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PAST REFLECTIONS

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

Past Reflections
 

To view the this weeks 'Reflections' click here

Past Reflections can be found by clicking on the months from 2013 below:

January    February    March     April     May     June     July    August     September      October      November    December

 


 

 

NASO

2nd Sivan 5773 ~ 18th May 2013
By Matt Plen

Parshat Naso contains one of the Torah’s more disturbing passages – the laws relating to an ishah sotah or ‘wayward woman’ (5:11-31). A man becomes jealous of his wife and suspects her of adultery; there is no evidence against her and she may or may not be guilty. He brings her to the Tabernacle and presents a meal offering on her behalf. The priest rips the woman’s clothing, dishevels her hair and makes her swear an oath, declaring that if she has indeed defiled herself, the subsequent ceremony will cause her thigh to fall away and her belly to swell and she will become a curse among her people. The priest now takes a jug of water into which dirt from the Tabernacle floor has been mixed, blots the inky words of the curse - written on a scroll - into the water, and makes the woman drink it. If she is guilty, the predetermined results ensue.

 

The Mishnah modifies this procedure in several important ways. Before a woman can be subjected to the ordeal, she must have been warned by her husband against secluding herself with a named individual. Both the warning and the seclusion itself must be attested to by witnesses. If such evidence exists, the woman is brought to the high court in Jerusalem where the judges implore her to confess her sins. If she does so at any point before the curse is blotted into the water, her guilt is assumed and her husband may divorce her, but she avoids the ordeal. And even if a truly adulterous woman goes through with the ceremony, the effects of the bitter water will be delayed by up to three years by any other good deeds she may have done.

 

The contrast between the biblical and rabbinic accounts is striking. As in other cases (laws relating to the death penalty, the execution of rebellious children, punishments of an eye for an eye) the rabbis, it seems, could not stomach some of the Torah’s more barbarous prescriptions. Thus, while notionally respecting the sanctity and integrity of the text, they introduced so many procedural safeguards that in effect they reversed the Torah’s intention. It’s reasonably clear that to the rabbis, the bitter water had no physical effect. Rabbi Shimon hints at this in the Mishnah, arguing that if merit is understood to delay the punishment, guilty women will cease to fear the water and the reputation of innocent women, ostensibly cleared by the ceremony, may be called into question. None of this would be the case if the bitter water worked, even occasionally. Rather than a true trial by ordeal, the rabbis have rewritten the ceremony so as to protect women from arbitrary accusations and as a judicial – not magical - disincentive to adultery.

 

But this kind of revolutionary reinterpretation goes back further than the Mishnah – right into the text of the Torah itself. Academic Bible scholars have noted that the ritual of the sotah bears the marks of an earlier, pagan ceremony, which served as the vehicle for a new, monotheistic religious message. The text itself appears to be fragmented: read chapter 5 verses 24-26 and decide whether the woman drank the water before the priest offered the sacrifice or vice versa. This kind of repetition and inconsistency indicates to some scholars an evolution and editing together of older traditions into a new text. Where once the bitter water was considered to have magical powers of its own, the Torah makes clear that its function is symbolic - any harm inflicted comes from God. And while the procedure reflects patriarchal, sexist assumptions, it’s possible to read the biblical text as an attempt to alleviate some of the worst misogynistic excesses, providing a public, judicial alternative to the private and arbitrary punishment of wives by jealous husbands.

 

Matt Plen is Chief Executive of Masorti Judaism and a member of Assif at New North London Synagogue


Women & Tefillin and the first 3 Days of Shiva

By Rabbi Monique Susskind Goldberg z’l

Question: I am writing a paper on Women and Tefillin. What is the Conservative Movement's outlook on this issue?

Answer: Jewish law considers tefillin to be a time bound positive commandment. Women are exempt from such commandments (Mishna Berakhot 3:3; Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayim 38, 3). Nonetheless, Halakha (Jewish Law) does not forbid women from putting , on tefillin. They can decide to take this commandment upon themselves. The Conservative Movement tends to encourage women to put on tefillin, especially as Rabbis, but this remains an individual choice. At the Jewish Theological Seminary, putting on tefillin is mandatory for Rabbinical students, but not in the Rabbinical Seminary of the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem where the decision is left to each woman. On the issue of tefillin as in many issues, the Conservative Movement is pluralistic in their application of Jewish Law.

 

FIRST THREE DAYS OF SHIVA

Question: A friend of mine brought up a question about the first three days of shiva, to which I cannot find any answer in any of my texts. My friend heard that during the first three days, a mourner is allowed to 'curse' (for the lack of better words) G-d for allowing the death, or something to that effect. All my resources mention the first three days and that you should not visit the mourners during that time in order that they be allowed to express their grief, sorrow, depression, and the like. I also found that during these three days, a mourner is exempt from obeying the positive commandments ('thou shalts') without committing sin. What does Jewish law and/or tradition say about this? I am conservative myself, and know that there are differences between Orthodox and Reform views on mourning. If possible, may I have both views. Thank you very much.

 

Answer: Thank you for your question about shiva. I do not know the source of your friend's idea, neither your source, but both are incorrect from a halakhic point of view. About visiting the mourner, it is a mitzva to visit the mourner every day of the seven days of the shiva, and there should be at least ten people present at the time of prayer so the mourner can say kadkish (here the Orthodox would oblige ten men and the conservative would allow ten men and/or women) The only period the mourner is exempted from the positive commandments is the period between the death and the burial. Originally, this exemption was to allow the mourner time to take care of the practical problems of burial. However, the Talmud does make a diference between the first three days and the rest of the shiva. The rabbis considered the first three days as the most intense, declaring, "Three days for weeping and seven for lamenting" (Babylonian Talmud, Moed Katan 27b).

 

During the first three days of the shiva, the prohibitions imposed on the mourner are stricter: The mourner is absolutely forbidden to leave his house, to work, even if he is very poor (other people must feed him). After the third day, normally the mourner should not work, but if he is very poor he is allowed to do so. The other aspect that differentiates the first three days from the remaining four days of shiva is that during the first three days, the mourner does not greet people, and people do not greet him. If people greet him he does not answer. After three days of mourning until the end of the shiva, the mourner does not greet visitors, but he or she can answer.

 

By Rabbi Monique Susskind Goldberg z’l Rabbi Susskind worked at the Center for Women in Jewish Law at the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies since its inception in 1999. She was a native of Belgium and had degrees in Biology and Bible and was ordained at the Schechter Rabbinical Seminary in 1999. She very sadly passed away in 2012.

Source: http://www.schechter.edu/.

 

Established in 1984 with a student body of five students, The Schechter Institutes has grown into a major Israeli educational organization devoted to the broad dissemination of Jewish studies for ALL Israelis, serving some 45,000 adults and children each year in Israel and Eastern Europe. Our goal is to offer pluralistic Jewish education to diverse populations, promoting a democratic society secure in its Jewish roots. At Schechter, we believe that offering Jewish study in an environment that is both academically critical and committed to tradition provides a vital, and hitherto missing dimension to Israeli education.

 


Bamidbar
2nd Sivan 5773 ~ 11th May 2013
By Melanie Kelly

We are taught that each time God counts us it is an act of love. This week, in Bamidbar, we are being counted for the third time since our departure from Egypt. The first time we are counted as we depart is to show the Israelites that they have been blessed. The second time we are counted is after the incident with the Golden Calf to determine the number of survivors. Why then are we being counted at the beginning of this new book of Bamidbar? We are in the wilderness, and we know it, and yet nothing seems to have happened for us to be counted.

In order to understand this census and its purpose, we need to understand the chronology of the story of the Israelites up to this point and the fact that the chronology is not always according to the linear reading of the Torah. The Parasha opens with the announcement that it is 1st day of the 2nd month of the 2nd year since the Exodus. If we recall Parasha Pikudei (Shemot 38:21 - 40) we are told that the Mishkan was set up a month previously on the 1st day of the 1st month of the 2nd year. Therefore the whole of Leviticus (apart from Behar and Bechukotai, which refer back to the time on Mount Sinai), with all its laws and procedures for the workings of the tabernacle occurred during this first month of Nisan. We also read that in the month of Nisan the offerings were made by each of the chieftains of the tribes as described in Naso - which we read next week. Consequently the start of this new book with its call for a census is chronologically in the wrong order.

There is a Rabbinic concept known as “Eim mukdam u’muchar ba-Torah” – ‘there is no before or after in the Torah’,Pesakim 6b, Rashi and others. This idea suggests that the order in which we read Torah is not necessarily the order in which the events occurred. However that does not mean order without reason; there must be a reason that this census was placed at the beginning of this book with such a specific reference to the date at which it commenced. If we return to Pekudei, we learn that having established the Tabernacle, God’s presence, in the form of a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night, descended into it and God dwelt amongst the Children of Israel. In fact when God originally gives the commands for a Mishkan (in Terumah) he asks for it to be built, not so that God can dwell in it, but so that it can be used as a conduit for God to dwell among the people as an ultimate act of love. Seen in this light the purpose of the census is therefore another act of love by God of the people; it marks each person as someone God will live with.

Melanie Kelly is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Syangogue

Pronouncing God’s name
by Rabbi Chaim Weiner

Question: Is it permissible to pronounce God's Name when recording prayers or Shabbat songs for educational purposes?

Responsum: At the outset, it should be remembered that even when we recite "Adonai" in the prayers, we are not pronouncing God's Name as it is written, but rather a substitute. But according to halakhah, even this substitute should be used with caution. That is why there is a custom among observant Jews to use Adonai only in religious contexts such as in prayer, blessings and Torah study. There is, however, one exception: one is allowed to pronounce Adonai if it is for educational purposes. Thus it is permitted to record Adonai in Shabbat prayers and songs for two reasons: prayers and Shabbat songs are a religious context, and the aim of the recording is education.

It is also permissible to play these tapes, because the prohibition of pronouncing Adonai is related to people, not to machines. Furthermore, if it is permissible for people to pronounce Adonai for educational purposes, then it is certainly permissible to do so via a machine.

There is also no prohibition of erasing the recording in question, for the following reasons: a recording cannot be considered as something written because it is invisible; what was recorded is not really God's Name, but a substitute, and many authorities allow the erasure of substitute names, at least in an indirect way (gerama); the prohibition of erasing God's Name pertains only to Hebrew letters; there is no act of contempt in the erasing, because one cannot see that the tape contains God's Name.

Nevertheless, there is an old custom of recycling tashmishei mitzvah such as tzitzit or aravot and using them to fulfill other mitzvot. Though a cassette does not have the same halakhic status, if it is necessary to erase a cassette, it is still preferable to reuse it for other prayers or sacred songs. Finally, if the tape tears, one should discard it in a respectful fashion (e.g. in a bag) in order to avoid the appearance of impropiety (mar'it ayin).

Rabbi Chaim Weiner

Rabbi Chaim Weiner is a graduate of the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem where he received his rabbinical Ordination. He was National Director of Noam in Israel before coming to England to become the first permanent Rabbi at Edgware Masorti Synagogue. As a member of the Va'ad Halacha [Law Committee] of the Masorti Movement in Israel, he published several Teshuvot [Legal Responses]. He followed Dr. Louis Jacobs as the Rabbi of the New London Synagogue, in London, England. Rabbi Weiner has played a prominent role in the development of the Masorti Movement in UK. He was instrumental in the establishment of the Masorti Bet Din in the United Kingdom, and in its development into the European Masorti Bet Din. Since January 2005, Rabbi Weiner has served at the Av Bet Din of the European Masorti Bet Din with responsibility for advanced rabbinic services across Europe.

Source www.responsafortoday.com  Please note that we aim to provide articles of interest and that you should consult your local rabbi if any there are any issues raised that need clarification or further explanation.


Behar-Bechukotai

24th Iyyar 5773 ~ 4th May 2013
By Chazan Jacky Chernett

“For unto Me the children of Israel are servants; they are My servants whom I brought forth out of the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.” (Lev.25:55)

The Torah acknowledges that people employ other people to work for them. Most of us couldn’t do our work without help. And our sedra includes ancient rules that protect the employed worker. I doubt if any of us is comfortable with the word servant or slave but aved infers avodah which is work as well as service in a practical sense – but in a religious sense too.

Hence our opening quotation above which comes at the end of B’har. After all the laws of how we treat our avadim, who is the aved? It is you and it is me. We Jews are a people who are servants – servants of God in His constant service. Here we are, still in the aftermath of Pesach, and this is an echo of our core purpose, the ultimate message of freedom.

Recently a young Philippina lady came to visit me. She had been a carer for an elderly Jewish lady with whom she had had a mutually caring, respectful and beautiful relationship until the older lady passed away. There is nothing unusual in that, we might think… until the young woman described her experiences of having worked for other Jewish people in the past. The worst thing about this conversation is that she thought the kind lady was unusual because ALL her previous Jewish employers had been unkind, uncaring and impolite.

I remember employing a series of au pairs over a number of years to help me with my young family as I struggled with the work/ family issues. I always imagined that if my daughters wanted to live abroad for a while to learn another language it would be helpful for them to live with a family and have a caring home and some money in return for family duties. I welcomed all my au pair girls into my family thus. I recoiled in horror at stories that some of their friends came to the house and told me. They were not permitted to eat with the family, nor to use the telephone (some had installed locks on them), and much more. They felt demeaned and frightened through the lack of trust.

The terrible thing was that these employers were all Jewish. I still shudder when I hear au pairs, domestic helpers, etc. referred to as “the girl”, “the cleaner” or worse, as if they don’t have a name.

Rabbi David Hartman, of blessed memory, wrote about Pesach preparation: “Everyone talks about cleaning, recipes and kashut”. Of course he lived by halachic observance but needed to emphasise that “Passover is a holiday that inculcates the belief that man will overcome oppression…”

None of us Jews should forget that we are the ones who are servants of God. This is our purpose. Only then do we come near to being worthy of being Jewish.

Chazan Jacky Chernett is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue and a Vice President of Masorti Judaism.

Masorti Judaism: between mitzvah and autonomy
By Matt Plen, Chief Executive of Masorti Judaism

Perhaps the most difficult issue for Masorti Jews is the tension between two core values: mitzvah (which I translate here not as an individual commandment but as the concept of commandedness) and autonomy. Mitzvah is the most important principle of halachic Judaism while autonomy is the indispensable grounding idea of modern ethics. I want to explain more clearly what these two values mean and why the contradiction between them is inescapable.

Commandedness is perhaps the most important principle of rabbinic Judaism. For the rabbis, the value of performing a mitzvah is not only inherent in the act itself (and sometimes, as in the case of sha’atnez or tefillin for example, the act might have no intrinsic value other than the fact it is commanded). A mitzvah is important simply because it is commanded and because we are under an obligation to perform it. The Talmud (Kiddushin 31a) illustrates this idea with the story of a non-Jew, Dama ben Natinah, who was seen to have honoured his parents even at great cost to himself, and was subsequently rewarded by God. Rabbi Hanina comments that if this happened to someone who honoured his parents despite having no obligation to do so, how much more would a Jew in a similar position be rewarded, as (this is the punchline) it is greater to be commanded and act than to act without being commanded.

Why might it be the case? The Tosafot (medieval Talmudic commentators) offer several explanations. The pragmatic view is that a person who is obligated to do a good deed is more likely to act than a person for whom the deed is voluntary (on Kiddushin 31a). A more principled explanation – and one that in my view goes to the heart of rabbinic Judaism – is that the value of performing a mitzvah is that in so doing a person negates her own desires submits herself to the will of God (Avodah Zarah 3a). If so, demonstrating obedience rather than the content of the act itself is the vital component in any mitzvah.

In complete contrast, modern ethics is based on the value of autonomy, which literally means self-rule. The eighteenth-century philosopher Immanuel Kant argued that any act which is impelled by a heteronomous (external) source of authority can never be described as moral. The reason for this is that obedience can only be induced by fear of punishment or hope of reward: we pay tax to avoid being fined, we stop at red lights to avoid being injured or arrested and so on. Because morality is defined in terms of duty while heteronomous action is always a matter of self-interest, heteronomy can never be the basis for morality. Moral agents are always by definition autonomous in that they make free, rational decisions as to how to behave, based on their sense of duty to others.

The clash between mitzvah and autonomy should now be clear. Autonomy is about obeying our own, rational, self-imposed moral principles, whereas mitzvah means putting these to one side in order to obey God or submit ourselves to Jewish tradition. Incidentally, this holds true regardless of whether or not we consider the Torah to be of divine origin: obeying God contradicts the principles of autonomy no less than obeying the rabbis. Sometimes the practical results of these two principles coincide: either could lead a person to give tzedakah for example. Less often they clash: when my son was born, I was acutely aware of my halachic obligation to perform a brit milah, whereas my moral sense was outraged by the thought of intentionally injuring a new baby. But if intentions are what is important, then the contradiction is always there.

I cannot act in order to realise my own autonomy and simultaneously aspire to overcome my desires so as to obey God or the rabbis, both heteronomous sources of authority. Progressive movements (for example, the Liberal and some Reform Jews) and ultra- Orthodox Jews resolve this tension by prioritising one of the two principles. For ultra-Orthodoxy, commandedness always holds sway and personal values and desires are to be abandoned when they clash with halachah; Progressive Judaism privileges autonomy and empowers the individual to selectively filter the mitzvot in light of modern, rational principles. The challenge is most squarely faced by the centrist movements in Judaism, modern Orthodoxy and Masorti: neither are prepared to jettison their halachic commitment or sacrifice their modern, liberal principles.

What might be a Masorti response to this dilemma? How can we be true to ourselves, our passionately held values, and our sense of personal freedom, while at the same time upholding our commitment to Torah and mitzvot in the framework of halachah? For my answer, I want to draw on the work of one of the most important of all modern Jewish thinkers, Franz Rosenzweig. While Rosenzweig is not usually identified with Masorti Judaism, I believe that his commitment to liberal philosophical principles together with his profound commitment to the tradition makes him a particularly suitable role model for us.

Rosenzweig returned to Judaism after a period of assimilation but felt unable to submit himself to Jewish law as this would have compromised his freedom as an individual. The solution lay in a distinction he drew between Law and Commandment. Whereas Law is an objective set of rules whose imposition clearly compromises personal autonomy, Commandment is a personal directive issued in the context of a committed, loving relationship, where the power of the relationship enables us to hear and freely obey.


EMOR

17th Iyyar 5773 ~ 27th April 2013

By Robert Stone

The Sedra today is mostly a catalogue of laws – about the priesthood and about fixed times like Shabbat and the festivals – but the Sedra ends with a story. That is worth noting, because there are only two stories in the whole Book of Leviticus. They are both very short and they are both very horrible. The first story is that of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, who offered “alien fire” before the Eternal, and were consumed by fire (10:1-8). The second story, at the end of our Sedra, is about the blasphemer who is stoned to death (24:10-23).

We do not know the name of the blasphemer, but we are told the name of his mother and her father. The man was the son of an Israelite woman and an Egyptian man. The Israelite woman’s name was “Shelomith daughter of Dibri of the tribe of Dan.” This man brawled in the Israelite camp and reviled the Name and insulted it. Moses consulted God, who commanded that the blasphemer should be stoned to death, which he was. In pronouncing judgement, God also lays down the infamous law of talion – the lex talionis – “If any man maims his fellow, as he has done so shall it be done to him: fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.” The law of talion is the law of the Mikado in Gilbert and Sullivan’s opera – “to let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime.”

What are we to make of this? The Rabbis sought to prove that the law of talion cited here should be interpreted to require a monetary punishment and not pure retaliation in kind. I accept that argument entirely, of course, in the real world, but I would still ask why it is expressed that way, and why here, and why is the blasphemer nevertheless stoned to death.

Mary Douglas, the great anthropologist, argued on the basis of the language of the Sedra that the stoning is also a case of the law of talion. The word for stoning – ragumu – simply means to hurl (though it is always used in the context of stoning). The son of Shelomit hurled insults at the Name of God, so stones are to be hurled at him. Mary Douglas also notes that Shelomit, his mother’s name, hints at retribution (shellumat); Dibri, her father’s name, at a lawsuit (dibra); and Dan, their tribe, at judgement (‘Dan shall judge his people ...’ Genesis 49:16).

 The hurler of insults at God’s name had stones hurled at him. Nadav and Avihu offered alien fire before God and were punished by being consumed by fire. There are only two stories in Leviticus, and they are both about retaliation.

The two stories occur at pivotal points in the succession of laws in Leviticus – between laws of purity and defilement and laws of repentance and redemption. We live in a dangerous world and our actions can have dangerous consequences. The possibility of redemption is always present, but so is the possibly that those who sew wind shall reap the whirlwind (Hosea 8:7).

Robert Stone is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue and Finchley Reform Synagogue

 

Washing Hands before Kiddush

Rabbi David Golinkin

Question: It is customary to wash the hands on Friday night between kiddush and hamotzi. This is problematic at kibbutzim and other educational institutions where the hands are washed in another room, which leads to a long delay between kiddush and hamotzi. Is it permissible to wash the hands at the table? Is it permissible to wash the hands before kiddush?

Responsum: There are two possible solutions to this problem:

1. It is certainly permissible to wash the hands at the table as is customary at the seder since this was the standard practice in the talmudic period (Tosefta Berakhot 4:8 and parallels).

2. It is also permissible to wash the hands before kiddush (but not before Shalom Aleikhem) since that was one of the standard customs throughout the Middle Ages and until today. The main source discussed in this regard is found in Pesahim 106a: “Rabbi Bruna said in the name of Rav: He who washes his hands should not recite kiddush.” Maimonides, the Tur and R. Joseph Karo ruled on the basis of that source that the hands must be washed after kiddush. But Rabbeinu Tam and others interpreted that source in a different fashion. In practice, many Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews in the Middle Ages used to wash their hands before kiddush and this practice was endorsed by R. Moshe Isserles. Many Ashkenazic Jews later abandoned this practice, but it is still the standard practice among German Jews and their descendants.

Thus it is permissible to sing Shalom Aleichem and Eishet Hayil and bless the children, to wash the hands and then to make kiddush and hamotzi without a break.


Achrei Mot-Kedoshim

10th Iyyar 5773 ~ 20th April 2013

By Rabbi Paul Arberman

The double Torah portion, Parashat Achare Mot-Kedoshim, begins by mentioning the deaths of Nadav and Abihu, Aaron’s sons and then quickly switches to a description of the rituals for sin offerings.

The parasha then outlines the strange Yom Kippur ceremony of sending goats out into the wilderness. Aaron is to take two goats -- one of them "for God" and the other "for Azazel".

The one for God is sacrificed as a sin offering on the altar. Aaron then places his hands on the head of the second goat and confesses all the sins of the Israelites on it. This goat is sent off to wander and die in the wilderness.

What is Azazel? An evil god? The name of a place? Rabbi Abraham Ben Meir Ibn Ezra (known in Hebrew as Ibn Ezra or Rav’a) (1089-1164, Spain) suggests that Azazel may be the name of a “goat demon” and that this ritual has its origins in pagan religious practice.

However, modern commentator Baruch Levine states that the Israelites took the belief in demons and "converted" it. According to Levine, they were symbolically returning evil back to its point of departure, to the wilderness. By doing this, they were demonstrating that only God had power in their lives and that they had defeated the symbol of evil.

According to Mishnah Yoma, the ritual of the scapegoat, which began as a very important ceremony, later became something of an embarrassment and a joke. People would stand on the side of the path that the goat had to run and say: "Such a tiny scapegoat for such a huge load of sins!" The ritual eventually ended with the destruction of the second Temple.

Symbols are powerful as long as we take them seriously. It’s easy to mock such a strange ritual. So when I think of the goat sent to Azazel -- I most like the teaching of Don Isaac Abravanel, (aka Abarbanel, 1437-1508) of Portugal. He taught that the goats are meant to remind Jews of the twin brothers Esau and Jacob. Esau, wandered into the wilderness away from his people, its laws and its traditions, while Jacob lived a life devoted to God’s service.

We are like the goats and each one of us has his or her end. When we read this Torah portion, we are reminded of our choice: a life lost in the wilderness, or the good life in which we “sacrifice” for God, family and community.

Rabbi Paul Arberman is the Rabbi of Hatch End Masorti Synagogue

 

Burial in a Coffin in Eretz Yisrael

by Rabbi Pesach Schindler

Question: It is customary in Israel today to carry the deceased on a stretcher until the grave and to bury the deceased without a coffin. Is it permissible to bury the deceased in Israel in a coffin?

Responsum: It is a great mitzvah to bury the dead (Sanhedrin 46b). There were various forms of burial in the tannaitic period, including burial in caves until the flesh disintegrated followed by the collection of the bones and their reburial. But burial in coffins was also common, as we shall see from the following sources: Mishnah Moed Katan 1:6 teaches us that people were buried in wooden coffins immediately after their deaths. Mishnah Eduyot 5:6 teaches us that people were buried in coffins. Rabbi Judah the Prince also asked to be buried in a coffin, but with holes in the bottom or with the bottom slats removed (Yerushalmi Kilayim 9:3 and parallels). Rav Huna, an important Babylonian amora, was brought to Eretz Yisrael for burial on "a bed" but was buried in a coffin. These and other sources teach us that burial in coffins was common. Burial in wooden and stone coffins is also confirmed by many archaeological finds.

Despite all of the above evidence, some later authorities began to prefer burial in the ground itself without a coffin. The Tur (Yoreh Deah 362) cites both customs but prefers burial in the ground itself. The latter approach was adopted by Rabbi Yosef Karo (Shulhan Arukh ibid.) and by the poskim of Eretz Yisrael in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Even so, there are exceptions in Israel today. Soldiers are buried in coffins.

Some settlements such as Shavei Tsiyon in the Western Galilee also bury their dead in coffins with the approval of the local rabbinate.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 46b-47a) gives a number of reasons for burial, including the honor of the dead, but adds that whoever does something for the honor of the living does not dishonor the dead. This delicate balance allows a person to be buried in a coffin if he so instructed before he died or if his relatives request it after his death.

In conclusion, burial in a coffin was one of the ancient customs of Eretz Yisrael and is still observed today in the army and in a number of settlements. The poskim who recommend burial without a coffin do so as a recommendation and not as a command. A request by the family, and especially by the deceased himself, to be buried in a coffin is sufficient to indicate that this shows respect for the person in question. In light of the above, we allow burial in a coffin in Israel provided that the coffin is built of plain wood and that there be holes in the bottom as has been the practice since the days of Rabbi Judah the Prince. And may we merit the fulfillment of the prophecy "So will I comfort you, and you shall find comfort in Jerusalem" (Isaiah 66:13).


Tazria-Metzora

3rd Iyyar 5773 ~ 13th April 2013

By Roni Tabick

A patient once went to see the doctor, complaining that she hadn’t been feeling well for several days. The doctor examined her, went away and came back with three large jars of pills.

"Take the green pill with a big glass of water first thing in the morning,” the doctor said. “Then the blue pill with a big glass of water after lunch. Just before bed, take the red pill with another big glass of water."

The patient was upset that she had to take so many pills, and nervously she asked “Doctor, what’s my problem?”

The doctor replied, "You're not drinking enough water."

In this week’s double parasha we learn about how to deal with the condition known as tzara’at, often translated as leprosy. While we may think of illnesses as needing physical cures, the torah considers such a condition to require a spiritual solution:

“The priest shall command that two living clean birds and cedarwood and crimson yarn and hyssop be brought for the one who is to be cleansed.” (Lev 14:4).

Like the nervous patient, Rashi, the classic 11th century commentator, wants to know why there are so many parts of this sacrifice, and what each part signifies for the spiritual and psychological health of the afflicted person.

Rashi explains (based on the Talmud in Arachin 16a-b) that cedarwood, coming from the loftiest of trees, must be brought as a sign of haughtiness, while the hyssop is a lowly plant, and the crimson wool is called tola’at, named after a worm, both symbols of humility.

Just as in ancient thought the illness of tzara’at required a spiritual cure, so too it was considered to have a moral cause, and arrogance was considered a likely candidate (see the story of King Uzziah in 2 Chronicles 26 for an example). The haughty person had to bring both cedarwood to represent their former state, and crimson yarn and hyssop as a sign of the need for humility about their place in the universe.

Today, we don’t expect our physical conditions to be cured exclusively by prayer and sacrifice but the torah still has much to tell us about arrogance and overconfidence. While the sickness may be a result of hubris, there is still cedarwood included in the offering. The arrogance is not given up, but is tempered by other ingredients, balanced out with the right amount of modesty.

Arrogance has a place in our lives - we need to think well of ourselves, to be confident in our own abilities, to think that we matter to God and the universe. Yet this perspective must be balanced by its opposite - that we are simply one of billions of human beings, that all we have is dependent on God, that we are here to make the world better for everyone, and not just ourselves.

The patient saw the pills and thought that they were meant to effect the cure. Similarly, we may look at the sacrifice offered for tzara’at and think that there was something magical involved, yet if we adopt a position of humility, and recognise that the torah contains wisdom we may not comprehend, we can learn an important lesson:

For every one dose of arrogance, take two doses of humility.

Roni Tabick is a third year rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. On completion of his studies, he hopes to return to work in the Masorti community.

 

The Abbreviated Repetition of the Amidah

By Rabbi David Golinkin

Question: There are a number of different customs regarding the abbreviated repetition of the Amidah. What is the origin of these different customs and what is the correct practice?

Responsum: The sages of the Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 4:9 and parallels) ruled that the main purpose of the loud repetition of the Amidah was to allow a person who did not know how to recite the Amidah to fulfill his obligation. However, once written prayer books developed in the geonic period, the original reason diminished in importance and the main purpose of the loud repetition became to enable the congregation to recite the kedushah (Tur Orah Haim 124).

With this information in mind, we can understand the seven different methods of abbreviating the Amidah, which developed throughout the generations:

1) The congregation recites the entire Amidah silently, after which the cantor repeats the Amidah aloud until "ha-el hakadosh" and stops. This custom is mentioned by Rav Sherira and Rav Hai Gaon and was practiced at minchah when time was short.

2) The congregation does not recite the silent Amidah at all, but rather the cantor recites the Amidah aloud at the outset. This custom was instituted by Maimonides in Egypt and survived for hundreds of years until it was abolished by the Radbaz. It was practiced at minchah when time was short and at shaharit and musaf on Shabbat and festivals all year long.

3) The cantor recites the Amidah aloud until "hael hakadosh" with the congregation reciting along. The middle blessings are recited silently. The cantor then recites the final three blessings aloud including birkat kohanim (in Shaharit). This custom is mentioned by many Sephardic authorities beginning in the sixteenth century and was practiced at minchah all year long "lekhatehilah" and on other occasions when time was short.

4) The cantor recites the Amidah aloud until "hael hakadosh", with the congregation reciting along. The rest of the blessings are recited silently. This custom is also mentioned by many Sephardic authorities beginning in the sixteenth century and was practiced at minchah all year long "lekhathila".

5) This custom is identical to No. 4 except that one member of the congregation is appointed to answer "Amen" after the first three blessings. This custom is mentioned by Rabbi Jacob Moellin (Ashkenaz, d. 1427) and was practiced at minchah when time was short.

6) The cantor recites the Amidah aloud until "Modim" with the congregation reciting along. The rest of the blessings are recited silently. This custom is mentioned by Rabbi Yosef Teomim (d. 1792) and others and was practiced at minchah when time was short.

7) This custom is similar to No. 4 except that instead of reciting the first three blessings along with the cantor, the congregation answers "Amen" and Kedushah and then recites the entire Amidah silently. This custom is mentioned by Rabbi Yomtov Lipmann Heller (d. 1654) and others and was practiced at minchah when time was short.

Now let us analyze these customs and determine which are appropriate for today. The first custom, of the Geonim, is not aesthetic and that is probably why it died out. The fifth custom, of Rabbi Jacob Moellin, was never really accepted by "kelal yisrael" and does not hold up to careful scrutiny. The sixth custom, of Rabbi Yosef Teomim, is also difficult to fathom. Therefore, the other four customs can be used where appropriate.

Custom No. 2 is appropriate for beginners who do not know how to pray alone. Custom No. 3 is appropriate when there is a desire to shorten the repetition, but it is not a true "she'at hadehak". Custom No. 4 is appropriate for minchah when people are in a big hurry or the hour is late. Custom No. 7 is appropriate for minchah, but it should be stressed that it is forbidden during shaharit because one must adjoin "geulah" (the blessing for redemption) to the Amidah.

Custom No. 4 is the most popular custom. However, it is not recommended to follow this custom at every service all year long because this gives the congregation the feeling of rushing through the prayers.

In any case, we have seen that there are four recommended methods of abbreviating the Amidah. Every local rabbi may use one or more methods when needed according

Source: www.responsafortoday.com


Shemini

 

26th Nissan 5773 ~ 6th April 2013
 

By Michael Gluckman
 

The Sidrah of Shemini departs from the details of sacrifices to describe the tragic death of Nadav and Abihu, sons of Aaron who die during the inauguration of the Mishkan. Although written in the typical brevity of Torah narrative this was a major disaster roughly equivalent to two of the Deputy Prime Minister's children dying on the day of the state opening of parliament! Not only is there no obvious reason given but moreover, the Torah tells us, that in response to Moses’ explanation of the tragedy “Aaron was silent.” He and his other sons were forbidden to mourn.

 

So what was the transgression that led to such a severe punishment? Rashi offers us two explanations:

 

“Rabbi Eliezer says; ‘The sons of Aaron died only because they decided a law in the presence of Moses their teacher.’

 

Rabbi Ishmael says: ‘Intoxicated with wine they entered the sanctuary’. This is supported in the text that follows which states that priests were forbidden to enter the sanctuary intoxicated with wine.

 

In trying to fathom the story it is important to understand that although in the Chumash it starts at Chapter 10 the chapter division is artificial and does not follow in any way the lineage and spacing of the actual Torah text. Thus this story is not to be taken in isolation but must be read in conjunction with the whole of the previous chapter. In particular the preceding three verses describe the joy on the peoples’ faces following the blessing by Moshe and Aaron and acceptance by God of the inaugural offering.

 

Were Nadav and Abihu trying to promote a similar reaction, in effect saying that it was now the turn of the younger generation to the lead the community? Was this their sin? If so when is it right for the new generation to take over? If we do not allow succession our communities stagnate by turning our backs on change that will revitalise them.

 

According to the interpretation of Samson Raphael Hirsch it was because they “each took his pan” acting without consultation with each other or Moses and Aaron. We cannot work effectively unless we communicate well with each other across the generations. This need to work together must underpin what we do.

 

I have tried to understand the severe punishment for the transgression. Was it on the basis that the higher one’s status the greater the punishment? Is the performance of the correct ritual so critical or was it because their intentions were self-glory rather than the glory of God?

 

I think that we are looking here at an even wider tragedy than the personal. Without a succession that is respectful and consultative a community actually dies. When we seek glory only for ourselves a community dies. To be strong the community must be prepared to allow the new blood to move us into the new era whilst understanding that it is also our roots that anchor us.

 

Michael Gluckman is a member of New North London Synagogue

 

Fasting for a Sefer Torah which Fell

Rabbi David Golinkin
 

Question: If a Sefer Torah falls by accident, is there an obligation to atone by fasting? Is there a basis for the widespread belief that people are obligated to fast for forty days?

 

Responsum: The custom of fasting when a Sefer Torah falls does not appear in the Talmud or in the literature of the Rishonim. Rabbi Moshe Zacuto of Italy is the first to mention this custom in 1662. Rabbi Abraham Gombiner (Poland 1637-1683), is probably the halakhic authority who established the custom of fasting after the fall of a Sefer Torah. Since the time of these authorities, fasting became an accepted custom among many halakhic authorities, but they differed greatly as to how the fast should be observed. Some authorities proposed other ways to atone, among them reciting Psalms, buying a new Torah mantle, giving tzedakah and learning special passages.

 

The Jewish People has always greatly honored the Sefer Torah. As a consequence, the fall of a Sefer Torah is considered a very serious incident, which shocks all those present. Even so, there is no clear basis to oblige even the person who dropped the Torah to fast. In general, one should rule according to R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai (1724- 1806) who said that the "local rabbi should rule as he sees fit in order that they should be careful in the future, and everything [should be decided] according to the time and place".

 

Specifically, one should prefer the approach of R. Moshe Greenwald (ca. 1912) who ruled that one should perform acts of atonement related to what happened. Such acts would include buying a new mantle for the Sefer Torah which fell, studying the laws of the Sefer Torah, and briefing anyone who holds the Sefer Torah or lifts it so that this sad mishap should not recur.

 

Source: www.responsafortoday.com

 


Pesach By Rabbi Marc Wolf

15th-22 Nissan 5773 ~ 25th March—2nd April 2013

Essential to the Exodus was a man who gets short shrift in the Haggadah. Ignoring the centrality of Moses in the Exodus narrative presents a story that is bereft of human leadership, and if that leadership is not transmitted, there is no lesson to learn, no model to guide us. In the Exodus story, Moses stands in the breach between God and humanity, as an emissary, translator, and arbitrator. Dr. Stephen Geller of JTS, in an article entitled "Who May Rule the People of God?", asserts that there is a tension, between charismatic and non–charismatic leadership. "Charisma here means not some innate quality of leadership emanating from gifted individuals, but an ecstasy, a force of spirit, often presented almost as physical."

Moses maintained a special relationship with God, a relationship we learn from the end of the Torah that would never be matched. With that relationship, came the purest version of this quality of charisma — the Tanakh calls it ruah. Despite this divine spark, and throughout the Exodus saga, Moses frequently had difficulty with the people. And, when faced with the realities of leadership — that it is too difficult to do it alone — Moses realized that things must change.

Just after the Exodus, Moses' father–in– law, Jethro, observes Moses responding to the people who seek his wisdom in their desire to become closer to God. Overwhelmed by the throngs, Jethro counsels Moses to seek assistance in bearing this burden or it will surely not only overcome Moses, but affect the people detrimentally as well. Moses responds by appointing leaders to assist in his deliberations. He chooses "...able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating unjust gain" (Exodus 18:21).

In the book of Numbers, the children of Israel once again complain of the difficulties of wandering in the desert. God's anger is roused; yet here, Moses too feels the strain of the journey. He questions his role as leader, and admits that he is not able to shoulder the burden alone. God responds:

And the Lord said to Moses, Gather to me seventy men of the elders of Israel, whom you know to be the elders of the people, …….. and I will take of the spirit which is upon you, and will put it upon them; and they shall carry the burden of the people with you, that you carry it not yourself alone (Numbers 11:16–17).

God recognizes the impossibility of Moses' job and responds by creating an additional cadre of leadership that will help Moses shoulder this burden and stand with him in the breach. It is this partnership which makes it possible for Moses to effectively lead the people to true freedom in their own land.

In these two texts, we are presented with distinct transmissions of authority. In Exodus, Moses chooses leaders who will not manipulate their leadership for personal gain. These leaders are chosen for their personality traits, for their demeanour, and for who they are as individuals. In Numbers, God illustrates another method. Moses' trait of charisma must be passed along to others to realize effective leadership. While Moses was right to select leaders to assist him in his role, God demonstrates that the characteristic that truly makes effective leadership is the one that exemplifies the spark of the Divine.

The Jewish Theological Seminary, New York More can be found on their website www.jtsa.edu

 

A Sweet Passover with Silvia Nacamulli

As seen at Yom Masorti 2013!

For more visit www.cookingforthesoul.com 

- Silvia’s Charoseth -

Time: 10 minutes

Ingredients:

2 apples such as Royal gala, cored

100 gr. un-skinned almonds

100 gr. hazelnuts

100 gr. deseeded dates

100 ml. Marsala or sweet wine

100 ml. freshly squeezed orange juice – ideally from blood red oranges

40 gr. caster sugar

½ tsp cinnamon powder

2-3 tbsp red wine

A pinch of salt

Directions:

Dice the dates and apples. Place all the ingredients in a food processor or blender.

TIP: The blender will make a smooth paste while the food processor leaves more of a bite to it, so depends which consistency you prefer.

Pulse a few times first, and then run it on for a minute. If the paste is too hard then add a little more red wine or orange juice, depending on your taste, otherwise if it’s too liquid then either add more almonds or dates or a tablespoon or two of matza meal. Pulse again until you have a homogenous consistency.

Transfer it to a closed container and put in the fridge. Transfer into a nice bowl and add it to your Pesach Seder’s platter/basket when ready. You can easily prepare it a day or two in advance and it lasts for a couple of extra days in the fridge. In the fridge over time it goes a little harder, so do bear this in mind when preparing it.


- Bocca di Dama -

(Flourless lemon and almond cake)

Time: 45 min.

Ingredients (Serves 8-10 as dessert):

6 large eggs

160 gr. caster sugar

220 gr. blanched almonds, finely crushed

2 Lemons, zest and juice

Pinch of salt

Butter/margarine to grease the oven tray

Handful of matza meal

Handful almond flakes

Icing sugar to decorate

Cooking Directions:

Preheat the oven to 180°C/ 350°F/ Gas Mark 4.

Separate the egg whites from the yolks. Beat the egg yolks with the sugar until you have a creamy consistency. Add the finely crushed almonds, the zest and juice of the lemon and mix thoroughly.

TIP: If you have a food processor use it to mix the ingredients together as in this way they blend perfectly.

 


Tzav—Shabbat HaGadol

12th Nissan 5773 ~ 23rd March 2013

Shabbat Times (London) 18:02 begins 19:06 ends

By Matt Plen

Tzav is one of the most difficult portions of the Torah for the modern reader: not only because the sacrificial cult is alien to contemporary religiosity, but because the general principles of sacrifice have already been laid out in the preceding parsha, Vayikra. Tzav merely supplements the general commandments to the Israelite nation with more detailed instructions for the priests. These regulations focus exclusively on ritual minutiae and show no concern whatsoever for theological or ethical matters.

This kind of obsession with ritual detail has a long history in Judaism. Shabbat Hagadol was historically one of two annual Shabbatot on which rabbis would address their congregations (the other occasion was Shabbat Shuva before Yom Kippur). Rabbis traditionally used their talk to deal with the intricacies of the Pesach dietary laws; it has been humorously suggested that the name "Shabbat Hagadol" – the great or big Shabbat – was connected with the length of the rabbi’s speech. The prophet Malachi – the author of today’s haftara – was similarly concerned with punctilious obedience to the law, sarcastically condemning those with lower standards: "When you present a blind animal for sacrifice – it doesn’t matter! When you present a lame or sick one – it doesn’t matter! ... This is what you have done – will [God] accept any of you?" (1:8-9). Unlike the author of Tzav, Malachi had ethical concerns too (see 3:5), but his ultimate concern was for faithfulness to God, expressed through adherence to both ritual and ethical laws.

Were today not Shabbat Hagadol, we’d be reading a different haftara, from the book of Jeremiah, whose opening stands in stark contrast to the accompanying Torah portion:

"Thus said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: Add your burnt offerings to your other sacrifices and eat the meat! [Rashi explains this sarcastic injunction: as your burnt offerings are unacceptable to Me, why not use those animals for a sacrifice in which the meat is eaten following the ceremony; at least then the meat would not go to waste]. For when I freed your fathers from the land of Egypt, I did not speak with them or command them concerning burnt offerings or sacrifice. But this is what I commanded them: Do My bidding, that I may be your God and you may be My people; walk only in the way that I enjoin upon you, that it may go well with you" (7:21-23). While Tzav is all about ritual detail, Jeremiah condemns an exclusive concern for the letter of the law, insisting that sacrifice without obedience to the spirit of Torah is little short of blasphemous.

Tzav, it seems, does not reflect a monolithic Jewish voice which we must either accept or reject. Instead, the Bible consists of a dialogue between different voices and positions, one in which we are invited to participate. This diversity was celebrated by the seminal secular-cultural Jewish thinker, Ahad Ha’am, at the turn of the twentieth century. Ahad Ha’am condemned the tendency of Jews (the ‘people of the Book’) towards a myopic sanctification of the letter of the law. In "The Law of the Heart" (1894) he wrote: "The Oral Law (which is really the inner law, the law of the moral sense) was reduced to writing and fossilized ... not conscience but the book became the arbiter in every human question." He celebrated the prophets and the early rabbis as radicals who refused to submit to the authority of written texts or to allow the tradition to stagnate: "If on occasion the spontaneity of thought and emotion brought them into conflict with the written word, they did not efface themselves in obedience to its dictates; they revolted against it where it no longer met their needs, and so forced upon it a development in consonance with their new requirements."

 

Conscription of Yeshivah Students into the Israel Defense Forces
By Rabbi Reuven Hammer

Is service in Zahal today an obligation for every Jew in Israel, or may one engaged in sacred studies request an exemption in order to devote all his time to such studies? In the State of Israel today, despite our difficult security situation many, many thousands of young men and older men have done no military or paramilitary service whatever. The number increases from year to year. Among them are those who do not recognize the State, some who are newly religious, and others who recognize the State but feel themselves totally exempt on account of religious studies. The government permits and supports this arrangement. Our question: Does the halakhah justify this?

As a general principle, the Torah commands the responsibility of military service to every Israelite. There are temporary exceptions forthose who are at a particular point in their lives and have not had the opportunity to savor specified major personal developments. And the one who is fearful - who is psychologically unfit - is exempt. The Rabbis tended to nullify the exemptions. Thus they saw the exemptions as temporarily waiving frontline duty only; there remained the obligation to perform auxiliary support services. They further nullified the exemption as applying only in the instance of an optional war. The commanded war, the necessary war, voids all exemptions. Surely pikuah nefesh - the saving of a life - is a commandment of the highest priority. In today's world, service in Zahal, the Army of Israel, is an act of pikuah nefesh. It is at the same time a concretization of the commandment "Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor". During the Biblical period one may understand that Levites and Priests as ritual functionaries and teachers were exempt from normal military duties. But even if there were such a broad exemption, it does not appear to have extended to a period of warfare. Among the commentators, some reject this approach to blanket exemption altogether. Others would apply it only to rare outstanding individuals - not as a basis for general exemption of large numbers. There is a Talmudic approach, which would exempt "rabbis" from some kinds of routine obligation. We surely do not see this as a basis for exempting large numbers of students from the commandment of saving Israel from its enemies.

Conclusion: Service in Zahal is a halakhic duty incumbent on every Jew living in the State of Israel. Whoever sees himself as engaged in important religious work has an even greater obligation to set an example by military service. Only in this way can he be properly prepared to effectively participate in a commanded war for the safety of the State of Israel. Not to do this involves violation of three major mitzvot: Participation in a commanded war for defense of the State of Israel; "do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor"; the saving of human life. To shirk this duty is to violate the halakhah.
 

Source: www.responsafortoday.com

 


Vayikra

5th Nissan 5773 ~ 16th March 2013

By Rabbi Dr. Reuven Hammer

The reputation of the Book of Leviticus, which we begin to read this Shabbat, has suffered from ups and downs in the public eye. In traditional Judaism it was considered so important that the education of little children began with the study of Leviticus. "Let those who are pure come and study the laws of purity" was the common saying. In the nineteenth century, however, Leviticus was severely criticized by non-Jewish Biblical critics, who considered it to be a primitive book, concerned only with dry ritual, far from the high ideals of the prophets.

Fortunately the reputation of Leviticus has recently been restored by the work of two outstanding individuals: Rabbi Jacob Milgrom and the late Prof. Mary Douglas.. Rabbi Milgrom has written a magnificent commentary that has revealed the religious concepts that underlie the book. Prof. Douglas, a devout English Christian anthropologist, viewed the book from a unique perspective. In Leviticus As Literature she explained the purpose of Leviticus as follows:

Read in the perspective of anthropology the food laws of Moses are not expressions of squeamishness about dirty animals and invasive insects. The purity rules for sex and leprosy are not examples of priestly prurience. The religion of Leviticus turns out to be not very different from that of the prophets which demanded humble and contrite hearts, or from the psalmists’ love of God….The more closely the text is studied, the more clearly Leviticus reveals itself as a modern religion, legislating for justice between persons and persons, between God and His people, and between people and animals. (Pages 1-2)

Today’s portion concentrates solely on sacrifices – korbanot – outlining different types of sacrifices and the reasons for bringing them. It is amazing that there are no prescriptions of words to be uttered during the sacrificial ceremonies, no formulas, not even prayers. It is as if the entire ritual was to be conducted in silence. We can only understand this as a rejection of the magical elements that were part of pagan ritual, the incantations which were thought to have an automatic effect upon the gods. The God of Israel is not subject to magic and the sacrifices must therefore be divorced from that completely, to the extreme of uttering no words at all during these ceremonies.

As the Book of Leviticus proceeds we shall see the moral considerations of the book emphasized clearly. Yet even in today’s portion, which is so completely devoted to the ritual of sacrifices, a careful reading indicates that in ancient Israel as in modern Judaism, ritual was not to be divorced from morality. On the contrary, it expresses the basic moral concepts of Judaism and provides a way in which human beings can express their feelings and bring themselves closer to the Divine. The Torah does not provide us with a way of either bribing God or forcing God’s will. It does tell us how we may come closer to God and asserts the value of all life.

Rabbi Dr. Reuven Hammer is a former rabbi of New London Synagogue


Conscription of Women into the Israel Defense Forces

Rabbi Robert Harris

The number of girls who identify themselves as "religious" and thus do not serve in the army is increasing. Further, the opinions of rabbis are heard which state that not only is it not proper for girls to serve but that the halakhah forbids such service. What is the halakhah with reference to the service of girls in the Army of Israel?

The Mishnah (and Maimonides) clearly indicates that women go to war. What is not entirely clear is whether their intended service is to include the front line, or is to be restricted to behind-the-line auxiliary services. Such mandatory service is restricted to a milhemet mitzvah - a "commanded war" - such as a war for the defense of the State of Israel, as opposed to milhemet reshut, an "optional war" - such as a war for imperialistic aggrandizement. There remain specific problems having to do with aspects of the relationship between men and women.

May women carry weapons? There is the prohibition against women wearing men's clothing. It is argued that this prohibition forbids women to carry arms. The fact is that women are prohibited from wearing clothing or jewelry that are unique to men in that particular locale (the obverse is equally prohibited to men). Moreover, this prohibition holds true only in a context which could lead to forbidden sexual acts or idol worship. However, for protection against sun or storm women may wear articles of clothing, which normally are associated with men. Thus, this is surely no valid objection to the carrying of arms by women. It does not mitigate against a woman's modesty and honour to carry arms and serve in the army.

It is argued that there are special dangers in men and women being thrown together in battle situations even more than in the army generally. While it seems to us that there may be some validity to such concern - it applies equally to routine situations of modern living, at university, at work, in all kinds of situations throughout contemporary society. Various options present themselves; it is up to the individual to strive to hold appropriate moral standards within the framework of the halakhah. We do not find that army life presents any greater danger to morality than the modern world generally.

"The honour of the King's daughter is best maintained inside". Some understand this as favoring the isolation of women as the ideal, with special kinds of units, special kinds of service and alternative service as minimally acceptable compromises in the interest of hoping to maintain moral standards. We can find no halakhic basis for this and we most vehemently find no basis for discriminating among different categories of women ("religious" and "non-religious") for different categories of service. The basic situation is that of milhemet mitzvah - a "commanded war" - for which the obligation to serve applies to women as well as men: all women and all men. That is the halakhic requirement as we understand it.

Source: www.responsafortoday.com 

 


Vayakhel-Pekudei—Shabbat HaChodesh

27th Adar 5773 ~ 9th March 2013

By Elaine Grazin

Pikudei, this year read in conjunction with Vayakhel as a double Sidrah is the last of five parshyot on the construction of the Mishkan, or Tabernacle. It begins with the accounts (Pikudei) of the value of precious materials used in the construction and goes on to describe the design of robes for Aaron and his priestly descendants, and to recount the execution of the entire project.

A notable feature of this parsha is the frequent repetition – 14 times in all - of the words "as God commanded Moses".

Why should this phrase be repeated so often? It presents a contrast with the building of the golden calf by Aaron, which was definitely not "as God commanded". In Ki Tissa, we heard God appointing Bezalel and Oholiav as the exceptionally gifted craftsmen to make "all that I have commanded you". Yet even as Moses was receiving these commands, the Israelites were defying God by building an idol. In Pikudei we are left in no doubt that the tabernacle is being built exactly as God has commanded Moses.

The accounts referred to in the title of the parsha set out the cost of each part of the construction, and are followed by details of the robes for Aaron and his priestly descendants: the fabrics, colours, design and jewelled embellishment. "And they made on the skirts of the robe pomegranates of blue and purple and scarlet and twined linen. And they made bells of pure gold and put the bells between the pomegranates……a bell and a pomegranate, a bell and a pomegranate".

Why such minute detail of the construction and furnishings of the Mishkan? Perhaps we are being given an account or blueprint in case we should need to re-create them.

Rabbi Elana Zaiman sees the construction of the Mishkan as not just a building project, but also a birthing process. She roots this reading in the word "pakad", to take account, which gives its name to the parsha.

The same word is used of both Sarah and Hannah. God "took account of" each of these barren women, and on each occasion, at God’s command, they at last bore the child they longed for.

In Pekudei too, the labour of building "as God commanded" can be seen to result in the "birth" of the Mishkan. Indeed the work involved in building the Mishkan defines our understanding of "Melacha", tasks prohibited on Shabbat:: creative and productive work (akin to creating a new life). And it provides continuity into the future. Not only do we have a permanent and precise account of the construction, but also a name for God based on the same root as the word Mishkan: the Shekhinah.

The rabbis said in Megilla 29a "Every place to which [Israel] was exiled, the Shekhinah went with them". Rabbi Zaiman teaches that the physical Mishkan and its successor, the Temple, were not destined to last for ever. But since we acted on God’s command in constructing the Mishkan, the divine presence is with us, the Jewish people, always and everywhere.

Elaine Grazin is a member of Leeds Masorti Synagogue

 

"The Whole Land of Israel" and the Halakhah

Rabbi Tuvia Friedman

There has been much publicity in the press emanating from the Chief Rabbinate of Israel to the effect that, according to the halakhah, it is forbidden to cede even a footstep of any part of the whole Land of Israel. What is the position of our Va'ad Halakhah?

Our basic sources, Biblical and Rabbinic, do not mention the concept of "the Whole Land of Israel" as a sacred place defined by rigidly fixed borders. The reason is obvious. Throughout all periods of our history, the borders of the land expanded or narrowed for political reasons. The theoretical idealized borders were vague. Thus, major Rabbinical authorities in the Middle Ages disagreed as to the location of the "River of Egypt". Some understood this indicator of Israel's southwest border as Wadi El Arish in the Eastern Sinai, whereas others understood it to be the Nile River some 100 kilometers further west. Under King David, Israel's empire was considerably larger than the area promised to Abraham; and when Solomon ceded "twenty cities in the land of the Galilee" to Hiram of Tyre there seems to have been no sense that any sacred territorial commitment was being violated.

After the destruction of the Second Temple, we find the Rabbis shrinking the territory to be defined as the Holy Land. There are voices arguing for the exclusion even of Acre and Beit She'an. The major factor in their reasoning may well have been economic: Those deemed to live outside of the Holy Land of Israel were exempt from observing the (seventh) Shmitah year as well as tithing and similar internal Jewish taxes. Whatever the totality of the reasons, this approach certainly demonstrates a great deal of flexibility with reference to borders. There is also the example of two neighboring 'heartland' port cities, Caesarea and Dor, roughly midway between Haifa and Jaffa. The Rabbis variously considered each as within or outside the Land of Israel, depending on the Jewish or non-Jewish nature of its population. The status of the city of Ashkelon was complex. In some respects it was deemed to be in the Land and in some respects it was considered as outside the Land. Similarly, certain Jewish cities on the far side of the Jordan were considered as part of the Land in some respects and outside it in other halakhic respects. Close to the year 100 c.e., Rabban Gamliel of Yavneh published a list of locations considered part of the Land of Israel. About a century later, Rabbi Yehudah Hanassi issued a similar list, which differed in a number of details to reflect changes in Jewish population patterns.

By definition, the Land of Israel is Holy (holiness being defined in part by special obligations) yet the boundaries of the Holy Land were never fixed and rigid, but the opposite: flexible in accordance with the pragmatic reality of the time. To claim that the concept "the Whole Land of Israel" forbids us from conceding any part of the geographic land that happens to be under Jewish sovereignty has no support in the halakhah. The disagreement relative to the "Whole Land of Israel" concept is strictly a political dispute with no halakhic relevance whatever.

Source: www.responsafortoday.com 

 


Ki Tisa Shabbat Parah

 

20th Adar 5773 ~ 2nd March 2013
By Allan Myers

 

Can God really be angry? Moses appears to think so in this week’s sedra when he tells God, “Let not your anger blaze forth against your people whom you delivered from the Land of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand”.

 

According to Maimonides, God can’t be angry because anger is a human attribute and anyone who thinks God can be angry could not have arrived at this conclusion by “intellectual speculation; he merely followed the external sense of the texts of the Scriptures” (Guide of the Perplexed. Cap 53).

 

But weren’t humans created in the image of God, so whatever traits we display must be present in the Divine personality?

Maimonides does acknowledge this in his next chapter, when he admits that, if you perceive one of God’s actions, for example, forgiving people, you can apply to it the name of the characteristic from which that action is derived – in this case, compassion. When this happens, God is mirroring a human attribute. An example which Maimonides brings from Scripture is as follows:

 

Just as a father is merciful to his children [Psalm 103] so I will pity them as a man pities his own son [Malachi 3, 17]

The way Moses persuades God to cool his anger is by reminding Him to mirror a human attribute – our concern about what people might think of us. In this scenario, God is a personal God who empathizes with our concern and worries about what non-believers think of Him.

 

There are many examples in Scripture of God changing his mind – sometimes this results in people being reprieved. In the book of Samuel, God regrets that He made Saul king after seeing how Saul failed to carry out His commandment to kill the Amalekites. In the book of Jonah, God decided not to destroy the people of Nineveh after they repent. This upsets Jonah, who had expected to be the instrument of their destruction. In this week’s sedra, God decides not to destroy the Israelites after the sin of the Golden Calf.

 

In the case of Saul, it is not immediately apparent that God did anything in pursuance of His regret, although it could be that God drove Saul into bitter opposition against David, which caused Saul’s downfall and death. In the cases of Nineveh and the Golden Calf, did God know from the outset that He would refrain from punishing the people?

 

In the end, God remains an enigma. We don’t know what was in His mind (or even whether He had one!). Perhaps we can learn something by understanding the attributes which He cloned within us.
 

Allan Myers is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue

 

Calling Adopted Children to the Torah

Rabbi David Golinkin


Question:

How should an adopted child of Jewish extraction be called to the Torah - as the son or daughter of the natural parents or of the adoptive parents?
 

Responsum:

In general, it is permissible to call him or her up using the names of the adoptive parents and, indeed, this has been the ruling of most modern authorities. They derive this ruling from a number of aggadic or non-legal sources:
 

1) The Talmud (Sanhedrin 19b = Megillah 13a) deduces from a number of biblical stories that "whoever raises an orphan in his home is considered by Scripture to have given birth to him".
 

2) Similarly, we learn in the midrash (Shemot Rabbah 46:5) "a person who raises a child is called the father and not the person who gives birth".
 

3) Lastly, we learn in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 21a) that Ma'akhah the mother of Tamar was a "yefat to'ar" who was captured in battle and then married by King David. Tosafot (ibid.) suggest that Tamar was not really David's daughter since Ma'akhah was already pregnant when she was captured. If so, why was Tamar called a daughter of kings (II Samuel 13:18)? They reply: "Because she grew up in the bosom of King David, she was called 'the daughter of kings'".
 

In addition to these aggadic sources, we know that the Amora Abbaye was an orphan who used to call the woman who raised him "eim" (mother - Kiddushin 31b and frequently). Finally, we have the halakhic ruling of Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg (Responsa Maharam, ed. Lemberg, No. 242) who was asked about Reuven and his wife who wrote a legal document to her son and nonetheless wrote "and give to our son". He replied: "And it seems that this is fine terminology because whoever raises an orphan is considered as if he gave birth to it... so an orphan may call the person who raised him 'my father' and for a woman 'my mother'". This ruling of the Maharam was later codified by the Rema in the Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat 42:15).
 

In conclusion, almost all the early sources until Rabbi Moshe Isserles assumed or ruled that a step-son or orphan who was raised by adoptive parents is allowed to call them father and mother in everyday life, in marriage contracts and in other contracts. Therefore it is perfectly permissible to  do so when calling an adopted child to the Torah.
 

The only problematic cases would involve a child who is a Cohen or Levi when the adoptive father is an Israelite or vice versa. In such a case, some rabbis recommend calling him to the Torah as "so-and-so the Cohen son of the adoptive father" and the like in order to avoid confusion regarding Aliyot, birkat cohanim and pidyon haben. Yet it is difficult to set hard and fast rules because such a practice may cause psychological damage to the child or to the adoptive parents. Therefore, in such delicate cases, the local rabbi must rule according to the circumstances and the people involved.

 

Source: www.responsafortoday.com

 


Tetzaveh—Shabbat Zachor

13th Adar 5773 ~ 23rd February 2013

By Nahum Gordon

"You shall place the Urim and the Tumim into the breastplate of judgment (choshen mishpat) so that they will be over Aaron's heart when he comes before God" [Shemot 28:30].

Last year, I investigated the teraphim (household idols used for divination) and Nehushtan (the copper snake with miraculous healing powers). Today, I want to look at the mysterious Urim and Tumim, which Rabbi Hertz described as "one of the most obscure objects connected with the High Priesthood."

Urim might come from Or (Lights) and Tumim from Tam (Perfections), but that doesn’t help us to understand their appearance, construction, composition or why they were in the breastplate of the Cohen Gadol. Rashi (1040-1105) said that they were an inscribed Tetragrammaton (YHVH) placed within the folds of the breastpiece, which would bring its words to light (urim) and fulfil them (tamim). His grandson, Rashbam (c.1085-c.1174), believed they were a sort of divinely sanctioned conjuring with names which helped the people to make decisions. Ibn Ezra (1089-1164) stated they were astrological objects made of gold and silver. Nachmanides (1195-c.1270) expanded Rashi’s view – they were two sets of holy names made in heaven; the letters on the 12 stones of the breastpiece [for Jacob’s 12 sons] would light up in a particular order if the High Priest concentrated on the Urim and the correct interpretation would then be perfected in his mind if he focused on the Tumim. Abarbanel (1437-1508) asserted that the priest would answer tersely, yes or no.

Now look at Bamidbar 27:21. God tells Moses to stand Joshua, his successor, before Eleazar, the new High Priest," who will inquire for him [Joshua] through the judgment of the Urim before God; at his word [Eleazar’s or Joshua’s?] they will go out and at his word they will come in; he and all the Bnei Yisrael with him and all the congregation." So, the Urim and Tumim may have had some divinatory or oracular power eg, God, should we go to war or not? That is why many translate "choshen mishpat" as breastplate of decision. However, as Joshua never consulted these objects, there might have been a symbolic message. Unlike Moses, Joshua would never be a prophet with whom God would communicate directly. If he needed to consult God, he would have to turn to the one person who could elicit a divine answer. The Urim and Tumim made the High Priest indispensable to the secular leader (Devarim 33:8). The Torah may have forbidden the people to practise divination (Vayikra 19:26, Bamidbar 23:23, Devarim 18:10), but the High Priest was exempt!

Saul enquired of God but was usually rebuffed. David was always successful. Their approach suggests divination by lots, cleromancy. The Septuagint indicates that the Urim provided a yes and the Tumim a no. After David, the prophets became the primary intermediary for understanding God’s will. Once their era ended, important questions would have to remain unanswered until a priest materialised with the Urim and Tumim (Ezra 2:63). God may have hidden His face as He warned (Devarim 31:17-18 and 32:20), but the Sages recommended good deeds, prayer and the halacha as preferable routes to God. And did divination disappear? My maternal grandfather recalled people in his town rushing to their rebbes for decisions which they felt powerless to make. Plus Ça change.

Nahum Gordon leyns, davens and gives divrei Torah at Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue; he also teaches at New North London.

 

Is It A Mitzvah To Make Aliyah? YD 157:1

by Rabbi David Golinkin

Question:

Is it a mitzvah to make aliyah?¹

Responsum:

The word mitzvah can mean good deed, but, technically, it refers to one of the 613 mitzvot or commandments in the Torah. This number was originally stated by Rabbi Simlai in the third century (Makkot 23b);² since then dozens of rabbis have enumerated the 613 commandments.³

As I have explained elsewhere,  Eretz Yisrael holds a unique place in Jewish tradition and history. As a result, we would expect our tradition to unanimously require aliyah. Yet, in fact, rabbinic literature contains at least five different approaches towards aliyah:

1. The early midrash of Sifrei Devarim (paragraph 80) relates that Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua and Rabbi Yohanan ha-Sandlar (ca. 150 c.e.) were on their way to study Torah outside of Eretz Yisrael. When they reached Sidon in Lebanon, they remembered Eretz Yisrael. They began to cry and they rent their garments and they recited the verse (Deuteronomy 11:31-32): "When you have occupied it and are settled in it, take care to observe all of the laws. . . " Said they: `Dwelling in Eretz Yisrael is equal to all of the other commandments in the Torah'. Whereupon they turned around and went back to Eretz Yisrael.

Nahmanides (1194-1270) followed their approach by ruling that it is a positive commandment to inherit the land and dwell therein.  Furthermore, he practiced what he preached, arriving in Jerusalem from Spain in 1267 and settling in Acre. 6 His opinion was accepted by a number of prominent medieval rabbis and is very popular among Israeli rabbis today. 

2. On the other hand, the above-mentioned Rabbi Simlai did not view aliyah as a mitzvah in and of itself but rather as a makhshir mitzvah or preparatory act which enables one to perform the mitzvot which can only be performed in Israel such as tithing and the Sabbatical and Jubilee years. 

Rabbi Simlai expounded: Why did Moses our teacher yearn to enter the land of Israel? Did he want to eat of its fruits or satisfy himself from its bounty? But thus said Moses: "Many mitzvot were commanded to Israel which can only be fulfilled in Eretz Yisrael. I wish to enter the land so that they may all be fulfilled by me" (Sotah 14a).

Rabbi Simlai's approach was also followed by a number of medieval rabbis. 9

3. Other talmudic sages did not rule explicitly on whether aliyah is a mitzvah, but tried to encourage aliyah and discourage emigration via specific legislation: 10 "Both husbands and wives may force their spouses to make aliyah (Mishna Ketubot13:11). If a Jew wants to buy land in Israel, he may tell the non-Jewish owner to draw up the contract even on Shabbat (Gittin 8b and Bava Kamma 80b). "It is forbidden to leave Eretz Yisrael unless twose'ah (26.4 liters) of wheat sell for one selah. Rabbi Shimon said. . . if one can find any wheat at all, even if one se'ah costs a selah, he should not emigrate" (Bava Batra 91a).

Maimonides followed this approach. He codified the specific laws mentioned above, 11 yet he did not list aliyah as one of the 613 mitzvot. Indeed, Maimonides himself seems to have visited Israel in the year 1165, but did not remain. 12

4. A number of medieval rabbis took a pragmatic approach. Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg (Germany ca. 1215-1293), for example, did not think that aliyah was one of the mitzvot, but he did think that whoever moves to Israel "for the sake of heaven and conducts himself in holiness and purity, there is no end to his reward, provided that he can support himself there". 13

Rabbi Israel Isserlein (Austria, 1390-1460) ruled that it is certainly praiseworthy to live in Israel. However, since there is danger involved and since it is hard to earn a living there, "every person should judge his physical and monetary capabilities if he will be able to fear Heaven and observe mitzvot [in Israel]" (Pesakim U'ketavim, no. 88).

5. Lastly, there is the lone talmudic voice of the Babylonian sage Rabbi Judah who declared that whoever makes aliyah from Babylon to Israel actually transgresses a positive commandment (sic!). 14

This negative approach to aliyah was followed by quite a few medieval rabbis. 15 Rabbi Judah the Pious (Ashkenaz, thirteenth century) ruled, for example, that it is preferable not to make aliyah, because he who does so will not be able to find a wife in Israel nor have time to study Torah due to the difficult economic conditions. 16

In modern times, Rabbi Judah's approach has been adopted by the Satmar Hassidim who rabidly oppose mass aliyah, Zionism and the State of Israel due to their conviction that only God may redeem the Jewish people from Exile. 17

Given these five approaches, it is difficult to state the halakhic approach to aliyah, since all five can be justified by talmudic and halakhic sources. Therefore, I would like to explain my halakhic approach to aliyah.

I made aliyah in 1972 because I believe that aliyah is both a mitzvah and a makhshir mitzvah. First of all, Nahmanides was right to list aliyah as a mitzvah. He remained in the minority only because all attempts to list the 613 mitzvot took place at a time when it was virtually impossible for most Jews to make aliyah. It seems that most rabbis saw no point in requiring something so dangerous and expensive that it was virtually unobtainable. By requiring aliyah, the rabbis would have turned almost the entire Jewish people into sinners. 18 But the thrust of Numbers 33:53 as well as of the entire Bible and Talmud is that all Jews are supposed to live in Eretz Yisrael. That is what God repeatedly promised our ancestors, that is why God redeemed us from Egypt, and that is where a large percentage of the mitzvot need to be observed.

Furthermore, aliyah is a mitzvah in the sense of a preparatory act because it enables one to perform not only the mitzvot connected to the land (no. 2 above) but all of the mitzvot. In Israel, one can observe Shabbat and all of the Jewish holidays with ease because the entire country is on "Jewish time". Israel is conducive to Torah study both in terms of vast opportunities and in terms of enabling the Bible and the Talmud to come to life. Living in Israel allows one to master Hebrew and thereby connect to our heritage which is written in Hebrew. Israel ensures "Jewish continuity" because, religious or secular, your children will most likely marry other Jews. Finally, Israel is the actualization of the prayers we have recited for 2,000 years: "May our eyes behold Your return to Zion with mercy"; "Blessed are you God who gathers the dispersed of Your people Israel".

In conclusion, one should make aliyah because living in Israel is a mitzvah in and of itself as well as a preparatory act which enables one to observe all of the mitzvot and to observe all of the mitzvot and to live a full Jewish life by living in a Jewish state.

Rabbi David Golinkin
http://www.responsafortoday.com  

 


Terumah

6th Adar 5773 ~ 16th February 2013

By Rabbi Daniella Kolodny

One of the most enigmatic questions of the Torah occurs in this week’s parashah. Why does God need a house? The sedrot at this time of year are concerned with the furnishings of the Mikdash or the sanctuary at the centre of the Israelite camp. The Torah lavishes much detail on the dimensions of the sanctuary, the materials to be used and the proper ways to offer up sacrifices.

There is much detail but little explanation for the purpose of the sanctuary. The only explanation occurs in Exodus 25:8 "And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them." The meaning may have been evident to the Children of Israel but to later generations, the intention and objective of building a dedicated sanctuary to God remains an enigma. Why does God, who is incorporeal and transcendent, need a sacred dwelling place? The verse raises more questions than it answers.

Similarly puzzled by the language of the verse, Rashi, the medieval French commentator on the Torah, offers a brief explanation. "They shall make for My Name, a house of holiness." Embedded in Rashi’s explanation is an insight into the Torah’s evolutionary conception of God. In Exodus 25:8, God is thought to move about the sanctuary and to occupy the mikdash, specifically the space between the two keruvim which sit atop the Ark. The function of the sanctuary is to provide a home for God’s presence to dwell.

Later in the Tanach, the purpose of the Sanctuary changes from God’s abode to a structure for housing the tablets which God gave to Moses. God’s relationship to the Mikdash changes as well; God no longer is depicted as a corporeal being capable of movement; as is suggested in Leviticus 26:12, "I shall move about amongst you" (v’hithalachti b’tochachem), instead God is perceived as an abstract presence.

The purpose of the Mikdash and the God’s relationship to the Mikdash are treated differently later in the Tanach. There, the Tanach teaches that only God’s name exists in the Mishkan. God does not reveal God’s full self in the Mikdash only the knowledge that God exists. No longer does God need a Mikdash, as God dwells in heaven. The Mikdash is transformed, it is now a now a House of Worship for all of God’s people to offer their prayers and sacrifices. In the Book of Kings we read about Solomon’s promise to the Elders of Israel "I have built the House for the name of the Lord, the God of Israel; and I have set a place there for the Ark, containing the covenant which the Lord made with our fathers when He brought them out of the Land of Israel." (I Kings 8:20-21)

Rashi teaches that God is transcendent, wholly other from human activities, but the Mikdash is a House of Holiness meant to carry people to emulate God’s ways. At their best our synagogues, as in the days of the Mishkan, inspire us to find and live God’s ways of holiness.

Rabbi Daniella Kolodny is Communities and Learning Director at Masorti Judaism and a member of New North London Synagogue

 

Why Do Jews Sway When They Pray?

by Rabbi David Golinkin

Question: Why do Jews sway when they pray?

Responsum: Like many Jewish customs, the origins of shucklen- a common Yiddish word which means to shake or rock - are shrouded in mystery.1 We can say when it was done and where but not why. This is because many customs were instituted by the Jewish people as a spontaneous expression of their Jewishness; the learned explanations came later.

Shucklen is not explicitly mentioned in the Talmud.2 Interestingly enough, it is first mentioned in a number of Islamic sources. Mohammed is supposed to have said: "Be not like the Jews who whenever they read the Torah publicly move to and fro". His contemporary, the poet Labid (d. 660), writes of a person who gropes for an object, moving his hand to and fro "like a praying Jew". 3

Jewish sources also mention shucklen in the context of Torah study and prayer. Rabbi Samuel Hanaggid of Granada (d. 1056) is the first to mention swaying during Torah study in one of his poems:

And we came angry into the House of God and would that we had taken a wrong turn, for behold the rabbi and the students were swaying their heads like a tamarisk in the wilderness.4

Various reasons have been given for this practice throughout the ages.

Rabbi Judah Halevi of Spain (d. 1141) gives two explanations in his book, The Kuzari, an imaginary

dialogue between the king of the Khazars and a rabbi. The king asks why Jews move to and fro when they read the Bible. The rabbi replies:

It is said that it is done in order to arouse natural heat [i.e., to warm up]. My personal belief [is as follows:]... As it often happened that many persons read at the same time, it was possible that ten or more read from one volume. Each of them was obliged to bend down in his turn in order to read a passage, and to turn back again. This resulted in a continual bending and sitting up, the book lying on the ground. This was one reason. Then it became a habit through constant seeing, observing and imitating, which is in man's nature.5

Rabbi Simhah of Vitry (France, d. 1105) gives a third explanation. He says that young children are taught to sway when they study the Torah, "for thus we find at the giving of the Torah 'And the people saw and they trembled' (Exodus 20:15)".6

Lastly, the Zohar, which was written in thirteenth-century Spain, asks: Why is it that all the peoples of the world do not sway, but Jews alone do so when they study Torah? The souls of Israel are derived from the Holy Lamp [of God] ...when a Jew utters one word of Torah, the light [in his soul] is kindled...and he sways to and fro like the flame of a candle.7

On the other hand, there was a common custom of swaying during prayer. This custom was explained in at least three different ways.

Rabbi Abraham of Lunel (Toledo, d. 1215) and many others quote an unknown midrash:

A person is required to sway during prayer, as it is written: "all my bones shall proclaim: O God, who is like You!" (Psalms 35:10)...And this is the custom of the Rabbis of France and her pious ones.8

The testament attributed to R. Israel Ba'al Shem Tov (d. 1760) gives a different explanation for shucklen:

When a person is drowning in a river and he makes movements in order to extricate himself from the water, those who see him will no doubt laugh at him and at his motions. Thus, when a person prays and makes motions, one should not laugh at him because he is saving himself from the malicious waters which are the. . . foreign thoughts which come to distract him during prayer.9

In other words, shucklen helps one concentrate on the prayers and say them with kavanah [proper intent].

Lastly, two nineteenth-century authors came up with a truly original explanation for shucklen: Jewish students and rabbis don't get enough exercise. Therefore, they shuckle when they study and pray in order to get some badly needed exercise!10

Surprisingly, a number of prominent rabbis opposed shucklen during prayer. They claimed that it was disrespectful11 or that it prevents the properkavanah required for the Amidah [the silent devotion].12

In conclusion, Jews have shuckled during prayer and study for at least 1,400 years. While the original reason is not known, most Jews seem to feel that it helps one concentrate during prayer and study. On the other hand, there is certainly no obligation to shuckle. The best rule of thumb is probably that stated by R. Yehiel Michal Epstein (d. 1908):

And during the Amidah there are some who sway and some who don't and it depends on the person's nature. If by swaying, his kavanah improves, then he should sway; and a person whose kavanah is clearer when he stands perfectly still should not sway - and [either option] should be done for the sake of heaven...13

Rabbi David Golinkin
http://www.responsafortoday.com


Mishpatim—Shabbat Shekalim

 

29th Shvat 5773 ~ 9th February 2013

 

By Rabbi Deborah Silver

 

There’s an old children’s joke that goes: Where was Moses when the lights went out?

 

The answer: In the dark.

 

While this used to generate a good deal of hilarity when we were (much) younger, the question Where was Moses? is a good one to ask this week.

 

Mishpatim follows on directly from the previous parashah, Yitro, which contains the narrative of the Ten Commandments (or, more accurately, the Ten Sayings). After a small digression into some rules about altars and sacrifices, the Torah continues the narrative by launching straight into These are the rules that you shall set before them..., a long list of additional commandments. This takes up most of the parashah, and is followed by:

 

"And to Moses, [God] said: Come up to Adonai, with Aaron, Nadav and Avihu and seventy elders of Israel and bow low from afar: Moses alone shall come up to Adonai, but the others shall not come near, nor shall the people come up with him."

So where was Moses when the commandments were being given?

 

Rashi’s explanation is that the passage above is in the pluperfect - God had previously told Moses to come up with Aaron etc. Thus, we have here another example of the maxim, ein mukdam umeuhar ba-Torah - Torah is not chronological. It would place Moses at the top of the mountain, making a quick shuttle down below, between commandments, only to run back up again with company in time for the end of the parashah.

 

Rashi’s resolution is elegant (if harder work for Moses) but there is also an alternative reading. Far from the Cecil B de Mille picture we might carry in our minds, the Torah presents an option of a Moses standing, at the foot of Sinai like everybody else, while God (who, as Rashi tells us, had considerately bent the upper and lower heavens into a kind of platform to carry the Throne of Glory) issued the commandments from the top.

 

One model is of a leader as intermediary, the lone figure who can ‘come up’ to God. The other is of a leader who stands with his people at the time of their greatest insight. As we read the Torah this week, we can ask - what kind of leaders do we want? And if we are leaders ourselves – what kind of leader do we want to become?

 

Rabbi Deborah Silver is a member of New North London Synagogue and Assistant Rabbi at Adat Ari El, Valley Village, Los Angeles.

 

 

Reading the Megillah Early
 

by Rabbi David Golinkin

 

Question:

If missiles are being fired at Israel and “Haga” decrees that it is forbidden to hold public gatherings on Purim eve, what shall we do about reading the megillah?

 

Responsum:

In time of emergency it is permissible to read the megillah before sunset beginning from “pelag haminhah” which is one-and-one-quarter “hours” before sunset (one “hour” = one twelfth of the daylight). Thus it will be possible to recite the ma'ariv service and read the megillah beginning at 4:28 p.m. and still arrive home before dark.

 

The reasons for this ruling are as follows: According to the Talmud (Megillah 4a) and the Shulhan Arukh (Orah Haim 687:1) the megillah must read at night. But this law was already relaxed in the Middle Ages. When some people had trouble fasting on Ta'anit Esther rabbis in Provence and Germany (the Ra'avad and R. Yisrael Isserlein) allowed them to read the megillah early. If this was allowed “b'sheat hadehak” (in an emergency) for a few people who had trouble fasting, it is certainly allowed in a time of emergency for the entire State of Israel! And indeed, Rabbi Ovadiah Yossef came to the same conclusion in Adar 5707 (1947) when the mandatory government imposed an all-night curfew on Jerusalem under penalty of being shot on sight.

 

Let us conclude with a prayer: As god saved us from Amalek in the days of Mordechai and Esther, so may He save us from the Amalek of our time and may we be privileged “to observe the days of Purim at their proper time as decreed by Mordechai the Jew and Esther the Queen” (Esther 9:31).

 

Rabbi David Golinkin

http://www.responsafortoday.com


 

Yitro

22 Shvat 5773 ~ 2nd February 2013

By Meira Ben-Gad

 

To modern ears, the author(s) of the Torah did not always exhibit a strong sense of narrative logic. Today’s sedra is a case in point. The first 27 verses present a visit by Jethro, Moses’ Midianite/Kenite father-in-law, to the Israelites encamped at the mountain of God. Jethro has a heimische visit with Moses, after which he rejoices over God’s deeds and sacrifices to Him. He then takes the opportunity to observe Moses judging the people, and shows him how to make the judicial system more efficient by appointing magistrates at various levels.

 

As both medieval and modern commentators have noticed, this story seems out of place. Last week’s sedra, Beshalach, recounts what happens to the Israelites after they leave Egypt: how God leads them in a cloud by day and fire by night, the crossing of the sea, the manna, various mutterings, and, finally, the defeat of Amalek at Rephidim. At the start of today’s sedra, the Israelites are at the mountain of God – but they’re not actually described as arriving there until after Jethro leaves them. In Jethro’s conversations with Moses, it appears that the latter already knows “the laws and teachings of God” – but these won’t be given until the Revelation.

 

To maintain the flow of the story, today’s sedra should begin with Ex. 19:1,2 – the passage from Rephidim to Sinai. The narrative would then build, in a happy state of geographic, chronological, and thematic harmony, from the exodus to its culmination in the theophany and the covenant between God and Israel. So what’s the Jethro story doing there?

Many commentators explain the intrusion by pointing to the contrast with Amalek. Here, they say, is a good foreigner – Jethro – to contrast with the bad foreigner, Amalek. Indeed, a close reading reveals many parallels between the language of the two sections. But this seems insufficient. There are plenty of ways Jethro could be contrasted with Amalek without having him help establish a system of judicial administration.

 

I suggest the answer lies at least partly in the unique nature of the covenant between God and Israel, and the tension between the democratic ideology expressed therein (“If you...keep my covenant, you shall be My treasured possession....a kingdom of priests and a holy nation”; Ex. 19:5,6) and the practical need for religious leadership. God promises the people that if they obey the law, they will have a direct, unmediated relationship with Him. But these words, and the people’s response, are conveyed through Moses! Moreover, in order to obey the law, the people will, at times, need someone to interpret the law.

 

It is crucial that Moses, interpreter par excellence, who speaks face-to-face with God, is not seen as himself godlike. It must be clear before Moses ascends the mountain that while he mediates between God and Israel, he is only human, and the covenant about to be established will continue even without him. Jethro is brought in to bring Moses down to earth, as it were. By making Jethro advise Moses on how to apply the law – the very law that Israel must obey to fulfil the covenant – the narrator shows that Moses’ special role comes from God, not from any qualities inherent in himself. That accomplished, Jethro can go “to his own land”, and the preparation for Revelation can begin.

 

Meira Ben-Gad is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue

 

 

Milking on Shabbat

by Rabbi David Golinkin

Question: In order not to inflict suffering on the sheep, they are milked on Shabbat with an automatic milking machine. May this milk be used, or must it be thrown away? May this milk be sold and the profit given to charity, or is there another solution?

 

Responsum: In the 1950s, two of the major halakhic authorities in Israel, Rabbi Yishayahu Karelitz (Hazon Ish) and Rabbi Shaul Israeli (Amud Hayemini) dealt with this question, and reached the conclusion that the use of an automatic milking machine was allowed on Shabbat, and that if done in the proper fashion, the milk could be used and sold as any other milk. Therefore the responsum which follows does not break new ground, but comes to teach the kibbutz members the reasons for this ruling.

 

Milking on Shabbat is not allowed (Shabbat 95a and 144b). However, several ways were found to circumvent the prohibition because of the injunction against causing suffering to animals (Exodus 23:5; Bava Metzia 32b; Maimonides, Laws of Murder 13:8).

 

Already at the time of the Ge'onim permission was given to ask a non-Jew on Friday to milk the animals on Shabbat (Sha'aray Teshuva no. 221). This and similar solutions which rely on non-Jews were accepted until the twentieth century.

When the Halutzim began to raise cattle and sheep in the Land of Israel in the twentieth century, they needed a dispensation to milk on Shabbat, not only in order to avoid causing suffering to animals, but also because of the commandment to settle the Land of Israel and because of the large loss of income. They could not rely on non-Jews, both for security reasons, and because the British forbade Arabs from entering Jewish agricultural settlements, in order not to transmit hoof-and-mouth disease. Different solutions were proposed by different halakhic authorities, but none of them were very practical for large farms with hundred of animals, until the invention of the automatic milking machine in the 1940s.

In conclusion, there is a general agreement that it is permissible to use an automatic milking machine on Shabbat. Despite the fact that this was decided more than forty years ago, there are still disagreements concerning the details of using these machines. Therefore, we recommend a visit to religious kibbutzim which raise cattle and sheep in order to learn from them how they use the automatic milking machines on Shabbat.

 

Rabbi David Golinkin

http://www.responsafortoday.com



Beshalach

 

15th Shvat 5773 ~ 26th January 2013
 

By Georgia Kaufmann

 

It is my habit to try and tease out the lost, forgotten and hidden stories and voices of women in the tradition. Despite that it has always been a source of disquiet to me that Miriam should be hailed as prophet and given such prominence. What did Miriam do that was so worthy? She, assuming it is the same sister, watches over the infant Moses in his basket and then gets her mother to wet nurse him; she leads the Israelites in song after the Sea washes away pursuing Egyptians; finally she suffers an attack of leprosy after berating Moses for marrying a Cushite woman. Since the sister who watches over baby Moses is not named there is no certainty that it is Miriam. So possibly only two out of these three stories pertain to her. In fact, when she is introduced in Beshalach (Exodus 15:20), it is as Aaron’s sister, not Moses’s. This has the peculiar effect of distancing her from Moses. Nevertheless when she harasses him and then receives divine punishment it is Moses who intercedes on her behalf.

In Beshalach Miriam sings, bangs her drum and dances with all the women. Her song is short and succinct and in the telling of the Torah is followed by Moses’s long poem, the Song at the Sea. Imagine this, the Israelites have just made a scary crossing of the sea of reeds, they get to the other side and the wall of water crashes down on the Egyptian chariots and horses chasing them. The sea settles and they turn round and all the Israelites join Moses singing a complex 18 verse poem. In the North East of Brazil minstrels make their living going around bars and restaurants ad-libbing rhyming songs that they make up on the spot inspired by what they see. Moses was no such repentista, or modern-day rapper, he had even tried to shirk his call from the Burning Bush on the grounds that he was poor with words (“I am slow of speech and slow of tongue” Exodus 3:10). I find the idea of him, a self-confessed nonwordsmith, singing 18 verses of song with the Israelites joining in, when most people would be dumbstruck by the spectacle of a whole army being wiped out before their eyes, hard to believe. It seems more plausible to me that stunned and shaken Miriam, the prophetess (this is the first time any man or woman in the Torah is accorded that title) picks up her small drum and hollers out a simple chant: 'Sing to God for His great victory, horse and rider He cast in the sea.' One verse that sums up what they have witnessed and what they must do. I can imagine that refrain being taken up and sung again and again. First the women, and then the men, following her from that terrible place. The rabbis and, I note, Chabad would have us believe that Moses sang first and Miriam’s song is a mere encore. Academic analysis posits it as more likely that Miriam’s emotional response to the drama is the original and that Moses’s longer Shira Ha Yam was added to the text much later. For millennia women’s leading role in religious life has been suppressed, their voices have been lost, so it is not unsurprising that “Moses’s” poem should have been inserted and given precedence. The Charedi understand the power of song and dance, as did King David (2 Samuel 6:14-16) and Psalm 149:1-3) and so did Miriam who led a stunned people away from the miraculous massacre through song and dance.

Miriam’s verse rings true. The redactors took her words and framed Moses’s song around them but we still listen to her through his Shira Ha Yam. Her spontaneous chant, uneclipsed by the later, longer poem, wins her place in the canon, the first named Prophet, a woman literally leading her people. Miriam’s leadership of the whole nation is exemplified by the way the fact that she does not address just the women but uses the masculine form of the verb

In verse 21, she is leading everyone. Historical, rabbinical interpretation saw this as a grammatic anomaly reflecting Miriam’s sense of equality, rather than admitting a woman could and did lead.

Georgia Kaufmann is a member of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue.


 

Can Jews enter Mosques?

by Rabbi David Frankel

 

Question: Is it permissible to enter a church or a mosque in order to learn about their art and architecture? Is it permissible to be present during Christian or Moslem services in order to learn about their prayers?

 

Responsum: It is permissible to enter a mosque, since most authorities have ruled that Islam is not idolatry.

 

The answer is more complicated regarding the question of entering a church, since authorities differ as to whether Christianity is idolatry or not. We can distinguish at least three opinions: the Rambam and those who follow him view Christianity as real idolatry; the Meiri denies any resemblance between Christianity and idolatry but views Christianity as a somewhat corrupted form of monotheism; some authorities say that Christianity is not idolatry for Christians, but it is for the Jews. This last opinion does not seem to make sense. If a certain form of worship is idolatry, it should be forbidden to non-Jews as well, since idolatry is one of the seven Noachide Laws. Thus we have to decide between the opinion of the Rambam and that of the Meiri. It seems that the disagreement between them stems from a difference in the definition of idolatry. The Rambam gives a philosophical definition of idolatry: idolatry is a misunderstanding of the essence of monotheism, and the belief in the Trinity is therefore idolatry. The Meiri, on the other hand, defines idolatry on the behavioural-ethical plane. Since the Christians in his day were lawabiding, he removed them from the status of idol worshipers. The deciding factor for the Meiri was not the way they think but the way they act.

 

This approach of Meiri has strong basis in the Torah. Many of the harsh laws against idol worshipers are accompanied by a description of their immoral behavior. In this   disagreement between the Rambam and the Meiri, it is proper to follow in the footsteps of the Meiri, and his opinion is not unique, since many authorities ruled that Christianity is not idolatry.

 

In conclusion, it is permissible to visit mosques and churches. Before the visit, we recommend: visiting a number of synagogues; studying this responsum; studying liturgical texts of the three religious; teaching about the different goals of the different buildings.

 

The many authorities who permit entry into mosques do not differentiate between prayer times and other times. Since we have concluded that Christianity is not idolatry, it should also be permissible to enter a church during prayer. Notwithstanding this, the members of the Va'ad Halakhah are divided on this matter, and the answer also depends on the circumstances. For this reason, one should consult with a Masorti rabbi before the planned visit, and every case should be judged on its own merits.

 

Rabbi David Frankel
http://www.responsafortoday.com

 


Bo

 

8th Shvat 5773 ~ 19th January 2013

By Rabbi Stuart Altshuler

 

This week’s Torah portion, “Bo”, delineates the last three plagues brought upon the Egyptians and the final stages of preparation for bnei yisrael before the exodus from Egypt, the land of slavery and oppression. On the surface level, Bo intensifies one of the main thrusts of the text with regard to the struggle not only for the Israelites’ freedom, but of two diverse concepts of God and, more specifically, of the regard for human life. Egypt is a society that sanctifies “darkness” and “death”, symbolized by the ninth (darkness) and tenth plagues (death of the firstborn). There is no coincidence, in fact, that the very first act of God’s Creation in the Genesis account is “ohr”, or “light”, which culminates in the creation of the human being made “in the image of God”. Egypt is a society governed by the authoritarian power of the humangod, Pharaoh, the result of which was slavery and oppression (darkness) and the morbid sanctification of death (Book of the Dead). The Israelites left not only their physical slavery behind them, they also prepared for the spiritual revolution, a metamorphosis in thinking about the purpose of creation, which was “light” and “life”, the polar opposites of the ninth and tenth plagues.

 

The entire struggle between Moses and Pharaoh, Egypt and Israel, was essentially about two theological views which resonates in the kind of debate that still exists in our contemporary western societies. What is a human being? Freud, in his “Civilisation and its Discontents”, along with his ideological cohorts Hobbes, Machiavelli and Nietzsche, said the following:

 

"The bit of truth behind this, one so easily denied, is that men are not gentle, friendly creatures wishing for love. A powerful desire for aggression has to be considered as part of his instinctual endowment. The result is that their neighbour is not only to them a possible help or sexual object, but also a temptation to gratify their aggressiveness on him, to exploit his capacity for work without recompense, to use him sexually without his consent, to seize his possessions, to humiliate him, to cause him pain, to torture and to kill him—homo homini lupus—man is to man a WOLF!"

 

To Nietzsche, because of the depraved nature of the human being, the only solution for human beings is to be governed by the whip, order and command, the powerful over the powerless. He labelled this “herren morale”, or the morality of the master, the pharaoh and the king, driven by the will for power and the will to dominate others. That form of government, he writes, is what nature requires, built into the fabric of the universe. Good is power; evil is weakness.

 

Nietzsche called the morality of “Bo”, of the book of Exodus, “shklaven morale”, a Biblical notion that reverses the forces of nature and exalts the slave, the powerless, the disenfranchised, the widow, the orphan at the expense to the ultimate well-being of society. Compassion, feeling for others subverts the natural instincts of the strong who are meant to rule and to dominate.

 

The ultimate confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh, God and the human-god, the Egyptians and the Israelites, challenges us to consider the revolution in thinking that occurs here in the account of the last plagues where the darkness was such that “People could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he was” as opposed to the dwellings of the Israelites where light dominated and all the people “enjoyed light in their dwellings. ”(Ex. 10:23).

 

The quest of the Torah and of the Jewish people has been meant to prove Freud, Machiavelli, Hobbes and Nietzsche wrong. The aim of life is not a Darwinian struggle of the fittest to dominate others, to enslave others, but to ensure that all of God’s Creation, every human life is considered sacred, holy, created in the “divine image”, especially those subject to dominance and oppression.

 

In his Genealogy of Morals, even Nietzsche paid a begrudging compliment to Judaism and to Jews, writing:

 

"All the world’s efforts against the aristocrats, the mighty, the holders of power are negligible by comparison with what has been accomplished against those classes by the Jews— that priestly nation which eventually realised that the one method of effecting satisfaction on its enemies and tyrants was by means of a radical transvaluation of values, which was at the same time of the cleverest revenge. Only the Jews dared to suggest that which is counter to master morality, teaching that the wretched are alone the good; the poor, weak, the lowly are alone the good; the suffering, the needy, the sick, the loathsome are the only ones who are pious, the only ones who are blessed, for them alone is salvation. But you on the other hand, you aristocrats, you men of power, you are to all eternity the evil, the horrible, the covetous, the insatiable, the godless; eternally shall you also be unblessed, the cursed, the damned.”

 

That in a nutshell is the meaning of these plagues, the preparation for the Passover and the Exodus. We still live in a world where this struggle of values continues, the aggrandizement of power over the good, the strong over the weak, the haves taking from the have-nots, terror over life. The Torah account in Bo is an old one, but its message is as timely today as ever before. Shabbat Shalom.

 

Rabbi Stuart Altshuler is a Masorti Rabbi and the Rabbi of Belsize Square Synagogue.



Women Rabbis?
 

By Rabbi Reuven Hammer

 

Question: Is it permissible for the Bet Midrash to ordain women as rabbis?

 

Responsum: Not only is the Bet Midrash permitted to ordain women as rabbis; it is obligated to ordain women who are suitable just as it ordains men who are suitable.

 

One of the reasons that the majority of the Va'ad Halakhah gave for opposing the ordination of women five years ago was that such a step would cause irreparable harm to the future of the Masorti Movement. But times have changed. The Bet Midrash is already an established fact and is recognized by various sectors of the population. Furthermore, an Israeli woman who was ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York is already serving as a Masorti rabbi in Israel. Thus it is hard to claim that accepting women will harm the Bet Midrash or the Masorti Movement. Furthermore, it is unfair, anti-Zionist and hypocritical to send Israeli women to study for the rabbinate in New York.

 

A rabbi is a person who has learned the tradition and is therefore worthy to continue the tradition and to teach it to others. The title does not grant any ceremonial or ritual status. The institution of the rabbinate was a revolution, which allowed any Jewish male to reach the level of teacher and spiritual leader. But that revolution was not complete because sociological conditions were such that no one could imagine that a woman could become a rabbi. But today, when a woman can be a member of Knesset, a Prime Minister or a member of the Supreme Court, it is difficult to justify a position that women cannot be rabbis.

 

Some say that women cannot be rabbis because they cannot serve as cantors or witnesses. To me that is like saying that a Cohen cannot be a rabbi because he cannot perform a funeral at a cemetery. In any case, we must find a way to enable women to be witnesses either by reinterpreting the halakhah or through a takkanah. Finally, there is the moral issue. Women make up over half of the Jewish people. Their opinions and abilities can come to the aid of our people in all sorts of ways. To forgo this resource is to forgo a treasure. Furthermore, who are we - the men - to decide if women can be rabbis or not? According to the Torah (Genesis 1:27), women too were made in God's image. To prevent them from reaching this high position is unethical and unjustifiable.

 

In conclusion, it is permissible for the Bet Midrash to ordain women as rabbis. We must not send them to the Diaspora to study when there is no halakhic obstacle to their being accepted here. The auxiliary problems are no reason not to accept women. Not accepting them will mean the loss of an important resource for the Jewish people and contradicts the principle that women were created in the image of God.
 

Rabbi Reuven Hammer

http://www.responsafortoday.com


Vaera - Shabbat Rosh Chodesh Shabbat

1st Shvat 5773 ~ 12th January 2013

By Rabbi Joel Levy

 

Was there something special about Abraham, which caused God to pluck him from obscurity and to enter into an eternal covenant with him? Our tradition offers many different responses to this question.

 

“For I know him (Ki Y’dativ), that he will command his children and his household after him, that they shall keep the way of God…” [Genesis 18:19]

 

According to one reading of this verse Abraham is special (or God chooses Abraham) because God knows (“Y’dativ”) that Abraham will be capable of creating an on-going, self-sustaining community that will preserve God’s message. There could have been other people who were morally worthy of entering into a covenant with God but only Abraham was able to “command his children and his household after him”.

 

The Babylonian Talmud (Sanhedrin 56b) bases itself on the verse above when it acknowledges Abraham as the archetypal human commander (m’tsaveh). To put it crudely, Abraham was “Mr. Continuity”. We live in a world where, for better and for worse, the Abrahamic traditions dominate most of the planet. It does seem as if there was, at least mythologically, something special about Abraham’s ability to create self-perpetuating religious traditions.

 

But surely continuity is not enough. Conor Cruise O'Brien who represented Ireland at the UN in 1956 and who, since representatives sat in the alphabetical order of their nations, sat between the representatives of Iraq, Iran and Israel, was led to ponder whether religious traditions are really just another unpleasant facet of nationalism. The Abrahamic traditions may be good at self-replicating, but so are flu viruses!

 

God may have known from the outset that Abraham could be relied upon to perpetuate God’s ways, but it is only at the end of the parasha, after the story of the binding of Isaac and Abraham’s apparent willingness to sacrifice his beloved son, that God comes to know that this desire and ability to perpetuate is not merely an expression of self-interest:

 

“…for now I know (Ki Atah Yadati) that you fear God…” [Genesis 22:12]

 

The Jewish community is somewhat obsessed by continuity. A recent advert in the Jewish Chronicle in favour of Jewish schools displayed a crude paranoia about Jewish children forming too strong relationships with their non-Jewish peers. How much of this concern to perpetuate Judaism is motivated by self-interest or parochial national interest? Jewish continuity may be a good thing for the world, but not if it is motivated by base desires that stem from the evil inclination. Being committed to Jewish continuity is not the same as fearing God.

 

Rabbi Joel Levy is the Rabbi of Kol Nefesh Masorti Synagogue and teaches at The Conservative Yeshiva, Jerusalem


 

Smoking: Rules and Regulations

by Rabbi David Golinkin

 

Question: In light of dozens of scientific studies proving the dangers of smoking, is smoking prohibited by Jewish law? Furthermore, is it forbidden in a public place?

 

Responsum: Since the Surgeon General's report first established the dangers of cigarette smoking in 1964, over forty responsa have been written on this subject. The majority, whether Orthodox, Conservative or Reform, have ruled that cigarette smoking is prohibited by Jewish Law. There are at least thirteen reasons for this conclusion. Six of the most cogent reasons follow:

 

1. Maimonides rules (Hilkhot Deot Chapter 4) that “a person must distance himself from things which destroy the body and accustom himself to things which heal the body.” In light of what we know about smoking, there is no doubt that it is an activity “which destroys the body” and is therefore forbidden by Maimonides.

 

2. In Deutoronomy (4:9, 15) God tells the Jewish people: “take utmost care and watch yourself scrupulously”. The Talmud (Berakhot 32b) derives from these verses that a person must scrupulously guard his physical health, and this ruling was codified by Maimonides (Rotzeach 11:4) and the Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat 427:8). Thus whoever smokes transgress the prohibition of “watching yourself scrupulously”.

 

3. In addition to the general principle cited above, many specific activities were forbidden by the rabbis because they endanger human life. Among them: drinking water from an uncovered barrel lest a snake had poisoned the barrel with its venom (Mishnah Terumot 8:4-5), putting coins in one's mouth lest they transmit dangerous bacteria (Yerushalmi ibid. 8:3), and passing by a shaky wall or a rickety bridge lest they collapse (Rosh Hashanah 16b). These prohibitions were codified by Maimonides and the Shulkan Arukh who emphasize that these are merely examples and not an exhaustive list (Rotzeach 12:6; Hoshen Mishpat 427:10; Yoreh Deah 116:5). Thus there is no doubt that smoking is included in the list of things prohibited by our sages because they endanger human life.

 

4. According to the Mishnah (Bava Kama 8:6), a person is not permitted to injure himself and his principle was codified by the standard codes of Jewish law (Maimonides, Hovel Umazik 5:1; Shulhan Arukh Hoshen Mishpat 420:31). There is no question that smoking is a form of self-inflicted injury and is thereby prohibited by Jewish law.

 

5. The Talmud rules: “Hamira sakanta mei-issura” which means: “Regulations concerning danger to life are more stringent than ritual prohibitions” (Hullin 10a). In other words, in case of a doubtful transgression of ritual law we rule in the direction of leniency, but if there is a possibility of one of the physical dangers listed above we rule in the direction of stringency. And indeed R. Moshe Isserles quotes this principle in our connection (Yoreh Deah ibid.). Therefore, even if one claims that cigarette smoking is not necessarily dangerous since not all smokers die of cancer, it would still be forbidden on the grounds of doubtful danger.

 

6. Lastly, some smokers claim that they have faith in God that He will protect them from the dangers of smoking. But the Talmud has already ruled on numerous occasions that one may not consciously place oneself in a dangerous situation because “one does not rely on miracles” (Megillah 7b and more) and this principle has also been codified in the Shulhan Arukh in our context (Yoreh Deah ibid.). Thus a smoker may not rely on miracles and is required to stop smoking at once.

 

(There follows a detailed refutation of the approach of rabbis Moshe Feinstein and J. David Bleich who, while discouraging the practice, have consistently refused to prohibit smoking.)

 

As for smoking in a public place, the following conclusions were reached:

 

1. Whoever is in the vicinity of a smoker can certainly protest and the smoker is required by Jewish law to move away (Bava Batra 23a).

 

2. Furthermore, it can be demonstrated that it is forbidden “l'khathilah” (before the act) to smoke in a public place. This is based on the principle that one must build furnaces far away from the city “l'khathilah" (Tosefta Bava Batra 1:10). Similarly, it is forbidden because of the principle of “geirei dilei” or “his arrows” (Bava Batra 22b). According to this principle, one cannot stand in his yard and shoot arrows in the air while claiming that he had no intention of harming others. For the same reason, one must erect an outhouse or a factory that produces dust far enough away from his neighbors to do no harm because the dust and the smell are like his arrows (Maimonides, Hilkhot Shekheinim 11:1). There is no question that cigarette smoke is like his arrows so the smoker must distance himself from others “l'khathilah”.

 

In conclusion, smoking is absolutely forbidden by Jewish law. Similarly, it is forbidden to smoke in a public place and if one transgresses and smokes he must move away if someone protests.

 

Rabbi David Golinkin

http://www.responsafortoday.com

 


Shemot 23rd Tevet 5773

 

5th January 2013
 

By Jonathan Wiseman

 

Parshat Shemot does not begin where the book of Bereishit ended. At the end of Parshat Vayechi, Joseph dies, having prophesied to his brothers that God will bring them out of Egypt to the land he promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Yet at the opening of Parshat Shemot, the Children of Israel are enslaved to Egypt, and the Torah tells us explicitly that the king who has arisen “knew not Joseph”. Moreover, there is a tradition that the Children of Israel had themselves ceased “to know Joseph”, having abandoned the faith of their ancestors. Shemot Rabbah states (1:8) that on the death of Joseph, the Children of Israel ceased to practise circumcision and that it was this that caused God to turn the hatred of the Egyptians onto them. This would certainly be an explanation for why, towards the end of the Sedrah, Zipporah circumcises Gershom, who is considerably older than eight days, after God seeks to kill Moses, possibly for his having failed to circumcise his son.

 

It is apparent from the opening of the Sedrah that the Children of Israel lack strong male leadership. Even as Moses emerges as a possible leader, he cuts an unpromising figure: killing the Egyptian overseer before fleeing to Midian and marrying a gentile woman. Even when God appears to him in the burning bush he seeks to eschew his destiny. Notwithstanding that God entrusts Moses with miracles that he can perform to Pharaoh, Aaron is required to be appointed as Moses’ mouthpiece. And so we find ourselves at a hiatus in the biblical narrative, between the strong (albeit not always perfect) leadership of the Patriarchs in Bereishit and the leadership of Moses, Aaron and Joshua for the rest of the Torah.

 

The Children of Israel are not without heroic leaders in Parshat Shemot. However, those leaders are not the men who will dominate the narrative in the subsequent Parshot. Rather, they are the women. We learn of the midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, who lie to Pharaoh to save Israelite children. Moreover, the lie that they tell Pharaoh (“Hebrew women are not as Egyptian women; for they are lively, and are delivered ere the midwife come unto them”) is about the strength of the Israelite women; and it is a lie sufficiently believable to convince Pharaoh. Next comes Moses’ mother.

 

It is no coincidence that the word used for the basket in which she places Moses is “tevah”, an ark. The matriarchal saving of the Jewish people culminates in the scene referred to above when Zipporah, seeing God seeking to kill Moses, circumcises Gershom and angrily throws the foreskin at Moses’ feet. Thus the Children of Israel are saved because a gentile woman performs the mitzvah that Moses had failed to. There are a number of readings of this reversal of traditional gender roles in Parshat Shemot. One is that it symbolises the emasculation of the Children of Israel caused by Egyptian oppression. More convincing, perhaps, is the tradition that the positive role played by the women of these narratives is the narrative itself. Thus Rabbi Avira expounded: “Israel was redeemed from Egypt on account of the righteous women of that generation”.

 

Jonathan Wiseman is a member of New North London Synagogue

 

Sitting seperately

by Rabbi David Golinkin

 

Question: In many Masorti congregations it is the custom to pray without a mehitzah or womens' gallery. Is this custom halakhically justified?

 

Responsum: There is no mention of any separation in the Temple in Jerusalem throughout the period of the First Temple or most of the period of the Second Temple. Towards the end of the Second Temple period the Sages directed that a women's gallery be constructed in the Women's Court to keep the sexes separated during the somewhat light-headed celebration of the water festival during Succot. During the balance of the year men and women mingled freely in the Women's Court. (It appears that this was so named because it marked the limit of approach by women who were not bringing sacrifices, to the inner courts of the Temple). There is no literary or archaeological basis for assuming the existence of a synagogue separation during the period of the Mishnah and the Talmud. The first mention is towards the end of the period of the Geonim (around the eleventh century). From then on, such separation is occasionally mentioned in passing. Not until the end of the nineteenth century do we have a halakhic source requiring separation in the synagogue.

 

Many Orthodox rabbis maintain that the women's gallery in the synagogue has the status of pentateuchal law (meed'oraita). This is not borne out by the Talmudic sources. The Mishnah, Tosefta, and Babylonian Talmud clearly state that the erection of the temporary separating balcony towards the end of the Second Temple period was a rabbinic enactment (tikun gadol) enacted by the Sages. In any case the existence of a temporary separation in the Temple tells us absolutely nothing about the pattern in the ancient synagogue; the synagogue differs in hundreds of details from the Temple. While the medieval commentators mention separation in the synagogue as a fact, not one demands it or forbids mixed seating. The ironclad institutionalizing of separate seating came about only towards the end of the nineteenth century as an Orthodox strategem directed against the non-Orthodox trends. There is considerable evidence of mixed prayer in the Bible and in the Apocrypha. With reference to the Second Temple period many sources indicate that mixing was the norm in the Women's Court.

 

Some argue that the reason no physical divider has been found in any ancient synagogue is that women simply did not attend. However, many sources do testify to the regular attendance of women in the synagogue during the period of the Talmud. The archaeological evidence also supports the literary evidence we have collected. Since the beginning of this century, over one hundred ancient synagogues have been unearthed in Eretz Yisrael, the Golan and Trans-Jordan and another ten in the diaspora. Evidence of a gallery has been found in only five of the Palestinian synagogues and in none of the diaspora synagogues. Furthermore, there is no archaeological proof whatsoever that the five galleries discovered were used by women.

 

Thus, the separate women's' section apparently is a minhag (custom) that developed during the period of the Geonim. May one change a custom, which is perhaps a thousand years old? Many argue that one must always follow customs that were handed down. However, in our history great numbers of customs have been changed: organically by the people and formally by their Rabbis. The mores and habits of society in general are major factors affecting halakhah and minhag. It happens that in our society mixed seating is the norm. Therefore we can use the halakhic principle of haidana (=now) to justify this change in custom. This principle has been used by poskim hundreds of times since Talmudic times. In addition, we can utilize the halakhic concept of regilut (=habit), which was used by medieval poskim such as the Ra'aviyah and the Levush and even by proponents of the mehitzah such as R. Moshe Feinstein. This concept states that men are not sexually aroused by things they are accustomed to seeing and doing. Therefore, since men and women today are accustomed to sitting together at all times, mixed seating no longer has any effect on a man's ability to concentrate on his prayers. Of course there are still some congregations where mixed seating would be disturbing to the participants. It is entirely proper for them to continue with separate seating. But this is not true of our Movement's constituency for whom mixed seating is routine. For us, mixed seating is halakhically and instinctively correct.
 

Rabbi David Golinkin
http://www.responsafortoday.com 
 


 

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