Tuesday, March 29, 2011
In Honor of SHAC Week - Lashon Hara Against Non-Religious Jews
The following is from Rav Shlomo Aviner (see his always interesting Shu"t website):
For a related (but different) question addressed here on Why-aanot, see here.
For other posts responding to Lashon Hara questions see here, here and here.
Question: Is it permissible to speaking Lashon Ha-Ra about secular Jews? Answer: The Chafetz Chaim wrote that it is permissible to speak Lashon Ha-Ra about an "apikoros" (a heretic). Our Rabbi, Ha-Rav Tzvi Yehudah, agreed that this is correct, but he also said that this creates a dangerous opening for every person to decide for himself who is an "apikoros." I will decide that anyone who does not think exactly like me is an "apikoros." The entire House of Israel will then be full of Lashon Ha-Ra. It is permissible for me to disagree with a G-d-fearing Jew, but I do not have to consider him an "apikoros." Further, while secular Jews certainly seem to be heretics, many authorities have already ruled that they are "Tinokot She-nishbu" (literally Jewish children captured and raise among non-Jews), i.e. Jews who did not receive a proper Jewish upbringing and education. In order to be an "apikoros," one must be knowledgeable. Someone once came to our master, Rav Kook, and said all sorts of thing against the Tanach. Rav Kook said: You are right. He said: I am?! "Yes,” replied Rav Kook, “if the Tanach is as you say then what you are saying is correct, but the Tanach is something else." The person was not denying the Tanach - he simply did not know it. This is not an "apikoros," it is an unknowledgeable Jew. Secular Jews in general are not heretics; they are simply "Tinokot She-nishbu." They have not learned and do not know, therefore do not speaking ill against them. It is possible that a particular secular Jew is an "apikoros," but it is not so simple, because the "spirit of the time" is extremely strong. It may be that a person did learn Torah, but there are all sorts of influences. The Rambam (Hilchot Mamrim 3:3) defined someone with a corrupt education as a "Tinok She-nishba." Today, however, one's education is not limited to one's parents, but includes the "street." What is the "street"? These are all of the possible "foggy" influences: radio, TV, the internet, books, etc… We build walls around us, but things still enter. There is a saying that the apple does not fall far from the tree. The Chief Rabbi of Israel, Ha-Rav Yitzchak Herzog, was once asked: what happened with your son Chaim, who became the President of Israel and who was secular? Ha-Rav Herzog said: “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree” only applies with a usual wind, but an unusual wind can carry it far away. He was referring to the Tosafot on Baba Kamma 27b. It is therefore even possible for the son of the Chief Rabbi to receive a corrupt education -- not from the Chief Rabbi, but from what is going around in the "street." In short: Do not be quick to apply the term "apikoros".I think he gets the right answer, in the right way, even if the people who he is "protecting" might be offended by the analysis.
For a related (but different) question addressed here on Why-aanot, see here.
For other posts responding to Lashon Hara questions see here, here and here.
The Positive Power of Social Media
Newsflash: Facebook removed its Third Intifada page due to the enormous pressure put on it. (Check out the link.)
I have always maintained that technology, the Internet and social media like Facebook are tools. They are not inherently positive or negative. Their value--good or bad--is in how they are used. Recently, there have been some amazing examples of how social media like Facebook and Twitter have helped alert the world to governments' brutality and repression, as well as helping to find people displaced by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. But Facebook, in the name of "free speech" and "information for all" also allowed a page that was designed to promote hatred and incite deadly violence. By using the same social media, the word was spread and the same technology was used to give feedback to Facebook that there ARE limits to "free speech" and that racial violence is just not tolerable in human and humane society. The speed and breadth of this technology effected a positive change that may not have happened in a regular print media, nor would the withdrawal have been so widely known.
Let's hear it for the positive use of tools!
Monday, March 28, 2011
A Guest Post from Mrs. Winkler - In Response to Mrs. Goldberg
Your post brought tears to my eyes as I recently had a similar experience in Ramaz as well. While attending a kindergarten program with my grandson, I was amazed and very pleased that Ramaz chose to highlight their Ivrit immersion program to over a hundred grandparents present, experiencing this remarkable program together with their grandchild.
The fact that these 5 and 6 year old children are getting a strong dose of Ivrit and Tzionut at such a young age can plant the seeds for the love of EretzYisrael and Medinat Yisrael that these youngsters will feel throughout their lives. This program was conducted only in Ivrit and these young kids answered ONLY in Ivrit with love and enthusiasm. You heard the excitement in each and every one of their voices.
Continuity and consistency in making these programs an important part of our curriculum on every grade level is our ticket to our future!Ivrit immersion, Tzionut, or spectacular holiday or, "lo aleinu", tragedy-related programs will remain with our students forever. At special times like these, emotions need to be expressed and feelings need to be addressed. The lack of reaction by our students to both Mrs. Cohen, my neice, and Mrs. Goldberg is disappointing, but should make us more committed to passing on our love of Eretz Yisrael effectively.
The fact that these 5 and 6 year old children are getting a strong dose of Ivrit and Tzionut at such a young age can plant the seeds for the love of EretzYisrael and Medinat Yisrael that these youngsters will feel throughout their lives. This program was conducted only in Ivrit and these young kids answered ONLY in Ivrit with love and enthusiasm. You heard the excitement in each and every one of their voices.
Continuity and consistency in making these programs an important part of our curriculum on every grade level is our ticket to our future!Ivrit immersion, Tzionut, or spectacular holiday or, "lo aleinu", tragedy-related programs will remain with our students forever. At special times like these, emotions need to be expressed and feelings need to be addressed. The lack of reaction by our students to both Mrs. Cohen, my neice, and Mrs. Goldberg is disappointing, but should make us more committed to passing on our love of Eretz Yisrael effectively.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Thoughts from Yerushalayim
The news over the past two weeks has been difficult, with the devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan, followed by the brutal murders in Itamar of 5 members of the Fogel family, rockets that are being fired into the south and west of Israel from Gaza, and now this terror attack today in Yerushalayim that has killed one person and wounded more than 30 others.
I was working quietly at home shortly before 3pm on Wednesday, when I suddenly heard the sound of multiple sirens at once. Instantly I wondered if there had been a pigu’a (attack), but dismissed the thought because things have been quiet in Yerushalayim for years. But about half an hour later I got a text from Yaffa that there had been a bomb on the bus line that she takes to school, and where she had been standing only two hours earlier.
I tried to text her back, but the text wouldn’t go through, nor was I able to call her - all because the phone lines were full from the sheer volume of calls going on in the country immediately after the bombing. And then the calls began to trickle in from a few friends and relatives wanting to find out if we were okay. A few minutes later and Yaffa’s call to me managed to get through, and we spoke about what had just occurred. We were both shaken by the news, which hit home especially hard since she very easily could have been on that bus. We found out later that it was a different bus line, and that the bomb wasn’t actually on the bus but near it, but that still didn’t diminish our shock and of course our concern for everyone who was injured.
And the question that she asked me was – What do we do now? What does she do now? We don't have a car this year, and so she takes 4 buses a day to get to and from school. How is she supposed to get on the bus to come back home? What if…?
And I had no answer.
The question brought me back to my second year of study in Israel, which was the year that the first intifada began. As seminaries created lists of danger zones where students could not travel, and as many people curtailed travel into Yehuda and Shomron, I resolutely decided that my personal response had to be that I demonstrate that these attacks, designed to scare us away, wouldn’t scare me away. Since I was a second-year student at a time that not many people stayed for two years, I wasn’t bound by the seminary’s rules created for the students from chutz la’aretz, and instead was free to travel as I wished. I arranged Shabbatot for myself in places people were nervous to go - Kiryat Arba, Chevron, the Muslim Quarter; I traveled on bus lines that were routinely attacked by Arabs throwing stones and Molotov cocktails. I needed to show that we Jews were here, and can’t be scared away. But that was during the first intifada, when the Palestinians weren’t armed like they are today; when the attacks, although dangerous, were not on the same scale as they were in the second intifada and like today, when there are shootings, and buses blown up, and tens of people killed and injured at once.
And most different, that was my personal decision for myself, which I imposed on no one else. But today – how can I tell my children to take a bus if they are scared to? And if they aren’t scared to, as their parent, should I tell them to avoid buses?
Yaffa reminded me of the summer we visited Israel in 2001, at the height of the second intifada when numerous buses were blown up in Yerushalayim and many people killed and wounded. We were staying in a hotel down the block from Sbarro’s, and the morning of the horrific bomb attack there we were at a museum. We came back an hour after the attack, and walking through the street to the hotel we saw a scene of havoc, and people walking about with blood on their clothing. And she asked me yesterday, why did we take buses that summer? And my answer was that although I was nervous about taking buses, seeing how the Israelis carried on with their daily lives despite the bus bombings we decided that we too would try to carry on as normal and so we took buses. Somewhat nervously and on the alert, but we did take buses.
But even that was different than today, because I was there together with my children, taking the same risks as them. As opposed to now, when they have to take multiple buses each day, and I only take a bus occasionally, when I need to leave the neighborhood in which we live.
I told Yaffa in our phone call that life has to continue as normal. But that I don’t know the answer. I don’t know whether she should take buses – but what other option is there?
I got off the phone with Yaffa, and my son called to tell me he had just heard of the attack. He had been planning to take a bus to the mall after school with two friends, but one of the mothers called her son and told him she didn’t want him going on a bus. And my son wanted to know, will I let him go on a bus with the other boy to the mall, or would I rather not?
I told him I didn’t have an answer. But as we talked further I told him that if he feels comfortable taking a bus, then yes, I think he can take a bus. I think it is important to take a bus. Life has to continue as normal.
I don’t know if I am right. A part of me feels guilty – I dragged my children here for the year. It wasn’t their decision to come, it was mine. I took them away from their friends, out of their comfortable lives in America to spend a year in Israel. And now a bomb exploded in a place where either of my two older kids could have been at any time.
I welcome your thoughts and comments on this issue. Hopefully this was only a one-time incident, but should life continue as normal immediately afterwards, or should one go out of one’s way to avoid buses? Public places? How would you feel?
But at the same time as I have these questions, I feel something else, too. When I am in America and hear of attacks in Israel I always feel guilty that I’m living a comfortable life, while our brethren in Israel have to endure hardships. But this time, I’m here too, and I can share in their burden.
I think that even in times like this I prefer to be part of Am Yisrael in Eretz Yisrael. That’s where I was meant to be.
I was working quietly at home shortly before 3pm on Wednesday, when I suddenly heard the sound of multiple sirens at once. Instantly I wondered if there had been a pigu’a (attack), but dismissed the thought because things have been quiet in Yerushalayim for years. But about half an hour later I got a text from Yaffa that there had been a bomb on the bus line that she takes to school, and where she had been standing only two hours earlier.
I tried to text her back, but the text wouldn’t go through, nor was I able to call her - all because the phone lines were full from the sheer volume of calls going on in the country immediately after the bombing. And then the calls began to trickle in from a few friends and relatives wanting to find out if we were okay. A few minutes later and Yaffa’s call to me managed to get through, and we spoke about what had just occurred. We were both shaken by the news, which hit home especially hard since she very easily could have been on that bus. We found out later that it was a different bus line, and that the bomb wasn’t actually on the bus but near it, but that still didn’t diminish our shock and of course our concern for everyone who was injured.
And the question that she asked me was – What do we do now? What does she do now? We don't have a car this year, and so she takes 4 buses a day to get to and from school. How is she supposed to get on the bus to come back home? What if…?
And I had no answer.
The question brought me back to my second year of study in Israel, which was the year that the first intifada began. As seminaries created lists of danger zones where students could not travel, and as many people curtailed travel into Yehuda and Shomron, I resolutely decided that my personal response had to be that I demonstrate that these attacks, designed to scare us away, wouldn’t scare me away. Since I was a second-year student at a time that not many people stayed for two years, I wasn’t bound by the seminary’s rules created for the students from chutz la’aretz, and instead was free to travel as I wished. I arranged Shabbatot for myself in places people were nervous to go - Kiryat Arba, Chevron, the Muslim Quarter; I traveled on bus lines that were routinely attacked by Arabs throwing stones and Molotov cocktails. I needed to show that we Jews were here, and can’t be scared away. But that was during the first intifada, when the Palestinians weren’t armed like they are today; when the attacks, although dangerous, were not on the same scale as they were in the second intifada and like today, when there are shootings, and buses blown up, and tens of people killed and injured at once.
And most different, that was my personal decision for myself, which I imposed on no one else. But today – how can I tell my children to take a bus if they are scared to? And if they aren’t scared to, as their parent, should I tell them to avoid buses?
Yaffa reminded me of the summer we visited Israel in 2001, at the height of the second intifada when numerous buses were blown up in Yerushalayim and many people killed and wounded. We were staying in a hotel down the block from Sbarro’s, and the morning of the horrific bomb attack there we were at a museum. We came back an hour after the attack, and walking through the street to the hotel we saw a scene of havoc, and people walking about with blood on their clothing. And she asked me yesterday, why did we take buses that summer? And my answer was that although I was nervous about taking buses, seeing how the Israelis carried on with their daily lives despite the bus bombings we decided that we too would try to carry on as normal and so we took buses. Somewhat nervously and on the alert, but we did take buses.
But even that was different than today, because I was there together with my children, taking the same risks as them. As opposed to now, when they have to take multiple buses each day, and I only take a bus occasionally, when I need to leave the neighborhood in which we live.
I told Yaffa in our phone call that life has to continue as normal. But that I don’t know the answer. I don’t know whether she should take buses – but what other option is there?
I got off the phone with Yaffa, and my son called to tell me he had just heard of the attack. He had been planning to take a bus to the mall after school with two friends, but one of the mothers called her son and told him she didn’t want him going on a bus. And my son wanted to know, will I let him go on a bus with the other boy to the mall, or would I rather not?
I told him I didn’t have an answer. But as we talked further I told him that if he feels comfortable taking a bus, then yes, I think he can take a bus. I think it is important to take a bus. Life has to continue as normal.
I don’t know if I am right. A part of me feels guilty – I dragged my children here for the year. It wasn’t their decision to come, it was mine. I took them away from their friends, out of their comfortable lives in America to spend a year in Israel. And now a bomb exploded in a place where either of my two older kids could have been at any time.
I welcome your thoughts and comments on this issue. Hopefully this was only a one-time incident, but should life continue as normal immediately afterwards, or should one go out of one’s way to avoid buses? Public places? How would you feel?
But at the same time as I have these questions, I feel something else, too. When I am in America and hear of attacks in Israel I always feel guilty that I’m living a comfortable life, while our brethren in Israel have to endure hardships. But this time, I’m here too, and I can share in their burden.
I think that even in times like this I prefer to be part of Am Yisrael in Eretz Yisrael. That’s where I was meant to be.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Ayala Schnaidman on Rabbi Fohrman's Sefer
First of all, I must say that Rabbi Fohramn's book, The Queen You Thought You Knew, was excellent not only in his keen observations and interpretations, but also because his style of writing was sophisticated, yet simple to understand. He adresses issues both Pshat and Drash based, and offers fascinating ideas and theses. The following is an e-mail that I sent to Rabbi Fohrman regarding one of his theses.
I have just finished reading Rabbi Fohrman's new book, The Queen You Thought You Knew, and found it to be an excellent interpretation of the Purim story.
My father and I were discussing an alternative thought to Rabbi Fohrman's thesis on the final pasuk of the Megillah. While Rabbi Fohramn argues that there was a population within Shevet Yehuda that was unhappy being ruled by a Benjamite leader, the Targum (Ksav Yad Paris) claims that "rov" refers to Shevet Binyamin. When Haman was executed, it was clear that at least the Benjamites would be saved because of their connection to the Queen and to Mordechai. But when Mordechai and Esther decided that they needed to extend further to save the people of Yehuda as well, they jeopardized the safety of the Benjamites. Therefore, there would have been a population of people in Shevet Binyamin who were unhappy with Mordechai because he had been willing to risk their safety in attempts to save Shevet Yehuda.
I would be interested in hearing Rabbi Fohrman's thoughts on this Targum. Thank you and Frayloch Purim!
-Ayala Schnaidman
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Re: Ma'ayanot and Israel
I do feel that Ma'ayanot could use more of the ardent Zionism that I feel is so integral to a Jewish education. Many of the students are very Zionistic, and many do aspire to make aliya, but it seems that this aspect of their education happened more outside of school than in it. I do think that we need to make a MUCH bigger deal of Yom Ha'atzmaut in order to communicate and educate about the importance of the current incarnation of Eretz Yisrael. And there are "small" ways that we can more consistently include Israel--like one day of Chanuka featuring the "Kotel Cam" of lighting the menorah, like a monthly trivia contest in the Stream based on modern Zionist history and maybe a speaker from NORPAC (or pushing the mission this year more) or the Israel Consul General Also, do we still have the Israel updates once a week after tefilla? I think we are all somewhat reluctant to "preach" anything because it goes against the Ma'ayanot philosophy of critical inquiry and I certainly do not believe in supplanting religion with Zionism. Also, the very fact that the modern State has been around for (BH) a while, makes the urgency somewhat harder to grasp. But I think that as we have emphasized yirat shamayim when analyzing midrash and m'farshim, maybe we should talk about how to put the centrality of Eretz Yisrael (and its modern incarnation) into the curriculum more?
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Queen I Now Know Better Than I Did Before
Over the weekend I finished Rabbi Fohrman's sefer "The Queen You Thought You Knew", and it is better than I could have imagined. (For those of you who have the book, and will be writing an essay within the next couple of weeks, here is the list of questions to choose from.) Without exaggeration, it is far and away the best thing I have ever read on the Megilla.
For some background, the most disappointing shiur I've ever heard was about the Megilla. It was my first year in Yeshiva in Israel, and the Mashgiach who was constantly teaching us interesting, original, insightful material about all parts of Tanach was giving a shiur about the Megilla. He spent about an hour asking tons of great questions about how no one acts in rational ways and nothing make sense, and then (ala Esther at the dinner party) said that it was "to be continued", and that we needed to come back next week for the conclusion. OK - back we come the following week for 45 minutes of more great questions, and then a climax of something like "and that's how we see that it was all from Hashem." To be fair, it's possible that my memory is imperfect or that I wasn't that intellectually mature, and it wasn't as bad as I'm making it out to be, but since then my impression of the Megilla has been of a sefer that is not tightly written, difficult to analyze because of the imprecision of both language and plot. This book makes all of those assumptions look absurd. Finally, an analysis of the Megila that makes it make sense - I cannot recommend it any more enthusiastically. I lent it to my neighbor who sent me an e-mail the next morning that said "Thanks for the recommendation (and loan) – it was phenomenal. Besides offering a very compelling interpretation of the story, it was an inspiring reminder that there is still plenty of room for creative scholars to come up with new Torah thoughts."
Some points of interest:
For some background, the most disappointing shiur I've ever heard was about the Megilla. It was my first year in Yeshiva in Israel, and the Mashgiach who was constantly teaching us interesting, original, insightful material about all parts of Tanach was giving a shiur about the Megilla. He spent about an hour asking tons of great questions about how no one acts in rational ways and nothing make sense, and then (ala Esther at the dinner party) said that it was "to be continued", and that we needed to come back next week for the conclusion. OK - back we come the following week for 45 minutes of more great questions, and then a climax of something like "and that's how we see that it was all from Hashem." To be fair, it's possible that my memory is imperfect or that I wasn't that intellectually mature, and it wasn't as bad as I'm making it out to be, but since then my impression of the Megilla has been of a sefer that is not tightly written, difficult to analyze because of the imprecision of both language and plot. This book makes all of those assumptions look absurd. Finally, an analysis of the Megila that makes it make sense - I cannot recommend it any more enthusiastically. I lent it to my neighbor who sent me an e-mail the next morning that said "Thanks for the recommendation (and loan) – it was phenomenal. Besides offering a very compelling interpretation of the story, it was an inspiring reminder that there is still plenty of room for creative scholars to come up with new Torah thoughts."
Some points of interest:
- Rabbi Fohrman also had an article in the Forward on a different aspect of the Megilla not addressed in the sefer.
- One of his key points in unlocking the secrets of the Megilla is that Esther appealed to Achashveirosh because she wouldn't talk about her history and nationality. This allowed him, and his kingdom to view her as a "Mother Persia" figure, an everywoman who the entire empire can relate to, as opposed to a someone attached to a particular ethnic or national past. On that point, one night I heard a piece of a report on NPR about how almost all national news anchors had no accent and used no regional dialect (localism) in their broadcast, for this very reason. It was bad for business for any viewer to think of the anchor as the other.
- The first part and majority of the book is a step by step analysis of the Megilla, but after that he gives a brilliant chiddush about the name of the holiday, drawing on a well-known but seemingly irrelevant portion of the Torah. It is a crucial reminder that in order to be creative, you first need to know a lot. The first step towrds creating your own ideas is accumulating a knowledge base of different texts to draw from which allows you to recognize allusions and patterns.
Ma'ayanot and Israel
Recently, one of our alumnae who is having an incredible year at in Israel e-mailed me that she doesn't think that Ma'ayanot emphasizes Israel enough. I wrote back that it is a complicated thing for people/schools that are in America....and that clearly things come across differently once you are in Israel and actually experiencing the country first hand. I also said that there are different values that a high school may want to focus on. This girl also honestly admitted that when she was in high school she had strong feelings of "why would anyone want to leave Teaneck" and she probably would not have wanted to hear anything different.
But then yesterday I had an interesting experience when I spoke to the juniors and seniors at Ramaz about the role of a Yoetzet Halacha. Obviously the group was of a different makeup then students at Ma'ayanot (esp the boys!!) Anyway, at the end though during the questions someone asked me about my goals for the future. I began my answer by saying "actually I am making aliyah this summer" and was about to use that as a springboard to describe my plans going forward but first as soon as I said that the entire group spontaneously began clapping. I was so taken aback, so impressed and so touched....and I was left wondering if something like that would have happened at Ma'ayanot if a random speaker was addressing our students. Clearly Ramaz has instilled this value in them. After my e-mail exchange with one of our past students it certainly left me pondering....
I would love to hear any thoughts that faculty or students have on this very complex and complicated issue...
Thanks!!
But then yesterday I had an interesting experience when I spoke to the juniors and seniors at Ramaz about the role of a Yoetzet Halacha. Obviously the group was of a different makeup then students at Ma'ayanot (esp the boys!!) Anyway, at the end though during the questions someone asked me about my goals for the future. I began my answer by saying "actually I am making aliyah this summer" and was about to use that as a springboard to describe my plans going forward but first as soon as I said that the entire group spontaneously began clapping. I was so taken aback, so impressed and so touched....and I was left wondering if something like that would have happened at Ma'ayanot if a random speaker was addressing our students. Clearly Ramaz has instilled this value in them. After my e-mail exchange with one of our past students it certainly left me pondering....
I would love to hear any thoughts that faculty or students have on this very complex and complicated issue...
Thanks!!
10,000!
Wigging Out II
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Mi K'Amcha Yisrael
In this photo: Rami Levi
Every day of the Shiva – Rami Levi ( who owns one of the larger supermarket chains in Israel) comes by the shiva house in Itamar and fills the cupboards and refrigerator himself with food for the family and guests.
Today - one of the relatives expressed their appreciation to him and he said you will get used to my face. I have committed myself that every week I will deliver food and stock your home until the youngest orphan turns 18 years old.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wigging Out
Hirhurim (my 2nd favorite Torah blog), takes up the issue of sheitels. This is a question that many of you often raise, so many of you have already heard my view on it, but for the rest of you, hear it is (and frankly I'm surprised that something like it hasn't shown up in the comments there - maybe I'm wrong; it's a very learned crowd):
Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe, EH 2:14) famously addressed the issue of men and women riding the subway in close quarters. His response was that it is permitted to ride because most people don't find that to be a context that leads to hirhurei aveira (improper thoughts). However, if you know for yourself that you are an exception, and it will result in hirhurei aveira, then it is prohibited for you.
This teaches us that there are certain rules in the realm of tzniut and arayot that are subjective (they are prohibited because they lead to hirhurei aveira), and others that are prohibited simply because objectively, they are articulated by Chazal as erva. Most laws of tzniut will fall into both categories, and therefore we are required to honor both the letter and spirit of the law - see Rabbi Student's example of the anatomically correct body suit, or clothing that covers everything but is too tight. While it may fulfill the letter of the law by covering everything that needs to be covered, it fails the halachik test because it actually causes the type of reaction that the entire tzniut system is looking to avoid.
Hair is not subjectively erva - it doesn't usually lead to hirhurei aveira; the biggest proof is that non-married women don't cover it. It is difficult to believe that the exact same hair that a week ago was innocuous magically becomes alluring. Therefore, married women need to cover their hair because they do - because it's in the list that Chazal drew up about what needs to be covered. If so then it is the letter of the law and not it's spirit (there is no spirit) that needs to be followed, so a sheitel - even of her own cut hair, even if it looks better than her own hair - fulfills that requirement.
I wonder if similar reasoning can be (has been?) used to defend those who are lenient about kol isha when it is not heard live.
What do you think?
Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe, EH 2:14) famously addressed the issue of men and women riding the subway in close quarters. His response was that it is permitted to ride because most people don't find that to be a context that leads to hirhurei aveira (improper thoughts). However, if you know for yourself that you are an exception, and it will result in hirhurei aveira, then it is prohibited for you.
This teaches us that there are certain rules in the realm of tzniut and arayot that are subjective (they are prohibited because they lead to hirhurei aveira), and others that are prohibited simply because objectively, they are articulated by Chazal as erva. Most laws of tzniut will fall into both categories, and therefore we are required to honor both the letter and spirit of the law - see Rabbi Student's example of the anatomically correct body suit, or clothing that covers everything but is too tight. While it may fulfill the letter of the law by covering everything that needs to be covered, it fails the halachik test because it actually causes the type of reaction that the entire tzniut system is looking to avoid.
Hair is not subjectively erva - it doesn't usually lead to hirhurei aveira; the biggest proof is that non-married women don't cover it. It is difficult to believe that the exact same hair that a week ago was innocuous magically becomes alluring. Therefore, married women need to cover their hair because they do - because it's in the list that Chazal drew up about what needs to be covered. If so then it is the letter of the law and not it's spirit (there is no spirit) that needs to be followed, so a sheitel - even of her own cut hair, even if it looks better than her own hair - fulfills that requirement.
I wonder if similar reasoning can be (has been?) used to defend those who are lenient about kol isha when it is not heard live.
What do you think?
Trouble is as Trouble Does--A Response to Rabbi Besser
Thank you, Rabbi Besser for reading my posts and taking the time to respond. Thank you also for giving me the opportunity to clarify my own thoughts.
"Judgement is mine, saith the Lord." I think that this is from the New Testament, but since the New is heavily based on the Old, and since the quote applies, I will use it. I feel that it is so easy for us to make judgments and pronouncements. Doing so gives us a sense of control, of power and of right-ness. Doubt, uncertainty and vulnerability all make us very very uncomfortable. So if we can make ourselves feel better by deciding that something is definitively "ratzon Hashem" or certain punishment or obvious reward for a specific act or actions, then that gives us a sense of meaning and control that we very much need. On the other hand, the danger of these pronouncements is in the very sense of right-ness that they give us. It creates a zero-sum situation in which there is a "right" and a "wrong" answer, where "right" becomes the same as "true" and "good" and "wrong", therefore, "false. These judgments leads to unnecessary divisions, pain and, in the worst case, war.
"Judgement is mine, saith the Lord." I think that this is from the New Testament, but since the New is heavily based on the Old, and since the quote applies, I will use it. I feel that it is so easy for us to make judgments and pronouncements. Doing so gives us a sense of control, of power and of right-ness. Doubt, uncertainty and vulnerability all make us very very uncomfortable. So if we can make ourselves feel better by deciding that something is definitively "ratzon Hashem" or certain punishment or obvious reward for a specific act or actions, then that gives us a sense of meaning and control that we very much need. On the other hand, the danger of these pronouncements is in the very sense of right-ness that they give us. It creates a zero-sum situation in which there is a "right" and a "wrong" answer, where "right" becomes the same as "true" and "good" and "wrong", therefore, "false. These judgments leads to unnecessary divisions, pain and, in the worst case, war.
I am not saying that we should never make judgment calls. By accepting the Torah and the mitzvot, we accept that there are things that are "right" and things that are "wrong". Those are the things that Hashem, our Chazal and all of the brilliant, dedicated halachisists have determined over the centuries. And when there are areas of "grey", we go back to "v'asita hatov v'hayashar"--we behave morally, ethically, and properly.
Reading "Acts of God" as punishment (or reward) leads us to humility. PRONOUNCING such acts as definitive "punishments" or "rewards" leads us down a very dangerous path to the arrogance that the Rambam proclaims is the one unacceptable trait, the trait that we must eliminate. When bad things happen--to us, to others--I think that these things SHOULD cause us to reflect, to be humbled, to feel vulnerable and profoundly uncomfortable. When good things happen, we should take the opportunity to graciously acknowledge and accept an potential bracha. But to assume the we know what Hashem intends with each act? To me, that is the ultimate arrogance. Maybe Katrina/the tsunami in Indonesia/the earthquake in New Zealand/the tornadoes in the Midwest were all punishments from Hashem. But I would never presume to know and those who do frighten me terribly. What I do think, is that these events should cause each of us to think about who we are, why we're here and what the "right" thing is to do. If we all do that, then we can be more evolved people.
Hashem Elokim is the Judge. We are the servants. As Hashem said to Iyov--"Were you there when I created the Universe?" I feel that I can only look, guess and proceed with doing the best that I can.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
איזהו עשיר...
My wife sent me an interesting article on a study exploring the connection between wealth and happiness called "Don’t Envy the Super-Rich, They Are Miserable".
Monday, March 7, 2011
A Trouble-Maker Question for Mrs. Herzog
Based on your last two posts, are we to conclude that Hashem is still communicating with us, but only with warm and fuzzy messages? In other words, the message of Purim is to find Hashem where he isn't evident, but we are not to find Him in seemingly easy places to find him - phenomena commonly referred to as "Acts of God"? I'm being flip, and I know this is a hard question, and honestly I pretty much agree with you on both posts, but I think this is a point we need to address.
משנכנס אדר...
Turns out, the happiest person in America is a kosher-keeping Jew. Less surprising, he lives in Hawaii.
Please Remember the Point of Purim
No, this isn't about drinking, so you can keep reading for a little bit.
It's a wonderful time of the year on both the solar and lunar calendars. February is over, the winter is slowly losing its grip and pretty soon the crocuses will pop up as the first harbingers of spring flowers. Adar is here and we are urged to be "marbim b'simcha", with which we enthusiastically comply. As I looked around the Beit Knesset this morning, I really enjoyed the wonderful array of color, creativity and awesome get-ups.
What is important to remember though, is why we dress up and why we are so joyous. 2.500 years ago, we averted a Holocaust. We averted it because one person was in the "right place at the right time" and that person used her position and her power for the good of her people. She literally put her life at risk, she used the influence she had never sought, and drew upon both her own intelligence and the strength of her community's tefillot and teshuva to help her arrive at an incredibly happy ending. The reason for the "ora, simcha, sasson v'ikar" are clear: we faced the firing squad, and not only received clemency, but vindication and honor.
So why the costumes? So that we don't forget. Huh? Isn't the whole point of dressing up to disguise who we are? Aren't we supposed to not recognize the other person? Correct. The lack of clarity that exists on Purim is a reflection of the world in which we live. We think we know what's happening. We think we understand. We THINK we have total control over our lives and our destiny and how we present ourselves to the world. What the costumes are supposed to remind us is that this perception is as deceptive as a mask. Yes, we have a great deal of control and we have been blessed with b'chira chofsheet. As a matter of fact, we probably have a lot more control than we want to take responsibility for. Ultimately, however, as a nation (and therefore, as individuals) we are in the hands of the Adon Olam. He seems hidden to us--behind a mask or a veil--and we often try to hide ourselves from Him(or Her.) But if we look closely enough, we can perceive a little of the majesty of Hashem in our lives. Whether it is Paras in the 6th century BCE or Israel in 1948, 1967, 1991 or today, Hashem's presence is less hidden than we think. All you have to do is look behind the veil and under the mask, and what seems so hidden becomes as clear as the Megillah before us.
Happy dress up and Happy Adar!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
An Post from Talia Stern
I feel that I have the privilege--and responsibility--to share with you something touching and inspirational.
Five months ago, one of our shul member, Taly Cohen, died at the age of 36 from a long battle with cancer, and left behind a husband and two young sons, ages 10 and 8. She was known for her wonderful middot and her infectious love of life. I had Taly’s younger son as a camper five years ago, and she was always careful to thank me each time she saw me. She was a truly beautiful person-both inside and out-and she is sorely missed by all.
This morning, I attended a Hatchalat Sefer Torah for a Sefer Torah that is being written in Taly’s memory. Our community, along with Taly’s friends and family, is contributing to writing a new Sefer Torah that is to be completed by her first yartzhiet in October. The program this morning was the beginning of the process of writing the Sefer Torah, during which rabbis, friends, Taly’s father and brother, and the sofer himself gave Divrei Torah and spoke wonderfully about Taly. It was simultaneously extremely difficult and incredibly uplifting.
For me, the most moving part of the program was toward the very end. The sofer invited Taly’s husband and sons up to help him write the first pasuk of the Sefer Torah, “Bereishit Bara Elokim Et HaShamayim V’et HaAretz”, “In the beginning Hashem created the Heaven and the Earth.” Together, Taly’s family and the sofer etched out the few first words that will soon become a full Sefer Torah, which we will so much treasure.
The image of the small hands of Taly’s young sons, along with their father’s, wrapped around the sofer’s hand and quill was one I will not soon forget. There was not a dry eye as the sofer lead us in “Etz Chayim Hi”, the traditional tefillah said as a Torah is being placed back into the Aron. Together, the entire room sang out to G-d as a new beginning-both literally and figuratively-was created.
Taly, in her short life, has left an astounding legacy. She has two beautiful sons that will, please G-d, grow up and continue to live the life she had taught them to live. She has family and friends who have been touched by her life and will forever live L’illuy Nishmata. And now, G-d willing, this Sefer Torah will be written, and used for generations to come.
Thank You, G-d, for making me a part of the Jewish community that values life, and the perpetuation of values and legacy.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
I, For One, Welcome Our New Robot Overlords
So much to respond to here on the blog lately. I used to be a big Jeopardy fan, but haven't seen it in quite a while. So I still haven't seen the famous Watson games, though I have read a bit about them. Maybe if I had seen them in person would have been more troubled, as Mrs. Herzog was, but I am really not troubled by it at all. While it is of course true that Watson has no soul, and I can imagine a "Brave New World" scenario that would be problematic. For example, in a class discussion, Chana Garbow mentioned an article that she read in Time magazine that predicted that within a generation or two the capabilities of robots would continue advancing exponentially, to the point where they could make other robots and cut humans out of the process. (Honestly, I haven't read it, but the theory as I heard it sounds fishy - because the high speed of the automobile increased at a certain rate from the early 20th century for many years, didn't mean that by now we would have cars going thousands of MPH - technology progresses until it hits a wall beyond which it can't advance and then it move outward instead of upward.)
That's not what's happening here. They aren't claiming that these robots can serve on a jury or be a friend, psychologist, Rabbi or quarterback . They're saying it can excel at Jeopardy; it can gather and sort through many bits of information faster than humans. This is news? That's what computers do. People don't succeed on Jeopardy because of their soul (except maybe the small talk with Alex after the first commercial - they still do that, right?), they win because they are better than the competing humans at performing in a computer-like fashion.
What do you think?
That's not what's happening here. They aren't claiming that these robots can serve on a jury or be a friend, psychologist, Rabbi or quarterback . They're saying it can excel at Jeopardy; it can gather and sort through many bits of information faster than humans. This is news? That's what computers do. People don't succeed on Jeopardy because of their soul (except maybe the small talk with Alex after the first commercial - they still do that, right?), they win because they are better than the competing humans at performing in a computer-like fashion.
What do you think?
Rabbi Fohrman's Book
I have started the book, and love it so far. I have run into students who are further ahead than I am who are really enjoying it too. After an introduction that raises one of my favorite points about learning Tanach (what he referred to here in his Yonah shiur as the Lullaby theory) he opens with the question that bothers me each year: Why is the Megilla so long? It seems to go on about 3 perakim longer than it should - after what seems like the dramatic conclusion when Haman is executed. His interim questions are also peshat based - always asking the question, why did s/he do that? I'm looking forward to the answers.
On Hihurim, my 2nd favorite Torah blog, they quote an excerpt from the middle of the sefer. I actually don't find this passage as compelling as the part that I read, but I guess it was somewhat self-contained. Check it out. If you ordered a book & haven't picked it up, please stop by my office. and those of you who are reading, please send in your thoughts & insights either in the comments or to questions@maayanot.com. Happy reading.
On Hihurim, my 2nd favorite Torah blog, they quote an excerpt from the middle of the sefer. I actually don't find this passage as compelling as the part that I read, but I guess it was somewhat self-contained. Check it out. If you ordered a book & haven't picked it up, please stop by my office. and those of you who are reading, please send in your thoughts & insights either in the comments or to questions@maayanot.com. Happy reading.
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