cohen had similar feelings about the line at the end of the amidah, "יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך (May the declarations of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart be desirable before You)," a declaration that often comes right after 3-4 minutes of meandering thoughts. Am I asking for my thoughts about exams, sports, and who knows what else to be desirable to Gd?

I was reminded of that the other day, when I read the Chafetz Chaim's words in Shem Olam, Volume 2, Chapter 11:

One comes to shul and stands and declares before Gd that he will sanctify His Name in the world as do the celestial hosts of Heaven. In the course of this he departs the Beit Midrash and someone offends his honor, and fire comes from his mouth and he removes his mind entirely from serving Gd, and he dirties his soul with various prohibitions, harmful speech, gossip, strife, mockery, sometimes also theft and taking by force.

Within some hours he returns to the Beit Midrash to daven minchah with the community before Gd, and he returns and cloaks himself in the sanctity of an angel, saying, 'We will sanctify Your Name in the world, as they sanctify it in the Heavens!'

'Nuff said.

Happy Rabbis!

Several years back I kept an anonyblog for a while, and every once in a while I enjoy looking at those old articles. Here's a fun one from mid-2007, mildly edited. Keep in mind that I wrote it with Pesach's stress fresh in my mind:

I know it's hard to believe, but the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago says it, and they have a long name with catchy initials and lots of researchers researching the opinions of lots of centers, so they must be right.

So stop the presses, print banner headlines, notify the long-lost Renegade Rebbetzin and shout it from the rooftops: The happiest profession is CLERGY!

I feel like emailing Dave Barry, the idea is so ridiculous.

Maybe they polled a bunch of rabbis, asking "How do you feel," and the rabbis all said "Thank G-d," which the researchers took to mean they were actually happy.

Happy? As in waking up smiling in the morning, nodding in a friendly way at joggers, drinking the morning coffee with a grin? As in whistling a peppy tune while waiting for the elevator, throwing caution to the wind and going for a walk without a coat, feeling generally satisfied with the way life is going?

What rabbi planet do you live on?

I suppose it could be the priests are really happy, and they just outnumbered the rabbis in the survey... cuz I'm pretty sure it's not the imams saying "I rate my personal happiness, on the scale of 1 to 10, as an 11!"

Roofers, apparently, are not happy at all; they're the absolute bottom of the list. This is interesting; there must be a connection between the dissatisfaction of workers who sit on rooves, and the satisfaction of rabbis who feel like jumping off rooves. Is jumping off a high structure the key to happiness? Or just dreaming of it? Or is it that roofers have the same dream, and are frustrated by living so close to the fantasy and not fulfilling it?

One final note: You know who was Number 2? Firefighters. This actually made a lot of sense to me. Because the next-happiest people, after rabbis, are totally people who run into burning buildings for a living.

Sufi Marriage Counseling

I was privileged to hear an interesting dvar torah over Yom Tov on the meaning of "havdalah [separation]" in biblical Creation, and the application of this "havdalah" to marriage and divorce. One of the speaker's core ideas was that humans who wed become one, and should not, under normal circumstances, be divided.

Then today, in reading a presentation on Public Health planning, I came across the following Sufi saying:

You think that if you understand one, you understand two, because one and one are two. But you must also understand 'and'.

The point regarding Public Health planning related to the way that scale changes our treatment recommendations – we cannot recommend for millions what we would recommend for a single patient in a clinic. One patient plus one patient does not yield multiple patients with a multiple of the same recommendation.

However, I also see applications for marriage counseling. One and One make two, so I might assume that if I know the husband and I know the wife then I know the couple. But we must also understand the "and", the way in which they combine, in order to truly comprehend what this couple becomes when they are together.

Hmm….

Haveil Havalim #335 - The Gilad is Free! edition

Welcome to Haveil Havalim #335, the Gilad is Free edition!

But first, the boilerplate:
Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish and Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It's hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by the formidable Jack. And as usual, I include all posts submitted, regardless of my personal opinion on their contents, and I added some from my own browsing.

First, and definitely foremost: Gilad Shalit's release
Batya presents her opinions in Not To Rain on The Shalit "Parade", comparing the deal to a flimsy succah, as well as Gilad Shalit versus Natan Sharansky and Next Time Will Be Worse.

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver has a lot to say in The Shalit deal—disgraceful and deadly, and Cosmic-X calls it A Criminal Mistake. The Muqata shows why, with a Freed Terrorist's vow, and Yisrael Medad (who did not submit anything this week?) may have a report of the first victim of the released terrorists.

Sharon A offers a series of photographs of the Shalit tent, and related scenes, in Gilad Shalit Home.

Frume Sarah will exhale, while Esser Agaroth presents Welcome Home, Gilad Shalit!

Mrs. S. presents PM Netanyahu's speech in “And the sons will return to their border”.

Leah-Perl Shollar writes about pregnancy, the Hoshanos prayers and Gilad Shalit's time as a hostage, in "Deliver Us!"

Simply Jews offers us Understanding the Swap, and Treppenwitz offers us Perspective, while Life In Israel presents the view of Rabbi Nir ben Artzi.

As for the media, rickismom doesn't see coverage of the deal for Gilad's release in the international media, in The World Ignores; We Are “Sweet and Sour”. While Jewlicious says the New York Times gets it wrong on Israel yet again.


And who's about to forget that it's been Yom Tov for the past three-plus months weeks?
Susan Barnes talks Community and High Holidays in Were High Holy Day Services Boring? Next Year, Try This.

Want some great Succos pictures? Check out Sharon A's unique 'Occupy' demonstration in Occupied on Sukkot, and then see My Shtub's A Simple Sukkah in the Fall.

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents The four kinds: Individuality, complementarity, and unity and Sukkah: Unity through transcending all divisions.

Mrs. S. suggests The latest hiddur for preserving your arba minim, while Adventures in Mama-Land takes the kids on a Chol haMoed trip.

Rivkah Lambert Adler discusses, describes and dissects her Simchat Torah in Simchat Torah Redux.

Jacob Richman presents Good News from Israel: New Video: The Jerusalem Sukkot March and Photos of Second Hakafot.


Next, here are some personal posts
Ki Yachol Nuchal offers some great photos and a chain of reminiscences in 4 years. 22 years. 1941 days.

Chaviva mourns Professor Gerald Shapiro.

The estimable Jack has musings on fatherhood and the dad blogosphere in The Media Does Not Define Me, while Crazy Jewish Convert reflects on One Year of Blogging.

Ima Bima (and David) review The Princess and the Peanut, while Elle muses on the passing of a year, and the changes it brings.


And some Israel News, beyond Gilad
Bibi has a meme! See it in The First Israeli Meme.

Joel Katz presents Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 1) and Religion and State in Israel - October 17, 2011 (Section 2).

Fun Joel is starting a series with Top 10 Things to Do in Jerusalem – Part 1.


Food!
Steve Ornstein offers Israel's BIRA 2011 – Beer Festival, while Kosher Beers reviews New Belgium Belgo.

Yosef gives us a pareve dessert recipe in Chocolate Avocado Mousse with Fresh Raspberries (Dairy Free).

Okay, not really under "Food", but Modern Uberdox has an observation on the relative kashrut of Starbucks and Hulu.


And to close this issue, let's have some Judaism, please
R' Gil Student has an interesting bit of history in The Chazon Ish vs. Rav Soloveitchik.

Harry Maryles discusses Gadol criteria in A Gadol in Name Only?

Susan Barnes talks about a key mitzvah in Visiting the Sick: Lesser Standing and Greater Stature.

Esser Agaroth is none too happy in Rashi's Daughters. [For my own critique of the scholarship in the Rashi's Daughters series, click here and here.]

And in reading Baruch she'Amar closely, I realize that Life is a Verb.

And that’s it for this week; the next hosted listed is for two weeks hence, at The Velveteen Rabbi! Submit your posts here.

Life is a Verb

No, this isn't a self-help column or a motivational speech; it's just a brief note on "Baruch she'Amar", the opening blessing of the "psukei d'zimra" collection of psalms and passages from Tanach recited each morning.

The blessing's first half reads:
Blessed is the One who spoke and the world existed
Blessed is He.
Blessed is the One who performs "In the beginning"
Blessed is the One who speaks and performs
Blessed is the One who decrees and fulfills
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the land
Blessed is the One who acts with mercy upon the creatures
Blessed is the One who pays good reward to those who are in awe of Him
Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally
Blessed is the One who redeems and rescues
Blessed is His Name.

As is true for much of psukei d'zimra, I find it easy to become numb to the meaning of each individual line – but picking out a line and focussing on it can help me find new meaning each day. Some time back, the 9th line, "Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally", caught my eye, because it doesn’t fit the overall structure.

I have two questions:
1. The rest of the lines describe Divine actions; is "lives" really an action?
2. The rest of the lines describe things Gd does on behalf of the universe; how is Divine existence an action taken on behalf of the universe?

Here's what I have come up with (and, of course, a note in my siddur hints to this, as a reminder when I say Baruch she'Amar each day):

Life implies action. To live is not merely to exist, to inhale and exhale (for us air-breathers, anyway). To live is to act. So, for example, Torah is described as עץ חיים, a Tree of Life, not in that it provides continued existence but in the sense that it fuels (positive) action. This answers the first question.

And then answering the second question: For Gd to live means for Gd to act – on our behalf, in all of the ways listed here, creating life and decreeing and acting with mercy and rewarding. And the emphasis is upon the eternity of it because this immortality guarantees that all of these actions will persist in the future, throughout human existence.

Blessed is the One who lives forever and exists eternally – who acts, and will continue to act, for us all.

And the take-away beyond davening, for me, goes into traditional "self-help" territory but it still worthwhile – Is my life a verb? Am I cycling air, or am I doing?...

Yom Tov: When Family and Religion Clash

Yom Tov [the 'holiday' season] brings family reunions, and along with family reunions can come strife of all kinds, including religious strife. What shul rabbi or yeshiva rebbe hasn't heard these questions:

"My parents' succah isn't really kosher. How can I get them to change it?"

"Our son came home from college for Yom Tov, but he doesn't want to go to shul with us; he'd prefer to lie in bed all morning. What are we supposed to do with him?"

"My family doesn't understand that a Yom Tov meal should be all about Torah. How am I supposed to maintain my intensity around them?"

The problem is complex, of course; it combines personality, stress, insecurity and history with the personal and deep nature of religious conviction, and the resulting clashes can be disastrous.

The best overarching advice I've heard is really just common sense; I wouldn't post it at all, except that sometimes we benefit even from the obvious:

1. Ask: Are you obligated to say anything?
Does the issue affect your own observance, or only theirs?
Do you think the obligation of 'tochachah' [educating others] requires you to speak up? Have you clarified that with a halachic authority?

2. Do your homework
If you are about to ask someone to change his time-honored tradition ("You must stop using horseradish for marror!"), make sure you know what you're talking about.
Prepare the source material, so you can explain the issue well.
And give plenty of notice in advance of the situation.

3. Always tell the truth... although not necessarily all of it
Using mis-direction in explaining yourself ("I don't feel like eating" in a kashrus situation) is a poor strategy, and quite likely to lead to disaster in the long term. Better to speak truthfully.
On the other hand, one doesn't need to say everything that's on his mind ("You will burn in Gehennom for skipping Shalom Aleichem on Friday night after a Yom Tov"); a gentle explanation of the problem, worded in a positive way, can go far.

4. Remember: People are fundamentally good
For the most part, when parents welcome home a child whose religious observance has changed, angst is present on both sides. The less stringent one wants the more stringent one to be comfortable. The more stringent one is nervous about imposing on the less stringent one.
Everyone means well, and no one is trying to make someone else look bad or feel bad – and keeping that in mind, and using it as a basis for approaching situations, can soften disagreements.

Disagree? Or do you have other tips?

On studying History: Rav Hirsch and the Netziv

I used the following two sources in a recent class on History and Memory.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, early 19th century Germany, The Relevance of Secular Studies, Collected Writings 7:97 (From an essay available on-line at http://www.stevens.edu/golem/llevine/rsrh/relevance_secular_studies_jewish_education.pdf)

Here, then, we have a people that emerged from the course of world history, that was placed into the midst of the nations to advance the goals of world history, and that was endowed with historical vision. Should not the sons of such a people understand that historical studies of the development of nations are truly not superfluous, but that they are, in fact, virtually indispensable? Will the sons of the Jewish people even begin to understand that ancient vision defining the missions of the three basic national prototypes of mankind if they know nothing about the influence of the Yaphetic-Hellenic spirit on the civilization of other nations, an influence that endures to this day?


And then here is Rabbi Chaim Berlin, late 19th century Russia, writing in the foreword to his father the Netziv's Meromei Sadeh regarding his father's approach to biography (not the same as history, perhaps, but I think close enough for our purposes):

באזני שמעתי מפיו הקדוש, בעת שהגיע לעיניו תולדות רע״א ז״ל... שנדפס בברלין בשנת תרכ״ב, לא רצה להביט עליו אף במעוף קל, ואמר שכל זה בכלל האמור בירושלמי אין עושין נפשות לצדיקים שדבריהם הן זכרונם, ומה מני יהלוך לדעת יום הולדתו או יום פטירתו, או תואר פרצוף תמונתו אם כה היה או כה, והעיקר לשום עין ולב על דברי תורתו

With my own ears I heard from his holy mouth, when the biography of Rabbi Akiva Eiger was brought before his eyes, published for the first time in Berlin in 1862: He did not want to look at it for so much as an instant, saying, "All of this is within the Jerusalem Talmud's statement, 'We do not construct monuments for the righteous; their words are their memorial.' What will come of my knowing the day of his birth or death, or whether his face looked thus or thus? The essence is to put our eye and heart to the words of his teachings."

I think Rav Hirsch (source 1) views the study of world history as important to the fulfillment of the Jew's mission as Jew. But what do you make of the Netziv's view (source 2) - Is it a rejection of the study of history, or is it simply a different derech in studying history? And is it depersonalizing, or more personalizing?

Of Wikileaks and Gilad Schalit

Two brief thoughts this morning:

Wikileaks: An Arm of US government policy?
That's a little sensationalist, but here's my point: The US government has a new pretext for measures against Iran, because Iranian agents sought to assassinate the Saudi ambassador to the US, and Saudi royal advisor, Adel al-Jubeir.

One logical explanation for the Iranian move: The fact that Adel al-Jubeir is on record telling US government officials, "He [the king of Saudi Arabia] told you to cut off the head of the snake," and more. Those statements only became public because Wikileaks disclosed it - triggering Iranian outrage and, quite plausibly, the botched assassination attempt.

And now the US and the Saudis are contemplating action...

The release of Gilad Schalit
We've been praying for Gilad Schalit's continued health, and ultimate release, for five years, and it looks like our prayers for his health have been answered, and our prayers for his ultimate release are about to come to fruition as well, thank Gd.

Of course, much human effort went into both of those - but the fact that we pray for these results is evidence of our belief that all comes from Gd.

If so: Perhaps our shuls, schools and community organizations should plan "thanksgiving" events of some kind, sort of a "birkat hagomeil", in honor of Gilad Schalit's release? If we ask, do not also say Thank You?

Write in your siddur

I always write in my sefarim, all of them. I recently suggested to a class that they write in their Tanach's, and was rewarded with expressions of shock – but I believe that most of us need to write in order to remember, and what better place than in the sefer from which we learn?

But that's not the subject of this post. Here, I'm expanding on a suggestion I made in the derashah here, that we should write in our siddurim, to help ourselves focus.

It's a way to corral ourselves during our distracted moments, and draw ourselves back.
It's a way to personalize our davening, by highlighting elements that matter to us.
It's a way to remember the items that catch our eye or ear and inspire us once, for the next time we daven.

So here's what I do:

I underline key words and phrases that I want to have special meaning, to ensure that I think when I get there.
Example: The word ואהבת ("And you shall love HaShem your Gd") in Shma. בכל יום אברכך ("I will praise You daily") in Ashrei. והשב את העבודה לדביר ביתך ("Return the service to Your home") in the amidah. The verbs in Psalm 100 (Mizmor l'Todah).

I make notations to call attention to interesting structural/poetic elements.
Examples: The Heaven/Earth contrast in Psalm 148 (aka "the third Hallelukah"), the thematic sets of lines in Avinu Malkeinu, and the Personal/Communal/Global sets in Ashrei.

I add reminders.
Examples: "מצות עשה (This fulfills a commandment)" before Shma, or circling רפאנו (the first word of the blessing for healing in the amidah).

I write in food for thought.
Examples: In תקע בשופר (the blessing for redemption in the Amidah) I have a question mark which reminds me to think about the difference between the roles of a שופר and a נס. In the first pre-Shma blessing in Shacharit, I note Rav Kook's thought from Orot on the link between Gd as "master of wars" and "seeder of justice".

I'm sure there's a lot more people could do with this. What would you add? Or are you horrified by the whole concept?

The Taking Shul: The Challenge of Shul Fundraising

Yom Kippur ended a few hours ago, and I'm giddy. This is no surprise – I'm always giddy after Yom Kippur. Sugar and forgiveness are a potent combination.

But I've been mulling a serious topic for a while now, and I want to put some preliminary thoughts down on 'paper'. The topic is Shuls: Giving and Taking.

Story #1 – At one point early in my rabbinate, I needed to raise funds for a community project. I approached someone for help, and was surprised to be turned down flat. Why? As he explained it, he was saving up for a particularly large expense – but, more, he had never been in my office before. He had learned at dozens of classes, davened at plenty of minyanim, but he had never been in my office, and so he didn't feel our relationship was at a point at which I could ask him for help. [Yes, I learned a lot from this encounter.]

Story #2 – A woman in our shul received a tzedakah box from Chabad, to be used for any tzedakah she chose. She commented to me something along the lines of, "See, they aren't always taking. Why can't our shul also give sometimes?" [Of course, we regularly raised funds for ARMDI and other Israeli causes, as well as our local Federation campaigns, Jewish Family Service, Jewish Day School, and Benevolent Fund... sigh.]

The parties involved were regular recipients of the shul's "giving" through davening and classes and aliyos and shul-sponsored kiddushes, but they saw the shul as a Taker rather than a Giver. This makes life difficult for synagogue fundraisers, since one of the most basic rules of fundraising is to make even the Taking feel like Giving [as in "We're giving you an opportunity to do something great"]. Instead, even the shul's Giving doesn't feel like Giving!

Why?

1. One part of the problem is that the synagogue does spend so much time Taking: Taking the time, effort and stress of volunteers, in addition to the money required to run a shul.

2. Another part of the problem is that people view the shul's Giving as automatic, since anyone can enjoy the benefits without paying for them.

3. Another part of the problem is that even when a shul Gives, it does it in the form of Taking. Shuls recruit would-be recipients, advertising their 'gifts' and campaigning to get people to take advantage of these wonderful opportunities. "Please come to minyan!" "Come to a shiur!" "Participate in our youth programs!" "Hear this speaker!"

Tell me this: If you need to sell me on your gifts, are they really gifts? The result is that people feel the shul is Taking even when it's Giving.

4. Yet another part of the problem is that when the shul rewards a member's Giving, as in a Thank You call/note/meeting by the Rabbi and/or Synagogue President, it's more likely to be seen as an individual doing the the thanking, rather than the shul as an institution. The result is that the institution Takes, while individuals offer reward.

5. And yet another part of the problem is that shuls don't have products to sell for fundraising, so that fundraising often involves selling what should be their gifts. Schools are forever generating projects to endow. Various types of tzedakah-based organizations perpetually acquire and dedicate new equipment in honor of donors. Shuls, on the other hand, can only raise dues, or charge for their 'gifts' – aliyos, classes and programs. [Cookbook fundraisers and the like don't count; they raise a tiny percentage of the funds a shul needs.]

The upshot: The shul is not seen as a giver, because 1) It takes so much, 2) Its gifts are taken for granted, 3) Its gifts are seen as just another way the shul takes, 4) The institution takes, while its individual leaders are the ones who give back, and 5) it ends up selling its gifts, instead of giving them away.

This is the problem. Solutions will need to wait for another post…

In memory of Steve Jobs

[This week's Haveil Havalim is up early, here]

This came to me from a friend and chavrusa, Craig Guttmann; reprinted here with permission:

This is what Steve Jobs meant to me. I can’t even believe that I feel the urge to write this, so it gives you an idea of how profound an impact Steve had on my life.

Just before we had moved to Israel for the year in August of 2002, Apple had released its second generation of the iPod. In October 2003, Apple launched iTunes for Windows which essentially married the iPod for Windows based users. I will never forget the day that my tekki showed me the release on my trip back to Canada. I ran downtown and bought my first iPod. I figured I would have music in my ears for those 10 and 13 hours journeys to China and Israel, and many in between. (In August of 2011, Air Canada sent me a welcome letter into their “Million Mile Club”) How wonderful is that?

On a flight in December, 2002 from Toronto to Israel, I bumped into a friend who had discovered the iPod too. Except, he had figured out, that not only could you load music on your iPod, but you could load comedy! Brilliant! So I began loading some of my most cherished comedians. Bob Newhart, Eddie Murphy, George Carlin. Now flying was funny! Have you ever heard Carlin’s piece about flying and stewardesses (that’s what they were called in the old days) while flying?

Living in Israel and having time on my hands in the morning in particular because of the time difference with my office in Toronto, allowed me to surf the internet. And one day, I happened across the site dafyomi.org. The daf yomi shiurim were posted and free to download. If I could load music and comedy, how cool would it be to be able to travel the world and have my maggid shir with me at all times. I would never have an excuse to not be able to do Daf Yomi. I downloaded the mesachet of the day, Horayos. Not the easiest gemara to start out with, and I quickly realized that I needed the Artscroll Gemara. So, I ran into town and picked up the Gemara and eagerly whisked home to try learning Daf Yomi. The rest is history.

I have learned Daf Yomi all over the world the first time around.

Thornhill • Jerusalem • Ramot • New York • Los Angeles • Rochester • St.Maarten • Pittsburgh • Miami • Boca Raton • St.Thomas • Vancouver • Cincinnati • Boston • San Francisco • Cabo San Lucas • Mazatlan • Honolulu • Maui • Frankfurt • Munich • Venice • Bellagio • Freeport • Puerto Plata • San Jose • Aruba • Puerta Vallarta • Englewood • Mumbai • Delhi • Ludhiana • Qingdao • Guangzhou • Seoul • Taipei • Hong Kong • Shenzhen • Shanghai • Beijing • Tokyo • Pusan • Incheon • Taichung • Paris • Honfleur • Bordeaux • Uzes • Tainan • Koahsiung • Jiagmin • Shanghai • Bangkok

11.3 GB • 5,406 Files • 97,308 Minutes • 1,621 Hours • 3 iPods • 1 iPad • 1 iPhone
May 29, 2003-October 29, 2010 • 2,716 Days

Seven and half years later, on October 29, 2010, I completed my first cycle of Shas!

I firmly believe that the iPod was created for me to learn Daf Yomi. That’s what so special about Steve Jobs. Every product that he has developed, feels like it was made for them.

With much gratitude Steve Jobs! Thank You and Yishar Koach!
Craig Guttmann
Thornhill, ON, CA

P.S. Yes, I’m on my second cycle!

Take a tank to the mikvah

First, to follow up on my Rosh HaShanah derashah about paying attention, a suggestion: Take your Yom Kippur machzor now, and write in it. An asterisk next to an important line. A note reminding you that saying מקדש השבת וישראל ויום הכיפורים counts as Kiddush. An underline of a sentence so that it will catch your eye when your concentration flags. A quick commentary on something you've noticed in the davening.

I want to put up a post, How to Write in a Siddur, but I haven't made the time yet; let this suffice for now.

I'm always unsure how to approach speaking at Kol Nidrei, a time when people are so tense and tired and exhausted and full of food. This year I'm going to center my remarks on a story which I heard in the name of Rav Simcha haKohen Kook several years ago. Here's the story; I'll save the remarks for Kol Nidrei night itself.

My basic theme: When was the last time I took a tank to the mikvah, moving heaven and earth for a mitzvah?

A young soldier, an American named Motti, called me from a town in Aza called Netzarim… At first I questioned the soldier. "You don't mean you are in Netzarim, you mean you are in an army base near Netzarim."

"No," came the reply, “I am in Netzarim.”

I knew that there were only two ways to reach Netzarim: By tank, or by helicopter at night. So I asked him: "How did you get there?"

"I told my commander that it was my custom to go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur, and the only Mikvah around was in the Jewish community of Netzarim. So he let me use a tank."

Now came the reason for the young soldier's call: "I am borrowing a Torah scroll from the community synagogue to take back to the base. The Jews of Netzarim have donated enough Tzitziot for my whole platoon. My question is, what kind of Yom Kippur Tefillah can I conduct. Besides myself there is only one other observant soldier on the base. Most of the other soldiers have, believe it or not, never attended a Yom Kippur service in their lives."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "You just conduct the service and you instruct them to say "Amen" to your blessing and it will be as if they were praying themselves."

That night, Rav Simcha Kook got up in shul before Kol Nidrei and said:
“Dear Gd, there are many countries in this great world of yours who have armies. And many of these armies have tanks. Some have many tanks and some have fewer tanks. But Gd, is there another country in this world that used a tank to help someone go to the Mikvah before Yom Kippur? Is there another country that used a tank to bring a Torah to an army base so they could have a Minyan for Yom Kippur? Gd, only in Israel are tanks used this way so you must protect your country Israel.”

Working hard doesn't mean you're doing a good job

Our culture emphasizes effort, and the Torah does likewise. We are taught in the Talmud, "Whether you do a lot or a little, the key is that your heart should be for heaven," "Gd desires the heart," and so on.

This is religious truth, certainly. We would never want to reward laziness, and we believe in the value of the heart. Nonetheless, a culture that honors effort runs the risk of accidentally encouraging mediocrity.

Case in point: Some time back, I had my WebShas website critiqued by someone who told me, "The front end stinks." It stung - getting slapped in the face hurts - but he was right. (And he remains right; I don't have the time to work on improving it.)

More recently, I had another on-line project of mine ridiculed by an observer. Granted, the observer didn’t really understand the goal and emphasis of the project, and his version of mussar was so vintage technogeek kaltkeit that I couldn't take it seriously, but his remarks, combined with the remarks about WebShas, reminded me of a basic principle: The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.

Another example of this lesson: I loaded my schedule with shiurim and programs during Elul, including a five-day stretch from September 20-24 when I completely overloaded. I worked hard and made it through - but to be frank, by the end the shiurim were not my best, and I felt terrible for letting people down.

The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.

I'm reminded of that now as I work through my pre-Yom Kippur cheshbon hanefesh, my accounting of what I have done and what I have not done, of what I have accomplished and what I have failed to accomplish. I work hard. By the standards of effort, I'm doing all right. But effort is not the same as achievement.

Take the slap in the face. The fact that you worked hard on something doesn't mean you did a good job.

My grandmother's tefillin bag

[Interesting development in an on-going saga: Have tzedakah organizations crossed the line?]


My grandmother made the above-pictured tefillin bag for me, for my bar mitzvah, more than 25 years ago. At the time there was a trend for custom-embroidered zeklach; I see them often among others my age. Thank Gd, it has held up very well; the zipper isn't great, but the rest is intact.

I still remember when my grandmother asked me about the design, and about the colors. I remember when I first held it. {Side note: I have no idea why I wanted red, green and silver on the crown. I think I remember my parents asking me, "Are you sure?" and me not knowing why they were asking. Now, when I put my tefillin bag down among strangers, I know they are wondering what the deal is with those colors.}

My bag is important for me, independent of the tefillin it holds. I don't get to see my grandmother very often, so this is like having her with me wherever I go. I am connected to my tefillin, of course, but this bag is emotionally irreplaceable.

Do you have a mitzvah-peripheral item like that, which carries meaning independent of the mitzvah object itself?

Questions from Rosh HaShanah

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]

While we wait for post-Yom Tov "Derashah Reviews"...

As we have discussed, I keep a hard and fast rule: I don't answer halachic questions that require anything more than "See this note in the Mishneh Berurah/Aruch haShulchan", referring them instead to the Rabbi of whichever shul is involved. I have a few reasons for this, including respect for the shul Rav, necessity for consistency in communal psak, and a feeling that psak should be rendered by the one who is responsible for communal needs and fallout.

Nonetheless, I am sometimes the first stop on the way to the Rabbi of the shul. Here are some of the interesting questions I was involved with over Yom Tov; some of them may come up for you, too:

• May I braid challah on Yom Tov?

This is actually more complex than it may sound. On the one hand, acts from kneading and onward in the bread-making process are permitted on Yom Tov. On the other hand, the reason we don't braid dough is because it is "construction", and construction is prohibited on Yom Tov. Indeed, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach is cited in Shemiras Shabbos k'Hilchasah, Chapter 11 foonote 43 as opposing the practice, although he does offer a potential halachic justification.


• Why do we recite Shehechiyanu on shofar on the second day of Yom Tov, but not on lulav for the second day of Succos?

For shofar we recite Shechiyanu, but the reason is not clear (indeed, the tokeia may wear an appropriate new garment in order to remove doubt regarding the Shehechiyanu). For lulav, though, I see less reason to recite Shehechiyanu. One could argue that we must recite Shehechiyanu for shofar, since the only way we should blow shofar is if it's Day 1. For lulav, though, we pick up the lulav even for days 2-7.


• If the kitchen sink stops up on the first night of a three-day Yom Tov, may we plunge it?

If there is a great need, one may use a plunger for a sink, ideally in an unusual way. See Shemirat Shabbat k'Hilchatah Chapter 12, footnote 50, for more on this.


• May one change the orientation of a ceiling light in shul, to aid davening?

The answer seems to be Yes; we generally permit moving a lamp altogether on Shabbos and Yom Tov.


• We say (see Igrot Moshe Orach Chaim 2:36) that one should not interrupt between the berachah on the shofar and the end of the blasts blown in the repetition of the Amidah. What if one interrupted after the first 30?

It seems that there is nothing to do at this point. The reason to be silent through the second set of 30 is in order to tie the berachos of the repetition of the amidah to the shofar blowing; if that doesn't happen, one certainly doesn't daven musaf a second time.


• What melachah has one performed, if one cuts a worm in half (without moving it) on Shabbos or Yom Tov, and both halves of the worm live?

Okay, this one is weird, fine. It was my own, sparked when I saw someone step on a worm in a park on Yom Tov. It's interesting, though:

One is not guilty of netilas neshamah, taking a life, since the worm lives.
One may help an animal give birth on Shabbos, but one may not physically pull the young out (Shabbos 128b); what is the status of the cutting action?
Should we contend that this is an act of tearing for a constructive purpose, if it is done intentionally?
One didn't move a muktzeh entity.
Would it bleed? But even if so, would the blood be coming from inside the flesh, or from a cavity? (mifkad pakid vs chiburei michbar, in Kesuvos-speak)
Is one guilty of molid, creating something new, as in creation of a spark or investment of scent in a garment?
Dunno. Ask the Rabbi.