Avraham's Daughter

Here, Parshablog discusses an interesting non-halachik teshuvah from Rav Moshe Feinstein, where he doubts the authenticity of a quoted statement of the Maharil that Avraham had a daughter named Bakol who died the same day that Sarah did.  I had always (and so did this blogger) figured that it can be explained by removing the small "כ" from "ולבכתה" so the Passuk reads not that Avraham eulogized Sarah and cried for her, but that he eulogized Sarah and her daughter.  He traces this statement to a commentary from the Chatam Sofer (who lived long after the Maharil I think - maybe the CS is explaining him or hadn't seen it, as Rav Moshe hadn't) who explains not that she died the same day, but that he never fully felt the pain of losing his daughter as long as he had his wife to comfort him, which is a far more poignant peshat.  The whole discussion of the daughter who died is consistent with the pattern in the Torah of Avraham losing everyone who matters to him, one by one, (except Sarah) leading up to the עקידה, magnifying the significance of that test.

As an aside, this conversation each year reminds me of a discussion I have had with my wife a few times about my wish to name our daughter Bakol.  She hates the idea, so it's hard to know how serious about it I am, but I think it would be a cool name (Baki for short?).

Hat tip to RJW.

Incredible Article

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Ain't Gonna Work on Saturday

Since one is not supposed to get paid for working on Shabbat, what does a group leader need to do to get paid without violating this halacha?

-Yifat Adler-

Great question.  Realize that this doesn't only apply to group leader, but also to many other people who "work" on Shabbat, like caterers for a kiddush and most strikingly Shul Rabbis.  The rule is that as long as you are being paid for work that you do on weekdays as well, you can halachikally "hang" or allocate all of the money to the non-Shabbat work.  So as long as you do some work for this job that is not on Shabbat (preparing, a single meeting etc.) we consider it as though that is all that you are being paid for, and you are OK.  If not, you should try to do something before Shabbat, even if it's just taking a few minutes to plan what you will do during the groups, and that will suffice.  

Parsha For the Busy or Attention-Challenged

This is what seems like a new feature on Hirhurim - Rabbi Student gives a one or two paragraph summary of a few insights on the Parsha from a diverse collection of contemporary scholars.  Check it out.

More on Minyan

It's so interesting to me to hear different perspectives on Tefiila b'tzibur vs.davening alone.  Clearly, I don't get the liberty of experimenting and choosing my preference.  I need to daven with a minyan three times a day, and usually do (the only time I can remember feeling proud of my child's ignorance is when the first time I took my son to shul for shacharit during the week he asked me what the tefilin were).  What I have found though on the instances that I have davened b'yichidut is that the experience is polarizing, and my tefilla is either better or worse than usual.  To put it another way, the minyan is the great equalizer.  The structure and crowd usually give me the ability to reach a minimal, baseline focus that I don't always achieve when davening alone (especially on those occasions that you realize that you hadn't davened maariv until you're already in bed).  On the other hand, the minyan pushes me to conform to a certain pace.  It also too often lulls me into a routine that is not conducive to the true communication with Hashem that I'm occasionally able to achieve when standing alone in my living room, the only one in the house still awake when the shuffling of the pages of the siddur seems almost deafening.  

All that said, I think I would have enjoyed Mrs. Cohen's Kabbalat Shabbat.  Moral of the story - if you're looking for a life rich with experiences, head to Israel.

An Individual's Tefillah b'Tzibbur

I’m glad that Mrs. Sinensky raised this topic, because this Shabbos I had an experience that made me reflect on it and I wanted to hear your thoughts about the matter.

Sometimes it is hard to daven properly in shul or other public settings. There are many distractions around, and we might find that our thoughts keep wandering to what is going on around us – what other people are doing or wearing, hearing their whispered conversations, or sometimes starting our own. Or sometimes we might just be self-conscious – “If my friends see me davening with kavana, will they still think I’m cool?”

Sometimes I think it is almost easier to daven on my own, someplace quiet. And yet, we are told that “bi’rov ‘am hadrat melekh”. The King (Hashem) is more glorified the greater the abundance of people.

My family and I spent this past Shabbos at my uncle’s house in Shilo. Friday it rained for the first time this season. Not a lot, but coming only one week after we started saying mashiv ha'ruach made me feel like Hashem is listening to our tefillot.

Because of the rain, the entire yishuv lost power, and since the water supply is also dependent on electricity, there was no water, either. The blackout lasted about 7 hours, and ended as we were finishing our Friday night meal by candlelight. Despite some of the difficulties, the experience was really rather nice.

But what was really special was Friday night davening. The shul was almost pitch black inside. There were a couple of candles lit here and there, but unless you were sitting right next to one the light didn’t help much.

Imagine sitting in almost perfect darkness, not able to see anything in a siddur, not even able to make out the face of the person next to you. And hear, in your mind, 100+ voices singing Kabbalat Shabbat, and it seemed that everyone was singing it with more feeling than usual.

We finished Kabbalat Shabbat, and I was wondering how I was going to daven maariv completely by heart. People started saying boruchu in louder voices, but the rav quieted everyone down and then only the shliach tzibbur could be heard, and he davened everything out loud word by word, including shemoneh esrei, and everyone whispered along with him.

You couldn't see what anyone looked like, or focus on anything distracting. The darkness was isolating, and I felt like each person was alone in a private conversation with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, yet we had the comfort and strength of the whole tzibbur together at the same time.

It was something I have never felt with such intensity before, and it was all because the lights were out. But I was thinking, maybe we each have to try to replicate that to whatever extent we can, when we daven b’tzibbur. Can we try to minimize the distractions that we ourselves cause, and can we try to increase our own focus in davening so that we are at once an individual, in communication with Hashem, yet at the same time a part of the greater tzibbur that gives our tefillot that much more influence.

Davening with others or daven alone?

Rabbi Marc Angel recently published a book of sermons called Know Before Whom You Stand: Thoughts About Prayer. He discusses the concept of davening in a shul—a place of communal worship. He writes, “Public prayer is less self-centered, and unites participants into a community. Even if we do not have a particular need, praying in the collective makes us conscious of the needs of others.” This explanation can also be used to supports davening around other people, even if one is not able to be in a shul.

Inspiring Words

Here is one of my favorite quotes from the Rav, Rav Soloveitchik:

" ...Most of all I learned from [my mother] that Judaism expresses itself not only in formal compliance with the law but also in a living experience. She taught me that there is a flavor, a scent and warmth to the mitzvot. I learned from her the most important thing in life - to feel the presence of the Almighty and the gentle pressure of His hand resting upon my frail shoulders. Without her teachings, which quite often were transmitted to me in silence, I would have grown up a soulless being, dry and insensitive." ("A Tribute to the Rebbitzen of Talne," Tradition 17:2 [Spring 1978], pp. 76-77)

I am curious to hear your thoughts about how we can achieve this in our own lives. Are there certain experiences that we can try to have, people that we can try to surround ourselves with so that we can accomplish this?

Wrap Up for the Yom Tov Season

• First, I asked a Rabbi about what this person with the Teshuva dilemma should do - do we pasken like the Chafetz Chaim or Rav Yisrael Salanter?  He seemed to come out like Rav Salanter, and said to tell all of the people that she originally told the מוציא שם רע to that it was wrong, and to ask for general מחילה  from the victim the next time it won't make her assume that there is something specific behind the request.
• At the Simchat Beit Hashoevah, Allison asked me about the phrase that we add to bentching on Sukkot asking Hashem to rebuild the "סוכת דוד הנופלת" - King David's fallen Sukkah, a strange way of referring to the בית המקדש, and a seemingly unrelated request to the holiday it celebrates.  I'm not sure it fully answers it, but over Yom Tov, Dr. Kook (Leora's Dad) pointed out the following explanation from Rav Amital ZT"L (the former Rosh Yeshiva of Gush who recently passed away), citing the Maharal.    

  The Davidic dynasty is referred to as “sukka,” [even though] royalty in general is referred to as a “house”... because something that has a powerful existence in the world is referred to as a house, which is a permanent structure.  Similarly, a royal dynasty is referred to as a house, because of its strength and permanence....

   But when a house falls, its original essence is negated.  When it is later rebuilt it becomes a totally new house.  That rebuilt house is not referred to as the house that had fallen, for the original house has already been negated.  Rather, it is as if a totally new house has now been built.

   A sukka, though, is not a house, not a complete and permanent structure.  If it falls, it can easily be put up again; if it falls, it is can appropriately be referred to as being reestablished.  It returns to its original essence.

   Thus, the Kingdom of the House of David, always ready to be reestablished after having fallen, is referred to as the Kingdom of “David’s fallen sukka.”  Even after its fall it retains its identity as a “sukka.”  This is because a sukka is always ready to be put back up, and it is easy to do so. (Netzach Yisrael, Chapter 35)

  

   A house’s fall is complete and final, and putting it back up is impossible. A sukka, on the other hand, even though it can easily fall, can be put up again.

  

   This is what typifies Israel and Israel’s kingdom.  A house is stable, and has the ability to withstand nature’s violent storms; but once it falls, it is no longer possible for that house to be put up again.  What is reconstructed is something new.  A sukka, by contrast, isn’t stable; any unusually strong wind will knock it down.  The same is true for the Kingdom of Israel: it is fragile, falls easily, and doesn’t resist storms and shocks.  But it always rises back up and stands on its feet again."

• The submissions aren't all in yet for this first month, and certainly haven't gone to the judges, but for all of the different, creative and original submissions we've had for the Avodah Sheb'lev contest (see here, here, here, here, and here for some examples), we had never had anyone bake, until yesterday when our freshman halacha class enjoyed Adina Cohen's submission on Tashlich.  Here it is.