Showing posts with label Quick Note. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quick Note. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Assessing a Yeshiva

The Alter of Novhardok (R' Yosef Yozel Hurwitz, d.1919) used to say:
מדת הישיבה אינה נמדדת כמה טובים וכמה רעים בתוכה, אלא מהו המכונה והנחשב לרע או לטוב. (ספר המאורות הגדולים, ר' יוסף יוזל הורביץ, ר"א)
A yeshiva is not measured by how many good or bad students are in it, but by what the students consider good or bad. (Sparks of Mussar, p.148)

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Moshiach ben Yosef

The concept of Moshiach ben Yosef (literally, "the anointed son of Joseph"), while not a major concept, is well-established in Judaism, being mentioned in many sources, including the Talmud. At the same time, like many of the more esoteric ideas surrounding the coming of the messiah, it is a very obscure concept and open to a wide range of interpretations. Unlike the belief in Moshiach ben David, which is a core principle of Judaism and has a clear legal definition, the concept of Moshiach ben Yosef is agadic, i.e. non-legal, and it can be understood to be entirely allegorical or as only one of several possible courses of events in the coming of the messiah.

Virtually all sources see Moshiach ben Yosef as a (possible) precursor to Moshiach ben David. Thus, for example, Rav Saadia Gaon (Emunos v'Deos 8) presents Moshiach ben Yosef as a necessary precursor to Moshiach ben David only if the Jewish people have not yet repented.

Many sources appear to view Moshiach ben Yosef as referring primarily to an early stage of the redemption in which events will take place in a non-miraculous manner, to be replaced ultimately by the coming of Moshiach ben David, when the redemption will be completed through miraculous events. (This appears to be the view of the Vilna Gaon presented in the work, Kol HaTor.) Many of the sources that discuss Moshiach ben Yosef in detail (like Kol HaTor) are heavily kabbalistic, so interpretation by a layman like myself is difficult. One of the areas that is often unclear in many of these sources is whether the concept of Moshiach ben Yosef needs to be associated with an identifiable human being, or if it can be understood simply as a symbolic term for the earlier stages in the redemption, or possibly some middle ground, such as the righteous in each generation who teach and guide the people, preparing them for the ultimate redemption.
Rav Kook

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook (d.1935) famously (and controversially) identified the secular Zionist movement with Moshiach ben Yosef, who is to lay the groundwork for the true redemption and then die and be replaced by Moshiach ben David. It is difficult to say how Rav Kook would have viewed the secular State of Israel , but he might well have extended this identification to the State as well.

In short, there is no single, straightforward interpretation of the Moshiach ben Yosef concept; rather there is a range of ideas, all of which are tentative. This is true of many of the details of the process of the coming of the redemption, we will not know what these prophecies and teachings really mean until after the event.

Originally written in response to a question on an on-line forum.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

On Peshat vs. Chazal

הנך רואה כי כל רודפי הפשט... הפך דעת רבותינו נפלו במהמורות השבושים, והאמת בפי רבותינו

"So you see that all [the commentaries] that pursue peshat (i.e. the "simple" meaning of the Biblical verses)... contrary to the opinion of the [Talmudic] Sages fell into the pits of error, and the truth is in mouths of the Sages."

הכתב והקבלה שמות יח:טו

Monday, July 9, 2012

The Age of Moses

Recently, one of my chavrusos raised a question that seemed like a really difficult problem. Towards the end of Deuteronomy (31:2, 34:7) the Torah tells us that when Moses died, at the end of the forty years in the wilderness (Deut.1:3), he was one hundred and twenty years old. This would mean that Moses was 80 years old at the time that he and the Jewish people left Egypt and, in fact, we read Exodus 7:7 that "Moses was eighty years old and Aaron was eighty-three years old when they spoke to Pharaoh."

The problem, however, is that this verse is written before the plagues begin later in the same chapter. While Scripture itself is vague as to the exact amount of time that passed from the beginning of the first plague to the last, it was clearly not a matter of a few weeks. Indeed, Jewish tradition (recorded in the Mishna, Eduyos 2:10) is that the ten plagues took place over a period of twelve months. If Moses was eighty years old at the beginning of this period, then he would have been eighty-one years old at the time of the exodus, which would make him 121 years old at the end of the forty years in the desert. (Exactly the same question can also be asked regarding Aaron.)

This would seem to be an obvious problem. In fact, in my opinion, the first hint to the solution is precisely that the problem is too obvious. All the major commentaries - who typically address issues of this sort - ought to be noting the issue, yet, to my knowledge, it is completely ignored by all the major commentaries. 

(רק מצאתי שהחת"ם סופר דחק לתרץ בשני אופנים, אחת בשו"ת ח"ו סי' כט, ואחת - שלא זכיתי להבין על בוריו - בדרשות חת"ם סופר לפרשת שקלים, ח"א דף קיז:)

When we encounters an apparently obvious problem that is apparently ignored by the commentaries, this is usually an indication that the source of the problem is actually a more basic flaw in our understanding of the material. In this case, it would seem that to the commentators, the "solution" was so self-evident that the "problem" never even presented itself. While this might sound self-defeating, it actually helps us a great deal in resolving the issue. If the solution was that self-evident, then the answer should be right there on the page, where any competent reader can see it.

With this in mind, we can return to the text in Exodus 7 and attempt to read it as the classical commentators would have read it. The first thing that we need to bear in mind, which is often overlooked by modern readers, is that the text of the Torah is divided into paragraphs. These paragraphs will be familiar to anyone who has ever read from a Torah scroll. These paragraphs are called פרשיות (parshiyos), and the division of these פרשיות was passed down to us in the written text of the Torah as given to us by Moses as he received it from Hashem. Like paragraph breaks in any text, these פרשיות are essential to a proper understanding of the Torah.

(By contrast, the conventional division of the text the Torah into chapters (פרקים) is not only not of Divine origin, but it is not even of Jewish origin and frequently does not reflect the traditional Jewish understanding of the text.)

When we look at the text in Exodus 7, we find that the verse we are discussing is the final verse of a paragraph. The paragraph in full (7:1-7) states:
And Hashem said to Moses: 'See, I have made you a master over Pharaoh; and Aaron your brother brother shall be your spokesman. You shall speak all that I command you; and Aaron your brother shall speak to Pharaoh, that he shall send the children of Israel out of his land. And I shall harden Pharaoh's heart, and I shall multiply My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh will not listen to you, and I shall place My hand upon Egypt, and I shall bring out My hosts, My people the children of Israel, from the land of Egypt with great judgments. And Egypt shall know that I am Hashem, when I stretch forth My hand upon Egypt, and I bring out the children of Israel from among them.' And Moses and Aaron did so; as Hashem commanded them, so they did. And Moses was eighty years old, and Aaron eighty-three years old, when they spoke to Pharaoh.
We see in this paragraph God instructing Moses in a general sense of how he would interact with Pharaoh, and giving Moses an overview of the entire process of the Exodus, covering the entire period of the plagues, followed by the actual Exodus from Egypt. In regard to this overview of the entire Exodus process, the Torah, speaking from the perspective of the reader, tells us that, when it was all over, Moses and Aaron had done all that God had commanded them. It is in this context, speaking after the exodus, that the Torah says, "And Moses was 80 years old... when they spoke to Pharaoh."

Thus, from the context of the verse it seems clear that the verse is speaking of the age of Moses and Aaron, not at the beginning of the plagues, but at the conclusion of their talks with Pharaoh just before they left Egypt. If, instead of being the last verse of the previous paragraph, the verse had been the first verse of the next paragraph, which describes Moses and Aaron actually meeting with Pharaoh, then the problem would present a serious difficulty. However, as the conclusion of the previous paragraph, which is describing the course of future events, the problem disappears.

Monday, May 21, 2012

What is the Torah?

On the festival of Shavuos we celebrate the event of Matan Torah - the Giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai. This was the foundational event of Judaism, from which all else follows. It was at Sinai that God made the Jewish people into His nation, and gave us His Torah.

But what, exactly, is the Torah? By this, I am not asking about the simple definition of the Torah - i.e. the five books of Moses - or even the broader definition of the complete corpus of the Written and Oral Law. I am asking, what kind of "book" is the Torah? Specifically, what kind of information did God intend to reveal to us through the Torah and what kinds of expectations can we reasonably have when studying it?

To clarify, in order to productively read a book, we need to have a reasonably good idea as to what the author is attempting to do. If our understanding of the author's intent is significantly flawed, then our ability to understand and use the book will be, at best, equally flawed. Our understanding of the author's intent causes us to have specific expectations from the book and it is the author's success in satisfying those expectations that we use in assessing the quality of the book. Thus, we have very different expectations from a history book than we have from a cookbook, or a book on car repair, or a medical textbook, or a dictionary.

The same is true for the Torah. In order for us to properly study the Torah, we first need to clarify what the Author of the Torah is trying to accomplish. What is the intended function of the Torah? Thankfully, the Torah itself is fairly clear on what its purpose is; the function of the Torah is to instruct, i.e. to tell us what to do with our lives. As the Torah (Exodus 24:12) says, "And Hashem said to Moses: 'Come up to Me, to the mountain, and stay there; and I will give you the tablets of stone, and the Torah and the commandment, which I have written to instruct them.'" One of the most basic themes throughout the Torah is the absolute importance of obeying God's commands, as given to us in the Torah.

Everything in the Torah is there for the purpose of instruction. This is true not only for the mitzvos, but even for the stories found in the Torah.  The stories in the Torah are intended to teach us lessons, and are presented in the manner that best serve God's educational purposes. They are not there for our entertainment, or even to teach us history, but, like the mitzvos, to teach us how to properly live our lives.

This is an important principle, because it tells us two critical concepts:
  • There is nothing extraneous in the Torah. Everything, down to the details of every story, is there to teach us something or it would not have been included.
  • The Torah does not include information that is unrelated to its purpose. While there is historical information in the Torah, it is usually vague at best. The Torah is not a history book, or a science book, or even a philosophical work. (It also isn't a cookbook or a book on how to manage your money. But you already knew that.) It is book of Divine instruction.

Much to the disappointment of many a yeshiva student, God did not give us the Torah so that we wouldn't have to study history, or science, or math (or any other area of human study). The Torah is intended to answer questions that we can't really answer for ourselves: What are we here for? How do we fulfill our purpose?

Sometimes people ask why God didn't include scientific or medical information in the Torah, or why He didn't provide more precise historical information. Such questions are no more reasonable with regard to the Torah than they would be with regard to a cookbook (which is also a book of instruction). When we study the Torah, it is perfectly legitimate to ask what we are supposed to learn from a given story, or even a specific detail within the story. It is not legitimate to ask why God omitted the cure for cancer or the Grand Unified Theory for physics.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Explaining the Torah in Seventy "Languages"

Just finished studying with my Torah Mate. We recently began studying Chumash Devarim with Rashi and Gur Aryeh (the Maharal's super-commentary on Rashi) and we came to Deuteronomy 1:5, "On the other side of the Jordan in the land of Moab, Moses began clarifying this Torah, saying:" On the words "clarifying the Torah" Rashi comments (based on Medrash Tanchuma), "בשבעים לשון פרשה להם" - "He explained it to them in seventy languages."

This comment obviously needs explanation. Is it plausible that Moses actually got up and orally presented the Torah to the Jewish people in seventy different languages? How many languages did the Jewish people speak? Did Moshe get up and "explain the Torah" to them in languages that none of them understood? For that matter, the word used by Rashi is "פרשה" - "explained" - not translate!

So we started looking around. My chavrusa reminded me of the discussion of languages in Genesis 10:5, which, in turn, led us to look at the story of the Tower of Babel, in Genesis 11. One thing we noticed immediately is that, in the entire story of the confusion of the languages in Genesis 11, the Hebrew word "לשון"  (lit. "tongue") is never used (unlike in Genesis 10:5). Instead, the word used for language in Genesis 11 is "שפה" (lit. "lip"). Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary on Genesis 10:5, and again on 11:1, writes that the word "שפה" designates actual language, whereas "לשון" refers to dialect.

This was useful, in that it at least showed us that the "שבעים לשון" - "seventy languages" - mentioned by Rashi need not refer to seventy distinct languages. However, it didn't really make much sense to say that he explained it to them in seventy different dialects either.

At this point, both of us were already thinking that these "seventy languages" probably were not "languages" at all, but seventy different modes of interpretation, related to the famous concept of "שבעים פנים לתורה" - "there are seventy facets to the Torah." But we were hesitant to give such an explanation on our own, without some support. Baruch Hashem, we found exactly what we were looking for in the commentary HaKesav VeHaKabbala (by Rabbi Yakov Tzvi Mecklenburg, d.1865):
Rashi, from the Sages, says, "He explained it to them in seventy languages." They don't mean foreign languages, for what benefit would that be to the Jews? ... Rather, it is the way of the Sages to refer to the intent of a statement by the term לשון..., and so here, with the "seventy languages", it means "seventy intended meanings", similar to the statement of the Sages elsewhere, "שבעים פנים לתורה" - "there are seventy facets to the Torah" - which refers to the inner intended meanings of the Torah, asides from the initial, simple meaning.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Jewish Conception of "Satan" - A Quick Note

The basic traditional Jewish understanding of the purpose of human existence in this world is for us (as individuals and as a group) to bring ourselves closer to perfection/God through our own efforts. This means, of course, that we must begin at some "distance" from perfection/God, and that there must be some degree of resistance towards movement in that direction.

Being that perfection/God is inherently the most desirable goal in existence, then if we were fully capable of perceiving this goal there would be no true "choice" in pursuing it. It is therefore necessary for it/Him to be "hidden" to some degree from our perception, so that we must make a choice between the goal of perfection/God and the satisfaction of other drives. This "hiddenness" must be carefully balanced so that there remains enough knowledge of perfection/God that we can (and, in fact, are morally obligated to) rationally recognize that it is the proper goal of our existence, but not so obvious that that its inherent desirability completely overwhelms our desire to satisfy our other drives.

These other drives, which include all the natural desires of human existence, ranging from basic animal urges (e.g. food, sexual pleasure) to "higher" human drives (e.g. intellectual curiosity, aesthetic pleasure, creativity, even the desire for spirituallity), are the essence of what we refer to when we speak of the yetzer hara (Evil Inclination) or the Satan.

Nevertheless, while these other drives do serve to provide alternate desires/goals that can distract us from our primary purpose (moving towards perfection/God), this does not mean that this is the only reason, or even the primary reason, for their existence. Every natural urge and desire has an important primary function in of itself, independent of its secondary function as a spiritual impediment/distraction. The Jewish ideal is not to eliminate these drives, but to control and channel them in spiritually productive ways. No human drive is inherently evil; the evil is only in seeing the satisfaction of these drives as an end in itself instead of a means towards the true goal of moving closer to perfection/God.

Friday, April 6, 2012

From the Lowliest of Beginnings...

Why does the Hagada begin the narrative of יציאת מצרים (the Exodus from Egypt) with the shameful statement that “in the beginning our ancestors were idolaters”?

The Koznitzer Maggid (d.1814) explains that this teaches us that no matter how far we may have strayed from the proper path, we should never give up hope of coming close to God. For our ancestors were worshipers of idols, the lowest spiritual level possible, yet, nevertheless, in the end "קרבנו המקום לעבדתו" – "God brought us close to His service." No matter how low we may fallen spiritually, there is no point at which we cannot return to God.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

The Structure of Shoshanas Yaakov

It is customary to sing Shoshanas Yaakov after the reading of the Megillas Esther, both at night and by day.

While we tend to think of it as a song in its own right, Shoshanas Yaakov is actually just the conclusion of the poem Asher Heini (which, in most congregations, is recited in full after the megillah reading on Purim night). Asher Heini is a very ancient poem. R' Seligmann Baer (d.1897), in his Siddur Avodas Yisrael, describes Asher Heini as "אחד מן הפיוטים קדמוני הקדמונים" - "one of the earliest of the early (liturgical) poems." The Machzor Vitry (p.214) ascribes the poem to the Anshei Knesses HaGedolah, at the beginning of the Second Temple period. The poem is written in alphabetical order; the first sentence begins with the letter “aleph”, and each following sentence begins with the next letter in the Hebrew alphabet. The first two sentences of Shoshanas Yaakov (“Shoshanas Yaakov…” and “T’shuasam hayisa…”) complete the alphabet. 

In the version of the poem found in Machzor Vitry (an important liturgical work compiled by Rabbi Simcha of Vitry, d.1105) there are two verses that follow after the completion of the alphabet. The first is a slightly different version of the familiar verse “L’hodia sh’kol…”. The second is a verse that is omitted from all modern versions (that I am aware of), "כי אתה מגן לצדיקים ומושיע לעמו ישראל בעת צרה" - "For You are the shield of the righteous and the savior of His people Israel in times of oppression."

The next section of Shoshanas Yaakov, "Arur Haman asher bikeish...", is based upon Chazal’s injunction (מס' סופרים יד:ו, ירושלמי מגילה סוף פרק ג' ועוד) that, upon concluding the reading of the megilla, we should bless the righteous and curse the wicked. This section is not included in the version of the poem found in Machzor Vitri, but is found a bit later (p.217) as part of a different liturgical poem that, to my knowledge, is no longer in use in any community.

It seems, therefore, that the version of Shoshanas Yaakov that we use today is a synthesis of the original poem of Asher Heini and another poem, otherwise almost entirely forgotten, devoted to the topic of “Arur Haman” and “Baruch Mordechai.”

Friday, February 3, 2012

Why Does God Allow Us to Do Evil Deeds?

The following question was once posed in an on-line discussion I participated in, to which I wrote the following answer. I have rewritten the question in a more concise fashion.

Q: Why did God give us the freedom to murder and torture other people? If the purpose of free-will is simply to enable us to freely choose to serve God, then why do we need to be free to behave in truly horrendous ways? Why didn't God restrict our free will to a more morally acceptable range? The only choice that really needs to be left free is the choice to serve God.

A: I have two basic points in response, the first dealing with the nature of the question and the second, more important point, dealing with the underlying premise.

The first point deals with the nature of the concern about human freedom being so broad that it allows us to engage in excessively evil acts. That fact is that the acts that we perceive as atrocities are precisely those that are at the extreme limits of the free will of the normal person. Thus, we see killing a baby - an act that few modern Westerners would do (after childbirth) - as an atrocity, but we see a bar fight as merely bad behavior. No matter where God would have drawn the line for free will, there would remain acts that are so close to that line that they would be perceived as "atrocities". The only possible solution would be to eliminate free will entirely except for the one, yes/no decision to serve God. Such a solution would create a host of problems, not the least being that it would result in a completely black and white moral universe with no gradations at all. You would either be totally good or totally evil.

The second point, which I believe is more important, is that the premise of the question is based on an overly simplified understanding of the purpose for free will. While the idea that freedom gives meaning to our choice to do good is certainly important, and provides the basis for "reward and punishment", it is not the entire story.

On a deeper level, free will is a product of the human "neshama" - "soul/breath" - that God breathes into every human being. It is "the image of God" in which Man has been created. Our purpose in existence is to connect ourselves to God. Such connection is achieved by our emulation of God, bringing our Divine image's potential into actuality. To the degree that we "resemble" God, we are connected to Him. The most basic characteristic of God is that He is "free" - entirely independent. For man to imitate God, to share His image, Man must also be genuinely free.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Jewish Arguments for the Existence of God

This topic came up recently in a conversation with a friend, in which I laid out my thoughts on the role of these arguments vis-à-vis  David Hume's arguments against miracles. Then I came across this question in another website, so I put together this quick summary.

To my knowledge, the only "argument" for the existence of God given in the Torah itself is that He directly revealed Himself to us at Sinai:
Deut. 4:35 "Unto thee it was shown, that thou mightest know that the LORD, He is God; there is none else beside Him."
Deut. 5:4, "The LORD spoke with you face to face in the mount out of the midst of the fire."
In other words, direct experience does not require philosophical proof.

Rabbi Jacob Emden expanded this argument into our own time, saying that, "When I consider these wonders [of the survival of the Jews in exile], they appear greater to me than all the miracles and wonders that God did for our ancestors in Egypt, and in the wilderness, and in the land of Israel." (See the full text in this previous post.)

All philosophical arguments for the existence of God made in traditional sources are only intended to reinforce this basic experiential knowledge that is the heritage of the Jewish people. While these arguments can serve to shore up our beliefs against challenges, many sources appear to see these arguments as serving mainly to help us acheive a more personal, immediate connection to God.

The most common such arguments found in Jewish works are:
  • The Argument from Design - Many aspects of the natural world appear to have been been designed with intelligence and intent.
  • The Cosmological or "First Cause" Argument - What set the world moving? Where did it come from?
  • The famous Kuzari argument, that the Sinai revelation was a historical event witnessed by the entire nation. (This argument is basically just an extension of the Biblical "argument" that is intended to enable us to rely with confidence on our historical tradition.)
In my personal opinion, the various philosophical arguments for the existence of God are mainly useful for countering Hume's arguments against miracles. Briefly stated, he argues that no testimony of a miracle should be believed unless the falsehood of the testimony would be more improbable than the miracle itself. It follows, therefore, that one's ability to accept the testimony of the Jewish people's historical experience of miracles has an inverse relationship with the degree to which you think miracles are improbable.

All of the classical arguments for the existence of God are, fundamentally, arguments that we can perceive an element of the supernatural in the natural world itself. Thus, each such argument makes the possibility of miracles more plausible. At some point, it becomes more plausible that the Sinai Revelation really occurred than that it was made up (which, per the Kuzari argument, is very unlikely). Once you reach that point, then you have the Sinai Revelation to rely on for everything else.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The Incredible Adventures of Mr. Bowman


I made this several years ago for my students when we were studying Mesechta Megilla, 22b. It started off as a simple set of stick figure illustrations for the sugya about different forms of bowing and the related laws. (The ability to draw decent stick figures is incredibly useful for a rebbi.) 


But then I got a little carried away.

Maybe a good sequel would be when Mr. Bowman meets his nemesis, the evil sorceror, Kuma Zakufa!

Monday, January 16, 2012

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.

Twenty-Four Challenges & Twenty-Four Answers

Recently, while learning with my chavrusa (t/y Torah Mates), we looked up the famous story of the Talmudic sages Rav Yochanan and Reish Lakish (בבא מציעא פ"ד ע"א). The story is one of the most tragic and difficult stories found in the Talmud, and needs careful study to properly understand. In the course of reviewing the story, I was struck by a new insight. 

At one point, the story tells how, after the death of his close disciple, friend, and brother-in-law, Reish Lakish, Rav Yochanan suffered terribly. In an attempt to comfort Rav Yochanan, the sage, Rabbi Elazar ben Pedas, came to sit as a disciple before Rav Yochanan as a replacement for Reish Lakish. For every statement of Rav Yochanan, Rabbi Elazar ben Pedas would bring support from earlier sources. Rav Yochanan then said to him, "Are you like ben Lakish? On every thing I said, he would challenge me with twenty-four difficulties, and I would answer with twenty-four answers, and in this manner the teaching would be expanded. And you bring me proof? Do I not know that I am correct?"

What struck me for the first time in my recent review of this story was Rav Yochanan's statement that for Reish Lakish's twenty-four questions, he had to give twenty-four answers. Usually, when, in studying a Talmudic sugya (topic), we find ourselves with several difficulties, the likelihood is that most, if not all, of the difficulties are based upon one or two basic errors that we made in our study. While they may go unnoticed initially, as the sugya progresses, the difficulties caused by these errors begin to snowball, and at the end we find ourselves with a whole series of problems. A more experienced scholar will often be able resolve most of our difficulties by simply pointing out the basic error we made early on in the sugya. 

Moreover, while he may not be able to resolve the difficulty on his own, a highly competent student will usually be able to work his questions back to their underlying premises and recognize where the core difficulty lies. Such a student will ask fewer questions, but his questions will be much more focused and productive.

If R' Yochanan had only said that Reish Lakish would ask twenty-four questions, this could have meant nothing more than that Reish Lakish had difficulty following R' Yochanan's teachings and was therefore always left with numerous questions. However, when R' Yochanan says that each of the twenty-four questions required a separate answer, this indicates that every single question was fundamentally distinct. Reish Lakish had thoroughly analyzed the teaching, and had located twenty-four separate problem areas, each of which had to be dealt with on its own.

The more I think about this, the more it amazes me.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

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.)

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Poster of the Mesorah of the Oral Torah

If you are about my age, this diagram may be familiar to you. It used to be found in many Chabad publications, and I assume that it was originally produced and published by Merkos L'inyonei Chinuch, the Chabad educational organization, as a classroom poster.

It's a great educational tool, laying out the basic mesorah (tradition) of the Torah. Beginning with Sinai and the Written Torah, it works through the Mishna, Talmud, and major poskim (authorities in Jewish law). I remember, as a young boy, that this poster was my first introduction to the existence of such important works as the Rif and Tur. In my experience, as a teacher, most middle-school students, even in good yeshivos, are often not familiar with this basic information.

For some reason, the poster is now very difficult to find. If anyone has any info about it, please let me know.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Talmudic Indexes


Just came across this. The hyperbole in the article - and also from the publisher - is overblown. This two-volume set is not the major "groundbreaking achievement" it is being made out to be.

Don't get me wrong. The book, HaMafteach by Daniel Retter, is a great idea, and I can easily see myself purchasing it at some point in the future. I hope it sells well. However, the reality is that there already are a number of popular and widely accessible works available that function as Talmudic indexes (and most cover other major sifrei Chazal as well).

For Biblical verses there is the Torah Temimah from R' Baruch Epstein (d. 1941), which cites all the major Talmudic discussions on any verse in the Pentateuch as well as many from other sifrei chazal. (And, of course, there is always the Toldos Aharon, printed in any Mikraos Gedolos. And the comprehensive Torah Shelema from Rav Kasher.)

For biographical and historical information, there is the classic Seder HaDoros by Rav Yechiel Heilprin (d. 1746), which has a detailed chronology of Jewish history from Creation through the 17th century as well as a comprehensive encyclopedia, in alphabetical order, of the Sages of the Mishna and Talmud. It is available in clear, modern prints and should be in every serious Torah library.

For halachic topics, the Rambam's Mishneh Torah (with the Kesef Mishnah) will quickly point you to the relevant talmudic sources (and, with the Shabsai Frankel editions, beyond). Similarly, the Sefer HaChinuch, especially the newer editions of the Minchas Chinuch, will quickly enable you to find the Talmudic references for any mitzva.

For aggada (non-legal material), the best index is the three volume Otzar Ha'agada published by Mossad HaRav Kook. This is a topical index of all aggados, including midrashim and Zohar.

These references are all far more comprehensive than HaMafteach can be; after all, it's just two volumes and the sample page shows that it is not tiny print. However these works are also more specialized than HaMafteach, and, generally speaking, less accessible to a novice student. Perhaps most importantly, few of these works are available in English.

In any event, the above is far from a complete list of the works that "broke the ground" long before the publishing of HaMafteach. HaMafteach is simply a new work, in a more modern and accesible style, in a long line of such works.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Why Jews Love their Money

A fellow from Jerusalem just came to my door raising money for his family. He was a very friendly, talkative fellow. After I gave him my - unfortunately, rather small - donation and he was drinking his coffee provided by my gracious wife, he told me a dvar Torah which he said was his own original insight.

The Talmud (Shabbos 156b) states, "צדקה תציל ממוות" - "Charity saves from death." Why should tzedaka (charity) be specifically associated with saving one from death? My guest explained that we earn money by spending time working for it. So money is time, and time is life! When a person gives his money/time/life to another as tzedaka, he is rewarded - "מדה כנגד מדה" - "measure for measure" - by being granted more life. Thus, tzedaka saves from death.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Sources for Dreidel

A friend recently asked me if I had any sources for the custom of playing with a dreidel on Chanuka and what it means. I responded:
See here, from R' Gavriel Zinner:

The Bnei Yissaschar has some famous pieces on dreidel, one is that the dreidel is spinned from the top while a gragger is spun from below, symbolizing that on Chanukah the yeshua came through hisarusa d'l'eilah and Purim was a hisarusa d'l'sata. Also he connects the letters to the word "גשנה" in Breishis 46:28. I think he also points out that the letters are, b'gematria, "moshiach".

While the custom to play with a dreidel on Chanukah appears to have been well established beforehand, I don't know of any written sources earlier than the 19th century.

The Bnei Yissaschar doesn't mention the story of children playing dreidel to hide that they were learning Torah. This story is also not mentioned in Taamei Minhagim or Sefer Hatodaah (both of whom would almost certainly have mentioned it if they had heard of it and thought it was true). The earliest source I have found for this story is a sefer published in 1918 by a Rev. Hirshovitz in Pittsburg called אוצר כל מנהגי ישרון. (R' Zinner quotes it in his first footnote.) You can see it here:
He says it in the name of some other sources but I have not been able to identify them reliably.

As far as I can tell, this story began sometime in the second half of the 1800s. It is probably not a coincidence that at that same general time a number of writers (especially from the Mizrachi movement) were engaged in efforts to "romanticize" Jewish history, to give it more appeal to young people and reinforce nationalist sentiment. I suspect that this story grew out of that general tendency.
If anyone has any additional sources, please let me know.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

"Olive Seedlings" - On the Name of this Blog

I have chosen to name this blog "Olive Seedlings" based upon the midrash in Bamidbar Raba 8:9 which interprets Psalms 128 as referring to gerei tzedek (converts to Judaism). On verse 3 the midrash states:
"בניך כשתילי זיתים" מה הזית הזה - זיתים לאכילה, זיתים ליבש, וזיתים לשמן, ושמנו דולק מכל השמנים, ואין עליו נושרין לא בימות החמה ולא בימות הגשמים, כך באים בני הגרים מהם בעלי מקרא, מהם בעלי משנה, מהם בעלי משא ומתן, מהן חכמים, מהם נבונים, ומהם יודעי דבר בעתו, ויש להם זרע קיים לעולם. (במדבר רבה ח:ט)
"Your sons shall be as olive seedlings" - Just as the olive tree produces olives for eating, olives for drying, olives for oil, its oil burns better than all other oils, and its leaves do not fall during the summer or the winter, similarly the from the children of converts will come masters of Scripture, masters of Mishna, masters of discourse (or financial transactions), men of wisdom, men of understanding, men who know what is needed at a given moment, and they shall have descendants that last for all time.
As the son of a ger tzedek, this medrash - of which the above is only a small piece - is particularly meaningful to me and it is my hope that the blessings spoken of in the medrash will be fulfilled in my family and my brothers' families.

May the Torah that is learned by those who read my postings here be a zechus for my father, ר' דוד אהרן בן אברהם ע"ה.