All Things Jewish

Who is Judith or Yehudit and why is she important to the Story of Chanukah

2011-12-13T11:35:00.001-08:00

Often what has become invisible through the ages is the female experience. The life of a seemingly obscure widow, Judith, deserves a bit of center stage of Chanukah. This comment of Susan Weidman Schneider in her book Jewish and Female got me thinking, She writes, "Whatever the reasons, Chanukah is one of the few markers on the Jewish Calendar that have not proved fruitful ground for Jewish women looking for a usable past. The only traditional Chanukah tale featuring a woman is the story of Hannah and her seven sons." I ask; could there be more?
To see a significant and meaningful place for women in the Chanukah celebration, one needs to perhaps don another pair of glasses. Let’s call them halachic glasses. These spectacles allow us to gaze at the vast body of rich Jewish legal literature. They sometimes reveal that which you least expect.
Let us begin by opening the Shulchan Aruch, Code of Jewish Law, authored by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the sixteenth century. In section #970 we find the first law concerning Chanukah. He starts with the simple; Chanukah is for eight days beginning on the 25th of Kislev. These are days when eulogies and fasting are prohibited, but work is permitted - except for women who have the custom to abstain from doing any form of labor while the candles are burning. Further on, he writes that women are obligated in lighting Chanukah candles and may light on behalf of the entire household.
Two interesting points jump out. First, though the laws of Chanukah go on for pages, it is women's custom that immediately takes center stage. The only labor prohibited on the festival is by women - during the burning of the Chanukah candles. The second significant halachic twist is that in spite of the principal that women are exempt from positive time bound commandments - when it comes to the lighting of the Chanukah candles their obligation is equal to that of men.
Questions; why do women have the custom to refrain from work while the Chanukah candles burn? Why do they seem to have a higher level of commitment or perhaps reverence for the Chanukah lights? And finally, why are they obligated in lighting Chanukah candles?
Keep your halachic glasses on as we zoom back in time to search the pages of the Talmud for Rabbi Karo’s source. Opening to page 23a of Tractate Shabbat we find that “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says that women are obligated in the mitzvah of Chanukah lights, for they too were involved in the miracle." They too were involved in the miracle? Rabbi Shlomo Yischaki, Rashi, tenth century scholar, suggests two possible interpretations to the puzzling phrase. First, they too were involved in the miracle - they too were subjugated to the Greeks, but in a terribly tragic way particular to women only. Each Jewish virgin was forced to be with a Greek officer before marrying. Second possibility; it was through a woman that the miracle occurred. This provocative comment is echoed and enlarged upon by Rashi’s grandson Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, Rashbam, he adds, that the Chanukah miracle was done through the hands of Yehudit, Judith.
Ah, Judith the Obscure! To uncover her mystery, we must do some pasting together of Apocrypha, midrash and poetry. The reconstruction of this episode may never be completely satisfying, but what does emerge is a tale of heroism and sacrifice. It is unclear whether it is Judith the widow who goes forth willingly or Judith the bride who is taken by force, but, once alone with the Greek general she feeds him wine and cheese. She waits for the soporific meal to take its effect, cuts off his head, As recorded in Chapter 13 of the Book of Judith,
Then she came to the pillar of the bed, which was at Holofernes' head, and took down his fauchion from thence,
And approached to his bed, and took hold of the hair of his head, and said, Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, this day. And she smote twice upon his neck with all her might, and she took away his head from him.
She then gives his head to her maid who places it in her basket and they ever so nonchalantly return to the Judean camp. Officers, troops and soldiers of the Greek camp are left in leaderless disarray and a breach enabling the smaller Judean army to triumph. And thus the miracle was truly executed by a woman.
Now what do we see? Is this what Schneider might call a usable past? I think so. The legend together with halachic practice has bequeathed to women a powerful symbol. Yes, we were victims; but we were also heroes. We are part of the miracle. We were oppressed, but we joined together with our brothers to fight back. Yehudit, Judith is enshrined forever in sculpture, art work, librettos, and novels. Her memory is recalled on the Shabbat of Chanukah when traditionally we recite a lengthy twelfth century piyyut, poem, describing the pathos of her wedding and youthful fears of what awaited her.
Let each and every woman light a Chanukah menorah, refrain from work, watch flames and remember. Let us see in those flames both the pain of our ancestors and the courage of their actions and for this I do not think that we will need any kind of glasses. And finally, let us praise Judith as she was praised then,
O daughter, blessed art thou of the most high God above all the women upon the earth; and blessed be the Lord God, which hath created the heavens and the earth, which hath directed thee to the cutting off of the head of the chief of our enemies. For this thy confidence shall not depart from the heart of men, which remember the power of God for ever. And God turn these things to thee for a perpetual praise, to visit thee in good things because thou hast not spared thy life for the affliction of our nation, but hast revenged our ruin, walking a straight way before our God. And all the people said; So be it, so be it.

Tisha B'Av: Why we mourn....

2011-08-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy,
Here we are trying to have a decent summer and it seems like every other minute it is another fast day; sadness for a Temple long gone. I guess I don't quite understand the notion of mourning for the Temple. Why should I be sad about its destruction? I can't imagine needing or wanting such a place for sacrifices. Additionally, why all this for that one Temple, what's wrong with many holy spaces or synagogues, like what we have today? Please help me understand why we are fasting for the loss of this Temple.
A lot of people feel distanced from Biblical ideas of sacrifice and the role of the Temple, which is reasonable considering how long ago and faraway that temple stood. But I think that after I explain an idea or two you will feel differently. The idea of a centralized temple is at the core of our beliefs.
Let's start with perhaps the earliest mention of such a place. It is found in surprisingly close proximity to the beginning of our peoplehood. Immediately after the Exodus, as soon as the Israelites cross the Red Sea, they stand on the shore absorbing their miraculous salvation. You might remember the dramatic gelatin-facilitated footage from the Cecil B. De Mille film. There, the freed slaves are plunked after having just narrowly escaped a perilous collective brush with death. Led by Moshe, they sing a stunning song of thanksgiving, The Song at the Sea.
In that song they exuberantly proclaim, You bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of Your inheritance, the place, O Lord, which You have made for You to dwell in, the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands have established.
This is amazing to me. The Israelites have but stepped one foot out of slavery
and are already envisioning a holy sanctuary in which God will reside. This seems premature - why discuss a temple now? The Israelites have not begun to shed their slave-like persona, they have yet to receive the Torah, and are they certainly nowhere close to entering the land of Israel.
It is not until much later in the Book of Kings that we get an answer to this temple precociousness. But before that, the Israelites must first build a temporary tabernacle in the desert and travel with it into the Land of Israel. This mishkan, or temporary sanctuary, is then planted in the city of Shiloh, where it mostly remains until King Solomon is able to build the Temple in Jerusalem.
When Solomon does indeed construct the Temple, we are offered this rare nugget of chronology: “And it came to pass in the four hundred and eightieth year after the children of Israel were come out of the land of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon's reign over Israel, in the month Ziv, which is the second month, that he began to build the House of the Lord.”
An accounting like this, specific to an event, is not to be found in any of the early books of the Prophets. Not Joshua, not Judges, not Samuel. Only here, when the Temple is about to be built, are we notified of the span of years stretching from the Exodus till this temple time. This is the answer to the peculiar reference to the Temple at the splitting of the sea.
Four hundred eighty years from dream to realization. For our people, that is not astonishingly long - it is, in fact, a lilting leap with a profound link. As we are asked to make the connection from Exodus to Temple, we are catapulted back in time, as if standing again on the sandy shores of freedom, dreaming of the day that we will serve our heavenly God in a holy space here on earth.
It is there that we first envision this mystical notion, an ideal that the world has been waiting for since its creation: as God creates a world and makes room for humans, we are given a land and we create a space for God.
This connection between creation and the building of sanctuary is mapped out carefully by a number of Bible scholars such as Martin Buber, Benno Jacob and Nechama Leibowitz. They notice the startling similarities in language used in the creation narrative and the description of the building of the Tabernacle, mishkan. The Israelites mend the exile of the Garden by inviting God into a sanctuary and making space for God fulfilling the command, “and you shall make for me a dwelling place and I will dwell among them.” It is with the Israelites, who are ”a kingdom of priests and a holy nation, “that God's divine presence can finally join together with humans and be drawn down into this world.
First Eden and Exodus, then the Temple. The path of patience finally leads to the realization. As Solomon inaugurates the Temple, he triumphantly sets out what the role for this holy space will be for the Israelites and the entire world. In one of the most magnificent scenes in the Bible, King Solomon offers a soulful prayer to God before the People Israel.
He begins by reminding us when this building was first planned, “Since the day that I brought forth My people Israel out of Egypt,” and continues by asking the essential question, “But will God in very truth dwell on the earth?”
Though it may seem impossible, this place will be a place of prayer. All kinds of prayer - in times of famine and drought. Prayer in the time of war and hardship. This will be place that the whole world will come to pray to God Almighty, a place for penitence and forgiveness. Nary is a word mentioned about sacrifice, for this is a place of reaching out to God.
The Temple is a potent symbol for our people; it reminds us that God can be drawn down to earth and that a people can unite and build a community with God at its center. Perhaps that is the most powerful lesson for each of us. When we mourn the Temple, we mourn for that unity and for that mystical connection to the Holy One. We mourn a loss of land and central leadership. We mourn many missed opportunities.
A story is told of how Napoleon was walking through the streets of Paris. He passed by a synagogue and heard the sound of Jews weeping bitterly inside. He turned to his aide and asked, “What's going on inside there”?
“Today is the Jews' fast of Tisha B'av,” came the reply, “and they are mourning their temple.”
Napolean looked toward the synagogue and said, “If the Jews are still crying after so may hundreds of years, then I am certain that the Temple will one day be rebuilt!”
There is hope, we are still crying.

Why Eat Dairy on Shavuot -- and More...

2011-06-06T08:10:00.000-07:00

If you put two plump cheese blintzes next to each other they just might resemble the two tablets of the law. But, I think we need to do better than that to bring meaning to our observance of Shavuot. The least attention getting of the holidays, it has a few things going against it from the start. No prominent engaging ritual and no eight-day marathon. Its timing is quite less than perfect coming as the school year is winding down, with no secular holiday season to boost its observance. Blink and you just might miss it entirely. Ironically, this low-key nature of Shavuot is its essence. When it comes to Shavuot less is more. Let me explain.
Try and find Shavuot in the Torah. Look for the verse linking Shavuot to the Giving of the Torah, search for the exact date, and maybe try to find the part about cheesecake. You will find none of these. Here is what you will find: We are commanded to count fifty days from the second day of Pesach when the omer offering is brought and to then observe the Feast of Weeks, Shavuot. On the holiday itself the Israelites bring first fruits to the Temple in Jerusalem and the priests offer the two loaves of bread. The day is holy and work is prohibited.
Three elements of the holiday seem to be missing. There is no clear designation by the text that Shavuot is the day that the Torah was given. There is no explicit date. And where are the blintzes?
Often we can learn from what is hidden as we learn from what is revealed. No specific date for Shavuot? Well, if we count seven weeks from the second of Pesach we clearly arrive at the date for Shavuot. Seven weeks, forty nine days equals the 6th of Sivan. Ambiguity regarding the date is clearly not the point - we can and do calculate its appropriate convergence. Why then the obscurity in the text? What message does Torah give us when instead of telling us the specific date it tells us to count the days from Pesach to Shavuot?
Pesach and Shavuot are connected. Shavuot’s very essence is that it does not stand-alone. By its very definition it is an extension of Pesach. Some would even say that the counting effectually transforms Shavuot into the final day of Pesach. Atzeret, one of the names of Shavuot reflects the idea of conclusion, as in Shemini Atzeret the eighth concluding day of Succot. Pesach is not complete without Shavuot and Shavuot does not happen without Pesach. Pesach is the physical redemption of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage - while Shavuot marks the spiritual redemption. We anxiously count the days that transform us from slaves to a free people able to recognize and hear the words of God.
Why wait the fifty days? Why are the Israelites not given the Torah straight away upon exiting Egypt? Shavuot could easily have been the real last day of Pesach. Several reasons. We were clearly not ready. The tribes exposed to Egyptian culture and paganism were yet to be the people of the book and the pyramid builders of Egypt lacked the fortitude to wrestle with nuances of monotheism and a life of transcendence.
Wait and anticipate, count and reckon - almost breathless with hope tally the days till destiny arrives. Number the fifty days from Pesach to Shavuot till God reveals himself to the people Israel. No date for Shavuot? Of course not there can be no date. An individual date stands alone, the fiftieth is part of a process, a moment in the fluid movement towards becoming closer to God and Torah.
Staying up all night Shavuot, decorating the sanctuary with flowers, confirmations, and Shavuot liturgy all reflect the long held belief that Shavuot is the day that the Torah was given to the Children of Israel. There is no scriptural citation stating thus and no prescribed ritual to inscribe it upon our consciousness. No Seder to follow no Succah to sit in. It is as if the Torah was purposefully obscuring the historic event and intentionally stripping it of any ritualistic commemoration. You’ve heard the lyrics; every day is Mother’s Day with you… well I suppose every day is Torah day for us. No one day can or should be set aside as the day to re-experience the giving of the Torah, that is for every day. The Midrash Tanhumah puts it this way, “Every day let the Torah be as dear to you as if you had received it this day from Mt. Sinai.” Revelation, says Rabbi David Tzvi Hoffman, cannot be translated into the tangible language of symbol. Can one even imagine what that might look like? What happened at Sinai was very much a one and only unique never to be repeated or imitated experience. The ritual to remember the Giving of the Torah is the every day ritual of Torah study that our people has dedicated themselves to, to never let this book of teaching cease from our lips.
Now for the menu; milk, elixir of life lead us to thoughts of intimacy, nourishment, simplicity and modesty. The way of Torah says the Tanna, is to eat bread with salt, drink water in small measure. A life of humbleness; Torah is like honey and milk under our tongue says the Midrash on the Song of Songs. Milk is pure and symbolizes the pristine whiteness of God who out of kindness revealed himself to us with intimacy, to nourish and give us life. Passed through the generations is the idea that the day of the Giving of the Torah is the day to eat with modesty reflecting the ultimate value of walking humbly with the Lord.
Less is more; less attention, less hoopla. So it is sometimes with things that are most precious and private. What we hold most dear we hold most close. Shavuot comes quietly after Pesach, we build no succahs and buy no loads of groceries. We cook modest meals and study Torah through the night. Oh and don’t blink you might miss it.

The Torah of Mother's Day

2011-05-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy,
In honor of Mother’s Day I decided to prepare a speech, a d’var Torah, about mothers and daughters in the Torah. I thought it was a good idea. I began my research in earnest but had quite a hard time finding material. Where did I go wrong?

I am not sure that you went wrong anywhere. I appreciate your experience and empathize with your consternation. I too have attempted such investigations. It is not simple to fashion a d’var Torah about mothers and daughters in the Torah, primarily because there is not much from which one might glean. When considering father and son relationships, there are a number of quite complex narratives from which we can garner timeless interpretations, meanings and inspiration. Without much strain to the brain we can tick those sets off quite swiftly, including Noah and his sons, Abraham and Isaac, Isaac and Jacob, Jacob and Joseph, Saul and Jonathan, David and Absalom. Though a number of these relationships give us pause and are fraught with intense conflict, they are relationships nonetheless. Without a doubt, they mirror the intricate and oftentimes precariously complicated nature of the father-son bond.

When we turn to inventory mother-daughter connections, the list is disappointingly sparse. Our first task must be to identify mother-daughter pairs in the Torah. In this discussion, we are use a broad definition of Torah, including all twenty-four books of what we call the Tanach: the Torah, the Prophets and the writings. Some call these the Hebrew Scriptures.
At first glance we can quickly identify two visible mother-daughter duos; Leah and Dinah in Genesis, and Yocheved and Miriam in Exodus, the former receiving much less fanfare than the latter. A second more comprehensive page-turning, concordance-checking, CD-ROM-searching exploration yields nothing more. I hesitate to utter the words, but I think we are done. I invite you to prove me wrong I would rejoice with you. Keep in mind we are searching for a meaningful kind of mother-daughter citation not a flavorless reference in a genealogical begat list. Those are decidedly exceptional as well, what with the father-son genealogy by far outpacing the mother-daughter statistics.

Proceeding with our identified mothers and daughters, although limited, I wonder whether these scant twosomes may yet offer us a fertile patch of earth from which we can grow some big ideas about mothers and daughters and their relationships. What pearls of wisdom do these mothers impart upon their daughters? What gems preserved through the ages are recorded? This is where we get even a bit more discomfited. Upon further investigation, it becomes apparent that there is not a single word of dialogue between any mothers and daughters in the entire aforementioned twenty-four books of the Hebrew Scripture. Implausible as it may sound, it is true; not one word is exchanged in the entire Tanach between any mother and daughter.

Now what? Skip the mother-daughter d’var Torah? I think not. There are, after all, narratives that can mined for meaning. There may be no words exchanged between mothers and daughters, but there are deeds that can provide inspiration and insight. In spite of this discerned dearth of dialogue, I believe there is something to be learned. Concepts can be extracted from the little we do have in the texts. For example, Rebecca meets, waters and welcomes the servant of Abraham and his camels in Genesis, Chapter 24. Bedecked with gifted jewelry, she runs to her mother’s house to report on the arrival of the stranger. Though no words are directly exchanged we notice that here the beginning of a hint of a motif: Mother’s tent or Mother’s house. Later, Isaac is comforted after the death of his mother only when he brings Rebecca into what had been his mother’s tent.

In one of the five Megillot, the dreamy beloved of Song of Songs speaks to her adored suitor and tells him that she will bring him into her mother’s house. There the relationship will blossom Mother’s house again. Mother is the original comfort of intimacy and love. The run to Mother’s house is the eternal impulse for return. Mother’s house is a womblike shelter and security the place of primal warmth. The potential romance between Isaac and Rebecca is set in motion as she runs to her own mother’s house with news of the unfamiliar person who had been bursting with intentions which are then later ultimately realized as she enters the tent of Isaac’s mother. Mother’s love gives way to the promise of intimate love of the future. The Torah is suggesting a blueprint for mothers and daughters. Let’s understand that first place of tenderness and grow from there. Perhaps this sweet phenomenon of Mother’s house can help us to break down those tensions that sometimes build between mother and daughter.

One more incident where nary a word is spoken takes place by the banks of the Nile. Miriam, sister of baby Moshe, sets out to watch as the daughter of Pharaoh reaches for the Hebrew baby meant to be drowned. What to do? A nursemaid is needed. Again the dash to mother with no words recorded, but we can imagine the swift urgency with which they are delivered. Mother and daughter share an intense purpose: this baby must be saved and cared for by its Israelite mother. Perhaps no words need be spoken. There are understandings that transcend the spoken word. These two voiceless episodes speak to me deeply. I see these patterns played out with my own daughters, the silent knowing and understanding, the trusting intimacy of relationships and the comfort of eloquent trust. The D’var Torah of mothers and daughters is a talk that does not abound with examples but it certainly resounds with meaning, sometimes actions transcend words.

It's Not a Circumcision - It's a Brit Milah!

2011-04-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

It's not a circumcision - it's a Brit Milah
Rivy Poupko Kletenik

I quote my mother of Blessed Memory often; perhaps too often. I seem to be unable to avoid generously peppering conversations with her wit and wisdom. Her comments about Brit Milah echo through my mind each time I am lucky enough to attend one.
She often remarked that a bris was her favorite simcha. Her observations were many. First, by virtue of time constraints a Brit Milah does not allow for elaborate planning; always a plus. Second, the ritual is elegantly succinct, demanding but a small investment of time from participant, this too is good. Finally, there is little room for family conflicts, because, most significantly, all come wholeheartedly, unified with a spirit of piety.
A Brit Milah is a pure expression of devotion to God. No ulterior motives here. Purity and sacrifice rule the day. Bringing a new Jewish soul into the covenant of Abraham is devoid of any but spiritual motives. The Brit Milah stands austerely among our rites of passage. The excesses which regularly visit us at Bar Mitsvahs, Bat Mitsvahs and weddings are strangers here.
Instead, an aura of mystery and otherworldliness pervade at the Brit Milah. A feeling of the numinous fills the room as the memories of Pinchas ben Elazar Hacohen, of Eliyahu Hanavi, and of course Abraham are evoked. Their “presence” tells us that something far from usual is to occu - that, what we see is not what it seems. As Jacob Neusner explains, a surgical procedure is not under way, but in fact through the power of words, the act is transformed into something wholly different (The Enchantments of Judaism p.3). This, is not the medical operation performed on millions in sterile hospitals, this is something of another magnitude.
The article, “Dr. Ronald Goldman On Circumcision" had some old thoughts and new thoughts in it. The arguments for and against have been vocalized profoundly from both sides in many different arenas. They do not appear to be fading away. They are voiced every now and then in newspapers and books. His article calls to mind other recent treatments of the subject.
Goldman mentions that women are generally more sensitive to the issue. So let's begin with shall we say, one of the more interesting observations offered by Miriam Pollock in her article, Circumcision: A Jewish Feminist Perspective. She says, "How many thousands of Jewish boys and how many thousands of Jewish men have been lost throughout the ages because they were unable to “pass” when their lives depended on it? All the oppressor had to do was pull down their pants." Setting aside the graphic ugliness and cruelty of her statement, let us focus on the content.
What is Pollock telling us? By cleverly turning the victim into his own victimizer she faults the Jew for his own persecution. His Brit Milah was the problem. She has achieved new heights in the exercise of Jewish self-hatred. It is tiresome. Here once again we are being told, not to be, too Jewish. In this case it may get you killed.
In this most recent attack against Brit Milah, Goldman maintains that a Brit Milah is a violation of the maternal-child bond. He recalls that “the infant cried strenuously for an extended period of time.” I can't recall a similar experience with our two sons. I do recall their many piercing cries in doctors' offices after being inoculated, cultured or examined. I recall with pain, my own tears at their tears. But knowing that the shots were critical to my child’s health I steeled myself and did what had to be done. I held their hands, wiped their tears, and told them that it would be all right. And so on through our children's lives. Yes, our tough love often visits pain upon our kids. But, most pain leads to growth. Maternal bonds are not shattered by these experiences. To the contrary, it is from mother’s breast that baby suckles and is comforted after the Bris. And every clever mother times her baby's feeding for immediately after the Bris. Pain and comfort the stuff of which life is made.
Back to my mother, I remember vividly attending a certain Brit Milah together. The nervous young mother was beside herself, quivering with anxiety over the approaching ceremony. Standing nearby I was tempted to deliver a lecture. Brit Milah 101. Don't you know? Your child is about to initiated into the Covenant of Abraham. He is to be permanently marked with a sign on his organ of generation. A symbol of our commitment to God's commandment to be fruitful and multiply. A symbol of our confidence in God's promise to Abraham that we Jews will be as great as the stars in the sky. A symbol of our commitment to the future and that our future begins with sacrifice. But, I remained quiet.
Instead, I let my Mother respond. She put an arm around the young woman and turned to her with typical frankness, "Look around the room. Every man here had a bris - and they're all doing just fine. Relax."

Who is Wicked Son?

2011-04-12T10:58:00.001-07:00

The segment of the four sons is assuredly a core piece of the Seder. It fits in neatly with the “four theme” - four cups of wine, four questions, four sons. Nonetheless, the wicked son is disconcerting to be sure – who would want to picture a child as evil? To best begin to grapple with the “four sons” we must sketch out the basics about this theme of different children and then attempt to deal wisely with the wicked sibling. Hopefully, by the end it will seem even simple, perhaps we will be left with no questions.
The idea of the four sons is drawn from four sets of passages in the Torah that discuss the notion of children asking or being told about the Exodus. Here are the four sets of verses. For the sake of brevity I quote them not in full and urge you to check them out inside the text itself.
We begin with a verse in Deuteronomy 6:20,
When, in time to come, your children ask you, What mean the decrees, laws, and rules that the Lord our God has enjoined upon you?
Then these three separate verses from Exodus; in 12:26:
And when your children ask you, What do you mean by this rite?
13:14,
And when, in time to come, your son asks you, saying, What does this mean? You shall say to him, It was with a mighty hand that the Lord brought us out from Egypt, the house of bondage.”
And finally in 13:8, we find,
And you shall explain to your son on that day, It is because of what the Lord did for me when I went free from Egypt.
Consider the verses carefully. Are there any discernible subtle nuances that would lead you to label the voice of the child in any way? Are you able to detect any tones that imply a gradation of sorts in relation to the character of the child doing the asking?
Though we may not be able to distinguish the shades of wisdom or wickedness, wholesomeness or lack of wonderment, the Mechilta, a very early midrash on the Book of Exodus, identifies the four different verses and the children there mentioned, as the Four Sons that you and I know of from the Hagaddah; the wise, wicked, simple, together with the child who knows not how to ask. Above, the verses appear in the order of the Hagaddah, so go back and consider the designations. What about the passages indicates the son assigned to it?
The first verse has detailed questions about laws – the wise son. The second passage seems to have a negative tone – what do you mean by these laws! – the wicked son. The third passage is simply, simple, what is this? – the simple son. Finally, in the last passage the child does not ask and therefore is identified as the one who knows not how to ask.
This is the source then of the notion of the wicked son. We can surmise that the Midrash notices the four verses and wonders about the redundancy of a child asking four times; it must be there to teach us something specific. That something is the idea that there are different types of children and they each demand a different approach. Each child asks their own question and each child needs their own answer – even the child who cannot ask.
Before discussing the categorization or the qualification of each child let’s pause to appreciate the two educational principles that our tradition is suggesting here. Both sound educational practices; firstly, we do not pound out one lesson for all students but rather we know that each child must be taught in a way that makes sense for them. So, though we have a classroom full with many children we try to differentiate our teaching to work for each child. A second wonderful teaching idea is the recognition that good learning emerges from the curiosity of children and from the questions that they articulate. Here we have two educational notions put forth in ancient sources that continue to deeply resonate with our current sensibilities; that is certainly worthy of appreciation.
Now, let’s consider the questions of the children. What are they truly asking? Though they are focusing on the practices of the evening, remember that on Seder night when we reflect on our history we use symbols and rituals to trigger our memory and nudge us on in the telling of our story. When we ask in the Mah Nishtanah, about the eating matzo and of maror – what we really are asking is the classic question of theodicy; why does evil occur if there is an omniscient omnipotent God? Why were the Jews enslaved for hundreds of years? Why were our lives bitter? Why were we compelled to eat the bread affliction?
Now, consider the particular verses assigned to each child; in what way do they address this reformulation of the question; How is this night different from all other nights? The wise child, according to Rabbi Joseph Solovietchik, knows that there is no adequate answer for humans in regards to the issue of theodicy, the Rav, in his seminal article, “Kol Dodi Dofek –My Beloved is Knocking” addresses the issue of the Holocaust, and there he suggests that the wise son confronted with evil in the world, asks not; why? but rather, what can I do about it? How am I supposed to react to tragedy? What is our response to suffering? He therefore talks about action; what are the practices? The lesson we learn from the wise child is to take steps to address the pain in the world, rather than to ask about God’s role.
Taking a closer look at the responses to the children we notice that each receives an appropriate answer to this line of questioning. We then cannot help but appreciate that the response to the wicked son addresses his stance. By taking the “wicked” approach, he has excluded himself from the destiny of the Jewish people. When grappling with the uncomfortable phenomenon of a “wicked child” perhaps it would help to think of him as an archetype instead; one who challenges to the point of exclusion.
Finally, Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik’s brother, Rabbi Aaron Soloveitchik offers this appealing approach to the four sons. They are not four different children but rather four stages we each go through, through our lives; we begin as one who cannot ask, progress to the wonderful school age stage as simple kids, then most assuredly move into the adolescent stage…hmmm wicked? Finally, we all reach the coveted wise stage as adults.
This approach of seeing the sons not as absolutes, leads us to realize that for some it may be distinct stages while for others it may be the normal fluctuations that we all go through in life. Each of us is at times depending on the situation, the wise, the wicked, the wondering or the without-question child.
Social constructivists would echo this approach and add that indeed an individual’s personality is drawn out by those with whom they spend time – I suppose that throws the onus back on to each of us --- are we bringing out the wise, the wicked ,the wondering or the without questioning from those around us or from our children? Well given that, here’s an idea - let us hope that at this year’s Seder we will bring out the wise in everyone!

Enjoy the Rush: Here Comes Pesach!

2011-04-07T16:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy –

I love Pesach – once I am sitting at the Seder that is; till that point the rush and the panic are so difficult to handle. Is it just me? Why does our tradition have such stressful ritual as part of its modus operandi?
You are not alone, but you know that. You surely have chatted with family and friends and know intellectually that we are all in the same demanding dash towards the holiday that ironically marks our freedom from slavery.

I deeply believe that there are no accidents in Jewish practice; that even the most seemingly commonplace convention holds within it a transcendent loftiness and a message of meaning. That is the profound nature of our tradition. There must be something more to this rush than meets the eye. We all are experiencing haste before this holiday like no other haste. Though all of the holidays present their own unique panic quotient this one has its own particular deeply felt ontological rush.

What is the genesis of this rush? Let me take you back to the very first Pesach often referred to as “Pesach Mitzrayim, the Egyptian Passover. Moshe sets forth meticulous instructions for the evening’s rituals. Every detail is connected to this haste, this existential alacrity if you will.

And they shall eat the flesh in that night, roast with fire, and unleavened bread; with bitter herbs they shall eat it. Eat not of it raw, nor sodden at all with water, but roast with fire; its head with its legs and with the inwards thereof. And you shall let nothing of it remain until the morning; but that which remains of it until the morning you shall burn with fire. And so shall ye eat it: with your loins girded, your shoes on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste--it is the LORD'S passover.

This is nothing if not the description of the original “fast food” menu. The matzo is the bread that will necessitate no time to rise. We ate matzo on the night of Passover in anticipation of the dash of deliverance that is yet to come. There is not putting up of bread to rise for this meal. The plans for the evening call for unleavened flatbread – we’ve got a freedom train to catch. The main course? Meat for which there will be no long cooking time – no slow braising here, no meat that falls of the bone with the patience of the slow simmer.

The setting is no elegant restaurant with white table cloths delivering the leisurely meal of courses and hours. Here the attire is utilitarian inelegant travel wear. The sign might stipulate, “No Staff in Hand – No Service. No doggy bags, no leftovers – we will not be around for it and we surely cannot take it with us. The original eat and run. The consumption is in “haste” – the hurriedness of the evening is clear. But we are not the only ones in a rush. The Holy One is swiftly swooping in on the Egyptian firstborns, passing over.

What’s the rush? Two ancient rabbinic views;
Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah says, What is meant by haste? The haste of the Egyptians.
While Rabbi Akiva says: It is the haste of Israel.

The argument; who is the author of this great acceleration of the redemption? Does it emanate from our enemy, “And the Egyptians were urgent upon the people, to send them out of the land in haste” or is this a self-constructed quickness to extricate ourselves from the bonds of slavery? Our sages’ argument is a weighty dispute. Do the people Israel determine their destiny or are we forever at the mercy of the persecutor du jour? Rabbi Akiva staunchly contends that we own our liberation – though the Egyptians pressured us to exit immediately - we will not leave until the morning. We own this rush.

Maimonides introduces a preliminary statement about the acceleration of our forefathers into his Haggadah. This is to be recited even before the opening paragraph, “Ha Lacham Anya, this is the bread of our affliction.” He inserts this short phrase for us to proclaim, “With a sudden haste we left Egypt.” This is a dramatic innovation for the otherwise scripted traditional text of the Hagadah.

Rabbi Joseph Dov Soloveitchik asks why this aspect of haste, chipazon, is so important to Maimonides? Why did it become the focal point of the evening? Chipazon he explains means “time consciousness”, the excitement of hurrying, of trying to catch up, of making sure that one is in a position to act when the opportunity next presents itself. Chipazon is the attempt to cover distance, to move forward quickly. This is the manifestation of the concept of living time. For the Israelite slaves this newly acquired control of time was the essence of their freedom. For it was then that they regained the concept of time, and that they as a people became free; free to be in a rush.

For the newly freed slave, time is everything. For this reason Judaism is very much centered on holiness in time. Time matters. We were freed in the nick of time. Abraham Joshua Heschel in his celebrated work, “The Sabbath”, writes poetically that we Jews “build cathedrals in time.” Our time is precious here on earth and once free, we have no time to waste in our serving of the Lord.

This fresh liaison between the People Israel and their God is characterized by this rush of love – an elopement if you will. Rabbi Berlin writes that this chipazon, this hurriedness is eminent Presence of God, metaphorically alluded to in the Song of Songs, “The voice of my Beloved! Here He comes! Leaping over the mountains, skipping over the hills…” Dr. Avivah Zornberg conceptualizes it this way, “God acts in a mode of passionate syncopation, disregarding the conventions, overlooking the normal rhythms of history. Some acceleration of events… must happen if they are to be redeemed.”

This is a deep and ancient hurry that we are sensing. So, if you are rushing to get ready for Pesach – that’s a good thing. It’s all about feeling as if it was we ourselves were redeemed- we share in the existential rush of our People. We lean luxuriously on Seder night and try so hard to imagine slavery. While our ancestors sat impatiently with staff in hand, loins girded, rushed and ready, dreaming of freedom.

It's That Time of Year Again! Pesach Prep

2011-03-29T08:03:00.001-07:00

The first time I made Pesach I was literally up the entire night before. I had not accurately calculated just how long it actually took to make all those traditional foods. I learned my lesson. Whether you are hosting your first Seder or your tenth, it is never easy. As the holiday looms a tiny panic tends to set in leading to feelings alternating between trepidation and anticipation. In spite of those thoughts, I love Pesach and even look forward to the preparations. I try to see my efforts as hands-on kind of Divine service. This does not mean however that you must kill yourself in the process. We Jews believe in life!

The second habit of Highly Effective People, according to Stephen Covey is;
Begin with the End In Mind
This chapter is about setting long-term goals based on "true north" principles. Covey recommends formulating a "Personal Mission Statement" to document one's perception of one's own vision in life. He sees visualization as an important tool to develop this. He also deals with organizational vision statements, which he claims to be more effective if developed and supported by all members of an organization rather than prescribed.

Great advice. Here is what works for me. I visualize my two goals; first, a beautiful, meaningful and enjoyable Seder experience and second, a positive Jewish memory for family and friends. Both of these cannot be realized if you are harried and exhausted as you sit own to the table. Therefore, you need to be deliberate in your planning.

Begin by creating lists and a thorough timeline. Consider this question as you construct your plan; what is it going to take to get you to the table that night relaxed and ready?

Picture the day of the Seder; what will you need to do the days before so that you are not last minutely rushing to get prepared? Plan accordingly and do not be shy about eliciting help from all other participants. Do these three things:

1. Buy a book. There some really terrific books that help you think not just about getting your home ready for the holiday and the menus but also about the Jewish learning that you want to happen at your Seder.
2. Divide up the parts of the Seder. People who come ready to participate will feel connected involved and less likely to keep asking about when the meal going to be served.
3. Get help. Whatever you can afford. Someone to help in the kitchen the day of, someone to wash up the next day or even consider getting some food items catered.

You will be duly rewarded for all your efforts because nothing is as wonderful as laying your head on your pillow the night after the Seder with a deep feeling of satisfaction that you have created a warm significant Jewish experience that will live on in to the future in the minds and souls of all who sat at your table. Good luck!

Time for a Dry Purim!

2011-03-18T14:27:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about the drinking on Purim. I am very put off by the alcohol ingestion. The matter of substance abuse is of great concern, given our time and the challenges we all face in this regard. Drinking and the losing control of one's rationality seems contrary to everything we usually expect from Judaism, we are justified in being disturbed about this aspect of teh holiday! I continue to be put off by the drinking that goes on during the Purim celebrations.
Let's take a look at the sources for the custom of drinking on Purim. The first indication that drinking might be a part of the celebration is the Megillah itself. Notice the number of times that drinking parties occur. From start to finish, with several more in between, I can count a total of eight drinking parties. The imbibing is all-pervasive. The story, and thus the miracle, unfold through the raising of the cup. This may be the origin of the drinking practice, but it is usually a passage from the Talmud that is the source offered for why we drink on Purim.
In the Tractate Megillah 7b, we are told that Raba said, "It is the duty of a man to mellow himself with wine on Purim until he cannot tell the difference between 'cursed be Haman' and 'blessed be Mordecai.'"
Here it is spelled out. You've got a duty to get drunk on Purim, drunk enough to not be able to tell good from evil, friend from foe or hero from enemy. Though no explanation is provided, there is a clearly a tradition to get intoxicated on Purim. Yet the Talmud does not stop there, interestingly. The passage continues with a remarkable anecdote: Rabah and Rabbi Zera joined together in a Purim feast. They became mellow, and Rabah arose and cut Rabbi Zera's throat.
On the next day Rabah prayed on Rabbi Zera's behalf and revived him. The next year, Rabah said, "Will your honor come and we will have the Purim feast together?"
"A miracle does not take place on every occasion," a suspicious Rabbi Zera replied.
The plot thickens. Though we are enjoined to drink on Purim, it's interesting that the text follows the injunction with a cautionary tale, as if to say, here's what happens when you get drunk on Purim -- rabbis have been known to cut each others throats! Though he is invited back to Rabah's Purim celebration, Rabbi Zera's circumspectly begs off.
Ultimately, the Talmudic directive to be inebriated on Purim is tempered significantly by the sobering tale of the accidental death. Rabbi Zera came back to life. But like Rabbi Zera says, none of us can count on a miracle.
Drinking leads to dangerous behavior that may cause loss of life. In our own times there have been specific instances of tragic accidental deaths on Purim. Hence, I am absolutely and indeed vehemently opposed to getting drunk on Purim. To become dangerously inebriated is a misinterpretation the tradition.
It is always interesting to me how many people suddenly become pious and scrupulous about observing Jewish tradition when it comes to this tradition of getting drunk on Purim! Where is that zeal when it comes to other, more sober practices of Purim, such as gifts to the poor and the inclusion of the less fortunate at your celebration? A more palatable practice is suggested by Rabbi Moshe Isserles in the Code of Jewish law: to fulfill the requirement of not knowing the difference between "cursed be Haman" and "blessed be Mordecai," drink a small amount of wine and then doze off.
Would it not be momentous if all Jewish leaders were to actively encourage their constituencies to refrain from intoxication on Purim?

Mitzvot, Marrow and More

2011-03-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

I have been on one of these wonderful gurneys that take you to cold operating rooms before, but this time things are different. I lay here now not fearing the worst and not dreading any horrific outcomes. I don’t sense that hollow empty loneliness you have when you are being wheeled into surgery either. I’m feeling strong and somewhat heroic. I am a bone marrow donor.
This is how it began. Six years ago in Pittsburgh the community organized a bone marrow registration drive for Jay Fineberg. I was one of the organizers. I didn’t have much of a choice but to register. In the back of my mind, way back, I wrestled momentarily with the far out possibility of actually being a match. It wasn’t a long wrestling bout – “Rivy,” I told myself, “register, you’ll never be a match and if you are – we’ll deal with it then.” Gone and forgotten.
But here begins some little piece of irony. We are not settled in Seattle a month, and we are told that Jay Fineberg himself is in town. A match has been found. Something seems to be following me across the continent.
We stop by the hospital and visit briefly with Jay’s father. He says something that stays with me. He tells us that it is especially difficult to find matches for Jews because of the Shoah. The murder of six million Jews has had a profound effect on our gene pools – here’s a-not-so-subtle aftermath of the Holocaust that had never occurred to me; more evidence that Hitler’s killing just keeps on killing. We leave the hospital and I honestly don’t think much more about bone marrow, matches or donors.
Fast forward six years. It is December ’98 and I am going through a neglected pile of mail that has typically amassed on my desk. I open a rather plain looking envelope from the blood bank in Pittsburgh – assuming that it will be a holiday request for funds, I scan the letter quickly. I am surprised to read that I have been identified as a possible bone marrow donor. The letter politely asks me to call for more information. I immediately call Pittsburgh and I am prepared to leave a message on this Sunday morning, but instead a voice answers. We talk for a while. There is an individual who has leukemia and is in need of a bone marrow transplant – I am one of the potential matches, would I consent to being tested further?
After allowing several vials of blood to be collected at the Puget Sound Blood Bank I again relegate this to the back of my mind. Anyone I tell about this seems to have also been tested – but never been matched. No big deal they tell me. Truthfully? I had a feeling that this would not be the case for me. I had a feeling that I would be the match. I don’t know why – but I had this feeling.
Six weeks later – oddly on the one day that I actually remembered that - gee I haven’t heard back yet have I? - the call comes. You are the best match. Would you consider becoming a bone marrow donor?
Is there any other answer to this question? For me no. It’s one of those choices that really isn’t a choice. They are the very Jewish, kind of choices. They usually go something like this - If you want to live then do such and such…if not, not. No real choice.
There are interviews, blood samples, physical exams and more blood samples. People are impressed with my decision, I am not. True, it is a sacrifice, but in the great scheme of things a small one. The date is set. I begin to feel like I am eating for two. My life is a bit more precious now. I fasten my seat belt and look several times before crossing the street. I try to eat well, even press myself to include more chocolate in my diet – this is the extent of my self-sacrifice!
I wonder about this person, their family, their life. I am naturally curious. On one hand the temptation to become familiar is powerful. But the elegance of anonymity is purer. I recall the levels of tzedaka outlined by Maimonides. The value of anonymous giving is the protection it offers both parties. The recipient does not become beholden and the donor cannot become arrogant. But it does not stop me from thinking about them, usually moments before falling asleep at night.
As the day approaches heroes begin to grow around me. The best husband in the world becomes even greater and understanding. Bosses and coworkers offer to pick up the slack and even the kids are being more cooperative than normal. And finally, good friends reassure me that neither I nor my family will go hungry. People are so good, kind and generous. As I prepare for the procedure I include their gifts in my mind - I may be the actual donor but my gift rests on the shoulders of their kindnesses, they too have a share in this offering.
The day approaches and a friend says something to me that I myself have said many times to others – but this time it really strikes a chord. I begin to tear up. She says, “tizkee l’mitzvot”.
It is a traditional response to a mitsvah. For example if we are collecting tzedaka and someone gives us some coins we say “Tizkeh L’mitzvot. You should merit to do mitzvot. We don’t say thank you – that doesn’t quite fit. How can a fellow human thank another human for the performance of a mitsvah? Instead we give a bracha, a blessing – Tizkeh L’mitvot, you should be worthy to do mitzvot.
I am really struck by this blessing. It makes me think. I am eternally grateful. I do not know why, but I have been given the merit to do this mitsvah, to help another person to live. That it is a merit, to do a mitsvah, to deserve to do a mitsvah is a wild concept really. I begin to think and to extend. Is it not true that God Almighty in his infinite wisdom has had mercy on us and decided that we all deserve to do mitzvot, that we the Jewish people deserve the privilege of 613 commandments. We have merited the gift of shabbat and of kashrut and of course this mitsvah, the greatest of all, to save a life. Tizkeh L’mitzvot.
Day of. I have brought a siddur with me to the hospital. I am not by nature a very pious or sentimental person, irreverence is my usual tenor of choice. But, moments before I am wheeled into the surgery room I quickly recite a prayer which I have found and slightly modified. Here is an English version of it:

Master of all worlds. In the time of the Holy Temple a person would sin and would offer a sacrifice. The fat and the blood would be offered on the altar. And You in your great mercy would forgive the person. Now that I am offering this sacrifice and my blood and my bone is being lessened, let it be thy will that this diminution that I am offering today be as if I have offered it to you on the holy altar and that you will be pleased by this sacrifice and grant to me and my family life.

As I am wheeled in I am buoyed by the prayers and the misheberechs being said for me around this town and around the world in schools and in shuls. The experience turns out to have some surprises. But temporary physical pain is just that and spite of some of the messy stuff I would do it again. I donated the bone marrow to save a life and that is what we are expected to do.
A friend and neighbor who is studying in Israel for the year e-mailed his parents a very thoughtful D’var Torah for the shabbat of my recuperation. In short he wrote something like this. Based on the verses in the parsha about saving a fellow Jew from becoming impoverished; he makes the point that to help a fellow Jew one must be willing themselves to suffer along with the person they are helping. Well, this I know to be true. Thanks to all who helped us perform this mitsvah.

Who is Judith or Yehudit and why is she important to the Story of Chanukah

2010-12-02T16:47:00.000-08:00

Judith the Obscure

Dear Rivy,
I have heard something about a widow named Judith and her connection to the Chanukah story. But IO never seem to hear about her at holiday time. Judah Maccabee grabs center stage together with that oil!

Often what has become invisible through the ages is the female experience. The life of a seemingly obscure widow, Judith, deserves a bit of center stage of Chanukah. This comment of Susan Weidman Schneider in her book Jewish and Female got me thinking, She writes, "Whatever the reasons, Chanukah is one of the few markers on the Jewish Calendar that have not proved fruitful ground for Jewish women looking for a usable past. The only traditional Chanukah tale featuring a woman is the story of Hannah and her seven sons." I ask; could there be more?

To see a significant and meaningful place for women in the Chanukah celebration, one needs to perhaps don another pair of glasses. Let’s call them halachic glasses. These spectacles allow us to gaze at the vast body of rich Jewish legal literature. They sometimes reveal that which you least expect.

Let us begin by opening the Shulchan Aruch, Code of Jewish Law, authored by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the sixteenth century. In section #970 we find the first law concerning Chanukah. He starts with the simple; Chanukah is for eight days beginning on the 25th of Kislev. These are days when eulogies and fasting are prohibited, but work is permitted - except for women who have the custom to abstain from doing any form of labor while the candles are burning. Further on, he writes that women are obligated in lighting Chanukah candles and may light on behalf of the entire household.

Two interesting points jump out. First, though the laws of Chanukah go on for pages, it is women's custom that immediately takes center stage. The only labor prohibited on the festival is by women - during the burning of the Chanukah candles. The second significant halachic twist is that in spite of the principal that women are exempt from positive time bound commandments - when it comes to the lighting of the Chanukah candles their obligation is equal to that of men.

Questions; why do women have the custom to refrain from work while the Chanukah candles burn? Why do they seem to have a higher level of commitment or perhaps reverence for the Chanukah lights? And finally, why are they obligated in lighting Chanukah candles?

Keep your halachic glasses on as we zoom back in time to search the pages of the Talmud for Rabbi Karo’s source. Opening to page 23a of Tractate Shabbat we find that “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says that women are obligated in the mitzvah of Chanukah lights, for they too were involved in the miracle." They too were involved in the miracle? Rabbi Shlomo Yischaki, Rashi, tenth century scholar, suggests two possible interpretations to the puzzling phrase. First, they too were involved in the miracle - they too were subjugated to the Greeks, but in a terribly tragic way particular to women only. Each Jewish virgin was forced to be with a Greek officer before marrying. Second possibility; it was through a woman that the miracle occurred. This provocative comment is echoed and enlarged upon by Rashi’s grandson Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, Rashbam, he adds, that the Chanukah miracle was done through the hands of Yehudit, Judith.

Ah, Judith the Obscure! To uncover her mystery, we must do some pasting together of Apocrypha, midrash and poetry. The reconstruction of this episode may never be completely satisfying, but what does emerge is a tale of heroism and sacrifice. It is unclear whether it is Judith the widow who goes forth willingly or Judith the bride who is taken by force, but, once alone with the Greek general she feeds him wine and cheese. She waits for the soporific meal to take its effect, cuts off his head, As recorded in Chapter 13 of the Book of Judith,

Then she came to the pillar of the bed, which was at Holofernes' head, and took down his fauchion from thence,
And approached to his bed, and took hold of the hair of his head, and said, Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, this day. And she smote twice upon his neck with all her might, and she took away his head from him.
She then gives his head to her maid who places it in her basket and they ever so nonchalantly return to the Judean camp.

Officers, troops and soldiers of the Greek camp are left in leaderless disarray and a breach enabling the smaller Judean army to triumph. And thus the miracle was truly executed by a woman.

Now what do we see? Is this what Schneider might call a usable past? I think so. The legend together with halachic practice has bequeathed to women a powerful symbol. Yes, we were victims; but we were also heroes. We are part of the miracle. We were oppressed, but we joined together with our brothers to fight back. Yehudit, Judith is enshrined forever in sculpture, art work, librettos, and novels. Her memory is recalled on the Shabbat of Chanukah when traditionally we recite a lengthy twelfth century piyyut, poem, describing the pathos of her wedding and youthful fears of what awaited her.

Let each and every woman light a Chanukah menorah, refrain from work, watch flames and remember. Let us see in those flames both the pain of our ancestors and the courage of their actions and for this I do not think that we will need any kind of glasses. And finally, let us praise Judith as she was praised then,
O daughter, blessed art thou of the most high God above all the women upon the earth; and blessed be the Lord God, which hath created the heavens and the earth, which hath directed thee to the cutting off of the head of the chief of our enemies. For this thy confidence shall not depart from the heart of men, which remember the power of God for ever. And God turn these things to thee for a perpetual praise, to visit thee in good things because thou hast not spared thy life for the affliction of our nation, but hast revenged our ruin, walking a straight way before our God. And all the people said; So be it, so be it.

The Chanukha Toy Story: A New Spin on Dreidels!

2010-12-01T21:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Rivy,

Please settle this argument between myself and my spouse. I say dreidels are a Jewish version of a typical child’s toy that we plunked Hebrew letters on, she claims that the dreidel is a uniquely Jewish toy.

Before settling this marital difference of opinion; first we must do a review of dreidelosity. The dreidel or sivivon is the toy that we amuse ourselves with over the holiday of Chanukah. The word dreidel is Yiddish, to drei, is to turn. Sometimes the dreidel is called sivivon in Hebrew, meaning “round and round.”

It is a spinning top with four sides. On each side a Hebrew letter appears, nun – gimmel – heh – shin – standing for the words nes gadol haya sham, miracle – great – was – there, meaning a great miracle happened there; referring to the Chanukah miracle.

It is essentially a gambling game with each player initially contributing to the pot and then experiencing wins or losses according to the twists and turns of the dreidel. Play begins when the dreidel is spun. Depending on the letter upon which it lands the player must contribute to the pot or alternatively may be awarded an amount from the pot; perhaps half the pot or if you are lucky the whole pot! A miracle!

Traditionally, if you land on the nun – you neither put in nor take out – if you land on the gimmel you are awarded with the entire pot. Landing on heh gets you half the pot and if your dreidel ends its dizzying twirling on the dreaded shin, you must submit and put in the predetermined amount. .

Now to your question; to quote the larger-than-life Jewish philosopher, Tevye, you are right and your spouse is also right. You are right in that, though we attribute the first playing of the dreidel back to the time of the Greek-Syrians and the Chanukah story, we also know that in Europe, there was a gambling game with a spinning top that had been played for centuries by various people. In fact, the game of totum or teetotum is a gambling game with a spinning top first mentioned in approximately 1500.

The connection to the Chanukah story has this spin to it; when we were prohibited from studying Torah we needed a way to hide our Torah learning. Using the dreidel as a decoy, we Jews would hide our books, take out the dreidels, and trick the Syrians into thinking that we were just playing a game.

Either way, I believe that in this unassuming whimsical dreidel there lies or shall I say spins, a number of significant Jewish ideas and even critical Chanukah lessons. Therefore, though the dreidel may very well be a universal kind of top, it is without a doubt imbued with a specifically Jewish message and meaning.

Know, that nothing of Jewish practice is arbitrary; neither the foods we eat nor the customs that we practice. There is a big word on that dreidel and I do not mean gadol, I mean nes, miracle. The notion of miracle and the approaches to the idea of miracles is a critical one in Jewish thought. To be sure, it is concept that is fraught with controversy especially in the context of the Chanukah story.

Consider these Chanukah texts. First, the prayer that we add to our daily service and to the grace after meals throughout the holiday called "Al Hanisim", for the miracles. In the prayer we find a description of the events of the days of the Hasmoneans. Of the battle that was fought in order to protect our right to worship freely and unencumbered by Greek influence. God delivered the strong into the hands of the weak, the many into the hands of the few. The spectacularly sensational victory permitted the purification of the Temple and the rededication of its vessels. A miracle, but, look closer, something is missing here. The oil! Where in this prayer of wonders is mention of the miracle of the oil?

To locate the oil we must search in the Talmud, Tractate Shabbat, where we find first mention of the famed cruse. The text asks the question, what is the reason for Chanukkah? The passage explains that when the Hasmonean dynasty prevailed against and then defeated the enemy, they entered the Temple to rededicate its environs, they made search and found but one lone cruse of oil with the seal of the High Priest. It contained a sufficient reserve for one day's lighting only; yet a miracle was wrought and they lit the lamp and it burned for eight days, allowing for time to produce more of the needed olive oil.

A bit of confusion from our sources; which miracle are we celebrating, is it the astounding triumph on the battlefield or the supernatural metaphysical miracle of oil that lasted for eight days?

I know the skeptical answer couched in historical realism and rationality, the "No, Virgina there was no long lasting oil"- response that many give. It does not work for me. I think of the oil's lasting for eight days as a sort of Divine Wake Up call, "Maccabees and all the rest of you, did you not notice what happened out there on the battlefield? - Yes you are good soldiers, but without Me, without the intervention of the Holy One, there would have been no victory, there would be no rededication of the temple and you would not have been poised to embark on your great long history.
It is never the might of the hand alone that brings the victory; it is the commitment to a higher good that ultimately affects triumph.

All of this is spinning before us in that dreidel. You pick up the dreidel, the seemingly quintessence of randomness, you spin it and as chance determines the fate of your pot the dreidel in turn teaches you the lesson of Chanukah - a great miracle happened there. No haphazardness in that Chanukah story, no arbitrary twist of history but rather a wondrous miracle reminding us that nothing about the fate of our people is by chance. David Ben Gurion, First Prime Minister of Israel put it this way, "In Israel, in order to be a realist, you have to believe in miracles."

Is Thanksgiving Jewish?

2010-11-22T12:22:00.000-08:00

Connect the dots; Matriarch Leah, turkeys, and the Jewish people. Hint - they come together in November, forming an odd Chagall-like mosaic entitled Thanksgiving. The holiday I love to skip. Well, almost skip. No turkey, no big meal. We plan a very low key family day with little time in the kitchen. I do not do serious cooking on Thanksgiving - instead our family throws something together quickly, after all it is Thursday. And, if it is Thursday, it is humble macaroni and cheese night. The night before Shabbat generally is a night for modest dinners, this contrast adds to the honor and sparkle of the glorious Shabbat meal on Friday night.
As a first generation American, I appreciate this country and recognize that Thanksgiving is a good thing, a wonderful American celebration so I cannot cast it aside entirely. But still, why the day before Shabbat? Not good planning. Confident that George Washington, signer of the Thanksgiving Proclamation on November 26, 1789, would not mind, I simply slide our Thanksgiving over one day. I prepare turkey and stuffing, which then appear along with chicken soup, matzo balls and gefilte fish for dinner Friday night, a Jewish Thanksgiving, if you will.
And, Jewish it should be. Giving thanks is the very essence of who we are. The word Jew comes from the name Judah the largest tribe and the majority of Israelites at the time of the Babylonian Exile. Judah means to give thanks. Here is how the name was given. Judah was the fourth son of Jacob and Leah. Upon his birth Matriarch Leah declares joyfully, “This time I will thank God”. The name reflects a very special gratitude. Listen to what Rabbi Yochanan says in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai about this gratitude, “From the day that God created His world there was no human who thanked Him as it says, ‘this time I will thank God’.
Leah is the first person to walk this earth, and turn to her maker and say a simple thank you, she teaches us gratitude. One would think that she of all the matriarchs would be the least likely to thank. Compelled to marry the beloved of her sister she might have been tempted to embrace bitterness - instead she teaches us all to be grateful, to appreciate what we have. Her “thank you” becomes the name Judah, the name of the Jewish people.
Names are more than labels, they reflect the true identity and reveal the essence of an individual. How marvelous it is that our people’s name reflects the particular noble quality of gratitude. To be a Jew is to give thanks.
Thankfulness is no simple matter. In Hebrew the word for thanks is l’hodot, the same word for admitting, confessing, as in the Viddui confession at Yom Kippur. I suppose that a sincere thank you involves a little of both, making the giving of thanks a bit of a humbling experience. It involves the admission of need and the recognition of gratitude. It is a tremendous deed to say thank you, and sometimes not an easy one.
Though difficult, thanking God can and should be the very elixir of life. The first words that roll off our tongues upon waking each morning, are words of gratitude, “modeh ani lephanecha”, I gratefully thank You for returning my soul. Our siddur, prayer book is telling us something interesting, to be a wakeful human is to greet each day with gratitude.
We’ve got Jew and Judah, Matriarch Leah, on to the bird. Turkey on Shabbat Thanksgiving is a perfect fit. The word for turkey in Hebrew is tarnigol hodu - the bird of the Indians - now, you and I both know that l’hodot means to give thanks - tarnigol hodu, hmm…the bird of thanks? Why not? A perfect food for Shabbat.
For me in a sense, Thanksgiving falls on Shabbat every week not just one November. Here’s how. Each day after morning prayers we state the day of the week and recall what the Levites would recite in the Holy Temple which was a specific Psalm designated for each of the days of the week. On Shabbat we say Psalm 92, “A psalm a song for the Sabbath day, It is good to give thanks to God”, Tov L’hodot Lhashem. Shabbat and giving thanks come together naturally; a day of rest and a day to think lofty thoughts, to look around and appreciate life’s gifts. There is nothing more sublime than gratitude and nothing as ugly as thanklessness.
Well, we have connected the dots; Matriarch Leah, turkeys and the Jewish people. In spite of the connections I am not going to lead a movement to switch Thanksgiving to Friday night. If your family’s tradition is to celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday that is wonderful - if invited I would even join you. Rabbinic teachings are on your side and have examined the modern phenomenon of observing Thanksgiving and have given it their ok. Thanksgiving on Thursday can also be Jewish. When celebrating Thanksgiving, think about making it a Jewish experience. Here are some ideas: a D’var Torah on the theme of giving thanks would be appropriate, calling to mind the unique place America has in our history is a gracious act of thankfulness, reciting the appropriate blessings before the foods and of course a Jewish flavor on the menu always helps.
I will stick with Thanksgiving on Friday night. It leads me to link American culture to our ancient traditions and values. Our name reflects our collective Jewish soul; it is a spirit, the very breath of gratitude that dances deep within us. Jew, Judah, giving thanks - the most eloquent of words. On this Thanksgiving, as on every day let us give thanks for all our blessings, for a country which has a designated a day to give thanks, for mornings that bring life and for Shabbats that teach us to say - we can’t ever say thank you enough.

Should Jewish Kids Do Halloween?

2010-10-20T09:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy,
Every year my children come home from Hebrew School telling me that their teachers told them that they should not go “Trick or Treating” on Halloween and that Halloween is not for Jewish children. I tell them that there is nothing wrong with Halloween; it's American, fun and what we have always done. Now I am starting to wonder. Is there anything wrong with Jewish children going out on Halloween night “Trick or Treating”?

As Americans we have many privileges; including the privilege of additional holidays - not that we need any more – we seem to already have plenty. However, human beings crave celebration and ritual hence, the “Hallmark-atization” of our calendar. In lieu of a commonly shared ancient religion we Americans have developed a fun lighthearted civil religion; we share the quasi-secular celebrations of New Years, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, the obviously civil observances of Veteran’s Day, Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, Flag Day, and the unquestionably religious holidays of Christmas, Saint Patrick’s Day, Mardi Gras and Easter. At these times of the year color schemed cards and elaborate decorations become exasperatingly pervasive.

Discussion about Jews observing New Years, Thanksgiving and Valentines Day occur annually and I suppose it is the time of year for the Halloween conversation. The conflict with these four days, New Years, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day and Halloween is unlike Christmas, Saint Patrick’s Day, Mardi Gras and Easter which are clearly religious in origin. The religious origins of New Years, Thanksgiving and Valentines Day and Halloween are obscured and somewhat vague. Additionally, current prevalent observances are mostly secular in nature. Because of this haziness, the question around their observance is up for discussion and halachic scrutiny.

The accepted approach towards Thanksgiving is that it is permissible to feast on turkey and even laudable to join in the festivities since the religious nature of its origin is less than compelling. Celebrating New Years is deemed inappropriate by many on account of its connection to the religious observances related to Christmas; check out your local Wikipedia for more details. Valentines Day, romantic though it may be, is a day that commemorates the death of Christian martyrs and as such its religious origins are clear. The argument offered on behalf of Jewish observers of Valentines Day is that there is little or no connection to its origin in its modern day practices. However, the allure of Valentines Day, chocolate notwithstanding, is small time compared to Halloween.

The clamoring for Halloween fun is all different. Children are primed for its parties, haunted houses, costumes and vast amounts of candy wherever they go. Supermarkets, schools, doctor’s offices urge participation in the revelry. And in case, that by any stretch of the imagination, you missed it – don’t worry, television shows and advertisements remedy that oversight quite comprehensively. The issue of Halloween is for more pressing and contentious.

Jewish law concerning the observance or participation in holidays whose origin is of a religious nature is based on this verse from Leviticus 18:3, After the doings of the land of Egypt, wherein ye dwelt, shall ye not do; and after the doings of the land of Canaan, whither I bring you, shall ye not do; neither shall ye walk in their statutes. This “neither shall we walk in their statues” is a big deal. Following the threads of halachic analysis from the Talmud, to Talmudic commentaries up through the Code of Jewish law, we learn that if a seemingly innocuous practice has its origins in a pagan custom or has a taint of an idolatrous derivation then the activities are forbidden.

Even with just a cursory glance at encyclopedic entries on Halloween we quickly learn that Halloween has quite the pagan history. Here are some snippets form our beloved Wikki, “The term Halloween is shortened from All-hallow-even, as it is the evening of/before "All Hallows' Day", also known as "All Saints' Day". It was a day of religious festivities in various northern European Pagan traditions…Halloween is very popular in Ireland, where it is said to have originated, and is known in Irish as "Oíche Shamhna" or "Samhain Night". Pre-Christian Celts had an autumn festival, Samhain" End of Summer", a pastoral and agricultural "fire festival" or feast, when the dead revisited the mortal world, and large communal bonfires would hence be lit to ward off evil spirits…” There is a lot more that makes it abundantly clear that the origin of Halloween is undeniably pagan.

This said, it is also quite obvious that very few happy chirpy little American children experience the holiday within a pagan context - they have a fun day dressing up and getting candy. What are Jewish parents to do?! We certainly do not want to build resentment, bitterness and hostility towards Judaism by giving our children the experience of being denied the super fun day of Halloween. What we need to do is build the Jewish identity of our children and help them to not feel that they are missing out by not participating in Halloween – if something is taken away then something else must be provided in its stead. The Jewish child that grows up with a rich Jewish home life feels few if any pangs of a Hallloweenless childhood.

Here are a few pointers to bolster your stance if you choose to withhold Halloween…

• Plan. Sit down with your children and help them to understand the halacha. That though Halloween seems fun, it is not in line with Jewish values and its roots are not in sync with what we hold dear. Though paganism seems innocent and far from foreboding in our day and age, it is a belief system that is wholly at odds with belief in a transcendent God, creator and orchestrator of the universe. Children need to know that belief is something that is critical and worth sacrificing for, even if it means giving up “Trick or Treating.” Truth be told this lesson learned early, will pave the way for when being Jewish will demand more far more from them than simply a candy bar.
• Fill your Jewish home with Jewish practice. I will not be the first one to remind you that we Jews have a fantastically fun holiday called Purim, when dressing up in costumes is based on holy traditions and at what time instead of going house to house demanding treats, children are trained to go from house to house delivering treats!
• Though they cannot participate in the dressing up on Halloween, they can certainly take part by picking out the candy that they will dispense on Halloween night and by meeting and greeting trick or treat-ers the night of. This is considered laudable by our tradition in the spirit of establishing peaceful relations among our neighbors.

Finally, there are many surveys that examine Jewish continuity based on synagogue membership, school attendance, camp participation and youth group associations. I would like to advocate for all of the above but mostly for homes abounding with joyful Jewish life. Do not abdicate your children’s Judaism whole scale to others – it is primarily the responsibility of parents to set the tone and to guarantee that Judaism is transmitted through love, commitment and delight in the home. Halloween will not be missed if you make sure that its void is filled with authentic Jewish experiences.

Judaism, Nature and the Summer

2010-07-09T09:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy:
My husband and I have just moved back to Seattle. I am a native Pacific Northwestener and as such get great joy from being outdoors. Not so my New York husband. It is only despite many an objection that I am able to coax him into the great outdoors. He offers strong protestations and even thrusts Judaism at me as a basis for his nature avoidance, claiming that Jews are indoor people; intellectuals, pray-ers and House of Study folks. Help! I know in my heart that this cannot be true and with summer looming this has become a pressing issue.

What could be more Jewish than nature? But, I appreciate his disconnect. It is perfectly understandable to perceive Judaism as an indoor sport. However, he may be using his religion as a ploy to ditch a potentially intimidating experience or to dodge an activity that is clearly out of his comfort zone. It is your job to initiate him ever so gently into the magnificence of nature and to the inspirational qualities of this precious earth. If Judaism is the palette upon which he has chosen to launch his conversation; then so be it. Here is offered to you, a short “Jews & Nature Treatise” six points strong.

1. The Rationalist Approach
Maimonides in his work, the Mishneh Torah, goes to great lengths and much detail in describing the natural world and its wonders. After setting forth his basic notion that the “foundation of foundations and the firmest pillar of all wisdom is to know that there is a First Being” and in an effort to explicate the commandment to love and be in awe of the Almighty, he urges us, to devote time to reflect on the great works, planets, stars, mountains, glaciers and wonderful creatures of this universe, in order to best understand the matchless wisdom of God and thereby come to love and esteem the Creator. In Maimonides thought then, nature leads to belief.

2. The Mystical Angle
A mystical advance to the Divine urges an encounter with nature. Throughout our tradition from the days of early kabbalists in Safed to the days of the Baal Shem Tov in Eastern Europe, nature was a force to experience first hand. Where most parishioners gathered in synagogues, those adherents to Lurianic Kabbalah in Safed advocated stepping out into the fields in order to greet the Sabbath, imitating Rabbi Chanina of the Talmud, who would wrap himself in his cloak and say, “Come, let us go and greet the Shabbat Queen.” While much later the Baal Shem Tov, founder of Chasidism, would spend lengthy days alone in the woods and surrounded by nature. Reb Nachman of Bratzlav famously declared that every blade of grass is urged to grow. This seeing of the Divine in every element of nature was a break from the more typical search for God on the page of the Talmud and lent a new value to the natural world.

3. A Patriarchal Past
Three Patriarchal scenes. One cannot help but notice the spiritual inspiration situated in nature found in the Torah. It was outdoors to where God led Abraham to help him understand the promise of his children being as numberless as the stars, And he brought him outside, and said, Look now toward heaven, and count the stars, if you are able to count them; and he said to him, So shall your children be. It is the aroma of the celestial outdoors that persuades Isaac to bless Jacob, And he came near, and kissed him; and he smelled the smell of his garment, and blessed him, and said, See, the smell of my son is like the smell of a field which the Lord has blessed. Indeed, it was out camping where Jacob dreamed of a ladder grounded on earth reaching heavenward, And he lighted upon a certain place, and remained there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. Quite the outdoorsmen our forefathers.

4. Experiential Existentialism
It is no accident that the Torah was given in the desert wilderness of Mount Sinai. Our very existence as a people is grounded in the outdoors. Our tradition esteems the barren qualities of the desert terrain, in contradistinction to the pulsating city civilizations of the day found in Egypt and Mesopotamia. The desert is the great equalizer, teaching humility, accessibility and vulnerability. The vast emptiness of the desert instructs us to empty and un-entitle ourselves with a humility learned uncompromisingly by the vast wasteland of the desert. To experience the desert in all its grandeur is to embrace a compelling seemingly unfathomable infinity. A place fitting for our introduction to God.

5. Heschel-ian Radical Amazement
To really get a powerful feeling for the deep connection between Jewish spirituality and nature - look no further than the rapturous, Psalm 104. Whose heart cannot help but resonate with the splendor described here; He sends the springs into the valleys, they flow between the mountains. They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench their thirst. Beside them dwell the birds of the sky, among the branches they sing. He waters the mountains from his high abode; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your works. He makes the grass grow for the cattle, and plants for the service of man, that he may bring forth food from the earth; And wine that gladdens the heart of man, and oil to make his face shine, and bread which strengthens man’s heart. The trees of the Lord have their fill; the cedars of Lebanon, which he has planted, Where the birds make their nests; as for the stork, the cypress trees are her house. The high mountains are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for the badgers. He appointed the moon for seasons; the sun knows its setting time. You make darkness, and it is night; when all the beasts of the forest creep forth. The young lions roar for their prey, and seek their food from God. The sun rises, they gather themselves together, and lie down in their dens.

6. Modern & Secular Connections
If none of this convinces it might be helpful to note that the very founder of the “Outward Bound” movement was a German Jew. He listed, “natural world” as the eighth of his “Ten Expeditionary Learning Principles” justifying it this way; “A direct and respectful relationship with the natural world refreshes the human spirit and teaches the important ideas of recurring cycles and cause and effect. Students learn to become stewards of the earth and of future generations.”
Hopefully, these six points one for each of the six days of creation should do the trick!

A Jewish Look at the Oil Spill

2010-07-06T12:10:00.001-07:00

Dear Rivy,
Is the world coming to an end? The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is the latest Pandora-like circumstance to plague mankind. One difference; Pandora opened her box out of curiosity while BP drilled the depths of the sea with greed and recklessness; cutting corners in the production and in failing in subsequent attempts at capping the eruption. Every day brings me deeper feelings of despair at the state of the world. Perhaps, a Jews lens on this epic oil leak and man-made catastrophe will lend the issue some perspective. Any thoughts?

Just when we thought it would be safe to watch the nightly news again, what with the economic crisis in a supposed recovery and the world looking possibly less bleak - here we are with perhaps the most uncontainable and unruly situation ever. No amount of resources, bail outs, taxes, congressional hearings, peace keeping forces, speeches, negotiations are going to get us out of this one. People so undeserving of the consequences of this drilling fiasco are losing livelihood, fish and wildlife are being destroyed along with who knows how many eco-systems. And here we are with nothing to do but to watch it all unfold in slow motion. Oil and tar are slowly by slowly washing up on beaches further and even further away from the original site of the imploded rig. Frustration, dismay and futility are being felt by all. Who could have seen this coming?

A close reader of the Torah might have had a clue. Sadly the headline, “Human Actions Destroy World” is not unique the Gulf Coast Oil Spill. There is nothing new under the sun. We humans have been wreaking havoc with our world from the get go. Consider this early series of hair-raising tales from Bereshith.

Scene One: Creation. God plants a Garden in Eden, places the first human into its midst and causes every tree that is pleasant to the sight to grow delicious for his very consumption. In spite of this, immediately upon being put in this abundantly lush garden, the Torah tells us that Adam, paying no heed to the single, only command of God; to not eat of the Tree of Knowledge, tastes of the forbidden fruit and causes an immediate diminution of the workings of the world. And unto Adam He said: 'Because you have hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and have eaten of the tree, of which I commanded you, saying: You shall not eat of it; cursed is the ground on your account; in toil shall you eat of it all the days of thy life. Thorns also and thistles will it bring forth for you; and you shall eat the herb of the field. What?! Adam and Eve, the two humans on the planet, commit the act of eating of the Tree of Knowledge and as a result the earth is cursed on their account? The good earth that God has created is now suddenly, as a result of man’s actions, become downgraded - it will not yield produce freely, will not bear fruit without struggle. It will take human sweat to flourish and furthermore the fruit itself will come along with thorn and thistle – falling short of some original perfection – now forever lost to us. At first this glance this seems neither fair, nor logical.

But, that is the very point of this first essential lesson to mankind. Don’t cross lines. Do not take what is not yours and that which is seemingly out of your reach. The powerful yet as unlearned basic core lesson; not everything on this earth is for human consumption. Some say this original command of, not eating of the tree, is a foreshadowing of the laws of kashrut, which come as well to teach, not everything is ours to consume. Your taking of it will have dire and long range consequences on you and your surroundings.

Scene Two: Field, east of Eden. Brother murders brother as rabid jealousy leads to bloodshed. Cain cannot bear the pain of being outdone by his brother. God’s look of favor upon Abel leads to the very first fratricide. Again, the earth is grippingly dragged into the drama. And now cursed are you from the ground, which has opened her mouth to receive your brother's blood from thy hand. When you tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto you her strength; a fugitive and a wanderer shall thou be in the earth.'A fascinating twist of events. Cain’s punishment bleeds out to into his environment. The punishment for fratricide is not limited to perpetrator alone. It is visited upon its accessory to the crime, the earth which had opened up its mouth to accept the blood of Abel. Really? Can there be an authentic culpability in passive soil? They are far from being co-conspirators. Cain has murdered. The inanimate mud beneath the feet of Abel cannot help but reflexively swallow up the blood that pours forth. Is it fair that its yield is permanently crippled as a result of man’s murderous envy?

There seems to be, between human beings and the earth from whence they have been formed, a profound inescapable symbiotic link; “Adam”, “adamah”, earthling, earth. Humans commit atrocities and the soil beneath his very feet cannot help but bear the burden. Man murders and his timeless partner suffers as a result. A mighty lesson.

Scene Three: Mount Ararat. The gig is up; man’s deeds again have led to crushing results for the world. But in the aftermath of the flood, the LORD smelled the sweet savour; and the LORD said in His heart: 'I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake; for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more everything living, as I have done. While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.'

This three stage progression in Bereshith draws a clear inextricable link between the earth and man’s actions. These two first pasrhiyot of the Torah were to have provided us with an obvious object lesson for perpetuity and a cautionary tale to have animated the depths of our consciousness. The first human eats of the tree – now there must be toil and sweat, fratricide leads to diminishing returns in all efforts put forth on the farm and finally man’s evil deeds affect the entire world as it is wiped away with water spilling out from above and below.
Some might say that these words, these core ideas have been forgotten. As greed continues to take hold of each of us – all of us consumers, share in the culpability of our manic drive for energy and our continued addiction to a life of luxury fueled by comforts and lifestyles that our own grandparents could never have dreamed of.

A murky summer lurks as we continue to bear witness as this latest “man- earth” travesty unfolds with these words of Koheleth Rabbah echoing in our mind:
When the Holy One, blessed be He, created the first man, He took him and led him round all the trees of the Garden of Eden, and said to him, ' Behold My works, how beautiful and commendable they are! All that I have created, for your sake I created it. Pay heed that you do not corrupt and destroy My universe for if you corrupt it there is no one to repair it after you.

We should speak with humility, God willing

2009-12-02T14:48:00.000-08:00

We should speak with humility, God willing
Rivy Poupko Kletenik • JTNews Columnist
Posted: August 19, 2009

Including requests for God’s watchful eye in our conversation makes a difference

Dear Rivy,
I don’t know when I started noticing this or maybe once I did notice it, I just started to notice it more. What I’m talking about is the habit some people have, when talking, to throw in a “God willing” about any anticipated event in the upcoming future. For example, “We are, God willing, going to Los Angeles next week.”

I am wondering about why they do this. Is this mandated by Jewish law? Is it a custom? Is it wrong to not say it?

You have picked up on a subtle nuance that is most certainly an element of the standard parlance of many pious people. Extreme caution when speaking is something encouraged by a host of our traditional texts. Whether in regard to how we speak (“words spoken softly by the wise are heeded”), or of what we speak (“do not be a talebearer”), or when we speak (“say less — do more”). Speech is considered a powerful tool, fraught with potential pitfalls.

But you raise a somewhat different aspect of speech. Some might say that those who invoke the English “God willing” or the Hebrew phrases “im yirtzeh Hashem” which translates as “if God wishes” or “be’ezrat Hashem,” meaning “with the help of God,” are trying to do their best to ward off the evil eye and we might be tempted to leave it there. In truth, there is more here than simple superstition.

Not that I would ever, ever mess with the evil eye. Those of us who grew up with notions of ayin hara, the evil eye, do not cast it aside with ease. By no stretch of the imagination did the thought of it rule our lives, but neither was it to be taken lightly. In fact, I am the duly respectful proprietor of an anti-evil eye incantation. My mother, of blessed memory, confidentially passed on to me a secret Yiddish chant that is assured to ward off the evil eye. I was not, she cautioned, to use this invocation unless it was absolutely necessary. It was certainly not to be evoked casually.

The core belief of ayin hara is that there are bad vibes out there, perhaps from people who may be envious of you. They could cast an “evil eye” upon you at your very pinnacle of success or good fortune, when you might be most vulnerable, to bring you down. Therefore, in a prophylactic effort, some utter “God willing” with the hope that its effect will undermine the muscle of the “evil eye.”

The following Midrashic puzzle addresses this very practice. Here’s the puzzle: One story, two versions. In Devarim Rabbah, we find the following short story: Once Rabbi Simeon, the son of Halafta, went to a circumcision ceremony. The father of the child made a feast and gave those present 7-year-old wine to drink, saying, ‘Of this wine, I will store away a portion for my son’s wedding feast.’ Later on, the sage, having the opportunity to chat with the Angel of Death, was told that though the father had excitedly pronounced, “Of this wine I will store away a portion for my son’s wedding feast,” this father has no idea that tragically, his child’s time has come. He is to be snatched away after 30 days and will therefore never have a wedding feast.

The episode is of course deeply disturbing. Curiously, the same story appears in Kohelet Rabbah, but here the father speaks a bit differently. He says instead, “Drink some of this old wine, and I trust in the Lord of heaven that He will grant me to offer you drink at his wedding feast.” Something has been added: A version of our “God willing.” This is one part of the very different narrative, which goes on to say that the baby’s life is spared. Quite the puzzle.

It is not that we would say that the baby’s life is spared because of the addition of the father’s, “and I trust in the Lord of heaven that He will grant me.” That would be pushing the providential envelope. But rather, there were deeply disturbing elements in the first version and in a subsequent rendition the disturbing elements were tweaked. One of those disturbing elements is the haughtiness of the father, who unabashedly and arrogantly boasts, “Of this wine I will store away a portion for my son’s wedding feast.”

In contrast, in the second version, we feel the humility, some of the “by the grace of God go I” stance that is more behooving of one who walks humbly with the Lord. This stance is what lies behind the pronouncing of “God willing.”

That you hear a number of “God willings” begs the question of overuse. Is there an appropriate utilization of the expression? Is there a point where it becomes a trite aphorism encouraging mockery rather than sincerity? Who’s to say? We are a people taken with adages and rote formulations. My mother would tell of a rabbi who would visit their house on Shabbat and with every mouthful of food he would raise to his lips he would say, “l’kavod Shabbos kodesh,” in honor of the holy Sabbath. Every morsel! It was a visceral devotional exercise in his experiencing the holiness of his food. It left a deep impression on a little girl.

So, too, this “God willing” expression. Though this is not anything that would fall under the rubric of Jewish law, it is instead one of those subtleties that conveys a certain worldview. The skill of speaking carefully and responsibly is a lifetime occupation; few among us have no regrets in this regard. This particular nuance is an opportunity to train ourselves in humility and, God willing, we will be the better for it.

Sober Up, It's Purim

2009-03-04T07:34:00.000-08:00

Sober up! It’s Purim
Rivy Poupko Kletenik
Posted: March 21, 2008

The story of Purim is not nearly as uplifting as the holiday we celebrate

In preparation for the upcoming holiday of Purim, I decided to really read the Book of Esther. I feel like I’ve been jolted into reality — I thought Purim was a fun-filled, joyous holiday, but now the mask has been taken off the story. This is no lighthearted tale. The situation is gravely serious and the fate of the Jewish people is at stake. All this is compounded by its unwittingly frightful foreshadowing of later episodes in Jewish history. Why is it such a jovial day with happy-go-lucky celebrations of costumes, food, drink and shtick and spiels, when the story is such a somber one? I don’t want to be the Grinch Who Stole Purim, but I think we need to inject some gravity into the day.

Our angst is appropriate. Sometimes tragedy and comedy collide. Dramatically speaking, in tragedy the end game is usually the death of the hero accompanied by sorrowful lamenting, while in comedy we anticipate the restoration of the disrupted communal order. Yet, as we consider the end of the Megillah, we cannot be entirely satisfied with a narrow comedy label. Though communal order is restored to a strong degree, the story ends without complete resolution. We are left unsettled by at least three disturbing elements of the story: First, the fate of Esther, a Jewish woman trapped in the palace of the gentile king. Second, the Jewish people are still very much grounded in a foreign country rather than returning to the Promised Land. Third, though we were saved from annihilation, our salvation was not the intimate miraculous swooping down of the Omnipotent; instead, deliverance was brought about ambiguously by the hidden hand of the Almighty.

We are in the disconcerting territory of tragicomedy. Each of the disturbing elements causes us a sense of disequilibrium which we must grapple with. It’s okay to be troubled — after all, this is not Shakespeare’s “All’s Well That Ends Well.” Instead it’s more like, “All’s Still Troubling, That Ends Almost Well.” Take Esther for example. As children we are led to believe that Esther was an enthusiastic  participant in a “beauty pageant” and wanted — just like all the maidens in the land, to become the Queen of Persia. As adults we know that this is quite the sugar coating of a very unsavory situation. As we mature, we become more sophisticated in our awareness of the not so pretty circumstance through which Esther really became the wife of Achasverosh. The text tells us in Hebrew “va’teelakach” — Esther was taken by force. She was not a willing participant. Until she had to take action and voluntarily offer herself to the king to save her people, Esther was a woman under duress. Still, she behaved heroically, considering her dire predicament. Though she starts off silent and subdued, Esther finds her voice and summons up the courage to ingeniously save her people. In so doing, however, she sacrifices not only her life as a member of the Jewish community but also something even more personal.

Brace yourselves, I may be dropping quite the bombshell here — according to the sages in the Talmud, Esther and Mordechai’s relationship goes beyond adoptive uncle and adopted niece. According to Talmudic tradition, the two were married. This approach is not only mentioned several times in the Talmud, it is the basis upon which halachic decisions have been grounded. That Mordechai and Esther are husband and wife in the Megillah casts the story in almost an entirely different light. Now we can begin to understand the depth of the sacrifice of Esther and the monumental tragedy that lingers after the last grogger is sounded, the final hamantaschen munched on, and the last drop of wine imbibed. Esther has given her all.

A second thorn in our Purim side is the realization that this Purim story takes place in a specific historical moment in time. It is not a tale simply floating out there in some never-never-land world. This threat to our existence in the Diaspora takes place after Cyrus, King of Persia, has written the decree permitting Judean exiles to return to the land of Israel. The Book of Ezra records the official declaration;Now in the first year of Cyrus, that the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah might be accomplished, the Lord stirred up the spirit of Cyrus, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying:

“Thus saith Cyrus, King of Persia: All the kingdoms of the earth hath the Lord, the God of heaven, given me; and He hath charged me to build Him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whosoever there is among you of all His people — his God be with him — let him go up to Jerusalem, which is in Judah, and build the house of the Lord, the God of Israel, He is the God who is in Jerusalem.”

Some modern Bible scholars put forth the notion that the Megillah has a satirical edge to it. When King Achasverosh summons Vashti his queen to his party, it is the text ever so subtly reminding us that God, our King, has summoned the Jewish people to his palace in Jerusalem — and we have refused to appear. At this point in history there has been one aliyah to the Holy Land of a mere 40, 000 people — by no means have the majority of the Jews in the Babylonian exile returned to the land. Remember these people are the descendants of those who bitterly lamented, “By the waters of Babylon we laid down and wept for the Zion!” This evil, anti-Semitic plot to exterminate the Jews takes place after the Jewish people have been liberated and permitted to return to the land. As the story of the Megillah closes, our people are left connected to Persia and to Persian culture.

Finally, the distance from God is marked by the hidden-ness of the miracle; it is as if God hides His face from us. The name of God does not appear at all in the Book of Esther. Instead the miracle occurs seemingly through happenstance. Though this feels painful and detached, that the Talmud emphasizes that belief in a time when God is obscured is a higher level of belief and commitment. Having faith in a God who is less apparent and more mysterious is an elevated level of conviction. Hence, when the Jews accept upon themselves the celebration of Purim in the Megillah, this indicates their wholesale acceptance of God and recognition of Divine Providence, a veritable affirmation of the Sinai experience, even without the overwhelming presence of the Almighty. Though there is a compelling residue of tragedy in the Purim story, we have chosen as a people to focus on the incredible salvation. We have given ourselves permission to let go of some of the more tragic elements because, bottom line: They tried to kill us, we were saved, let’s eat. Happy Purim!
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What is Jewish about Rosh Hashanah?

2008-09-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

The date of Rosh Hashanah first and foremost hearkens back to the universal. It is the day of which we say in our liturgy, Hayom Harat Olam, today the world was created; the event most associated with Rosh Hashanah is the creation of the world. The day does not commemorate any specific Jewish event as patently as Succot marks the travels in the desert, Chanukah, the miracle in the time of the Hasmoneans, Purim the story of Esther, Passover the Exodus.
However, hints are everywhere that this day is more than the anniversary of creation. Notice that Shofar, ram’s horn, for example; that visceral centerpiece of our service? Its alarming wake up call urging us to repent is also to remind us specifically of the Binding of Isaac said to have taken place on this very day - being that it was a ram that replaced Isaac on that fiery altar. Furthermore, our Rosh Hashanah liturgy reminds us that this is the day on which Sarah, Rachel and Hannah were remembered by God, their bareness coming to an end and it is the day that Joseph was freed from slavery. Layers of richness imbued with tradition and significance assigning broader Jewish significance. But, all of this Midrashic layering notwithstanding the essential core event du jour is the Creation of the World. That more than anything drives the atmosphere of the day and the Judgment angle of the observance.
As such it is a day that we view as a day of renewal in regard to not only the majesty of the Creator but also as a day of renewal regarding our own very human existence. It makes sense that the pronouncing of Divine sentence for all mankind is on the very anniversary of their coming into being. Rabbinic literature finely tunes the idea of “today the world was created.”
It seems that, Rosh Hashanah, is not exactly the day the world was created - the first day of Tishrei is not the day that God pronounced, “Let there be Light” on Day One of Creation. No, no, no – the first of Tishei according to rabbininc thought is the day that human beings were created. Day One of our calendar is actually, Day Six of creation. This anthropocentric approach is based on the midrashic idea that everything that was created on Days One through Six were created as if “on hold” until they were “unfrozen” in that Sleeping-Beauty kind of way with the formation of the Crown of Creation; human beings.
That was quite the day; here is how the midrash in Pesikta Rabbati details hour by hour what occurred on that primordial day one for Adam. First hour, there was the thought of creating humans, second hour the consultation with the angels, third hour the gathering of the dust, fourth the kneading of the matter, fifth hour the joining of the limbs, sixth hour Adam was stood up, seventh hour there was the breathing in of life, the eighth hour Adam was brought into the Garden of Eden, the ninth hour brought the command to not eat of the tree, the tenth hour the infamous eating of the fruit, in the eleventh hour there was judgment and in the twelfth hour they went forth from the Presence of God.
We not only call to mind elements of this primeval day we reenact them. Most obviously and demonstratively we envision the judgment; we stand in prayer and recite together plaintively - “The great shofar is sounded; a gentle whisper is heard; the angels quaking with fear, declare; ‘the Day of Judgment is here to bring the hosts of heaven to justice’ all mankind passes before Thee like a flock of sheep” – all mankind. We Jews may be the ones standing in house of worship but we picture an entire world being judged as was our shared common ancestor, Adam.
But there is more that we have drawn for the Adam experience for our New Year; something subtle, maybe even subversive bedecking of our tables. We take a fruit in hand we declare as a bit of a distraction “May it be your will that we that you renew us for a good and sweet year” what we are really saying is God Almighty we take this fruit in hand with Your permission. We hold it up and dip sweetly into honey and beg of You, holder of our fates, to bless us with a year of sweetness. We are not that haughty first human, taking that which is not ours, we know God Almighty, that by the grace of God go we. Please accept this recasting of the eating of the fruit of the tree, perhaps it could serve to correct the deeds of our ancestors in the Garden of Eden - a tikun of sorts for the first misdeed committed by humanity.
But this that was eaten taken illicitly, what was it? It was probably not the classic apple of King James fame. Scholars point out that our Pacific Northwest pride and joy are in fact not indigenous to the Mideast and suggest that perhaps it was an apricot. The text simple says fruit with no further appellation. The midrash wonders about the fruit as well, asking what was the tree from which of Adam and Eve ate? wheat? grapes? the etrog? fig? Many suggestions, all extrapolated from Biblical proof texts. Bottom line, why should the innocent fruit be imputed and vilified it did nothing wrong to be so maligned for eternity thus the Torah chose to conceal its identity.
As Jews the universal nature of this day is experienced by us in a uniquely Jewish way. This fruit of the Garden has positive potential in Jewish thought. The Garden of Eden need not be eschewed as a place of negativity, a scene of sin – there was also a Garden before this eating of the fruit. Kabbalah sees Garden of Eden as “The Field of Sacred Apples” - Tapuchin Kadishin, the place of the Shechinah, the Divine Presence. The very aroma that Isaac smelled as his son Jacob walked in to receive the blessings. This aroma is what we are looking for, this other worldly ambience of humility bowing to receive blessing, rather than grabbing at what is not ours. On this Rosh Hashanah let us think of the blessings that we can each draw down to the world as we take the bite of that apple and pray for a sweet New Year.

Wine, Seder and Secrets

2008-03-27T16:25:00.000-07:00

A drop of Shabbat kiddush wine from mother’s fingertip might be a first taste. The four cups at the Seder might be a second and standing under the chuppa might be a third. Memorable Jewish wine-moments thread their way through our lives. For Jews, wine has significance beyond fine bouquets and good years. It is a substance whose subtlety flavors our rituals, life cycle events and holy days. I wonder about the nature of wine and why it is so essential to our practices. Why is it that the Four Cups of wine are at the very core of the Pesach Seder – with liturgy and rituals organized around their being poured, blessed and sipped?
Wine presents early and often in the Torah, Midrash and Talmud. The paradox of wine; it is at once the quintessential primeval fruit of the vine tasted by the first humans, the source of Noah’s drunkenness, the sacred libation offered on the altar of The Almighty, and simply the substance that gladdens the heart of man. Clearly it has a story to tell.
Midrash identifies the fruit of Eden with grapes and the vineyard planted by Noah as having floated forth out of Eden. Two tales of human weakness linked to the vine. But there is more. Another early episode involving exile and new-world building centers again on wine. After the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot inebriated by wine commits incest. Human failing and the state of drunkenness seem to go together. Wine has the power to deviate the behavior of people.
Following the abrupt death of two sons of Aaron, priests are commanded to abstain from wine when serving in the sanctuary. Fittingly, the nazirite who is attempting to embrace the most scrupulously exemplary behavior is commanded to refrain from eating or drinking grape products. Wine is dangerous, those who pursue the holy, hold back.
Where then is the nobility of wine? Wherefrom its crown like appearance at our weekly Shabbat table? Yes, as a libation it too joins other offerings in the sanctuary, holy sacrifices for The Almighty. But there must be more. The subtleties and delicacies of wine emerge in the writings ascribed to David and to Solomon. Wine makes life merry, wine cheers the heart, and lover’s mouth is like the choicest wine.
This ethereal quality of wine leads Rabbi Samuel ben Nahmani of the Talmud to proclaim that a song of praise is sung only over wine. As priests would sing when the libation is offered, we too offer praise to the Almighty with wine, Shabbat kiddush, blessings at weddings, circumcisions and the four cups of wine at the seder.
Those four cups, they have an order to them, a seder. The first cup launches the dramatic cathartic evening with the sacred kiddush. The second one is in hand as we tell the story of the exodus. After the meal a third cup is poured as we offer thanks to The Almighty Almighty for our food and finally the fourth cup is raised in praise of The Almighty, hallel.
The practice of drinking four cups of wine at the seder is based on these words of The Almighty to Moshe in Egypt, “Therefore say to the people of Israel, I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will rid you from their slavery, and I will redeem you with a outstretched arm, and with great judgments; And I will take you to me for a people, and I will be to you a the Almighty;” A midrash in Exodus Rabbah notices four expressions of redemption:
I will bring you out, I will deliver you, I will redeem you and I will take you.
The Sages accordingly ordained four cups to be drunk on the eve of Passover to correspond with these four expressions. They saw in this action the fulfillment of the verse in Psalms, “I will lift up the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord.”
Thinking about the expressions of redemption we begin to appreciate that they are no simple arbitrary words chosen randomly but rather reflect a progression of freedom; the slow unraveling of the bondage which brings the Israelites closer to the experience the ultimate, being taken in and bound to the Almighty. Wine is selected to commemorate this particular aspect of the redemption. According to Rabbi Judah Leove, the Maharal of Prague there is great depth and much of the esoteric involved in the four cups of wine.
Wine and secrets go together, he tells us in his haggadah. The numeric value of wine in Hebrew is equal to the word secret and as the Talmud says, drink wine, and secrets are revealed. As for the elixir itself, it is secretly stored away in the grape. It is the intoxicating nature of wine that indicates its special properties. Through wine the mystery of the exodus is told.
The cups of redemption tell the tale of a people enslaved and then elevated to great spiritual heights. It is a people that sheds its enslavement but preserves its experience, reliving each year and together proclaiming, we were once slaves to Pharaoh but now The Almighty has brought us close to Him.
Four cups of wine is enough to take the edge off the pain of years of persecution but not too much to relegate us to the unreality of irresponsibility. We take our experiences as slaves and use it to fashion a society based on morals and ethics. We move closer to our Creator and become for Him, a kingdom of priests and a nation of the holy.
What is the secret that emerges about the Exodus? Each family probably has its own moment. In our home it is comes very late at night when the Seder is already over. The haggadah is taken again in hand together with the Shir Hashirim, the Song of Songs. It is chanted out loud as the dishes are being done. It is the scroll that tells the story of intimacy and love, the great romance of the Bible – the love between The Almighty and the Jewish people. It was in the wee hours of that Pesach night long ago that that relationship began. A battered people scurried out of the only home they had ever known with hearts full of hopes dreams and faith in the good things to come.
Jewish wine moments are lofty and not inebriating; they are the moderation of four cups and the intimacy of home. They reflect the joy of chuppah and the triumph of redemption, the weave their way through our life, l’chaim.

Matzo Matters!

2008-03-27T16:22:00.000-07:00

Maybe now in the rare quiet moments before the holiday it might be appropriate to explore this matter of matzo. For starters, what’s the matter with matzo? Lots. Even one of its names hints to a problem. Matzo is called lechem oni by the Torah and by the Haggadah. It is a phrase that seems straightforward - lechem oni, bread of our affliction. The source is a verse which commands, “eat unleavened bread, the bread of affliction, for you departed from the land of Egypt hurriedly, so that you may remember the day of your departure from the land of Egypt all the days of your life.” Devarim 16:3.
Bread of affliction, sounds not quite appetizing. Very little is simple or one dimensional in Torah and lechem oni is no exception. What does “poor bread” mean? What makes matzo, bread of affliction, lechem oni? The ingredients? The ancient consumers? The occasion of its eating? The method of its cooking? Its appearance? Maybe the mode of consumption? Or even the effect of its eating? Each of these categories are possibilities cited on pages of Torah, Talmud and the Haggadah itself. Why is matzo lechem oni? And why does it matter?
Here are some answers. A poor person eats broken pieces of bread, never a whole. Who knows if there will be more? We break our matzo in half and put a piece away for later, afikoman. Matzo is bread for the poor. Two ingredients only, flour and water. No salt, no sugar, no oil. It is poor bread, not rich. Our ancestors had to rush to bake their bread in Egypt, the taskmasters gave them no rest. We bake our matzo speedily to prevent it from rising. Our ancestors had little time the night they were leaving-they grabbed their unleavened bread and ran out. We don’t allow our dough the time to rise. Matzo is flat, very humble-a poor appearance if you will. Lechem oni? Poor indeed is the one who consumes it for they will suffer in its digestion. It is poor bread.
An alternate translation of the word on, is from the root to answer. We recite words over the matzo and answer questions concerning it. This is the bread of many words. There is a lot to say about matzo, it matters.
Truth is multifaceted and each of these answers woven together form a picture consistent with the verse. We eat matzo, lechem oni in order to recall the day we departed from Egypt. We have a lot to remember concerning that day. The rush, the panic, our deprived lives till then and the glory of our redemption. Most of all we are enjoined to remember the pain of being a slave. The pain of not being in control of our time and space, the pain of poverty and the constraints of spirit.
It is odd that the verse tells us to eat this bread of distress on Pesach night in order to remember the exodus all the days of our life. How can the eating of matzo once a year provide us with the memory of redemption for a whole year? Perhaps we should have been enjoined to eat matzo every day of our lives? Lechem oni each day.
Of course not. That is the very point. To eat poor bread every day would be to recreate our pain and poverty each day - we cannot thrive that way. To lead a life of Torah we need to move on, to lead lives of richness and with true appreciation of this world. But on Seder night we eat our lechem oni and we concentrate on its complex message for its taste must last the whole year long. Eating matzo matters.

Orange on the Seder Plate?

2008-03-27T16:21:00.000-07:00

On one hand the placing of the orange on the Seder Plate arose as a way of making an important statement, “all Jews have a place at the table.” Miriam’s Cup filled with water tells the story of her song, her well and her role in the Exodus. Both of these are important nuances and messages for Seder night. However, on the other hand my first reaction is to recoil at a practice that changes the essential “look” of the traditional Seder Plate or Seder table. I guess this is an instance where my feminism collides with my deep sense of tradition. At Pesach time I am very attached to the notion that the table and the traditions continue to look the same. But then again I may be the wrong person to ask; I still use my grandmother’s pots, my Mother’s dishes, and make gefilte fish from scratch.

But saying this, I need to emphasize that I am very much in favor of the idea that the telling of the story of the Exodus must include the telling of the story of the women of the Exodus. The question is, how do we accomplish this in the most effective yet seamless way? I think the first step may be to notice what is on the Seder table and appreciate its connection to the female role in the Exodus. You will be surprised when you realize that the critical elements are already on the table. The question is, do we know what they are and do we know the narrative that goes with them? Our first step is to catch up on the very considerable role that women played in the Exodus and to learn how to blend it in to our reading of the Haggadah.

On Seder night our story is told using a text together with symbolic foods. The text, though lots of folks out there think it is a long drawn out endless series of non-connected paragraphs, is really a very well constructed ordered terse short story that is infinitely elastic. It is our job to enhance the brief paragraphs with additional commentary and broaden it with probing questions and answers. It is our role as we partake in the traditional foods to offer the rationales for the foods and to tease out all of the subtleties embedded in them. Here are some suggestions for blending the woman‘s story into your Seder.

First take out a Haggadah. Right after the Four Questions are asked, an answer is offered. The children have asked essentially one question, Why is this night different from all other nights. They then provide four examples for their question. The question reflects the children’s wonderment about the nature of Seder night. Are we happy tonight or sad? We are eating matzo and bitter herbs, that feel sad. But we are leaning and dipping that feels happy and celebratory. The question is why this night is different from other holidays where the mood is clear; sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes serious. Tonight we seem to be getting mixed messages, happy and sad. The answer is we were slaves in Egypt but God redeemed us. It is a bittersweet mood we are in; we remember the slavery with sadness but we are joyously grateful for our freedom.

As this paragraph is read take the opportunity to ask the question; how did the slavery come about? Prepare the answer by studying the first chapter of Exodus. Notice the three stages that unfolded during Pharaoh’s final solution.

Step one was the hard labor of slavery, step two was the attempt to have the midwives murder the baby boys and the final step was the outright enlisting of all Egyptians in the elimination of the male babies. Each of these steps involves a deeply significant role of women. Now is the time to tell these stories.

As the Israelites were enslaved in step one of the process, the Midrash tell us that the men were separated from the women, hence Pharaoh’s hope that the hard labor would lead to a decrease in the population. The women took matters into their own hands. They went out to their men, out to fields under the fruit trees. There they conceived and there they birthed their babies. Point to the charoseth, the fruit in that delicious dish reminds us of those very fruit trees beneath which the children of Israel grew to be a mighty people.

In the second step of Pharaoh’s plan the midwives, identified in the Midrash as Miriam and her mother, take a dramatic step in the history of our people. They stand up to Pharaoh; their fear of God prevents them from following orders. Remind those around the table that according to the Rabbi Judah Leove, the Maharal, the four cups of wine remind us of the four matriarchs. Talk about the strength and the unique courage displayed by women as you drink the four cups.

Finally, the last step in the plan leads to the hiding of Moses by his mother, the vigilant watching of Miriam by the water and the courageous act of salvation by the righteous gentile, Pharaoh’s daughter. It is through women that Moses is saved and through women that the redemption is ultimately realized.

Ironically, Moses’ name does not appear in the Haggadah; Moses who challenges Pharaoh, who brings about the ten plagues, who leads the people across the sea. There is no mention of Moses in the Haggadah. This radical absence is to ensure that our people do not deify a human being. The role of Moses is downplayed. No human is remembered as the rescuer.

There may be a very powerful lesson here. Seder night is not about a competition between men or women. It is not about who has the power. The Seder is about our people’s unique relationship with God Almighty; God who interrupted history to take an embittered people out of slavery. Though we tell the story of women and of men, let us remember that the real story is about the Divine and our gratitude for being redeemed.

Charoset: Fruit of Desire

2008-03-27T16:18:00.000-07:00

Here’s a neat segue from Purim to Pesach from Esther to Miriam involving the allure of women, beautiful and enticing women, righteous and holy women. A woman of valor in Jewish parlance is an elegant blend of both. Tradition never conceals the strength of an attractive woman. It is the seductive nature of Esther’s beauty and personality which saves her people. She faithfully follows in the path paved gently by the noble take-control footsteps of Tamar, of Ruth and of a whole generation of women enslaved in Egypt. It is a path of righteousness and realism. It is a path of feminism and femininity. It is our path.
The question is, does this path lead to the Seder table? This mysterious allure may seem distant, elusive and to not quite fit as we gather around the Seder table. We mothers, wives, sisters and daughters still reeling from exhaustive Pre-Pesach preparations are not necessarily thinking passion. But yet, that is an undercurrent theme present even at the Pesach table. You may have blinked at Sunday School and missed it. But I assure it is there. Take a look at the Seder Plate. It stares right up at us. Not the horseradish or the shank bone - but the sweet charoset; the single item on the plate to which women over the centuries have leant their sensual talents to creating and producing. And for good reason, that charoset is no simple mortar wannabe. There is far more than the obvious here.
For me one of the delights of the Seder phenomenon is the yin yangness of so much of the symbols. The motif of the night is very much the blending of opposites. We remember slavery and redemption. We try to recreate the bitterness of bondage along with the recollection of the sweetness of freedom. The matsah is the paradox representing both. This is the bread of our affliction, we chant. Later we declare, this matsah which we eat is to recall the quick departure from Egypt. Slavery and redemption with sentiments of both despair and exhilaration in one mouthful. That is the beauty of matsah, the beauty of Pesach and the beauty of life. Nothing is simple and the layering of our sometimes incongruous emotions woven together is what makes us human.
The Israelites in forced labor are compelled to manufacture the bricks with which they are then forced to build. Is it not odd that the substance representing these bricks of persecution and mortar of torture is deliciously sweet? That it, more than an other item on the Seder plate is object of the creativity and imagination of the Jewish woman from Morocco to Tunisia? This very redolent ingredient of the Seder Plate tells a particularly bittersweet tale; a story of mirrors, desire, and fruit trees. It is a legend that reflects the enigmatic riddle of impulses, instincts and survival.
Pharoh’s final solution separated men from women. The motive was to limit the procreation of the Israelites. Exhaustive labor in the fields effectively squelched the desire of the male slaves. What did the daughters of Israel do? The Midrash tells us that they prepared food and wine for their husbands, made themselves beautiful and went out into the fields. There they took out mirrors, teased their husbands and aroused their desire. They awakened the ardor of their beleaguered men, were fruitful and multiplied and produced a generation that became exceedingly mighty. From the bitter comes the sweet. The slavery was bitter. The holy beautiful daughters of Israel are sweet. And the children that became the hosts of Israelites are most assuredly sweet.
How is this remembered at the seder table? Rabbi Samuel the son of Meir in his commentary on the Talmud in Tracate Pesachim 115b writes that charoseth is made from fruit in order to recall the apple. That apple would be the fruit later referred to in the Song of Songs 8:5 “I roused thee under the apple tree: there thy mother was in travail with thee: there she who bore thee was in travail.” Yes, the charoseth represents the hardship of labor but can’t help but also recall the transcendent fashion with which Jewish women rose above their dejected circumstances. They recognized that their allure could arouse their mates and in turn guarantee a Jewish future. Not unlike Tamar, Ruth and Esther.
No prop on the Jewish stage goes forgotten. And therefore we must ask, what about the mirrors? Were they never to be heard from? Objects with such innocent charm cannot simply evaporate. They need to take their rightful place among the souvenirs of our people. And so they do. Contributions for the building of the Mishkan, Holy Tabernacle are requested. The Israelite women come forward with their offerings. Mirrors. Moshe considers the mirrors and responds not unexpectedly. There is no place for a mundane symbol of vanity in the Mishkan. The Holy One Blessed Be He steps in, “Accept their offering, for these are dearer to me than everything else because through them the women raised up countless hosts in Egypt.” The mirrors were used in the holy Mishkan for the wash basin, to make pure the hands of the priests before their service of God.
Our tradition teaches us that our forefathers and mothers were redeemed from the Egyptian bondage on account of the righteous women of the generation. Righteousness takes many forms. The standard set by our matriarchs is sublime. It is borne of sacrifice, love and courage. The allure of the Jewish woman is legendary. Exhausted though we may be by Seder night let us not shy away from its presence nor desist from recalling it. The charoseth is a powerful symbol of life and womaness right there on the seder plate for all to be hold. Tell the tale and proudly say, This we eat “Zecher LaTapuach, in remembrance of the apple.”

The Knowing is in the Eating

2008-03-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

It is a religion of food, this chewing over of our history at the Seder. If religion is a blend of faith, belief and knowing, then food plays a teasingly sporadic starring role, emerging here and there with a responsibility seemingly beyond its humble countenance.
We ask a lot of the food we eat. We rarely expect of it something as simple as fill the belly and fuel the body. No, we expect our food to entertain and to delight, to comfort and to soothe. On Seder night we ask our food to teach. We take the parsley dipped in salt water and invite it to remind us of the tears of the downtrodden. With bitter herbs in hand we dip into the sweet charoset and say, tell me how the slavery was bittersweet. And as we bite into the matzo we wait to taste the rushed reality of the dramatic escape from slavery.

Food as teacher is not quite the new or novel thought. Think back to the earliest of time, of Eden, of Paradise. God places two extraordinary trees in the garden; one a tree of life and the other a tree of knowledge, good and bad. God warns Adam not to eat of them. But Eve looks at the tree of knowledge and understands that it is not just a delight for the eyes but indeed a source of wisdom. She takes hold of the fruit, offers it to Adam and the eyes of the two of them are opened, and they see. They notice their own nakedness and realize their profound vulnerability; such is the knowledge of good and evil. I always wonder about this episode. Why is the fruit of the tree the conduit for knowledge, the vessel of wisdom? What is it about food that opens the eye?

There is a story we teachers tell about bread. Lecture a class about wheat, about its growth and harvest, about its milling and grinding. Tell them about the yeast and the kneading, the rising and the baking. Tell them everything, but until you slice that loaf fresh from the oven they will not know bread. The knowing is in the eating. There is something deep and primal about the taking into one’s mouth, tasting, chewing and ingesting that informs like nothing else. Food teaches in a distinctive manner.

Deep in the desert wilderness but one month out of Egypt and the people Israel are hungry, desperately hungry. They remember the foods of Egypt with a fond but distorted, embellished memory stinging with the immediacy of pain and empty bellies. They demand food. God rains down manna from heaven, which will not only nourish the body, but will also, teach the soul. The people will see the glory of God. They will know that God hears them and learn that humans do not live by bread alone, but rather by the word of the Lord. Such is the teaching power of food. It informs our very belief in God. The Israelites will fill themselves with nourishment, delivered with regularity to their doorsteps, and know that there is a Divine Provider.

There is a segue that occurs from the food we consume to the people we become. Food has the power to affect and to change us physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually. Our tradition has definite prescriptions about what we eat and how it is prepared. We have long dismissed notions of health as satisfying explanations for Kashrut. Reasons of discipline, separation and holiness resonate more powerfully. Maimonidies writes that those who are careful about what they eat and follow the laws of Kashrut will bring additional holiness and purity to their soul, cleansing their soul for the sake of Heaven fulfilling the command, And you shall be holy because I am holy.
This is an interesting marriage, the mundane nature of food and the lofty ideas of holiness. Food takes us by the hand and brings us closer to the sublime.

Not only do the foods that grace our tables lift us up, but we also take an additional step and imagine the very food of God. For if God feeds us and if we are to walk in the way of God and verily imitate his ways, is there a possible reciprocal human feeding of God? Far out and terrifying is this thought, but real nonetheless. Real in the metaphorical sense that is, the sacrifices of old are known as food pleasing with aroma to satisfy God, as the Torah tells us, “My food for My fires My satisfying aroma.” The mystical work the Zohar explains that “the offering brought to the Holy One was for the purpose of feeding the world and providing sustenance both for the upper and the lower worlds in as much as the as the upper world moves in response to the lower world.” Our actions change the world. The foods we eat, the offerings we give have the sway to change our small worlds of self as well as the large worlds way beyond.

Where are the offerings of today? Where are the altars of now? Our tradition tells us that gifts to the poor replace the offerings in the temple and so we begin our Seder with the proclamation, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” The food we set before the poor, the provisions placed before the needy, have an affect on our own food. It is no longer simply food that graces our tables but rather our food may become the stuff of noble sacrifices fit for God’s altar. Giving to the needy before the holiday and inviting those in need of a Seder to sit together with us changes what we serve and us, as well. Food can teache us that we are not the only ones who are hungry.

The lessons we learn on Pesach are not limited to usual ones taught in classrooms and with books. They are the lessons told by parent to child with foods laid out and eaten with intent. The instruction is slowly digested. Foods prepared with love and deliberateness, grace a table surrounded by family, friends and guests catapult us back in time. But that is certainly not all. The eating of these foods creates a moment of presentness that alerts us to value freedoms. The Hagaddah tells us that each one of us must see ourselves us if we have come out from Egypt. We are slaves that have been freed. We can feel it because we can taste it. We are told to leave the Seder table with the taste of Afikomen in our mouths. Perhaps it will lead us this year to dream of peace and freedom for all who are enslaved.

Pesach Prep

2008-03-27T16:14:00.000-07:00

First, remain calm; second, get out your notebook, organization is essential. But before you launch into any of the nitty gritty, you must get your head into the right place. The key to the entire production is joy. Be thrilled to be able to place before your family a meaningful experience; the gift of love as reflected in the food, the table and the deep devotion to our people and tradition. Keep in mind; this is not just a meal, this is not just a holiday. You are facilitating perhaps the most essential ritual in Judaism. Your home will be transformed and your table elevated, as you lead your loved ones into the enchanted transcendent mysterium that is Seder night.

Now for the planning - enlist the help of your family; their being a part of the effort is indispensable. Make sure that each member feels a part of the process and that they each have roles that match their age and inclinations. Keep in mind that the meaning of the word Seder is order; embrace this “Big Idea” as of right now. With order and deliberation you will make this happen! Begin with the goal in mind. For me it is sitting serenely at Seder table. Now, work your way backwards, list what will need to be done the day of the Seder, the day before the Seder, and the week before the Seder and even the month before the Seder.

Think through not only your menu but the ritual foods as well. Now is the time to call relatives and get those heirloom recipes. Get a folder and start placing the Pesach recipes in it; you will use this rest of your life. Start perusing Passover cookbooks with post-a-notes in hand. Do not get carried away. Plan familiar recipes and introduce only one or two new ones. The brisket you made on Rosh Hashanah is not much different than the one you will make on Pesach. List each food that you will need to prepare and begin to generate a shopping list of the ingredients you will need. Set up a cooking and shopping time table. I put up a huge piece of butcher paper on the wall of the kitchen and list each food in big letters. This helps me keep track of what needs to get done. Crossing them each off you will find is deeply satisfying.

Part of preparing for the Seder involves doing some spring cleaning. With the inner sanctum of the home being the kitchen, work your way through the house. Plan to leave a week for the kitchen. Set aside the cabinets where you can begin putting away your Passover foods. Mark the Passover ones clearly.

The cleansing of the home from Chametz, leavening, has a symbolic significance. It represents the refining of our souls. As we search our pockets and drawers for crumbs, we must similarly search the deep recesses of our beings as well. Now we work at letting go of notions that have puffed us up. It is time to reign in our very human tendencies to exaggerate out of proportion our own selves.

The great scholar Rabbi Saadia Gaon understood it this way; “after the deeds follows the heart,” sometimes the actions lead and the thoughts comes along. As we inspect and cleanse our outer dwelling we scrutinize and search out our most inner of abodes. The cleaning of a closet can be deeply satisfying on many levels; it mirrors the inner work of the soul. Let go, give it away, divest your self. We need not posses all of the stuff filling our closets, nor our mental space. The closets are an easy start to get the practice going. My rule; if it has not been worn in the last year and half, someone else could be wearing it and if the ruminations of your mind continue to lead you no where positive, stop going there!

Set time aside to plan the Seder. Together with your family determine who the leader will be. Take a trip to the Jewish book store and consider all the different Haggadahs. Do you want everyone to read from the same book or would your prefer sprinkling different ones around? What Haggadah are the children going to use? While acquiring Haggadahs purchase some engaging Passover story books for your children. This is the time to build up their excitement.
Depending who your guests are you might divide up pieces of the Haggadah or simply rely on their participation on the night of the Seder.

The Haggadah has become a palate upon which many thinkers have drawn their story. We are no different. We each have a Pesach story to tell. Perhaps it is your family’s narrative of coming to America. It might be your own individual struggle with your own personal slavery. By studying the Haggadah ahead of time you will find the appropriate place to add your own original thoughts. Seder means order, yes, the order of the rituals that we perform Seder night, but there is more. Seder must also be the ordering of the world, the grappling with life and all its messy phenomena. What message of the Exodus speaks to you most? What questions yet remain? This should all be part of a meaningful Seder experience.

Though the task seems daunting, be assured; you will make it to Seder Night. As the demanding weeks of Seder planning and commotion unfold before us, let the joy in. Remember past generations whose monumental efforts have segued into ours. Let us appreciate the breezy way we load those groceries into our shopping cart and pack them into our car. The ease with which we switch on the stove, twist the oven dial and turn the faucet for hot water. Enjoy your preparations; the journey may turn out to be as rewarding as the destination.

The Four Sons

2008-03-27T16:12:00.000-07:00

The segment of the four sons is assuredly a core piece of the Seder. It fits in neatly with the “four theme” - four cups of wine, four questions, four sons. Nonetheless, I appreciate your issue. The wicked son is disconcerting to be sure – who would want to picture a child as evil? To best begin to grapple with the “four sons” we must sketch out the basics about this theme of different children and then attempt to deal wisely with the wicked sibling. Hopefully, by the end it will even seem simple and perhaps we will be left with no questions.

The idea of the four sons is drawn from four sets of passages in the Torah that discuss Pesach and the Exodus. On four occasions the notion of children asking or the telling children is mentioned. Here are the four sets of verses. For the sake of brevity I quote them not in full and urge you to check them out inside the text itself.

We begin with a verse in Deuteronomy 6:20, “When, in time to come, your children ask you, What mean the decrees, laws, and rules that the Lord our God has enjoined upon you?” and then these three separate verses from Exodus; in 12:26 “And when your children ask you, What do you mean by this rite?” in 13:14, “And when, in time to come, your son asks you, saying, What does this mean? You shall say to him, It was with a mighty hand that the Lord brought us out from Egypt, the house of bondage.” And finally in 13:8, we find, “And you shall explain to your son on that day, It is because of what the Lord did for me when I went free from Egypt.”

Consider the verses carefully. Are there nuances that would lead you to label the child in any way? Are you able to detect any subtleties that imply a gradation of sorts in relation to the character of the child doing the asking?

Though we may not be able to discern the shades of wisdom or wickedness, wholesomeness or lack of wonderment, the Mechilta, a very early midrash on the Book of Exodus, identifies the four different verses and the children there mentioned, as the four sons that you and I know of from the Hagadah; the wise, wicked, simple, together with the child who knows not how to ask. I presented the verses in the order of the Hagadah, so go back and consider the designations. What about the passages indicates the son assigned to it? The first verse has detailed questions about laws – the wise son. The second passage seems to have a negative tone – what do you mean by these laws! – the wicked son. The third passage is simply simple, what is this? – the simple son. Finally, in the last passage the child does not ask and therefore is identified as the one who knows not how to ask.

This is the source then of the notion of the wicked son. We can surmise that the author of the midrash notices the four verses and wonders about the redundancy of a child asking four times; it must be there to teach us something specific. That something is the idea that there are different types of children and they each demand a different approach. Each child asks their own question and each child needs their own answer – even the child who cannot ask.

Before discussing the categorization or the qualification of each child let’s pause to appreciate the two pedagogic concepts that our tradition is suggesting here. Both sound educational practices; firstly, we do not pound out one lesson for all students but rather we know that each child must be taught in a way that makes sense for them. So, though we have a classroom full with many children we try to differentiate our teaching to work for each child. A second wonderful teaching idea is the recognition that good learning emerges from the curiosity of children. Here we have two educational notions put forth in ancient sources that resonate even to current sensibilities; that is certainly worthy of appreciation.

Now, let’s consider the questions of the children. What are they truly asking? Though they are focusing on the practices of the evening, remember that on Seder night when we reflect on our history we use symbols and rituals to trigger our memory and nudge us on in the telling of our story. When we ask about the eating matzoh and of maror – what we really are asking is the classic question of theodicy; why does evil occur if there is an omniscient omnipotent God? Why were the Jews enslaved for hundreds of years? Why were our lives bitter, why were we compelled to eat the bread affliction?

Now consider the particular verses assigned to each child; in what way do they address this reformulation of the question; Mah nishtana? How is this night different from all other nights? The wise child, according to Rabbi Joseph Solovietchik, knows that there is no adequate answer for humans in regards to the issue of theodicy, the Rav, in his seminal article, “Kol Dodi Dofek –My Beloved is Knocking” addresses the issue of the Holocaust, and there he suggests that the wise son confronted with evil in the world, asks not; why? but rather, what can I do about it? How am I supposed to react to tragedy? What is our response to suffering? He therefore talks about action; what are the practices? The lesson we learn from the wise child is to take steps to address the pain in the world, rather than to ask about God’s role.

Taking a closer look at the responses to the children we can discern the appropriate answer to this line of questioning and then notice that the response to the wicked son addresses his stance, by taking the wicked approach he has have excluded himself from the destiny of the Jewish people. When grappling with the uncomfortable phenomenon of a “wicked child” perhaps it would help to think of him as an archetype instead; one who challenges to the point of exclusion.

Finally, Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik’s brother, Rabbi Aaron Soloveitchik offers this appealing approach to the four sons. They are not four different children but rather four stages we each go through, through our lives; we begin as one who cannot ask, progress to the wonderful school age stage as simple kids, then most assuredly move into the adolescent stage…hmmm wicked? Finally, we all reach that coveted wise stage as adults.

This tactic of seeing the sons not as absolutes, leads us to realize that for some it may be distinct stages while for others it may be the normal fluctuations that we all go through in life. Each of us is at times depending on the situation, the wise, the wicked, the wondering or the without-question child.

Social constructivists would echo this approach and add that indeed an individuals personality is drawn out by those with whom they spend time– I suppose that throws the onus back on to each of us --- are we bringing out the wise, the wicked ,the wondering or the without questioning from those around us or from our children? Well given that, here’s an idea - let us hope that at this year’s Seder we will bring out the wise in everyone!

Is Thanksgiving Jewish?

2007-11-21T07:34:00.000-08:00

Of Turkey, Leah and the Jewish People
Rivy Poupko Kletenik

Connect the dots; Matriarch Leah, turkeys, and the Jewish people. Hint - they come together in November, forming an odd Chagall-like mosaic entitled Thanksgiving. The holiday I love to skip. Well, almost skip. No turkey, no big meal. We plan a very low key family day with little time in the kitchen. I do not do serious cooking on Thanksgiving - instead our family throws something together quickly, after all it is Thursday. And, if it is Thursday, it is humble macaroni and cheese night. The night before Shabbat generally is a night for modest dinners, this contrast adds to the honor and sparkle of the glorious Shabbat meal on Friday night.
As a first generation American, I appreciate this country and recognize that Thanksgiving is a good thing, a wonderful American celebration so I cannot cast it aside entirely. But still, why the day before Shabbat? Not good planning. Confident that George Washington, signer of the Thanksgiving Proclamation on November 26, 1789, would not mind, I simply slide our Thanksgiving over one day. I prepare turkey and stuffing, which then appear along with chicken soup, matzo balls and gefilte fish for dinner Friday night, a Jewish Thanksgiving, if you will.
And, Jewish it should be. Giving thanks is the very essence of who we are. The word Jew comes from the name Judah the largest tribe and the majority of Israelites at the time of the Babylonian Exile. Judah means to give thanks. Here is how the name was given. Judah was the fourth son of Jacob and Leah. Upon his birth Matriarch Leah declares joyfully, “This time I will thank God”. The name reflects a very special gratitude. Listen to what Rabbi Yochanan says in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai about this gratitude, “From the day that God created His world there was no human who thanked Him as it says, ‘this time I will thank God’.
Leah is the first person to walk this earth, and turn to her maker and say a simple thank you, she teaches us gratitude. One would think that she of all the matriarchs would be the least likely to thank. Compelled to marry the beloved of her sister she might have been tempted to embrace bitterness - instead she teaches us all to be grateful, to appreciate what we have. Her “thank you” becomes the name Judah, the name of the Jewish people.
Names are more than labels, they reflect the true identity and reveal the essence of an individual. How marvelous it is that our people’s name reflects the particular noble quality of gratitude. To be a Jew is to give thanks.
Thankfulness is no simple matter. In Hebrew the word for thanks is l’hodot, the same word for admitting, confessing, as in the Viddui confession at Yom Kippur. I suppose that a sincere thank you involves a little of both, making the giving of thanks a bit of a humbling experience. It involves the admission of need and the recognition of gratitude. It is a tremendous deed to say thank you, and sometimes not an easy one.
Though difficult, thanking God can and should be the very elixir of life. The first words that roll off our tongues upon waking each morning, are words of gratitude, “modeh ani lephanecha”, I gratefully thank You for returning my soul. Our siddur, prayer book is telling us something interesting, to be a wakeful human is to greet each day with gratitude.
We’ve got Jew and Judah, Matriarch Leah, on to the bird. Turkey on Shabbat Thanksgiving is a perfect fit. The word for turkey in Hebrew is tarnigol hodu - the bird of the Indians - now, you and I both know that l’hodot means to give thanks - tarnigol hodu, hmm…the bird of thanks? Why not? A perfect food for Shabbat.
For me in a sense, Thanksgiving falls on Shabbat every week not just one November. Here’s how. Each day after morning prayers we state the day of the week and recall what the Levites would recite in the Holy Temple which was a specific Psalm designated for each of the days of the week. On Shabbat we say Psalm 92, “A psalm a song for the Sabbath day, It is good to give thanks to God”, Tov L’hodot Lhashem. Shabbat and giving thanks come together naturally; a day of rest and a day to think lofty thoughts, to look around and appreciate life’s gifts. There is nothing more sublime than gratitude and nothing as ugly as thanklessness.
Well, we have connected the dots; Matriarch Leah, turkeys and the Jewish people. In spite of the connections I am not going to lead a movement to switch Thanksgiving to Friday night. If your family’s tradition is to celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday that is wonderful - if invited I would even join you. Rabbinic teachings are on your side and have examined the modern phenomenon of observing Thanksgiving and have given it their ok. Thanksgiving on Thursday can also be Jewish. When celebrating Thanksgiving, think about making it a Jewish experience. Here are some ideas: a D’var Torah on the theme of giving thanks would be appropriate, calling to mind the unique place America has in our history is a gracious act of thankfulness, reciting the appropriate blessings before the foods and of course a Jewish flavor on the menu always helps.
I will stick with Thanksgiving on Friday night. It leads me to link American culture to our ancient traditions and values. Our name reflects our collective Jewish soul, it is a spirit, the very breath of gratitude that dances deep within us. Jew, Judah, giving thanks - the most eloquent of words. On this Thanksgiving, as on every day let us give thanks for all our blessings, for a country which has a designated a day to give thanks, for mornings that bring life and for Shabbats that teach us to say - we can’t ever say thank you enough.

Should Jewish Kids do halloween?

2007-10-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Rivy,
Every year my children come home from Hebrew School telling me that their teachers told them that they should not go “Trick or Treating” on Halloween, that Halloween is not for Jewish children. I tell them that there is nothing wrong with Halloween; it's American, fun and what we have always done. Now I am starting to wonder. Is there anything wrong with Jewish children going out on Halloween night “Trick or Treating”?

As Americans we have many privileges; including the privilege of additional holidays - not that we need any more – we already have quite ample cause for overeating and deviating from the regularly scheduled program of life. However, human beings crave celebration and ritual hence the “Hallmarkatization” of our calendar.

In lieu of a commonly shared ancient religion we in the U.S. have developed a civil religion; we share the quasi-secular celebrations of New Years, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, the obviously civil observances of Veteran’s Day, Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, Flag Day, and the unquestionably religious holidays of Christmas, Saint Patrick’s Day, Mardi Gras and Easter. These occasions bring out color schemed cards and elaborate decorations that are exasperatingly pervasive.

Discussion about Jews observing New Years, Thanksgiving and Valentines Day occur annually and I suppose it is the time of year for the Halloween conversation. The conflict with these four days, New Years, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day and Halloween is unlike Christmas, Saint Patrick’s Day, Mardi Gras and Easter which are clearly religious in origin. The religious origins of New Years, Thanksgiving and Valentines Day and Halloween are obscured and somewhat vague. Additionally, current prevalent observances are mostly secular in nature. Because of this haziness, the question around their observance is up for discussion and halachic scrutiny.

The accepted approach towards Thanksgiving is that it is permissible to feast on turkey and even laudable to join in the festivities since the religious nature of its origin is less than compelling. Celebrating New Years is deemed inappropriate by many on account of its connection to the religious observances related to Christmas; check out your local Wikipedia for more details. Valentines Day, romantic though it may be, is a day that commemorates the death of Christian martyrs and as such its religious origins are clear. The argument offered on behalf of Jewish observers of Valentines Day is that there is little or no connection to its origin in its modern day practices. However, the allure of Valentines Day, chocolate notwithstanding, is small time compared to Halloween.

The clamoring for Halloween fun is all different. Children are primed for its parties, haunted houses, costumes and vast amounts of candy wherever they go. Supermarkets, schools, doctor’s offices urge participation in the revelry. And in case, that by any stretch of the imagination, you missed it – don’t worry, television shows and advertisements remedy that oversight quite comprehensively. The issue of Halloween is for more pressing and contentious.

Jewish law concerning the observance or participation in holidays whose origin is of a religious nature is based on this verse from Leviticus 18:3, After the doings of the land of Egypt, wherein ye dwelt, shall ye not do; and after the doings of the land of Canaan, whither I bring you, shall ye not do; neither shall ye walk in their statutes. This “neither shall we walk in their statues” is a big deal. Following the threads of halachic analysis from the Talmud, to Talmudic commentaries up through the Code of Jewish law, we learn that if a seemingly innocuous practice has its origins in a pagan custom or has a taint of an idolatrous derivation then the activities are forbidden.

Even with just a cursory glance at encyclopedic entries on Halloween we quickly learn that Halloween has quite the pagan history. Here are some snippets form our beloved Wikki, “The term Halloween is shortened from All-hallow-even, as it is the evening of/before "All Hallows' Day", also known as "All Saints' Day". It was a day of religious festivities in various northern European Pagan traditions…Halloween is very popular in Ireland, where it is said to have originated, and is known in Irish as "Oíche Shamhna" or "Samhain Night". Pre-Christian Celts had an autumn festival, Samhain" End of Summer", a pastoral and agricultural "fire festival" or feast, when the dead revisited the mortal world, and large communal bonfires would hence be lit to ward off evil spirits…” There is a lot more that makes it abundantly clear that the origin of Halloween is undeniably pagan.

This said, it is also quite obvious that very few happy chirpy little American children experience the holiday within a pagan context - they have a fun day dressing up and getting candy. What are Jewish parents to do?! We certainly do not want to build resentment, bitterness and hostility towards Judaism by giving our children the experience of being denied the super fun day of Halloween. What we need to do is build the Jewish identity of our children and help them to not feel that they are missing out by not participating in Halloween – if something is taken away then something else must be provided in its stead. The Jewish child that grows up with a rich Jewish home life feels few if any pangs of a Hallloweenless childhood.

Here are a few pointers to bolster your stance if you choose to withhold Halloween…

· Plan. Sit down with your children and help them to understand the halacha. That though Halloween seems fun, it is not in line with Jewish values and its roots are not in sync with what we hold dear. Though paganism seems innocent and far from foreboding in our day and age, it is a belief system that is wholly at odds with belief in a transcendent God, creator and orchestrator of the universe. Children need to know that belief is something that is critical and worth sacrificing for, even if it means giving up “Trick or Treating.” Truth be told this lesson learned early, will pave the way for when being Jewish will demand more far more from them than simply a candy bar.
· Fill your Jewish home with Jewish practice. I will not be the first one to remind you that we Jews have a fantastically fun holiday called Purim, when dressing up in costumes is based on holy traditions and at what time instead of going house to house demanding treats, children are trained to go from house to house delivering treats!
· Though they cannot participate in the dressing up on Halloween, they can certainly take part by picking out the candy that they will dispense on Halloween night and by meeting and greeting trick or treators the night of. This is considered laudable by our tradition in the spirit of establishing peaceful relations among our neighbors.

Finally, there are many surveys that examine Jewish continuity based on synagogue membership, school attendance, camp participation and youth group associations. I would like to advocate for all of the above but mostly for homes abounding with joyful Jewish life. Do not abdicate your children’s Judaism whole scale to others – it is primarily the responsibility of parents to set the tone and to guarantee that Judaism is transmitted through love, commitment and delight in the home. Halloween will not be missed if you make sure that its void is filled with authentic Jewish experiences.

Should Jewish Kids Do Halloween?

2007-10-24T08:56:00.000-07:00

Does Rosh Hashanah Need to Happen Now?

2007-09-06T16:15:00.000-07:00

Holidays inevitably conjure up childhood memories. The sights, smells and sounds are implanted in our consciousness. Coming home from school Rosh Hashanah time, we kids were greeted by a foreign sound emanating from the upstairs. Not shofar blowing but rather the rhythmic single finger typing of Rosh Hashanah sermons from a large-type orator’s typewriter. Climbing the stairs toward father’s study brought the typing closer and louder. It is the writing of a sermon; the thoughts, the words, the passion pouring forth from mind and heart, the energy traveling through fingers onto the keys, creating that hollow rhythmic beating against the hard stock 5x7 note cards, which later appear on the pulpit flashing before hundreds of congregants. That typing could bring, in a Pavlovian way, moods of seriousness, hushedness - inducing thoughts of synagogue and prayer.
Rosh Hashanah is different for each of us. It is the Jewish kind of a New Year yes, but, I never knew there was any other kind of New Year. I first heard of the parties, blow outs, and the champagne of December 31 way past childhood. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year is all I know of new years. As a rabbi’s daughter, rabbi’s wife, mother, and teacher, Rosh Hashanah naturally takes on many nuances. There is the tension of the year’s most intense synagogue experience, there are the preparations in the home, the mad dashes and scrambling to outfit the kids, the lessons for the classroom but most imposing is the inner soul searching demanded of the season.
And imposing it is. The heaviness of the season feels like an intrusion. It is September, we are trying to get our kids back onto a schedule, trying to start programming off, and year after year we are stymied. At more meetings than not, dates and events are put off until after the holidays. Projects are postponed, life is on hold; and why? Why now? Is there not another time to be doing the repentance thing? Is there not a less busy time for atonement? What is it about the end of summer that demands judgment? Why now as the earth settles into dormancy are we commanded to pause, hold everything and to not pass “go”?
As the shofar is blown we receive the answer. The machzor, High Holiday prayer book, tells us, Today the world was created. The “today” refers not to Thursday September13 but today as in the first day of Tishrei, the first day of the seventh month which the Torah in Leviticus 23, tells us should be a day of complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts. But there is no mention of the creation of the world here, no explanation for the choice of the date.
Midrash steps in with eloquence. The creation of the world actually begins five days before Rosh Hashanah. First comes light, water, clouds, trees, birds, fish, animals and finally on the sixth day of creation, on the first day of the seventh month, humans are created. With their creation - the world is created. Anthropocentric assuredly; the world’s creation is man’s creation and man’s creation is the creation of the world. And hence we say by extension, that one who destroys a single soul is accounted by Scripture as though they had destroyed a whole world.
This thought leads Rabbi Yose the Galilean to say: Whatever the Holy One, blessed be He created in the world He created in man. He created forests in the world, forests in humans - hair. He created channels in the world, channels in humans - ears. He created wind in the world, wind in humans - breath. He created salt water in the world - salt-water in humans - tears. He created flowing waters in the world - flowing waters in humans - blood. He created sweet water in the world, sweet water in humans - saliva. He created firmaments in the world, firmaments in humans - the tongue.
The day man is created is indeed the day the world is created, for each of us is a created world. Our world perceptions are based on our own personal experiences. No one sees things quite the same as anyone else. We really are our very own world. Popular expressions such as, he is in his own world, she thinks the world revolves around her, he is on his own planet reflect this. One difference, these are of a negative bent, while the Midrashic notion carries a very different and loftier tone. Awesomeness if you will. We each contain a microcosm of the magnificence of this world. We are each our own universe. Oddly the thought is humbling. What have we each accomplished with this magnificent world? Have we used the gifts that God has given us to make this world, our world, each of our worlds a better place? When we talk of Tikun Olam, repairing the world, might we perhaps begin with ourselves with our own world? This is the message of Rosh Hashanah. The greater world is created along with the particular worlds of each of us humans. To fix the greater world we begin with ourselves.
The Shofar service tells us, Today the world was created today all mankind is judged. And so we turn to the new year and its imposing mood. The overall placing of Rosh Hashanah at this time feels right. In Talmud class we’ve been talking a lot about the beginning of the Jewish day. We’ve been told since we were small that the Jewish day begins at night. But does it really feel like that? As the sun sets do you begin to feel like a new day? Of course not, that is the feeling you have upon awakening. But now for the beautiful Jewish lesson; the day begins at nightfall, because without darkness and rest and holding still time you cannot be ready for the day.
The year resembles the day; the fall is twilight, the winter, night, the spring, dawn; summer, a long day of sunshine. Yes, the Jewish day begins at night. The Jewish year begins with the setting sun, with the evening of the year, autumn. It starts with quiet contemplation. We are preparing for our year. It makes sense. The world and each of us is setting about to recreate itself, new thoughts, new promises, and new goals. These days I hear no tapping of typewriters. But sermons are being word-processed, honey cakes baked and Rosh Hashanah is almost here.

The Jewish Summer

2007-07-25T09:26:00.000-07:00

While I do not disagree that summer is a time for fun. I do have to admit that the Jewish calendar does impose some challenges to the fun possibilities of summer. It is no accident that there is a Yiddish saying that highlights this decidedly “unfun” nature of the Jewish summer. In answer to what the rhythm of the Jewish summer is, the saying playfully tells us:
“Ziben vochen tzeilt men,
Drie vochen klocked men,
Feer vochen blozt men.”
“Seven weeks we count,
three weeks we cry,
and four weeks we blow.”
Each line refers to a different period during the spring or summer season, each one reflecting a specific observance, mood and custom. Let’s take them one at a time.

The first segment refers to the period that is just ending this past week. It is the phase of time that spans the weeks between the second day of Passover and the holiday of Shavuot. The commandment to count these days is found in the Book of Leviticus chapter 23 and is referred to as the counting of the Omer, the name of the sacrifice offered on the second day of Passover. One reason offered for the observance of this counting ritual is the notion that we are advancing spiritually from the day of the Exodus until the day of the receiving of the Torah. We count anxiously till that great moment of revelation at Sinai. Still nothing of a mournful nature here, but wait, that comes later in history.

The Talmud in Yevamot 62b relates that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died between this very segment of time between Pesach and Shavuot. We therefore have a practice to refrain from conducting public celebrations during this period of time; hence no weddings during this period, I should say during most of this period depending on your own personal custom. There are some variations and exceptions including of course the holiday of L’ag B’Omer, which is a super fun joyous day with weddings and celebrations galore.

The second period of time identified by the Yiddish saying is, the period of time that spans the three weeks from the Fast of Tammuz until Tisha B’Av when, “we cry”. The Fast of Tammuz commemorates the breach in the Temple wall along with other national tragedies that took place on that very same date. Tisha B’Av marks the destruction of the Temple, seen by Jewish tradition as one of the greatest tragedies to befall our people. The three weeks between these two fast days are days of mourning for Ashkenazic Jews with no weddings or public celebrations. Sephardic Jews begin their mourning the week of Tisha B’Av. The mourning intensifies as the month of Av begins with some restricting their intake of meat and wine during these “Nine Days” from Rosh Chodesh until the fast itself on the Ninth of Av itself, excepting of course Shabbat when wine and meat are permitted.

Finally, the third phase of time “the four weeks that we blow” refers to the four weeks that we blow the Shofar on a daily basis, during the month of Elul. We do this in advance of New Year, Rosh Hashanah. During these four weeks one may marry, however it is a time of solemnity and introspection as we approach the High Holiday season. It is a month of time devoted to Teshuvah, repentance.

Some might take a look at the months ahead with dread but I strongly believe in the nobility and transcendent quality of the Jewish calendar. It presents us with ups and downs, moments of sorrow and times to rejoice, a way to express the entire spectrum of human emotions. But, most importantly it is a cycle of life that is compelling and meaningful, rich and varied. Not easy, but wonderful. Imposed sadness may be awkward or even annoying and meaningless to some, however our mourning of Jerusalem has affected the consciousness of our people. It is who we are and part of what we are about, we are a people of memory. Our very real mourning practices, sitting on the floor, fasting, crying, even led Napoleon to declare after witnessing Jews mourning with genuine fervor and grief on Tisha B’Av remarked that "a people - that passionately mourns a national tragedy that took place over 17 centuries ago - is eternal."

Hebrew Matters

2007-06-12T09:33:00.000-07:00

I am a fervent Hebrew enthusiast. I love Hebrew; the words, the charming expressions, the subtle connections and the ancient reverberations in its lilt. Make no mistake, the speaking of Hebrew is no simple issue, indeed it is a question that scholars and philosophers have wrestled with generation after generation, starting perhaps from the first Diaspora in 586 BCE in Babylon after which Aramaic became the vernacular. Though our holiest texts are in Hebrew; through years of exile our popular spoken tongues became Aramaic, Ladino and Yiddish. Hebrew became a language of books; read in the study house and in the synagogue.

In spite of this, remarkably, miraculously, amazingly - on account of population censuses - we can project that we are approaching an era when Hebrew will be the spoken idiom of the majority of the Jewish people. For that alone it may be well worth giving it another shot. Know however, that utility does limited justice to the phenomenon of Hebrew study; there are huge ideas that encase the noble study of the Holy tongue.

A Midrash concerning the enslavement in Egypt wonders about our redemption and offers reasons for God’s deliverance of the Israelites; they did not alter their mode of dress, they maintained their Jewish names and they did not change their language. This teaching reveals a vital notion of our sages; retaining one’s language is essential to one’s survival. Of course, a common language binds a people together, solidifying their identity. Language unites, hence the multiplicities of language signals dispersal and disunity in the Tower of Babel narrative.

But, we are talking about more than simple cohesiveness – we are discussing survival. And this Midrash is about a unique kind of survival; a spiritual survival; redemption. Here the redemptive quality of survival is linked to language.

On these same lines the Sifre teaches us that the instruction found in the central prayer of declaration, the Shema, “vedebarta bam” and you shall speak of it, refers to the speaking of Hebrew. As soon as a child is able to speak, parents are enjoined to engage them in the speaking of language of our people. Now, this speaking of Hebrew is being elevated from practicality and survival, to a level of Mitzvah, commandment of the Almighty. Indeed, Maimonides echoes this thought in his commentary to Mishnah Avot, where he identifies the speaking of Hebrew as a mitzvah, albeit not the most major of commandments, but a mitzvah nonetheless.

For me this spiritual approach towards language is particularly powerful. There is something mystical about this language of revelation, it bespeaks an emotion experienced in the soul but articulated by the body. The learning of language may begin with painstaking learning of letters but as the words are formed and ideas articulated – language quickly transcends the confines of the letters and leaps into the lofty sublime realm of ideas. Moshe Greenberg puts it this way, “The uniquely Jewish store of concepts and values cannot be transmitted in translation.” Languages communicate the particular ideas of the people who speak it and in it lives their particular metaphors.

In the case of Hebrew, words give voice to the pathos of its speakers. I offer the classic Yiddish lullaby, “Oifin Pripichek”, as an example. Here the traditional melamed, teacher, sits by the fire place and urges his precious students to learn the letters together with the vowels. The tender sweet picture of the long white bearded rabbi somberly segues into an entirely different image. In the last stanza of the song the teacher cannot but help himself and asks his students movingly, do they know how much tears and how many feelings lie in these letters?

The teacher has given way to temptation, he pulls away the protective curtain, his didactic demeanor dims and he reveals himself. He allows his students a glimpse of the eternal pathos contained therein. How do we understand these tears? Are they tears of the struggle of study? Tears of lives risked at Torah study? Maybe they are tears of the deep knowledge of just what is at stake in the learning of these letters – everything.

This learning of Hebrew is huge; you need to ask yourself if you want to live a life in translation. You are right, all of our great works have been translated, the Torah, Mishnah, Midrash, Talmud, the Zohar and of course the siddur. But there is something missing, lost in translation. Gershon Shaked puts it this way, “Literature written for an imaginary audience which does not speak its language, is counterfeit and untruthful.” Though I can live without the nuances of Virgil in Latin or Aeschylus in Greek, or Voltaire in French, I cannot live without Torah in Hebrew.

I know it is not easy, I have experienced the challenge of attempting to learn a language – I have tried my hand at French and Russian and can claim little acquisition and no aptitude. But this is your language. The early Zionists had a dream of resurrecting a language; you can too be a part of that miracle.

Shavuot - Why Less is More

2007-05-21T11:58:00.000-07:00

Parshat Shemoth

2007-01-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

Talking Points

What is the connection between this act of Moshe of going out and seeing and something else that he saw later in the Parasha?
How are we to understand the "saw" here and the "saw" later?
What then is the Jewish criteria for leadership?
Who in Jewish history shares this quality and who does not?

Midrash Rabbah - Exodus I:27

27. AND IT CAME TO PASS IN THOSE DAYS, WHEN MOSES WAS GROWN UP (2:11).
Moses was twenty years old at the time; some say forty. '
When Moses was grown up. Does not everyone grow up?
Only to teach you that he was abnormal in his growth.
AND HE WENT OUT UNTO HIS BRETHREN. This righteous man went out on two occasions and God recorded them one after the other. And he went out on the second day these were the two occasions.
AND HE LOOKED ON THEIR BURDENS What is the meaning of AND HE LOOKED? He looked upon their burdens and wept, saying: Woe is me for you; would that I could die for you. There is no labour more strenuous than that of handling clay, and he used to shoulder the burdens and help each one.
R. Eleazar, son of R. Jose the Galilean, said: He saw great burdens put upon small people and light burdens upon big people, and a man's burden upon a woman and a woman's burden upon a man, and the burden which an old man could carry on a youth, and of a youth on an old man. So he left his suite and rearranged their burdens, pretending all the time to be helping Pharaoh. God then said to him: Thou hast put aside thy work and hast gone to share the sorrow of Israel, behaving to them like a brother; well, I will also leave those on high and below and only speak with thee. Hence it is written: And when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see 3:4, because God saw that Moses turned aside from his duties to look upon their burdens, He called unto him out of the midst of the bush.

Midrash of the Week

2006-12-28T10:59:00.000-08:00

Parshat Vayechi

One of the most outstanding moments in the entire Torah is the moment in this week’s parasha when Joseph articulates his forgiveness to his brothers. It seems so noble and perhaps too lofty. What was the inner thinking that brought Joseph to such a righteous declaration? This Midrash fills in some blanks.
What are the various possibilities about why Joseph was so magnanimous?
Do these reasons enhance our opinion of Joseph or do they make him more human?
How do you understand the end of the Midrash?
Midrash Rabbah - Genesis C:9
9. AND JOSEPH SAID UNTO THEM:... AND AS FOR YOU, YE MEANT EVIL AGAINST ME... NOW THEREFORE FEAR YE NOT... AND HE SPAKE TO THEIR HEART (L, 19 f.).
Can then a man speak to the heart? It means, however, that he spoke words which comfort the heart.
Ye have been likened to the dust of the earth, he told them, and who can exterminate the dust of the earth?
Ye have been likened to the beasts of thefield, and who can exterminate the beasts of the field?
Ye have been likened to the stars, and who can exterminate the stars?
Ten stars wished to destroy one star, but could not prevail against it: can I then change the natural order of the world that one star should destroy twelve stars? For these twelve stars correspond to the twelve hours of the day and the twelve constellations of the heavens.
R. Simlai said: He assured them: Ye are the body and I am the head, as it says, Let the blessing come upon the head, Joseph (Deut. XXXIII, 16): if the body is removed, of what use is the head?
Moreover, before ye came down hither I was called a slave, but after ye came down hither I was able to prove my [free] birth; this being so, would I actually slay you!
Further, if I slew you people would say, ‘This man cannot be trusted, for if he did not keep faith with his brethren, with whom will he keep faith?’
Further they would say, ‘They were not his brethren but a band of young men whom he saw and called his brethren,’ the proof being that eventually he brought a false accusation against them and slew them.
Again, shall I become my father's opponent, my father begetting and I burying; or shall I become an opponent of God, God blessing while I diminish!
Hence it says, AND HE COMFORTED THEM.
Now does this not furnish an argument: If Joseph could thus comfort the tribal ancestors by speaking soothing words to them, how much the more when the Holy One, blessed be He, comes to comfort Jerusalem!
Thus it says, Comfort ye, comfort ye My people, saith your God (Isa. XL, 1).

Parshat Vayigash

Bereshith Rabbah Genesis XCIV:5
5. AND ISRAEL TOOK HIS JOURNEY WITH ALL THAT HE HAD AND CAME TO BEER-SHEBA, AND OFFERED SACRIFICES UNTO THE GOD OF HIS FATHER ISAAC (46:1).
R. Joshua b. Levi said: I went round to all the masters of Haggadah in the south asking them to tell me the meaning of this verse, but they did not elucidate it for me, until I stood with Judah b. Pedayah, the nephew of Ben Hakappar, who explained to me: When a teacher and his disciple are walking in the way, you first greet the disciple and then the teacher.
R. Huna said: When R. Joshua b. Levi came to Tiberias he asked R. Johanan and Resh Lakish about it. R. Johanan said: The reason is because a man owes more honor to his father than to his grandfather. Resh Lakish said: He offered sacrifices for the covenant with the tribal ancestors.
Bar Kappara and R. Jose b. Patros discussed this. One of them said, Jacob declared: As my father was eager for his food, so am I eager for my food. The other explained it: As my father made a distinction between his sons, so am I making a distinction among my sons. But then on second thoughts I declared, says Jacob: My father had the care of but one soul whereas I have the care of seventy souls.
R. Judan made two comments, and R. Berekiah made two comments.
R. Judan said: Jacob declared, My father blessed me with five blessings, and the Holy One, blessed be He, correspondingly appeared five times to me and blessed me. R. Judan made another comment: Jacob declared, I thought that He would permit me the actual enjoyment of those blessings. What were those blessings? Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee but I now see that this applies to Joseph.
R. Berekiah made two observations: The Holy One, blessed be He, never unites His name with a living person save with those who are experiencing suffering, and Isaac indeed did experience suffering. The Rabbis said: We look upon him as though his ashes were heaped in a pile on the altar.
Talking Points
This Midrash centers on the question of why would Yaacov offer sacrifices to the God of his Father Yischak and not to the God of his grandfather Avraham as well?
I am very taken with the framework of Rabbi Joshua Ben Levi asking around for an answer to this question. Of course, I continue to be mystified with the notion of the ashes of Isaac – here is another Midrash that makes reference to the phenomenon of "Isaac’s Ashes" – though we know that he was not sacrificed – how do you understand that?
More questions for conversation.
How do the answers compare?
Which one makes the most sense to you?
Why do you think Rashi selects the answer of Rabbi Johanan?

Beauty is Truth

2006-12-27T17:03:00.000-08:00

This heightened commercialized season has me thinking. Is it my imagination or are people far vainer and more obsessed with their bodies than they have ever been? In addition to wrinkle prevention creams, exercise crazed programs, extensive menus of elective surgeries, now we have extreme makeover television shows that depict graphic Cinderella tales for all of us to voyeuristically view. True, I could change the channel, but still it is occurrs to me to ask; what is Judaism’s approach to all of this emphasis on physical beauty? Is it time for us to throw away the mirrors or schedule our own makeovers?

Though Judaism is of course a deeply spiritual pursuit, as we glance around we do indeed notice that its adherents are a pretty good looking bunch. One might say that even its staunchest devotees seem to be involved in their outward appearance. I wonder together with you whether or not we Jews have values of austerity, found so often among other religious belief systems or are we given over to the pursuit of the gorgeous? Is beauty a beast or a beloved? If we esteem the spiritual where are these kinds of ideals manifested and do they negate the physical?

We Jews are rarely accused of being an ascetic bunch; Judaism is usually described as a belief system that seeks to locate a balance between the physical and the spiritual. The question then is, are things out of balance with us as they seem to be with our surrounding culture? Are we too guilty of paying a skewed amount of attention to the corporal?

There may not be a simple answer here. Our traditional sources tell a story of the struggle between beauty and vanity, with plenty of texts reflecting a deference for the exquisite and yet a disdain for the vain.
Take the Book of Proverbs whose authorship is traditionally ascribed to King Solomon. Here we find multiple cautions concerning the falseness of physical attractiveness. The most celebrated passage of all, denouncing beauty, is often sung on Friday nights at the Shabbat table. The verse is found in the passage that is often referred to as the song of the Woman of Valor, Eshet Chayil. Here the Jewish super woman is extolled for her many talents and abilities.

She is a single handed economic powerhouse, a virtual merchant ship. She wakes early in the morning, she dresses her family, and she feeds them and the poor. She speaks the voice of kindness and is never lazy, she exudes strength and dignity. Finally, in the penultimate verse of the entire book we find a strong declaration condemning the physical, Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Aha, is this it? Do we Jews condemn the pursuit of attractiveness? Is this the Jewish approach to beauty; the mantra of all maidens? Shall we cast aside all mirrors, make-up and magnificence? Not so fast. Other verses authored by King Solomon also come to mind.

Let’s open the Biblical book, Song of Songs, one of the five megilloth. Here we seem to find a very different story. Take for example this short section from chapter four.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thine eyes are as doves behind thy veil; thy hair is as a flock of goats, that trail down from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes all shaped alike, which are come up from the washing; whereof all are paired, and none faileth among them. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy mouth is comely; thy temples are like a pomegranate split open behind thy veil. Thy neck is like the tower of David builded with turrets, whereon there hang a thousand shields, all the armor of the mighty men. Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies.

Quite the celebration of splendor! Though many urge us to consider the entire book as a metaphor for the relationship between God and the Jewish people, still our tradition teaches that a text cannot ever "escape" from its literal meaning. Physical beauty is depicted here and therefore one must acknowledge the worth of the physical. We cannot deny this stunning and stirring language. There seems to nothing quite like loveliness; flocks of goats notwithstanding.
Ironically, Song of Songs is also sung on Friday evenings. By the time we get to the challah and the gefilte fish we are a confused group of folks. So which is it; are we a people who scorn the physical or who adore the exquisite?
The following passage from the Talmud in no way tells the complete story on Talmudic beauty, but it is an interesting peek at male beauty.
Rabbi Yochanan said: I am the only one remaining of Jerusalem’s men of outstanding beauty. Let the one who wishes to perceive Rabbi Yochanan’s beauty take a silver goblet as it emerges from the silversmith fill it with the seeds of red pomegranates, encircle its brim with a garland of red roses, and set it between the sun and the shade. Its lustrous glow will be an approximation of Rabbi Yochanan’s beauty. Quite the sensual picture, and about a rabbi! Indeed it was Rabbi Yochanan’s practice to place himself near the exit of the mikvah, the ritual bath, so that women would glance upon his splendor and subsequently give birth to beautiful children. There must be something to this beauty, but what is it? We know that it cannot be an end to itself and we must agree that one of our greatest sages cannot be on a narcissistic ego trip. But rather the beauty of Rabbi Yochanan and the beauty of Song of Songs is the ethereal beauty that transcends the mundane. It is a beauty that reflects the inner through the outer.

This is the beauty of the soul shining through, as the great mystic Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzato teaches; the body has a capacity for holiness in as far as it a vessel for the soul. As the body performs mitzvoth and performs acts of righteousness it is lifted up and becomes holy. True beauty is the beauty that reflects a person’s soul, each person created in the image of God.
What then, are we casting aside society’s intensely predominate value of the exterior? Not quite, though perhaps we should. Instead we are reframing it. Beauty reveals the capacity for the body to reflect the pure radiant Godliness that we each hold inside. The key to a true beauty makeover may be less the product of the cosmetic counter and more the product of the soul.

America at 350

2006-12-26T16:45:00.000-08:00

Thinking about the celebrations around the 350th Year Anniversary of Jewish Life in the America, I wonder; why are we celebrating? Being here in the United States is a national tragedy and part of the Divine punishment imposed upon the Jewish people, as we say in the liturgy, "Because of our sins we have been exiled from our land." We are after all in exile, stationed here in a stopover on the way towards the ultimate redemption which we hope will bring an era of peace and the fulfillment of the promise of ingathering of the exiles to Zion. However, in spite of this I do think that we have two significant reasons to recognize this particular milestone in our long history, they are; Grace and Gratitude.
First the grace; the initial exile inflicted upon the Jewish people, was the exile to Babylonia around the year 586 BCE. The tragedy was almost unbearable. Is there Judaism outside of Israel? Those who had been exiled cried out, "How can we sing a song of the Lord on alien soil?" Jewish praxis and the holy land were linked intrinsically in their minds and the startling realization of the disjointing of the two was almost inconceivable. The prophet Jeremiah who witnessed the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, counsels the exiled with words from God. At the same time he provides generations of future Jews with compelling words of guidance for living in the Diaspora.

"Thus says the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel,
to the whole community which I exiled from Jerusalem to Babylon;
Build houses, and live in them, plant gardens, and eat their fruit;
Take wives, and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons,
and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters;
that you may be increased there, and not diminished.
And seek the peace of the city to which I have exiled you to,
and pray to the Lord for it; for in its prosperity shall you prosper."

Each time I study this passage I am amazed and deeply moved. Here we Jews are being punished, banished and degraded, yet we are given a twofold directive. First, don’t despair, build yourselves up, do not stagnate. Second, the fate of your host country is your fate. Ironically, the nations to which you have been exiled are not to be objects of ire, but rather they are to be prayed for and supported. I believe it is these words of Jeremiah that served as a modus operandi for our people through our lengthy and extensive sojourns.
Deal with what you have been dealt, with grace. Though we are separated form the holy land do not despair. The fiery chariot of the Prophet Ezekiel symbolizes the powerful idea of the Divine Presence that travels into exile with the people. There can be spirituality outside the land; the Shekhina journeys together with the Jews. Sanctity can surely be found even outside the land of Israel. You can feel it in houses of worship and places of study, though this is no simple pursuit. In his chapter, Shekhina in America, in the wonderful book, Jewish American Poetry, Eric Selinger explores the ideas of spirituality and the struggle and tension of seeking holiness inside a foreign culture. I think we can be proud of our attempt, with grace we have handled the challenge, with grace we have built schools of Torah and with grace we have drawn the Shekhina down, even into America.
The second significant reason for marking this milestone is gratitude. Let us not for a moment forget the sanctuary that the United States has been for our people, from that first moment 350 years ago when a boatload of Jews arrived from Brazil. Many of us have our survival story. The story of how America was the sanctuary for our particular family seeking religious freedom.
Let me share my own story, a story of dramatic contrasts; the difference between February 1919 and December 2004, the difference between the Ukraine and the United States. On January 11, 1919, the following announcement was posted in my grandfather’s shtetl, Felshtin, by the head of the Information Bureau:
"The first warning to the Jewish population. I have learned that the Jewish population is confusing the minds of the peasants. I warn the Jews that the Information Bureau is well instructed. They will all have to pay dearly for this offense, and the peasants themselves will make them pay. You have no one from whom to expect help!"
600 Jews were killed in that pogrom in February including my grandfather’s first wife and two daughters. Brutally wounded, he was left for dead. The carnage unspeakable.
Flash forward eighty five years to the 2004. As I climbed the red carpeted White House stairs this past winter it was the image of my grandfather who appeared in my mind. I heard music and slowly identified the tune that the uniformed band was playing, Sivivon Sov, Sov, Sov, a Chanukah song. I was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears began to flow. I thought to myself, "Why am I walking the stairs to meet the President, perhaps the most powerful person in the world and why did my grandfather lay in a pool of blood? Why am I honored and my grandfather left for dead?" Some questions always remain. I am indebted to this country for embracing both of my grandfathers, grandmothers and my parents. If not for the welcoming shores of New York of the late twenties I would not be here. Gratitude does not preclude our hopes and dreams for a Messianic tomorrow, but rather it is the stuff upon which we build those dreams.

Quite the Festival of Lights

2006-12-20T11:35:00.000-08:00

Quite the Festival of Lights, indeed. As the sun set on Friday, we in the Jewish community who had lost power were entering into what some might suggest would be more aptly called a Festival of Darkness. It became a four day long holiday of chilliness; candles being lit not only in windows, as tradition demands, but throughout our eerily darkened homes.

Much has been reported about our area’s dramatic human surrender to nature but I haven’t seen the Jewish-Chanukah angle anywhere. Maybe this is not surprising, what with our city still reeling under the Seatac airport Menorah fiasco.

As we attempted to observe what we like to think of as a minor festival, our holiday food production was stymied and our Sabbath meals almost thwarted. In place of the classic autumnal High Holiday soulful prayer, “who shall live and who shall die” the questions now were more like “who has a gas stove, who cooks with electric?” And then friends’ homes began to open. Everyone was suddenly sleeping and eating everywhere but home, and the warmth of friendship and hospitality replaced the more mundane variety that runs through wires.

But later as we walked home from synagogue Friday evening in the frightening heavy blackness, feeling our way tentatively along the tree limb strewn sidewalks, it didn’t quite feel like the days of miracles, but rather of abandonment and aloneness. Where is the light on this holiday? Cold and dark did not seem to fit with fond cherished memories of Chanukahs past.

There were some on that chilling walk home, brazen enough to point out the irony of trees and lights coming down, while candles in Menorahs burned steadily in the windows of homes that we were passing. Port Authority of Seattle? Perhaps this, the year that Jews were brutally gunned down and one even viciously murdered right in downtown Seattle, perhaps this year was not the best year to ban the placing of the Menorah in the airport. Perhaps, this was the year to acknowledge the Supreme Court decision that the Menorah, not unlike the Christmas Tree, for the purposes of public display, has been determined to be a secular symbol.

After all is said and done we will never know just exactly what went on behind closed doors at those meetings between rabbis and airport officials; but this we do know - that a graceful elegance was absent. Our community would surely have appreciated a nod in our direction. Instead, ugly images and quotes were spread by media. And that very slightly below the surface Mel Gibsonesque anti-Semitism reared its ugly head. Rabbis and Jewish organizations received repulsive hateful e-mails and we were again on alert; not the holiday spirit for anyone.

This is not an easy time of year. There are great expectations for nostalgic celebrations, tensions of tight timelines for holiday preparations; none of us found this storm to be particularly helpful in that regard. It did however teach each of us that light must emerge from inside, warmth comes from friends; that Menorah in the window shining brightly through the storm? It reminds us of a very idealistic struggle for religious freedom and there is nothing more American than that, Happy Chanukah.

Will A Red String Save You?

2006-12-17T12:40:00.000-08:00

A friend recently told me that her daughter returned from Israel and not unlike many visitors she brought back gifts. She presented her with a red string, blessed at the Tomb of Rachel. She tied it around her mother’s wrist and told her mom that it would guarantee that no harm will ever befall her. Her daughter told her that the red string protects from the dreaded evil eye and that Madonna and Paris Hilton wear them too!

What to do when an ancient Jewish practice turns trendy? Somehow the sight of my Hassidic friend’s children with red threads tied around their wrists looks awfully different than non-Jewish celebrities sporting these suddenly chic red threads spouting all sorts of misguided new-age Kabbalah.
That you can purchase these red strings over the internet with all sorts of promises intensifies my concern.

Here is what the Kabbalah Center pledges regarding the red string, which is for sale for a sum of $26.00 from the Kabbalah Center.

“The Red String protects us from the influences of the Evil Eye. Evil eye is a very powerful negative force. It refers to the unfriendly stare and unkind glances we sometimes get from people around us. Envious eyes and looks of ill will affect us, stopping us from realizing our full potential in every area of our life.”

Let me unravel some of the issues for you. Firstly the evil eye; many of us grew up with notions of ayin hara , the evil eye. My mother, of blessed memory, confided in me the secret incantation in Yiddish that is an assured antidote to the evil eye. I was not, she cautioned me to use this incantation unless it was absolutely necessary. It was not an incantation to be evoked casually. I was dully impressed. I have never squandered its implementation, you can be sure of that.
The core belief of ayin hara is that people who may be envious of you may cast an “evil eye” upon you and in your height of success or good fortune you could be brought down by their evil vibes. Psychologically, I think this actually has some validity; bad vibes can’t ever be helpful. Additionally ayin hara certainly has weight if you believe it to be true.
As an aside, the opposite of ayain hara also exits; it is the ayin tov, the good eye. One who posses an ayin tov, a good eye, looks with a grand heart at what others have and at their talents with no jealousy, but with rather generosity and delight. Our Matriarch Sarah was said to have had an ayin tov, a good eye. She looked upon all and as we say in Yiddish she “fahrgint” them meaning she felt a generosity of spirit towards all. This is a noble magnanimous attitude each of us should strive to embrace. It is the opposite of schadenfreud, delight when someone feels satisfaction and glee at another person’s failure.
Back to the red thread; so far we have established what the red thread is supposed to counteract. Now we need to figure out how it works. Why red? Why a string? Why tied around the wrist?
The color red has obvious associations with blood, the life force and with danger and perhaps impending perils. In the Bible several episodes come to mind involving red threads. In Genesis we read that the midwife ties a red thread around the wrist the first twin to emerge from Tamar. The baby had quickly drawn back into womb and she wanted to mark the firstborn. What do we learn from this? It tells us something simple and maybe useful. Red thread was around. It was tied on the wrist. It was a mark of some kind.
The next episode that comes to mind is an incident from the Book of Joshua. As the spies enter the land they find safe sanctuary with a Canaanite woman, named Rahab who they promise to spare upon their return to Jericho. They suggest that she hang a red rope outside as a sign. They were lowered down by the very same rope and escape back to the Israelite camp. Upon the return of the Israelites this sign of the red rope will protect. No harm will come to Rahab and her family, though the rest of Jericho will be destroyed. Could this be the beginning of the protection notion of the red thread? Perhaps, but still a stretch.
Some think that perhaps the red thread serves as a reminder of some sort. You look at the thread and your remember Matriarch Rachel. You remember her generosity of spirit as she helps her sister, Leah, marry her own intended groom Jacob. It may lead you to recall her weeping for her people. Perhaps in some way your good thoughts can counteract other people’s evil thoughts. Maybe, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of Jewish legal writing to back any of these theories.
Here’s my bottom line. Those who have a family tradition to wear a red thread as do many Sephardic and Hassidic families, this is their practice and I see nothing compelling to stop them. It is certainly not forbidden by Jewish law though we really do not support most superstitions which have tended to become part of Jewish practice as we became influenced by other cultures.
On the other hand for those outside our faith to adopt this practice I think trivializes Judaism and true Jewish practices, and in some ways reduces Judaism to a ridiculous, silly shtick. We are not that! We are a very deep meaningful religion with very real expectations, disciplines, rituals and mitzvoth whose purpose is to turns us towards God Almighty, to Divine service and to doing good in this world. I do not see where the donning of a red thread comes into all of this nor do I understand Jews who traffic these practices to the outside world.

Recipe of the Week

2006-12-01T17:03:00.000-08:00

These are recipes that are Shabbos oriented and very easy!

*Gefilte Fish with Tomato Sauce
This is an easy, warm and perfect comfort food for a cold Friday Night.
Take one or two loaves of Gefilte Fish place in a casserole dish add two large cans of tomato sauce – bag or two of frozen peppers strips and a bag of pearl onions – bake for an hour and a half. Keep warm till you serve.

Cellphones, God and CSI

2006-11-29T12:45:00.001-08:00

Though I have had my own moments of frustration with the pace of new high tech equipment, I am coming to the realization that they can perhaps tach us all something beyond their typical usages. Since these are products of God-given intellect maybe these inventions can even improve our relationships both with each other and God.
Let’s look for the positive. Embedded in these advances are some big Jewish lessons that may actually speak to our constant spiritual concerns. Here are six examples of lofty notions reflected in up-to-the-minute designs and advances. Two lessons from computers, three from cell phones and one from CSI!
1. Email Addresses: Have you ever failed to receive or to successfully transmit an email to its destination because you left out a dash, period or digit in the address? This has often been the case for me. When giving or taking down someone's address do you meticulously repeat the address, over and over, for fear that without that tiny tiny miniscule dot your message may be prevented from getting to its target? I know I do. This phenomenon graphically illustrates a very critical nuance of Jewish law; one that I have had a hard time explaining over the years.
In sessions about mezuzot, Torah scrolls or teffillin, people have a hard time with the idea that if one small letter of an entire Torah, mezuzah or teffillin parchment is erased, scratched or not accurate it renders the entire ritual object "tref" or not good. I have heard people criticize our tradition, why are we so picky? Do we Jews all suffer from borderline compulsive disorders? Why can’t Jewish law be more pliable, human and understanding about the lack of perfection. Friends, email addresses has arrived to teach us an important lesson - if the scripting is not precise, the mail does not get delivered. Precision is critical and if one letter is off it renders the entire enterprise is worthless and undeliverable.
2. Hard drive: Over and over we are told in the Torah that God is long of memory. Who can imagine a memory thousands of years long? Who can picture storehouses of recollections? Well, now that we are all familiar with the way hard drives operate I think we can all better grasp the idea that not a single action of ours goes unrecorded. Everything we do is set before the Heavenly Tribunal. Once something is performed on a computer, it is there almost for posterity. Though you think you have hit delete, your document is probably still on the hard drive. The tiny movements you make on the Internet are traceable. Your actions are known and your deeds are stored away for reckoning.
3. Cell phone Sim cards: The morning of our grandson's bris was a bit hectic. In the rush of bathing the baby, packing up the car, getting dressed, I dropped my cell phone into a glass of water. Not the best day for this to happen. However, clever son Eli took the "sim card" from my phone and transferred it to another that one that we had around, not being used.
Poof! My phone was resurrected. Now, I realize I may be out on a limb here, but as I watched him doing this sensitive transplant my one thought was a sim card is the very soul of the phone. Just as the body is the vessel of the soul so to this plastic keypad is the container for the sim card. It so hit home to me. The memory, the phone numbers the voice mail was all on that card held so eloquently in that phone. A very real visual for the soul contained in the body.
4. Cell phone reception. You're driving along and suddenly you cannot hear your friend’s voice. In place of clear words you are hearing a garbled sound reminiscent of the subway announcer in New York train system. You have no reception.
You look at the bars that gage the capability of reception and they have dissipated. You are out of range. Messages are being sent but you are not receiving them. Jewish philosophers have struggled over the years with the idea of prophecy. Who receives prophecy? Where does it come from? What is prophecy? Maimonides explains that God is always emanating prophetic truth but few are able to receive them. One must be in a place that has reception, both physically and spiritually. Sometimes you have reception and sometimes you don’t.
5. Charging those Cell phones. Many of us have a new ritual before going to bed; we charge our phones, plug them into a wall at home, at the airport anywhere because without the new charge the phone will not work. Why do we understand this idea for our phones but not for ourselves? Our phone needs life and we accommodate it. Our phone needs to get all charged up and we figure out a way to get it done. We don’t do it for ourselves but we manage do to it for our phones. We humans need to get connected and recharged also. We need to connect to our source of energy in order to operate well. How do you feel after studying Torah? Well if you are studying with the kind of people that I study with, you feel all charged up; reinvigorated after connecting to the source of life force. Why not be as efficient about charging yourself up with spiritual electricity in the form of prayer, mediation and study as you are efficient about your phone’s nightly charge?
6. DNA: As an avid crime scene investigation TV program viewer, I consider myself an amateur DNA specialist. One single cell form the human body tells you the story about the entire body form which that cell was taken. Each cell contains in it the information about the larger body from which it was acquired. What a powerful metaphor for Torah. Here is what I mean. We have 613 mitzvoth, commandments in the Torah. Some more obscure than others but all I believe carry the “DNA” of the entire Torah. Take any single commandment, in our explanation of it, in our unpacking it , it never stands alone. It is part of entire system of Torah and deeply reflects all of the morals and teachings of the entire body of Torah. Select any seemingly esoteric law. Here’s one; you must build a fence around your flat roof. We care about human life, it is our ultimate value. Prevent loss of life. Plan. Let our deepest values be reflected in the construction of your home. Let that value guide you even in the mundane activity of house design; a simple example, but one of many.
Next time you pick up a cell phone think about its soul, think about a computer’s memory, never forget to get recharged and remember if you are in the right place you never know what you might be able to hear through good reception…

Consider this idea -- Chanukah Ushpizin!

2006-11-29T12:45:00.000-08:00

Ushpizin is the Aramaic word for guest. The custom of Ushpizn is practiced on each night of Succot. We invite guests in to our Succhah. Traditionally they are Biblical figures. We tell their story, we discuss their life and some of us even craft our menu around them; red lentil soup for Jacob, lamb for Isaac, you get the idea. What if we were to create Chanukah Ushpizin? Let us identify eight people from different moments in Jewish history that each embodies the ideals and heroism of Chanukah. Then we "invite" them into our homes.
After lighting the candles take a few minutes to announce the arrival of the evening’s guest. The guests appear in chronological order highlighting challenging times in our history.
In preparation you might do a little research of your own but if time is limited simply read the short paragraph below. Then encourage your family and friends to discuss the person and their story. In what way does their life inform our celebration of Chanukah?
If you are feeling particularly ritualistic like you might begin by an official declaration, otherwise simply launch a conversation around the evening’s personality.
Here is my list, feel free to create your own. Start with this opening declaration if you like and follow with a list of guests and a few short details about their life.
Welcome venerable guest! Welcome to our celebration of Chanukah. On this Night of Chanukah we celebrate your story of heroism and commitment our people and our beliefs.
First Night
Mattiyahu. How could we not start with this preeminent figure of the Chanukah story? Known in English as Matthias, he is father of the Maccabees. When Greek officers arrive in Modi'in with the intention of forcibly implementing the king's ordinances regarding sacrifices to idols, Mattityahu refuses. Together with his sons and other believers he launches the battle against the Greco-Syrians.
Second Night
Judith is one of our most courageous female heroines. The legend goes that she was coerced by the Greco-Syrians to spend the night with the foreign general before her own wedding. Once alone with the inebriated man she was able to cut off his head, present it to the Maccabbees who proceeded to win the battle against the leaderless army.
Third Night
Yochannan ben Zakkai is the first century sage who faced with the destruction of the Temple by the Romans and the virtual obliteration of his community succeeds in extricating a promise from Vespasian the conquering general to preserve and save the Torah scholars of Yavneh thereby guaranteeing the continuity of our people.
Fourth Night
Don Isaac Abravanel who lived in the 15th century in Spain was a great Torah scholar. Though he was a prominent member of the court of Ferdinand and Isabella he opted to be exiled together with the Jewish community in 1492. He heroically led them in the march out of Spain.
Fifth Night
Sara Bat Tovim lived in the 1700’s in the Ukraine which was still reeling from the Chmelnitzki uprisings. There she began to write prayers specifically for women with uniquely female themes. The prayers were in Yiddish and used by women. Her heroism is the heroism of a less dramatic nature, but deeply significant.
Sixth Night
In the 1920’s Sara Schenier living in Krakow Poland began to realize that young Jewish women were receiving no formal Jewish education. She heroically launched the Bais Yaacov movement still alive and well till today. She started with one school and one small group of young women. By the time World War II started there were over 20,000 women studying in her schools, most of her students perished in the Holocaust.
Seventh Night
We invite two young women, Ala Gertner was one, who on October 7, 1944, several hundred prisoners relegated to Crematorium IV at Auschwitz-Birkenau rebelled after realizing that they were going to be killed that evening. During the revolt, they were able to blow up one of the gas chambers. The prisoners had used explosives smuggled into the camp by these two young Jewish women who had been assigned to forced labor in a nearby armaments factory. The Jewish women who had smuggled the explosives into the camp were caught and publicly hanged.
Eighth Night
Natan Scharansky looms large in the minds of those of us who were alive during the refusnik period. After spending almost ten years in Soviet prisons for trumped up espionage charges he was released with great celebration. Afterwards, when he was asked about his ordeal andhow he had survived, he spoke about a book of David's Psalms, which his wife had given to him. In particular Psalm chapter 23 which said, "fear noevil" which would later become the title of his autobiography.
I hope this helps bring the Chanukah story alive. It is a story with reverberations throughout history and a tale that begins with the Maccabees but continues through the great people of all generations who display every day courage as well as spectacular acts and who are ready to lay their life on the line in more ways than one, for Judaism and the Jewish people.

Katzav, Rape & the Torah

2006-11-28T21:11:00.002-08:00

The very public and lengthy morass surrounding the accusations against President Katsav presents us with an opportunity to explore the subject of rape as it is treated in Jewish sources. The occurrence of rape in society and its handling is attributed among other variables to a culture’s deep beliefs and values regarding women. Some suggest that societies which are prone to rape are ones where women’s public voice is not heard and where women are not part of public decision making. Germane to our discussion it is critical to note that Israel ranks 74th in the world for female representation in parliament with 17 out of 120 possible Knesset seats held by women; that is a low 14.2% of leadership.
Back to the sources, in the Tanach, the twenty four books of the Hebrew Scripture, there are three major incidents that inform our collective Jewish consciousness and sculpt our understandings of rape. It is important to not take for granted that our canon contains these powerful stories. That they are a part of our tradition speaks volumes. The texts invite us to delve into the phenomenon of rape, to draw lessons from the particulars and to be reflective on the horrors described - they challenge us to scrutinize the past and consider our own experiences. The three stories are found in three different books; Genesis, Judges and Samuel II; each are representative of dramatically different rape scenarios still prevalent today.
The first and perhaps most well known is story of Dinah the daughter of Leah and of Jacob who in Genesis 30 sets out to meet the daughters of the land of Shechem, is kidnapped, raped and tortured by a stranger. Afterwards, in a not an untypical ancient kind of way the perpetrator meets with Jacob and offers to marry his victim and establish familial ties. Repulsed with the notion, brothers Simeon and Levi, dupe the offender and his entire town into an agreement to be circumcised before any nuptials can take place. The brothers then fall upon the newly circumcised as they are recovering, a bloody massacre ensues which is later condemned severely by Jacob.
The episode in Samuel II also involves brothers, murder and mayhem with the additional element of incest to compound the dreadfulness. Here it is Amnon son of David who sickeningly plots to take his half sister, Tamar, sister of Absalom, against her will during a modern-like date rape situation. He even purports to be in love with her. She movingly pleads with him to back off, but to no avail. She is heartlessly raped and then discarded by Amnon who after the deed despises her. Absalom, Tamar’s brother conspires shrewdly to execute a murderous vengeance upon his half-brother Amnon. David, though angry about the rape now faces the death of one son and the alienation from the other.
A number of parallels between the two stories emerge. Both narratives involve violent, passionate, action-taking vengeful bothers, reticent fathers and victimized daughters. In one, Dinah is voiceless, in the other Tamar in cunning desperation attempts to extract herself from the attack. Both stories illustrate the brutal reality of men who force, the resulting primal, visceral reaction to the act of rape and the dreadful consequences for women; what happens next to Dinah and to Tamar we are never told.
The third story from the Book of Judges chapter 19 is one of a gang rape perpetrated upon the concubine of a traveling Levite who finds himself in the territory of the Benjaminites with no where to stay the night. The lone hospitable person is an elderly man who provides them with shelter. In the course of the evening as the news spreads that a stranger is in town the natives fall upon the house, demand that the stranger appear and give himself over to them. In a not unlike Sodom scenario the concubine is offered instead, raped through the night and left for dead on the doorstep at daybreak. The Levite lets all of Israel know about the violent, ghastly brutality through an especially horrific gory medium; a punishing war ensues between the other tribes and the Benjaminites; leaving 18,000 Benjamintes dead. This gang rape scene has haunting modern echoes.
Again, rape leads to passions flaring and violence. Should these extreme reactions be attributed to an admirable intolerance towards the rape of women or are we looking at the reactions of males threatened by their loss of power and possession? Which ever the case the reality is we need some tempering of the tempers.
To counterbalance these tales, the Torah provides the balance, restraint and control of law, halacha. Deuteronomy 22 outlines some of legalities of rape. Here we learn that when a woman is raped the rapist is expected to pay damages and to marry his victim. He is never permitted to divorce her. Though this seems like a ridiculous cruel porspect, the economic reality of the Ancient Near East rendered a non-marriageable woman destitute and futureless. Here at least he must take responsibility for his actions. Though, if the victim chooses she may elect to not marry her attacker. The Mishnah later elaborates on the subject of damages and makes clear that "damages" could include compensation for indignity, blemish, injury and pain; a considerable reparation package.
The situations that present in the three tales of rape in the Bible are each situations where there does not seem to be an appropriate legal framework that can kick-in with reason and resolve. The Genesis story, albeit pre-Torah law involves a non-marriageable Canaanite man raping the daughter of Jacob, the rape of Tamar was an act of incest precluding possibilities of marriage and the gang rape of the concubine is an unwieldy unsolvable situation given the legal parameters of Deuteronomy 22. These are not simple circumstances; these rapes do not fit into easy categories, hence violence becomes the problem solving medium. But these stories also serve as dramatic ancient object lessons.
One would hope that a people raised on the mothers milk of Dinah, Tamar and the Concubine of Giveah would be a people who abhor violence and abuse towards women. One would wish that those who are schooled in the Torah of kindness would have ensconced in their very being the unpardonable, reprehensible nature of rape. Unfortunately, our ongoing chronic power abuses indicate immunity to ancient lessons. In lieu of hopes and wishes regarding the past let us watch as justice resolves with reason the situation of President Katsav and let it too join our national stories as an object lesson for the next generation.

Judith the Obscure

2006-11-28T21:11:00.001-08:00

Sadly, the female experience has become invisible through the ages sometimes even when their role is remarkably critical. To see a significant and meaningful place for women in the Chanukah celebration, one needs to do a little digging -- but not too much. Let's look at the vast body of rich Jewish legal literature, sometimes it may reveal that which you least expect.
Let us begin by opening the Shulchan Aruch, Code of Jewish Law, authored by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the sixteenth century. In section 970 we find the first law concerning Chanukah. He starts with the simple; Chanukah is for eight days beginning on the 25th of Kislev. These are days when eulogies and fasting are prohibited, but work is permitted - except for women who have the custom to abstain from doing any form of labor while the candles are burning. Further on, he writes that women are obligated in lighting Chanukah candles and may light on behalf of the entire household.
Two interesting points jump out. First, though the laws of Chanukah go on for pages, it is women's custom that immediately takes center stage. The only labor prohibited on the festival is by women - during the burning of the Chanukah candles. The second significant halachic twist is that in spite of the principal that women are exempt from positive time bound commandments - when it comes to the lighting of the Chanukah candles their obligation is equal to that of men.
Questions; why do women have the custom to refrain from work while the Chanukah candles burn? Why do they seem to have a higher level of commitment or perhaps reverence for the Chanukah lights? And finally, why are they obligated in lighting Chanukah candles?
Now we will zoom back in time to search the pages of the Talmud for Rabbi Karo’s source. Opening to page 23a of Tractate Shabbat we find that “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says that women are obligated in the mitzvah of Chanukah lights, for they too were involved in the miracle." They too were involved in the miracle? Rabbi Shlomo Yischaki, Rashi, tenth century scholar, suggests two possible interpretations to the puzzling phrase. First, they too were involved in the miracle - they too were subjugated to the Greeks, but in a terribly tragic way particular to women only. Each Jewish virgin was forced to be with a Greek officer before marrying. Second possibility; it was through a woman that the miracle occurred. This provocative comment is echoed and enlarged upon by Rashi’s grandson Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, Rashbam, he adds, that the Chanukah miracle was done through the hands of Yehudit, Judith.

Ah, Judith the Obscure! To uncover her mystery, we must do some pasting together of Apocrypha, midrash and poetry. The reconstruction of this episode may never be completely satisfying, but what does emerge is a tale of heroism and sacrifice. It is unclear whether it is Judith the widow who goes forth willingly or Judith the bride who is taken by force, but, once alone with the Greek general she feeds him wine and cheese. She waits for the soporific meal to take its effect, cuts off his head, places it in her basket and ever so nonchalantly she returns to the Judean camp. Officers, troops and soldiers of the Greek camp are left in leaderless disarray and a breach enabling the smaller Judean army to triumph. And thus the miracle was truly executed by a woman.

Now what do we see? Is this what we might call a usable past? I think so. The legend together with halachic practice has bequeathed to women a powerful symbol. Yes, we were victims; but we were also heroes. We are part of the miracle. We were oppressed, but we joined together with our brothers to fight back. Yehudit, Judith is enshrined forever in sculpture, art work, librettos, and novels. Her memory is recalled on the Shabbat of Chanukah when traditionally we recite a lengthy twelfth century piyyut, poem, describing the pathos of her wedding and youthful fears of what awaited her.

Let each and every woman light a Chanukah menorah, refrain from work, watch flames and remember. Let us see in those flames both the pain of our ancestors and the courage of their actions - both male and female alike.

Vayeshev: And so the story starts...

2006-11-28T21:11:00.000-08:00

It begins with a brutal primal fratricide and ends with a stirring brotherly reconciliation. It starts with a story of silent distant parents and ends with the bestowal of impeccably sculpted patriarchal blessings; a scene awash with dutiful and doting filial homage. When taken in measured weekly doses, the Book of Bereshit provides us with a steady array of compelling and often unsettling family situations. When taken as a whole the book begs the question of progression and sequence. We cannot help but notice the stark contrast between the opening of the book and its conclusion. What moves the story from a place of dysfunction to a place of healing? How are the episodes along the way related to this development?
Not a single word of dialogue between Adam and Eve and their children Cain and Abel is provided by the Torah. Did they exchange words? I am sure that they did. That not one sentence and not one word is recorded speaks volumes. That no conversations are recorded tells us that there was no record-worthy interchange between parent and children. No record-worthy conversation in the Torah between parent and child reflects a deep and striking absence of relationship. Not a few readers note that Adam and Eve have no parental models; created directly from the earth, not birthed from womb, they understandably lack parenting skills. As such, they are far from being perfect parents. In a scene absent of parental supervision, one son's offering is accepted, one is rejected. The hurt is too painful to bear, the burning jealously is inextinguishable and the one son murders the other. The chain of sibling rivalry episodes is launched.
It is in Parshat Vayeshev that the sibling rivalry episodes reach their most complex and detailed level of narrative as the Joseph story unfolds. Preceded by Ishmael's banishment and Esau's disinheritance, the Joseph stories provide us with a full-bodied and intensely cathartic tale of favoritism and jealously, loss and reinstatement. That it is preceded by the Isaac and Ishmael experience and by the Jacob and Esau episode is indispensable and essential to the unraveling of the story's nuances. As this is final instalment in the sibling strife series launched with Cain and Abel, it builds upon those that came before and most satisfyingly concludes with hope. Brothers can make peace. The Joseph parshiyot in their length and depth are a profoundly fulfilling conclusion to a Bereshit launched with a Cain and an Abel.
As Joseph is thrown into the pit, precious coat violently ripped off of him, we pause in frustrated scorn; again a brother is victim to brotherly hatred? The selling of Joseph comes on the heals of a birthright sold under duress and the banishment of a son that does not belong. It is the final instalment that needs to be considered in context.
First the banishment. Ishmael is born from a liaison fraught with self-interest and conflict, bereft of love and commitment. No wonder then that he will become a wild-ass of a man his hand in everything. He does not belong and as he plays with the rightful heir, the chosen son Isaac, a danger is sensed by Sarah; Ishmael must be banished. Isaac grows up in a home from which the ill-fitting son has been cast away. Wonder that when faced as a parent with an ill-fitting son, Yischak chooses the opposite technique. Esau is embraced and held close while Jacob must scheme to receive the blessing he deserves. Isaac's affection for Esau is puzzling and to some even disturbing. Perhaps his hope was to bring close rather than to banish, to embrace rather than to alienate; the loss of a brother ever fresh.
Jacob's inelegant exchange of lentil soup for birthright is followed by the deceptively acquired blessing. For these deeds Jacob is rewarded with years of pain. His beloved Rachel is switched on the wedding night for Leah, she is the eldest daughter destined to marry the eldest brother. Jacob now the eldest by virtue of a purchased birthright and a blessing taken under suspicious pretence is married to the eldest. As was Isaac blinded and unknowing, so too was Jacob fooled. Children are born of wives competing for the love of one man; jealously ensues. We arrive at the saga of Joseph.
Wearing the privileged coat of colours he becomes a talebearer bringing reports on his brothers back to Father. He has dreams of night that reflect daytime thoughts of grandeur. This lording over his brothers lands him stripped of the coat, in a pit waiting to be sold down to Egypt. They have had enough of him. Textual confusion notwithstanding, years later he identifies himself: I am Joseph your brother; you sold me down to Egypt. Trading of humans; father purchases birthright; son is sold into slavery.
Jacob's preferential treatment of Joseph leads to no good; yet times changes Jacob. As he prepares for the end of life, blessings are bestowed upon each of the brothers. No silent parent here. Jacob unlike Adam speaks to each son and with carefully measured words each receives a fitting eternal message.
The book - that began with the arrogant theft of life, grabbed by Cain as he brutally denies Abel his right to live; he knows not that God in His divinity is the sole author of life - concludes with the powerful humble pronouncement of Joseph: do I stand in the place of God? Lessons are learned. Generations teach generations; repair is made. Perhaps Joseph's peace with his brothers begins the healing for the murder of Abel. It all must start somewhere; the end is in sight as Parshat Vayeshev begins and Joseph the Tzadik struts across the stage, we must grimace as the story starts, but comfort yourself we know its end as well.