Bar Mitzvah – The Celebration of Obligation

An adult Jew is obligated to obey the mitzvos—the commandments—and is held responsible for his or her actions. A child is not. At what point does a child become an adult? According to Jewish law, the age of majority—when a minor ceases to be a minor—is twelve for a girl and thirteen for a boy. At this point the child becomes a bar or bas mitzvah—“one who is commanded”—a person who is bound by the laws of the Torah.

The law that a Jew becomes an adult at the ages of twelve or thirteen is not to be found in the actual text of the Torah. Nevertheless, it is a Torah law with equal stature to all the laws of the Torah. The technical term for such a law is a halacha l’Moshe m’Sinai—a law from Moses at Sinai—a product of the authoritative Oral Torah which God gave to Moses at Sinai together with the Written Torah. It is this Oral Torah—which is largely recorded in the Talmud and related works—that distinguishes Judaism from the various man-made religions that are loosely based upon Scripture. It is significant that the very essence of one’s status as a Jew—a person who is bound by the laws of the Torah—is dependent upon a law derived from the Oral Torah. When we celebrate a bar or bas mitzvah, we are also confirming our faith in the Oral Torah.

Technically, no celebration is necessary for a child to become a bar mitzvah. There is no actual ritual of bar or bas mitzvah; one does not become “bar mitzvahed”. In this respect, the bar or bas mitzvah is significantly different from the various other life-cycle celebrations of Judaism, such as the bris milah (circumcision), pidyon haben (redemption of the first-born son), and marriage. Despite this, the practice of celebrating the arrival of a Jewish child into adulthood—becoming a bar mitzvah—is a very ancient custom.

The commentaries tell us that the joy of the bar mitzvah celebration is based on the important Talmudic principle, “Greater is he who does what he is commanded to do, than he who does what he is not commanded to do.” The Talmud tells us that there is greater virtue in performing a mitzvah that one is obligated to perform, than one which one is exempt from. Thus, although a Jewish child may be fulfilling many mitzvos, it is only as an adult, when he or she becomes obligated to obey the mitzvos of the Torah, that the true virtue of the mitzvos can take effect. It is this change in status that we celebrate.

This somewhat counter-intuitive principle, that the obligatory performance of a mitzvah is of greater virtue than a voluntary act, points us to an important concept in Judaism. The essential virtue of the mitzvos is precisely that they are commandments—laws that we are obligated to obey. Although most of the mitzvos are subject to human understanding, in that we can provide some explanation for why God has commanded us to perform these given acts, such an understanding is secondary to the essence of the mitzvah. Our primary goal in obeying the mitzvos is simply to obey the will of God.

One of the classic difficulties in religious philosophy is understanding how it is possible for a human being—a finite, limited, physical being—to achieve a true connection and unity with a God Who is infinite and incomprehensible. In Judaism, this connection is called devekus and is described as the essential goal of all the mitzvos. The mitzvos are a gift to us from God that enable us to achieve this otherwise impossible union. When God commands us to perform a given act, even one as corporeal as eating a festive meal on the Sabbath, He has invested that act with His Will. Thus, when we perform that physical act, we achieve a connection with the Will of God.

We say in the Shema, “Hashem Echad”—“God is one.” This basic principle of Judaism, the absolute unity of God, tells us that God has no parts; He and His Will are one. When we achieve a connection with the Will of God, we are connecting to God Himself. This is only possible because God has connected the given act with His Will. This is the essence of the mitzvah concept. An act that is not commanded by God, as positive as it may be, is ultimately a finite act that cannot, in of itself, achieve devekus—true union with God. Thus, many commentaries connect the word mitzvah with the Aramaic term “tzavsa” – “binding” – because the mitzvah binds us to God.

When a Jewish child enters adulthood and becomes obligated to obey the mitzvos, it becomes possible for him or her to truly connect to God. It is this which is the source of our joy when we celebrate a bar or bas mitzvah. It is therefore important that the tenor of our celebration reflect this.

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Pinchas - The Miracles of Daily Life

At the end of Parshas Pinchas, we read of the various communal offerings made in the Temple on the mo'adim - the special "appointed" times of the year. Conventionally, the term mo'adim includes all the various festivals of the Jewish year, thus the Torah goes on to list the communal offerings of the festivals of Passover, Shavuos, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkos and Shemini Atzeres. However, the Torah's discussion of the special offerings of the  mo'adim seems to go far beyond the conventional understanding of the term, and includes not only the festivals but also Rosh Chodesh (the new month), the Sabbath, and even the daily tamid offering.

R' Samson Raphael Hirsch (Numbers 28:2 and in his commentary on the Siddur, p.23) notes that the inclusion of the daily tamid offering into the category of the mo'adim conveys "a Truth of no small importance". He writes (in his Siddur):

God appointed מועדים, special occasions that attest to His rule and summon His people to His presence, to commemorate annually His mighty acts in Egypt, at the Red Sea, on Mount Sinai and in the wilderness. These miracles actually involved suspension by God of the natural order which He Himself had instituted, and thus bear eloquent witness to His greatness. In the same manner, God also appointed the transitions of morning and evening, which occur daily with clock-like regularity, to be מועדים too. These daily, "ordinary" natural phenomena are also to serve as messengers testifying to God's power and summoning the people to worship Him, to demonstrate to us the hand of God as it can be seen even in the course of the world, and to call each of us to come before Him.

For the very steadiness, the regularity, of the phenomena of nature is a much clearer, more wonderful manifestation of Divine wisdom and omnipotence than the suspension of these natural laws when God's miracles were executed. In fact the purpose of these special acts of God which interrupted the regular order of nature was to point to Him as the Lawgiver of these natural laws, lest the thought of Him as Regulator, Master, and Lord of the world order be lost through the steady regularity of the natural phenomena.

In this passage, Rav Hirsch is articulating a very basic concept. Contrary to how we often think, the laws of nature are no less a product of God's will and power than even the most dramatic open miracles. In fact, fundamentally, the only distinction between the laws of nature and open miracles is that God apparently prefers the laws of nature to be the "normal" mode of operation for His universe. As Rav Hirsch points out, both here and elsewhere in his writings, the regularity and predictability of the natural laws can cause us to overlook or forget that they are not fundamentally any different from outright miracles. Indeed, the primary function of miracles is precisely to remind us that all of the natural world is subject to God's will, and that even the most ordinary of natural events is actually a miracle.

The principle being taught here by Rav Hirsch can be found in many earlier sources. In his commentary on Exodus 13:16, the Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, also known as Nachmanides, d.1270) develops this theme at some length, arguing that the function of miracles is to testify to the truth of the basic principles of belief, that God is all powerful and that He supervises and manages the events of this world. The Ramban summarizes this idea in a famous statement:

ומן הניסים הגדולים המפורסמים אדם מודה בנסים הנסתרים, שהם יסוד התורה כולה. שאין לאדם חלק בתורת משה רבינו עד שיאמין שכל דברינו ומקרינו כולם נסים, אין בהם טבע ומנהגו שך עולם, בין ברבים בין ביחיד.

From the great public miracles, man is led to acknowledge the hidden miracles, for they (i.e. the hidden miracles) are the foundation of the entire Torah. For a man can have no share in the Torah of Moses until he believes that everything that happens to us, whether as a community or as individuals, is entirely miraculous, and there is no element of "nature" or "the way of the world" in them.

Sometimes people, especially children, ask why God doesn't perform miracles for us nowadays. In fact, with the exception of the period immediately following the Exodus from Egypt, miracles have always been relatively rare events. Even in the days of the prophets, the ordinary Jew lived a life governed, on the surface at least, by natural laws. Why doesn't God perform miracles for on a regular basis? Wouldn't that make it easier for us to be better and more faithful Jews?

There are many answers to this question (not the least being that, as we see from the sins of the golden calf and the spies, the mere fact that one has witnessed open miracles does not ensure that one will avoid even obvious sins). This principle that we have just learned from Rav Hirsch and the Ramban gives us a deeper insight into why this is so. Ultimately, the will of God is not that we should recognize Him when He performs open miracles. God wants us to recognize His presence in every aspect of the natural world. In even the most ordinary and mundane elements of life, we should see the wisdom and kindness of the Creator.

Rav Avigdor Miller

One recent figure who truly embodied this idea was Rav Avigdor Miller ז"ל (d.2001). Rav Miller was famous for his ability to appreciate the wisdom and kindness of God in every aspect of life. I once heard Rav Simcha Bunim Cohen, a prominent Lakewood rabbi who is married to Rav Miller's granddaughter, speak of a minor incident he witnessed with Rav Miller that illustrated his unique ability in this area. Rabbi Cohen was accompanying Rav Miller on one of his regular walks in Rav Miller's Brooklyn neighborhood. As they were walking, Rav Miller noticed a peach pit lying on the sidewalk. Pausing in his walk, Rav Miller began to jump up and down on the peach pit. Somewhat bemused by Rav Miller's surprising behavior, Rabbi Cohen asked him what he was doing. Rav Miller pointed to the peach pit and asked him if it appeared damaged. Rabbi Cohen responded that it looked fine. Then Rav Miller pointed out that the peach pit is so hard that he had been unable to break it open even by jumping up and down on it, yet if it was placed in the ground and watered, after a while it would simply open up on its own and a delicate new plant would grow from it, eventually developing into a new peach tree. From this we see the wisdom and kindness of the Creator, Rav Miller continued, for he provided the seed with a strong protective shell, yet that hard shell will automatically open when it is time for the young tree to come out.

This story represents an ideal that we all need to work towards. We need to be aware of God's presence, of His wisdom and kindness, in every moment of our lives. We should see him in the food we eat, in the functioning of our bodies, and in every aspect, both human and natural, of the world around us. Rav Miller himself wrote a great deal about this idea, much of which is based upon the classic mussar work, Chovos HaLevavos. In particular, the second section of the Chovos HaLevavos, called the Shaar HaBechina (The Gate of Examination), focuses on this essential concept.

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20 Classic Gedolim Pictures

The following is a series of "traditional" depictions of famous rabbinic figures. Please bear in mind that some of the depictions (such as the picture of the Baal Shem Tov) are known to be incorrect, and many - especially of the earlier figures - are probably completely imaginary.

Rav Yitzchak Alfasi - The "Rif"

Rav Shlomo Yitzchaki - "Rashi"

Rav Yaakov b. R' Meir - "Rabbeinu Tam"

Rav Moshe ben Maimon - The "Rambam" (Maimonides)

Rav Moshe ben Nachman - The "Ramban" (Nachmanides)

Rav Asher ben Yechiel - The "Rosh"

Rav Yaakov ben Asher - The "Baal HaTurim"

Rav Don Yitzchak Abarbanel

Rav Yitzchak Aboav - The "Menoras HaMeor"

Rav Yosef Karo - The "Beis Yosef"

Rav Moshe Isserles - The "Rema"

Rav David ben Shmuel HaLevi - The "Taz"

Rav Shabsai HaKohen - The "Shach"

Rav Avraham Gombiner - The "Magen Avraham"

Rav Tzvi Ashkenazi - The "Chacham Tzvi"

Rav Yonason Eibschutz

Rav Yisrael Baal Shem - The "Baal Shem Tov"

Rav Eliyahu of Vilna - The "Vilna Gaon" or "Gra"

Rav Akiva Eiger

Rav Moshe Sofer - The "Chasam Sofer"

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On Gedolim and "Daas Torah"

The following was originally written for grade school students (5th-8th grade) as an introduction to a school wide "Gedolim" project. The goal was to introduce the concept of "gadlus" and Torah leadership, and to counter some of the misconceptions that many children (and adults) have in this area. It has been modified somewhat for a general audience:

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A gadol (lit. "great person" - referring to a great Torah leader) is a Jew that has perfected himself. This means that he has striven with his entire being to truly fulfill the expectations that God has for every Jew. Every gadol started out as an ordinary person. Every Jew is capable of gadlus, and God expects all of us to strive to perfect ourselves.

Gedolim are not carbon copies of each other. Although a great Torah sage has subjected his entire personality to the purifying light of Torah, it remains his personality, not a generic “gadol” personality. Like everyone else, each gadol has his own unique personality and character traits, his own unique interests, and his own sense of humor. By studying the Torah, internalizing its message, and fulfilling God’s mitzvos, the gadol has freed his personality from the slavery of the yetzer hara – the natural urges and temptations that prevent us from being who we really want to be. The Torah enables us to be ourselves in the truest sense.

Nevertheless, there are several basic characteristics that are essential to the status of a gadol. Each of these characteristics is one that the gadol has striven to perfect in himself. Gedolim are made, not born.

Basic Characteristics of a Gadol

The following is a list of characteristics that we all must strive to achieve. A gadol is simply a person who has already done so.

• Torah Knowledge – A gadol must be a master of Torah knowledge. He must have a comprehensive knowledge and familiarity with the Torah. In particular, he must be knowledgeable in the Talmud and Poskim. Even more important than the amount of book knowledge he possesses - which is very important - the gadol must become a master of how the Torah “thinks”, i.e. he must develop a broad understanding how the Torah deals with various types of issues.
• Mesorah – The gadol must have a genuine commitment to the mesorah – the interpretation of the Torah as it has been passed down from generation to generation since Moshe received the Torah at Sinai. He expresses this commitment in his study of the Torah and in teaching it to the next generation of students.
• Self-Mastery – A gadol is a person who has developed complete control over himself. He is a master of self-discipline, in which every act, every statement, and every reaction, is measured and trained according to the Torah. He is a person that has worked on all of his middos (character traits) to perfect them to the greatest degree possible.
• Ahavas Yisrael­ - Love of One’s Fellow Jew – A gadol has developed in himself a genuine love for every Jew. He truly fulfills the mitzvah of “V’Ahavta l’rei’echa kamocha” – “Love your fellow as yourself.”
• Genuine Ruchnius (Spirituality) – A gadol has a real relationship with God. He doesn’t just “believe” in God; he knows God. He has true ahavas Hashem and yiras Hashem (love of God and fear of God). He sees an aveira as truly harmful and destructive, a mitzvah as truly beneficial and constructive. When a gadol prays, he truly feels that he is standing in the presence of the Creator of the Universe and that he is speaking to Him, and that He is listening. When a gadol studies Torah, he truly feels that God is speaking to him in the words of the Torah.
• Anava - Humility – The middah of anava is of unique importance. Anava does not mean seeing yourself as lowly and worthless. Rather, it is the opposite of self-centeredness. The natural state of human being is to be self-centered, in that we care only about ourselves. As a person grows spiritually, he becomes less self-centered and cares more about others. The gadol has developed his personality so that his own self-interest is no longer an obstacle to his spiritual development and care for others. In truth, anavah is an essential prerequisite for all the previously mentioned traits.

A gadol is not a hermit or a monk. He doesn’t exist in some otherworldly, mystical realm. A gadol lives a full, normal life. He has a family, a wife and children, and he cares for them just like any husband and father. He is part of a community – with neighbors and friends. He has a job – frequently, but not always, as a teacher of Torah – and co-workers. He pays taxes, buys gasoline for his car, uses a credit card, etc. In other words, he has the same challenges in his life that everyone else has.

Daas Torah – The Torah Mind

Every community requires leaders who are capable of making decisions on behalf of the community as a whole. To be made properly, such decisions require much more than simple competence in the specific topic at hand. Leadership is not simply about making the best pragmatic decision. A leader needs to be able to make decisions that properly reflect the values of his community. This is true not only for determining the goals that the community should be striving for, but also, perhaps more importantly, the means that should be used to achieve those goals and the prioritization of values. In reality there is no such thing as a purely pragmatic or practical decision. All decisions are reflections of values.

Of course, the ability to make intelligent decisions that reflect the values of the community is only the beginning. The ideal leader must also be genuinely motivated to do the best he can for his community and he must be able to rise above the self-interests and biases that can prevent a person from making proper decisions.

Given these requirements, it should be obvious that a gadol is uniquely qualified to be a leader of the Jewish people. This is due to all the characteristics we already mentioned:

1. He is a master of Torah knowledge and methodology.
2. He has a genuine commitment to the continuation of the mesorah.
3. He can think clearly without any “static” from bad middos.
4. He genuinely cares about his fellow Jews.
5. He has true emuna (belief) in God.
6. He is not self-centered and self-serving.

As Torah Jews, we believe that God controls the entire world. A person with a true “Torah mind” – what is popularly called Daas Torah – has the clearest insight into what God wants us to do in any situation. A gadol has developed his mind so that it functions entirely according to Torah. Before rendering a decision on any matter, a gadol will gather whatever information is necessary. Depending on the issue, he may consult with experts in various fields. The gadol will then process this information with his Daas Torah and come to a conclusion. This final decision will be based purely on Torah reasoning and instincts as applied to the particular circumstances.

Added to this is the fact that gedolim, having developed a true relationship with God, also benefit from a special siyata d’shmaya – “Heavenly assistance” – in their thinking. This is a unique insight that is akin to ruach hakodesh.

This does not mean that all gedolim will always agree on every issue. Gedolim may disagree because of they have received different information, because they have different perspectives, or many other reasons. It also doesn’t mean that a gadol will always make the best possible decision. Wisdom is a gift from God and He will sometimes withhold that gift even from those closest to Him. Ultimately, gedolim are still human beings, and like all people - including the most talented leaders - they can err. Nevertheless, the best possible choice to render decisions for the Jewish people is a gadol.

Our gedolim are leaders and teachers, but, perhaps most importantly, they are models and exemplars. A gadol demonstrates what the Torah means when it say that we are all created “b’tzelem Elokim” – in the image of God.” Our study of gedolim should motivate us to achieve greatness in our own lives.

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Teruma - The Path to Holiness (And What is Holiness Anyways??)

Parshas Terumah deals with the construction of the Mishkan - the desert Tabernacle - and its vessels. The construction of the Mishkan is part of a general mitzva (commandment) to construct a Mikdash - Sanctuary - for the service of God. In the desert, where the Jewish people were not settled in a specific location, the Mishkan sufficed. Eventually, when the Jewish people had fully settled in the land of Israel, a full Temple was built in Jerusalem during the reign of King Solomon.

Rabbi Samson Raphael
Hirsch

This is the mitzva expressed in the verse (Exodus 25:8), "And they shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell in their midst." Significantly, the Torah does not say, "and I shall dwell in it (i.e. the Sanctuary)", but rather, "I shall dwell in their midst." The goal of the Sanctuary is to somehow make the Jewish people themselves worthy of God's presence. As Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (d.1888) puts it:

...the ושכנתי בתוכם ["and I shall dwell in their midst"] of our verse extends far beyond the mere presence of God in the Temple, but that it means the proximity of God in our midst, showing itself in accordance with the covenant, in the whole happiness and prosperity of our private and national life under His protection and blessing.

The Temple is a model for us of how to sanctify ourselves. From the Temple, we learn how to make ourselves holy, so that each of us can become a living Mikdash.

This goal, of course, is the work of an entire lifetime, and one that we will never truly complete. Nevertheless, it is a task that we must begin, which means that we need to have some basic idea of what it is we are trying to acheive. First of all, how do we start? What basic characteristics are necessary to begin this process of self-sanctification?

A hint may be found in an enigmatic midrash that connects Parshas Terumah to the end of Parshas Mishpatim:

כשאמרו ישראל נעשה ונשמע מיד אמר להם ויקחו לי תרומה
(ילקוט ראובני - ונראה שהמקור הוא תנא דבי אליהו רבא פרק י"ז)

"When the Jewish people declared (Exodus 24:7), "We will do and we will hear," God immediately said to them (Exodus 25:1), "Let them take for Me a portion..."

This midrash indicates that there is a special connection between the great declaration of נעשה ונשמע - "We will do and will hear" - and the commandment to construct the Mishkan. This declaration somehow demonstrated that the Jewish people were ready to take the step of creating a Sanctuary for God in this world. What exactly is the connection between these two concepts?

A number of commentaries address this question, of which two, in particular, struck me as particularly significant.

The first explanation is from the commentary of Dr. Isaac Unterman, in his English commentary on the Torah (published in 1973). He writes:

The construction of the Tabernacle for God was likely to lead to a serious error: to think, God forbid, that the Holy One was in need of a resting place, that he was corporeal. For this reason, the command to build a Tabernacle could not be given until it had been definitely established that they understood that the Most High was not of a material substance and hence had no use for rest like living creatures. This was made evident when the Jews said: WE WILL DO AND WE WILL HEAR. Actually they should have demanded to hear first - perhaps they would have found it too hard? But because they were sure that the Most High was of infinite perfection, he had no need for precepts. The latter were absolutely for the good of man. Then there was no point in inquiring whether or not they would be a match to the performance of the commandments. For there is no telling how far man would go in his efforts when it concerns his own good and happiness. At that moment, when this became evident that they were well groomed to perform the task of putting up the Tabernacle, without any fear that it might lead to an error - accordingly, they were then told that "they bring Me an offering" and "they shall make Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in the midst of them."

This commentary from Dr. Unterman points to the great importance of having a proper conception of God and of our relationship with Him. Someone who perceives God as limited, in any way, will lack the ability to fully trust God and to wholeheartedly accept His Torah. His relationship with God will be fundamentally flawed. Only once we have achieved a proper, basic understanding of these basic principles is it then possible for us to enter into the realm of true holiness.

Another explanation of this midrash can be found in Sefer Zichron Menachem, written by Rabbi Menachem Mendel Levkovitch of Proshnitz (I don't know exactly when the author lived, but the sefer has haskomos from major figures such as R' Shmuel Salant and the Sdei Chemed, both of whom passed away in the very early years of the twentieth century). The Zichron Menachem focuses on a different aspect of the declaration of "We will do and we will hear!", pointing out that no one person can actually fulfill all of the commandments of the Torah. For example, certain commandments are restricted to kohanim, whereas others are restricted to non-kohanim, and so on. How then, could the Jewish people declare "All that God has spoken we will do and we will hear"? The answer is that at that time the Jewish people had attained such a degree of unity and brotherly love that they were like one person, and therefore, if one Jew performed a mitzva, it was as if all of them had done so.

This, the Zichron Menachem explains, was an essential prerequisite for constructing the Sanctuary, for God's presence cannot rest amongst the Jewish people except when they are in a state of unity. This also helps us understand why Parshas Mishpatim, which deals with laws involving man and his fellow, had to come before Parshas Terumah. True holiness can only be achieved when we are in a state of peace with our fellow Jew.

From these two commentaries we learn that, even before we can begin the task of holiness, we must first work to achieve two basic preconditions, a proper conception of God and His relationship with us, and a peaceful relationship with our fellow Jews. Only once these conditions have been met can we properly begin the task of holiness.

But what, exactly, is holiness - kedusha? We tend, for some reason, to imagine "holiness" as a beatific and peaceful state of "spirituality" (a vague concept if there ever was one). In reality, kedusha means "separateness" - and  refers to a state of being separated from the rest of the world. Thus, God Himself - HaKadosh Baruch Hu - is holy in the most absolute sense, in that He is entirely separate from the world. Anytime we speak of something in this world as being holy - kodesh - we mean that this thing has been separated from the world and set aside for the service of God. Thus, for example, the Torah is holy, the Sabbath is holy, the Temple - and, to a lesser degree, every synagogue - is holy, the land of Israel is holy, and - within the Jewish people - the kohanim are holy. In every case, this means that this thing thing is set aside for serving God, and is therefore subject to great limitations on its use. The same is true for the Holy People, the Jewish nation. The Jewish people, as a whole, are a "kingdom of priests" (Exodus 19:6), meaning that they have a relationship to the world akin to the relationship of the kohanim to the Jewish people. The Jewish people are holy, meaning that they are set aside from the rest of the world for the purpose of serving God. Returning to the commentary of Rav Hirsch:

...this blessing and protecting Schechina - proximity of God - is not brought about by the mere correct erection and upkeeping of the Sanctuary, but can only be won by consecrating and giving up our whole private and public lives to carrying out the Divine Torah. A fact that is not only proved historically by the destruction of the Sanctuary, once in Shilo and twice in Jerusalem, but which is distinctly stressed as a warning, not only in the Torah itself..., but also immediately at the foundation and building of Solomon's temple and on almost every page of the  books of the prophets.

This, of course, is a very demanding calling, and one that requires from us a great deal of commitment, determination, and, perhaps most of all, hard work. It is not surprising therefore, to find that the Sages point to the role of labor in association with our verse. The great sage, Shemai'ah, taught (Avos 1:10), "Love work!" In a discussion of the teaching, Avos d'Rabbi Noson (ch.11) states:

רבי טרפון אומר, אף הקב"ה לא השרה שכינתו על ישראל עד שעשו מלאכה, שנאמר "ועשו לי מקדש ושכנתי בתוכם."

Rabbi Tarfon said, "Even God did  not allow His Presence to rest upon Israel until they worked, as it says, "And they shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell amongst them."

The task of constructing the Temple - with all its complexity and labor - symbolizes the even more complex and difficult task of sanctifying ourselves. This is an all-encompassing mission, which demands that our entire lives be focused exclusively on this goal.

It often happens that an outsider will recognize truths that are often missed by those of us who have grown up within the religious Jewish world. As an example, I remember in yeshiva, the non-Jewish janitor remarking about the drunkenness of the yeshiva students on Purim. He expressed astonishment, "That room (referring to the dining hall during the Purim seudah) is filled with hundreds of drunk young men, but there's not a single fight!" (I am not going to enter here into the question of the propriety of this practice. The point is valid regardless.)

Similarly, one of the best descriptions of the concept of holiness in Orthodox Jewish life that I have encountered was written by a non-Jew, Maria Poggi Johnson. Mrs. Johnson is a Catholic Christian who teaches theology at the University of Scranton. Scranton is also the home of a prominent yeshiva and has a vibrant Orthodox Jewish community. Mrs. Johnson happens to reside in the midst of that community and she and her family became very friendly with a number of her Orthodox Jewish neighbors. In 2006 she published a memoir about her relationship with these neighbors and friends entitled Strangers and Neighbors: What I Have Learned About Christianity by Living Among Orthodox Jews.

In chapter four, titled "The Holy God and His Stiff-Necked People", Mrs. Johnson discusses the concept of holiness. She writes:

The word "holy," kodesh in Hebrew, is tricky. We tend to use it, rather vaguely, to mean extra-good, super-spiritual, or even just really, really nice. The original meaning of kodesh is actually "separate" or "set apart." When God tells his people that he is holy, he means that he is different - nothing remotely like the gods of the Egyptians or the Canaanites. "My thoughts are not your thoughts," he tells them. "And my ways are not your ways. I am utterly unlike anything you have experienced or could imagine" (Isa. 55:8, paraphrase). If you try to understand the nature of God and decide to worship him by doing what the Egyptians and the Canaanites and everyone else does - creating and bowing down to images - you will get it wrong. No images. Nothing in the world, nothing that can be represented in matter, can adequately communicate God's essence.

Holiness is not only strange; it is dangerous. If you see God, you die. If you touch the mountain where the presence of God has entered our universe, you die. If you panic because Moses, who is the only person who seems to have any idea what is going on, has been up the mountain for forty days, and you need something that you can understand and touch and control, and you pool all your gold and make an image of a calf and worship that, then lots and lots of you die.

So when God says, "I am holy," he doesn't mean "I am nice." And when he says, "You shall be holy," he doesn't mean "You ought to be nice too." He means that, although his people can never imagine or understand him, they are to be like him. This is the outrageous job that God gives to the Jews: the job of making manifest in their lives the holiness, purity, absolute justice, mercy, and goodness of God. It is not a job they can begin to do if they care, even a little, about being normal, fitting in, going with the flow. To be holy means precisely to be different: set apart, proudly weird, bizarrely countercultural, and defiantly unlike the business-as-usual world all around them. That is the task that our neighbors have inherited, and they give themselves to it heart and soul.

The unique task of holiness that has been set upon the Jewish people cannot begin until we recognize that we are set apart from the world at large and we accept the sacrifices that this separation entails. We simply cannot expect to live ordinary, mainstream lives and also achieve the goal of holiness that God has set upon us. The Torah demands from us, as we saw in the words of Rav Hirsch, "consecrating and giving up our whole private and public lives to carrying out the Divine Torah." Nothing less will suffice.

Of course, when faced with such a demanding concept, it is easy to get carried away. Any number of religious groups, including Jewish groups, have taken the concept of holiness to extremes of asceticism, abstinence, and social separation that go far beyond what God demands from us. Indeed, by going to such extremes, these groups really miss the point. As Rav Hirsch put it, the demand of holiness is that we devote our entire being to "carrying out the Divine Torah." We do not decide for ourselves how to become holy, for, in truth, we can have no real understanding of what that goal truly means until we get there. Instead, God has provided us with a detailed guide towards achieving this goal - the Torah. This is why the Holy Ark - containing the  Tablets of the Covenant and a Torah scroll - is placed at the center of the Sanctuary. The entire Sanctuary is to built around the Torah, symbolizing that the only means by which we can truly achieve holiness is by adherence to the laws and teachings of the Torah.

In summary, God has set upon the Jewish people the extraordinary and demanding task of achieving a state of holiness and becoming a dwelling place for God. This is a task that demands a great deal of hard work, and can only begin when he have attained a certain minimal level of understanding of the nature of God and our relationship with Him. Moreover, we cannot even begin to work towards holiness while we are in a state of discord with our fellow Jews, for only in a state of unity can God's presence dwell in our midst. This task demands from us that we devote our every aspect of our lives towards this purpose, and that we, therefore, cannot expect to live "ordinary" lives like the people around us. God has given us the Torah as our guide towards achieving this goal, and, for this reason, the Torah must always be the central focus in our lives. While the goal of true holiness might appear to be beyond our abilities, if we truly strive towards this goal, then God will respond in kind, and he will grant us the abilities to achieve that which would otherwise be impossible.

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Cultural Jews in Our Midst - The Pseudo-Chareidim

Most people are aware of the current controversies surrounding the behavior of certain ostensible members of the chareidi community in Israel. I am not a political columnist, nor an expert on Jewish life in Israel, so I am not going to attempt to discuss most aspects of this topic, which have been ably handled by far more competent figures than I. I do, however, want to discuss one aspect of this issue.

What is an Orthodox Jew? What is a "chareidi" Jew? What do these terms really mean?

If the term "Orthodox Jew" means anything, it means a Jew who commits to conforming to the laws and values of the Torah, as transmitted through our mesorah (i.e. the Rabbinic tradition), even when, if it were left up to his own opinion, he would choose to do otherwise. A Jew who follows Jewish tradition, when and if he agrees with it, even if that agreement happens to be almost 100%, is not really an Orthodox Jew. Similarly, any Jew who considers a non-Torah source of values to have equal authority to the Torah, so that, at times, this alternate source of values overrides Torah laws and teachings, is not a genuinely Orthodox Jew.

The same is true for the term "chareidi". The origin of this term is from a verse in Isaiah (66:5), "Hear the word of Hashem, you that tremble (החרדים - the chareidim) at His word..." The term has come to refer to those Jewish communities that take the laws and teachings of the Torah to be their sole source of values. While chareidi communities are usually superficially recognizable by their modes of dress (ranging from the "Litvishe" black hat and jacket to the various forms of garb worn by chassidim), it is not clothing that makes one a chareidi. A Jew with a long beard and payos (sidelocks), wearing a long black coat, who derives his values from sources other than the Torah, is not a true chareidi.

In the Orthodox Jewish world, we are familiar with critiques of various left-wing groups, including groups that are nominally Orthodox, that attempt to modify Judaism to bring it into conformance with the values and mores of (the liberal elites of) modern Western society. Thus, attempts to change the traditional prayer services to conform to the dictates of feminism, or to create "kashrus" supervising agencies that focus on the importance of labor unions and environmentalism, among other such attempts, are seen as attempts to give religious value to foreign concepts.

(This actually points to the main difference between chareidim and non-chareidi Orthodox Jews. In admittedly over-simplified terms, while a chareidi will usually see the importation of a foreign value into Judaism as unacceptable in of itself, a non-chareidi will usually not see it as a problem unless he believes the foreign value to be in conflict with Torah values.)

My father, ע"ה, would often speak disparagingly of what he called "cultural Jews", referring to Jews who drew their values not from the Torah but from Jewish "culture". He would stress that Jews of this sort are to be found not just in the non-Orthodox world (where they are the dominant form) but also in the Orthodox world - including the most chareidi of communities.

These "Orthodox" cultural Jews are Jews whose value system is not derived from the Torah, but from the superficial norms of their particular community. When a person, or community, treats its own cultural idiosyncrasies (e.g. modes of dress, styles of food, etc.) as if they have inherent religious significance, then they are bringing foreign values into Judaism. (This is true even when those norms may well be legitimate, in of themselves, as attempts to maintain a certain mode of life that, in the judgement of that community, is more conducive to Torah values. While this may be acceptable, it is not acceptable to then treat these norms as if they are binding on all Jews like actual Torah law.)

When a group of Jews not only brings non-Torah values into their "Judaism", but grants these values status equal to or greater than actual Torah values, then that group is not only not truly chareidi, but not even truly Orthodox. They are, fundamentally, a break-off sect (or, more politely, "denomination"), who only share a cultural bond with Judaism. This is true whether the foreign values are rooted in obsession over modes of dress and gender segregation, political ideology, or messianism.

It is popular, in certain Orthodox circles, to bemoan the supposed shift in traditional Judaism from a "mimetic tradition", in which religious practice and standards are learned from the previous generation by observation and participation, to a "textual tradition", in which religious practices and norms are learned by studying the Torah literature. In reality, of course, both traditions must exist side-by-side and are deeply dependent upon each other. The bulk of our religious training, in the Orthodox world, has always been mimetic. There is simply no other way to effectively give over the vast array of information needed to function competently as an Orthodox Jew. However, the mimetic tradition, by itself, cannot effectively distinguish between Torah and culture, law and custom, community norm and religious obligation, especially in the face of changing circumstances. The textual tradition serves as an essential "checksum" for the mimetic tradition, a way to check that tradition for its inevitable errors of transmission.

He sure looks Orthodox!

What we are seeing with these pseudo-chareidi radicals is a triumph of the mimetic tradition over textual authority. Not only is their behavior in violation of Torah law, but even many of the ideals that they claim to be fighting for are nothing more than their own communal norms, which they have elevated to the status of the Torah. By doing so, these groups have stepped outside the pale of Orthodoxy itself and are no more Orthodox (let alone "ultra-Orthodox" or chareidi) than Woody Allen in a rabbi costume.

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What about the Kavod of a Ben Yisroel?

I just read the article, The Kavod of a Bas Yisroel, by Rabbi Yair Hoffman in which, in my opinion, he fundamentally misses the point. Granted, the attitude expressed by the young man mentioned in the article is terrible. But the real problem is that every single girl (and/or her parents) is chasing after guys like that and ignoring large numbers of fine frum boys who don't fit their notions of perfection.

Hoffman writes that "statistical reality affords guys five to ten dates per month, yet affords our young women perhaps one date per month." While a statistical disparity may well exist, it is not even close to large enough to explain that kind of disparity. (If it were, then the only possible solution would be to reinstate polygamy.)

However, when only a small group within the larger group of available men is considered to be truly "eligible", then this result is to be expected. And, in such a situation, the fact that many of these "eligible" men begin to feel overwhelmed, and also a bit arrogant, is also to be expected.

There are many aspects to this problem. However, Rabbi Hoffman's article is an excellent example of one of the biggest problems. Rabbi Hoffman describes the women he is discussing:

"These young women daven so very beautifully. Their davening is an inspiration to see. They work long, hard hours in school with the goal of supporting a Torah scholar. They attend shiurim; they learn and read Rav Pincus, Rav Dessler, Nesivos Shalom; they are fluent in halachah. They ask halachic questions whenever they need clarity."

Over the years, I have known innumerable young men who fit this description perfectly, but are not considered good shidduch material. In some cases, they have left yeshiva and are working. Or any other of the thousands of things that render a bochur "inferior".

Rabbi Hoffman's description points to a reality that has long been recognized by yeshiva bochurim: It is much easier to be a "good" girl, than a "good" bochur! A good girl needs only to be frum, value Torah, and have a pleasant personality (what passes for "good middos" nowadays). Such a girl is so "good" that she, and her family, will not even consider a bochur who has exactly the same virtues. If you have two young people, a young man and a young woman, working in the same business, sharing the same values, attending shiurim, reading Torah works, volunteering for chesed organizations, etc., the young woman will be seen as the ideal catch for an up-and-coming rosh yeshiva from a prominent family (even ordinary yeshiva boys are not good enough for her), while the young man will be seen as a good match only for someone with no other options.

Rabbi Hoffman's article is also a good example of our tendency to over-romanticize the virtues of Jewish girls, "her lofty and precious value and significance", as if every Jewish girl is the eishes chayil of Mishlei. This would be fine if we looked at our young men with the same rosy glasses, but - on the contrary - when it comes to our young men we tend to see every flaw, even the most commonplace, as a disqualifying "red line" for shidduchim. (An example of this tendency is this article by Yonasan Rosenblum. You can read my comments on the specific issue raised by that article there.)

Rabbi Hoffman complains that, "We do not educate our young men as to the value of a bas Yisrael anymore. Our girls are taught the value of a ben Torah, but somehow the flip-side lesson has been neglected."

I must disagree. Most of our bochurim do understand the value of a bas yisroel, but many of these bochurim are not even considered worthy of notice by these princesses. For we have taught our young women that they are too good for the ordinary frum boy, that only the "elite" is good enough for them. Yes, we have taught our girls the value of a "ben Torah", but in the process we have so narrowed the definition of a ben Torah that many true bnei Torah no longer qualify.

(Thanks to Daas Torah for bringing the article to my attention.)

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Asara b'Teves - Mourning the Loss of the Temple

Asara b'Teves (the 10th of Teves) is one of a series of four fast days through the Jewish year that commemorate the destruction of the Holy Temple. The other three fast days in this series are Shiva Asar B'Tamuz, Tisha B'Av, and Tzom Gedalia.

Asara b'Teves is the anniversary of the day Nebuchadnezzar began the siege on Jerusalem which ultimately led to the destruction of the first Temple. Asara B'Teves also commemorates two other unfortunate events that occurred around the same time of year. On the 8th of Teves, the Torah was translated into Greek by the decree of Ptolemy, king of Egypt. And on the 9th, Ezra and Nechemia died.

Like most fast days (except Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av), the fast begins at the break of dawn and ends at nightfall. During this time we neither eat nor drink any food whatsoever, not even water.

It is important to recognize that the primary idea behind a fast is to meditate on the fact that these sufferings came upon us because of the sins of our ancestors, sins which we continue to commit, and that we must repent. Someone who fasts but spends the day in frivolous activity has completely missed the point.

No matter how religious we are, all of us occasionally struggle with doubts about Hashem and His control over the world. We've never witnessed an outright miracle, where the laws of nature were clearly set aside before the Will of the Creator. So, even though we believe in Hashem, our belief often lacks confidence. We have to constantly work on ourselves to believe.

A Jew living in the days of the Holy Temple didn't have this problem. In the Temple there were regular open miracles, some happened every day! For example, the pillar of smoke rose from the main altar, which could be seen from miles away, always rose straight up to the sky - like a literal pillar - no matter how windy the day was. This means that any Jew, living anywhere within eye-shot of the Temple Mount, could turn at any time and see an open, supernatural miracle.

Tragically, like Adam and Even in the Garden of Eden, our sins caused us to lose that close relationship with God. While this was certainly a punishment, it was also, perhaps more importantly, for our benefit. One who sins in the immediate presence of God, as it was when the Temple stood, is far more guilty than one who sins in a world, like ours today, where God is hidden from our perception. God took the Temple from us, not only to punish us, and not only because we failed to appreciate it and utilize it properly, but also to reduce our guilt.

When we pray, as we do several times a day, for the rebuilding of the Temple, what we are really asking for is a return to that close relationship with God. As such, we have to recognize that, for our own good, we cannot return to that relationship unless we abandon our sinful behavior. This is why the focus on these days of mourning is on teshuva - repenting for our sins. Our teshuva should particularly focus on those sins that, we are taught, were the root causes of the destruction. These include:

• Unjustified hatred of our fellow Jews (sinas chinam). We should all work to feel love towards our fellow Jews, and also for all human beings.
• Murder. We should work on ourselves to respect our fellow man and see in him the image of God that exists in every person. Even publicly shaming another person is likened to murder.
• Idolatry. We should recognize that only God is the cause of good and bad. No person or thing can hurt you or help you unless it is HaShem’s wish. Nothing else has any real power in the world. We should also focus on developing our relationship with HaShem and to realize that He cares about each and every one of us and hears our prayers.
• Immorality. Not only must we avoid outright acts of immorality, but we must train ourselves to avoid circumstances and situations that can lead us in that direction.
• Torah study. We must recognize that the Torah is HaShem’s direct revelation to us. As such, it is fundamentally different from all other forms of knowledge. All the other sciences are the product of human knowledge and thought and can only express partial truth. New knowledge is constantly being found, and old knowledge is proven incorrect. However, the Torah is from HaShem. HaShem is perfect and knows all. Therefore the Torah is also perfect. From the Torah we learn what our purpose is in this world and how to achieve that purpose. Our attitude towards the Torah must express this recognition. We must not treat the Torah like just any other form of study.

Ultimately, the time will come when  God decides that we are ready to renew our relationship with on an even closer basis than ever before and He will send us moshiach to rebuild the Temple. At that time, the prophet tells us that these fast days will be transformed into joyous festivals.

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