Why I Stay Home for Pesach

I am staying home for Pesach. Since 1993, with only two exceptions, we have "made Pesach" at home. To paraphrase Dr. Seuss, "I will do Pesach in my house, I will make Pesach and not grouse. I'll only make it here not there, I will not make it anywhere (except my house.) Making Pesach at home began as a matter of necessity. In 1992, my husband and I moved to Cincinnati, OH where he became the Rabbi of a shul. The Rabbi doesn't leave for Pesach, so we needed to make Pesach ourselves. We were both trained: because I am a ba'alat teshuva, I started "making Pesach" in my house in 8th grade, and my husband was part of a well-oiled Pesach-making machine that was his mother's house in Minneapolis, MN. I was really excited to do it ourselves because I felt privileged to be able to make a kosher Pesach and to do it the way I had always dreamed of doing it. I surveyed my friends to find out what I needed, and my husband and I spent several Sundays buying EVERYTHING we needed to equip a house for Pesach. It was fun and I was so proud. I really felt the "cheirut", felt like I had finally "arrived" at where I had striven to be for many years. I felt blessed that we had the money to be able to purchase what we needed and that we had a lovely home to host sedarim. I was married to a learned man who could lead a seder, and we were finally able to do it our own way. People often look at preparing for Pesach and making sedarim as a huge (if not overwhelming) amount of work and something to be escaped, if at all possible. It IS a huge amount of work, but I feel that the preparation itself is what Pesach is all about. IMPORTANT NOTE: I am a firm adherent to the dictum "Dirt is not Chametz". I DON'T spring clean as I prepare for Pesach; I don't wash curtains or walls or the shelves of my linen closet. What I (and the rest of my family) do however, is try to go through all the places where chametz might be (which is pretty much everywhere in our house) and clean up. That sorting through and cleaning up process is, to me, the metaphor for ridding myself of chametz and preparing myself for Pesach. Chametz, according to the Gemara, represents pride, arrogance, and hubris. It is that which "puffs us up" and makes us feel that we are completely in charge of our lives, our destinies and our fates. That hubris is what pushes humility and a constant awareness of Hashem out of the way. Ridding ourselves of "chametz" should be a reminder to rid ourselves of arrogance and an excessive focus on materialism. Preparing for Pesach should be about reminding ourselves that our lives and everything we have are precious gifts that we are privileged to have and need to both enjoy and use in service of Hashem and the people who He created in His image. I feel (and this is my feeling, it is not in any way shape or form meant to be a prescription for what "should be") that this kind of cheirut is best felt after you have worked for it. When we come to the seder, we know that what we have before us is a product of our work and Hashem's brachot. I feel that this is also best felt when you are surrounded by those closest to you and those you love. I feel that cheirut is most keenly felt when there is still some avdut attached to it; as the Midrash teaches us, cheirut and charut (engraved, as the Torah was on the luchot) are the same letters and therefore, intertwined concepts. You need to have a sense of your own subservience to really appreciate your freedom. You need to have limits to bring out your best self. For me, staying home isn't only about money. For me, somehow, Pesach would seem incomplete if I were to be served food that I had no part in cooking, enjoyed cleanliness and hospitality that I had no part in preparing, and reveled in the chametz-free environment that I had no part in achieving. I think I would feel very lonely in a room with lots of people I didn't know and didn't have a relationship with and at a table that wasn't in my dining room that my husband and I decorated together with artwork that we had bought together. So I will stay home this Pesach. I wish everyone and their families and all those they love a wonderful, happy, healthy and kasher Chag wherever the are!

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"Thousands in Southern Israel Spend Shabbos in Bomb Shelters"

Those of you who got on Arutz Sheva’s website right after Shabbos might have seen the headline that said, “Thousands in the south spend Shabbos in bomb shelters.” Unfortunately for our brethren in the south of Israel, Hamas decided not to honor a ceasefire that they had declared, and they fired over 50 rockets into Israel on Shabbos day alone. I had written recently of the guilt I used to feel when I would read of these attacks from my comfortable house in America, and how I feel privileged to be able to spend this year in Israel and share in the burden that our Israeli brethren shoulder each day.

Well, this past Shabbos we were 7 of those thousands.

We had plans to spend this past Shabbos at a family gathering in a yishuv called Yevul, less than 5 km from the borders of both Aza and Egypt. When the rocket attacks began anew, about three weeks ago, our cousins who live there reassured everyone that they don’t live in the area suffering from the rocket attacks, and in the year and a half that they have been living there, they only experienced a ‘tzeva adom’ (code red rocket alert) once.

But that was before Thursday, when Hamas fired a mortar at an Israeli schoolbus which injured the driver and critically injured one boy. The Israelis retaliated, and the situation escalated.

We arrived in Yevul a little nervous, but blissfully ignorant of the new threat. As our cousin showed us to our caravan he pointed out the bomb shelter across the road. “Don’t worry”, he said, “Rockets don’t fall in this area.” But shortly after Shabbos began our caravan was rocked by the sound – and concussion waves – of multiple explosions. In the distance I could hear a faint siren. Looking over to where our cousins were standing, around the shul and the chadar ochel, I wondered why nobody else seemed to take notice. I quickly left the caravan and headed over to the chadar ochel, ducking into the bomb shelter on the way for protection, although my excuse was that “I just wanted to see what it looked like inside.” When I reached the chadar ochel, I asked what the explosions were and why nobody was running for shelter, and someone explained to me that the explosions were from our army bombing tunnels in Aza.

However, the quiet that had previously been in that area was over now. During the course of Shabbos we experienced numerous ‘tzeva adom’ incidents. The first time I heard one I was in shul davening. Suddenly a loud siren interrupted the davening, and then the words, “Tzeva adom, tzeva adom!” From that moment, you have approximately 30 seconds to get to a bomb shelter. People went running out of shul and I followed. But instead of racing to the nearest shelter, I needed to find my kids, who wouldn’t know what to do on their own. Sure enough, my 8 and 4 year olds were playing by themselves around the corner of the building, looking bewildered and a little scared. I grabbed their hands and we raced to a nearby shelter. Before we reached it, though, we heard the sounds of explosions as the rockets slammed into the ground somewhere nearby, although not in our yishuv. Thirty seconds isn’t very much warning. We stood in the shelter, waiting to be sure it was safe to come out, and my daughter said she was scared. I lied and told her there was nothing to be scared about, and I said that it was important that we were there for Shabbos.

As Shabbos progressed we all got used to the ‘tzeva adom’ warnings. I wasn’t always with my kids when it happened, but I relaxed about it and relied on the knowledge that whatever adult was near them would usher them to safety. For their part, my kids got used to running to the bomb shelters on their own. My 17 and 14 year-olds were often together when it occurred, and took care of themselves. My 11 year-old was usually watching over the younger cousins, so she just followed the lead of their parents and ran to shelter with them. My 8 year-old was proud of herself that she wasn’t scared anymore and just ran to safety with whichever older cousin she was playing with. My 4 year-old decided that it was a fun game, and would randomly announce ‘Tzeva adom, tzeva adom!’ and run into a shelter whenever the mood came upon him.

It was definitely a growing experience for all of us. We learned what life is like for thousands of people who live in southern Israel, who have to run into bomb shelters multiple times each day. We were lucky that no rockets actually landed in Yevul; I can only imagine how much more traumatizing it is when rockets are crashing down around you. And the rockets keep reaching farther north and east each time, hitting Be’er Sheva, and Ashkelon, Ashdod, and even Yavne.

As Shabbos ebbed, I felt that a flame had been re-ignited inside me. We can’t let ourselves be scared away, because that is what the terrorists want. They want us gone – not just out of Yevul, or Sderot, but out of Israel completely. I’m so glad our family event wasn’t cancelled, and that 100 people were brought down to spend Shabbos in little Yevul, on the borders of Egypt and Aza. One hundred people to show the residents of southern Israel that we are with them in their plight. One hundred people strong, who said together Israel is ours; we are here, and we will not be scared away.

Orthodox Basketball Players and Shabbat

Here's an interesting article about a female Orthodox basketball player who left Israel to play basketball at the University of Toledo. She'll play in games on Shabbat but won't go to practices and has made other accommodations to make sure that her religious standards can be kept. Thoughts? Is it possible to live in both worlds? How far can we compromise without going to far? What do you think of her decisions?

http://www.forward.com/articles/136770/

A Response to Mrs. Cohen's "Thoughts from Yerushalayim"

Rachel Ullman had the following to say to Mrs. Cohen:

I think that whenever there is an attack in Israel people should respond. I believe the response should be to do the exact opposite of what the terror attacks try to accomplish. Terrorists try to instill fear in peoples' lives, so by taking a bus (if there was a bus attack) we are showing that the terrosits' actions will not keep us from continuing our day to day activities. How can we restrict ourselves from doing things if those restrictions may increase? Say an attack happens in a cafe (chas v'shalom), so we decide to no longer go to cafes. Then the same thing happens on a bus, in a mall, etc. To what extent will we really restrict ourselves? Obviously this is much easier said than done, and my opinion may not be completely valid since I'm not living in Israel/going through these situations, but I do believe that we can't let these fears of 'what will happen next?' control our lives.

Also, I thought your last comment, "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.", really spoke to me. After hearing about the last attack in Israel, I was talking to a friend and said that I wasn't sure why I always felt this way, but whenever an attack happens I have an even greater want to be in Israel(she looked at me like I was crazy). To me this seems totally counterintuitive, but it's really what I think. I know I can't do much to help the situation and even if I was in Israel I probably wouldn't be able to do much either, I would still feel guilty that I wasn't there. Just the fact that I would be one more person in Israel, showing that the terrorist attacks wouldn't keep us from living there, that would seem worth it. It's also possible that the reason I believe all of this is because I haven't experienced what it is like to live there. Although, I do think my beliefs would be pretty similar if I was there.

Update on one of my favorite posts

A while back we had a guest post by Rabbi Daniel Feldman, responding to a question from Rikki Novetsky about "kula shopping.  Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach once addressed a similar question - see here.

Ways To Make Your Tefillah More Meaningful-By Mrs. Sinensky's Jewish Philosophy Class

• Pick a different part to focus on each day
• Think about what inspired the tefillot
• Think about the fact that everyone is davening the same text
• Daven betzibbur
• Relate it to your own life
• Follow along in the Siddur
• Remove yourself from distractions
• Add in your own requests in the bakasha section of Shmoneh Esreh
• Go to sleep earlier so that you are more awake for Shacharit
• Talk less during davening
• Remember that the Rabbis who wrote tefillah knew what was important to include
• Remember that davening is an opportunity-Hashem wants to give to you
• Think that you are standing before a King
• Don’t rush
• Be open to tefillah
• Daven for other people
• Use the English
o Focus on parts that you don’t understand
o Read the English as a “preview”

The Korean Girls Too?

This is really cool.  אשרינו מה טוב חלקינו!

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):

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!

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. 

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.

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

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?

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:

• 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!!

10,000!

Congratulations Why-aanot readers, you did it!  Thanks to a major resurgence in the last month (nearly 1500 page views!) we are now over 10,000 page views since they started keeping track in June of last year. Using some quick math, we're probably between 25,000-30,000 historically, though there is no way to tell.  Yasher koach, and keep up the great work.

Wigging Out II

Rabbi Broyde responds to the attacks on sheitels, making many of the points that we discussed (see 2 posts down).  Check it out & let us know what you think in the comments.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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". 

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!

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.

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?

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.

Watching the Weather

The news lately seems to center around two kinds of upheavals: political and meteorological. The latest event--the devastating earthquake in New Zealand--follows on the heels of a massive cyclone hitting Western Australia and a blizzard that affected 39 out of the 48 continental states in the US. (My husband and I were caught in that blizzard, spending six hours getting from Brooklyn to Fair Lawn.) Whenever I hear about extreme (and often destructive) natural events, I wonder how I am supposed to respond to them. Are these simply "natural" events--outcomes of the complex interconnection of all the forces (physical, atmospheric, chemical) found in and around our planet? Or are these messages directly from Hashem that we ignore at our own risk?

No human can see Hashem directly; the "works of His Hands" are what we have to come to some kind of understanding of Hashem. Perhaps the most "obvious" of Hashem's handiworks is the natural world. Nature is something that is truly awe-some: whether it is the Grand Canyon or the wings of a bee, fall foliage or the perfection of chemical reactions, Nature reflects the infinite amazing-ness of the Creator. When we look at what an earthquake can do--topple building and split open roads in a matter of seconds--we can only begin to imagine the force that Hashem has directly. When we think about all the things that need to go right in order for a human to be formed and born, much less born healthy, that understanding can leave you breathless. But does that mean that each earthquake, each tornado, each baby born is a handwritten note from Hakadosh Baruch Hu? The Ramban at the beginning of Sefer B'reishit explains that Hashem created matter and all of the rules that govern it (what we call "nature") at the Creation. From then on, nature follows the rules that Hashem has programmed it with. The only "exception" is when there is a miracle and Hashem temporarily suspends natural law. So while an earthquake, a hurricane, a rainbow or a healthy baby may all be awe-inspiring, they are not miracles. They are reflections of Hashem's infinite brilliance, but not a direct communication from Him.

On the other hand, the nevi'im often tell Bnai Yisrael to look at natural events--whether political or meteorological--as direct messages from Hashem. Famine, plague, flood, disease, war and even peace are all direct messages from Hashem to us. They are sent to get us to remember Hashem's power, to remember our dependence on Him, to remember what we owe Him and to follow His commands. If we want to listen to the words of the nevi'im, shouldn't we look at everthing that happens as "yad Hashem"? Shouldn't we read nature as the email sent from G-d?

And yet, when people said, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, that it was a punishment for the sins of New Orleans, it horrified me. I don't feel that we have the right to come to those conclusions on our own. It is one thing when the Navi tells us directly, but it is another thing for us to presume we know what Hashem has in mind when disaster strikes or when Nature reveals its splendor. In my opinion, Nature is an amazing reflection of Hashem's omnipotence and infinite brilliance. It should inspire and humble us and remind us that we are, quite literally, in the palm of Hashem's hand. Hopefully, that inspiration and humility will motivate us to keep the mitzvot which Hashem commanded usand improve our relationship both with the Creator and with His Creations.

Mrs. Leah Herzog

Shabbos is Coming, Let's Wear Costumes

Tzipporah Rossman asks a timely question:
Why do we celebrate Purim Katan on Friday if Purim is not allowed to be on Friday and it would get pushed off?
Great question, and I was giving it real consideration about how the problems for Purim would not apply to Purim Katan etc. when I remembered that Purim CAN fall on a Friday, and we celebrate it on that day.  I remember a couple of such instances - though I think there was one more recently, once we spent the seudah at Mrs. Schiowitz's apartment (thanks again), and made it home (one block over) with plenty of time left before Shabbos.  Another time, I remember one of my less pleasant Purims; it was Friday and I was meeting some of my family at a relative in Manhattan for Shabbos, and ended up eating Seudah by myself in my YU dorm room  (highly depressing & not recommended - if anyone has no good plans for seuda please let me know - Purim is not just a day off).  It was there that I heard about the horrific massacre that took place in Israel when Baruch Goldstein opened fire on a Muslim prayer service.
On those types of years, the more interesting phenomena takes place in Yerushalayim, where they have what is called a "Purim Meshulash".  Here's how the OU describes it:

"TRIPLE PURIM"Sometimes Purim falls on a Friday, therefore making the next day, Shabbat, Shushan Purim. However, it is forbidden to read the Megilla on Shabbat, and of course, Shabbat cannot be postponed because of Purim.
For Jerusalem and other walled cities, the procedure is as follows:
“Mikra Megillah” is done on Thursday night and Friday morning, as in the “open” cities; “Matanot La-Evyonim” are given on Friday.
The reading of “Parashat Amalek” and the insertion of “Al HaNisim” into the “Shemoneh Esray” and the “Birchat HaMazon” are done on Shabbat, their regular Purim in ordinary years.
“Seudat Purim” is served and “Mishloach Manot” are exchanged on Sunday, the sixteenth of Adar. 
Thus, the holiday is felt and marked in Jerusalem for three days, and therefore Purim in such a year is called “Purim MeShulash,” Triple Purim.

It's so great to be talking Purim again - I can feel it in the air.

Free Seforim!

Rabbi David Fohrman, who delivered a phenomenal shiur on Sefer Yonah to our school at the beginning of the year has come out with a new book about Megillat Esther.  The OU, which published the sefer (full disclosure - I've done some editing work for them) is giving away copies of the book to high school students (10th, 11th & 12th - sorry motivated freshmen, I'm currently appealing to Rabbi Fohrman on your behalf).  Here is their description of the program:

The Orthodox Union is pleased to announce a school enrichment program in connection with a new book begin published by OU Press -- The Queen You Thought You Knew, by Rabbi David Fohrman. Rabbi Fohrman distinguished himself with his first book, The Beast that Crouches at the Door, which was a finalist for the 2007 National Jewish Book Award, and was hailed widely as a groundbreaking study of the Tree of Knowledge story. This new book by Rabbi Fohrman, The Queen You Thought You Knew, continues in that tradition. It offers a highly engaging reading of the Purim Megillah that is at once refreshingly original, entirely engrossing, and grounded firmly in the text and Mesorah.
 In an effort to bring the treasures of this book to a wider readership of young people, the Orthodox Union is making a select number of copies of The Queen You Thought You Knew, available, free of charge, to Jewish high schools nationwide. Here is a chance to provide your students with some riveting reading connected to Purim; a true “page-turner” that will offer them a breathtaking vista into the world of the Megillah. All costs of this program are being underwritten by the Orthodox Union, through the generous sponsorship of the Hoffberger Institute for Text Study.

 In exchange for the sefer, each student will answer one of the following questions in a short essay:

1.      Did reading The Queen You Thought You Knew make you feel like you could “relate” to the Megillah more? Did any of the characters of the Megillah seem to come alive in a new way? Why, or why not?

2.      For most of us, the way we look at the greatness of Esther is that she managed to save the Jewish People from certain destruction. Fohrman, though, argues that there are other, more hidden aspects of her heroism. Describe how the book seemed to shed new light for you on what Esther was trying to achieve, or how she achieved it.

3.      Did this book matter to you? Why or why not?

4.      In Rabbi Fohrman’s books, he often asks very basic questions that seem obvious – at least in retrospect – but that somehow, people don’t ask all that often. Were there any questions he posed that you always wondered about? Or, alternatively, were there any questions he posed that made you ask yourself: “how come I never wondered about that”?

5.      What part of this book did you like the best?

6.      In the book, Rabbi Fohrman argues that Esther’s most desperate moment came not when she first approached the king to save the Jews, or even when she rose to indict Haman as the man who would bring down her people. Instead, her most dangerous moment came later – when seemingly, the battle for the Jews’ safety had already been won. What evidence does the author offer to support this view?

As I said this morning, they are giving the seforim to schools on a first come first serve basis, so please let me know ASAP if you would like to participate.

**UPDATE: Rabbi Fohrman just e-mailed that motivated freshmen ARE eligible.

What Makes Us Human? Thoughts on "Watson"

We are avid Jeopardy! devotees in my house. When our son was little, we made sure to put him to bed before 7 pm so that we could watch Jeopardy! in peace and quiet. Now he watches with us (and often knows as many, if not more, answers.) To me, Jeopardy! represents a valuing of intelligence, education and worldliness. This is one arena in which the best really is the brightest, and not the strongest, fastest or most outrageous.

The last three days, however, I intentionally did not watch. This week was the vaunted competition between man and machine: the two best Jeopardy! players took on Watson, a huge computer designed to reach the highest level of artificial intelligence. Watson was designed to do what people do: think, infer, interpret and arrive atL the information sought. He outperformed his human competitors in both speed and numbers of questions answered (or asked) correctly.

As an educator and psychologist, Watson should have fascinated me. But as a human, I was completely creeped out and upset. The idea that a machine--even an incredibly sophisticated one--can be set up to compete with humans is deeply disturbing because it reduces us to nothing more than the laws of biology, chemistry and physics which govern how our bodies operate. What Watson does not have is a mind and a soul. When humans were formed, we were created as a combination of earth (matter) and the "wind of G-d" (spirit). There is something Divine about each one of us; we are each created "b'tzelem Elokim" and we each carry a piece of G-d within us. To reduce love, joy, anger and loss to chemical reactions, or to reduce ingenuity, inventiveness and creativity to the firing of neurons is, to me, so simplistic as to be horrifying. Why do we insist on robbing humans of the mystery that is the Divine? Why is it so difficult for us to accept that there are things that are truly "l'malah min hateva"--things that we cannot understand or quantify, predict or control? I think that this is why the Rambam says that arrogance is the one human trait that has no redeeming value. Arrogance allows us to believe that we can, ultimately, control everything. But there are some things that we really can't understand. And I think that G-d wants it that way. Mystery and wonder keeps us humble, but it also keeps us vibrant, creative, infinitely complex, and ultimately, Human. Not understanding everything, accepting that certain things defy logic, reason or scientific explanation is exactly that which connects us to the Creator who made us and gave us life.

In Hebrew, there are two words for human: "adam", from the same root as "earth" and "ish", from the same root as the word for fire. The Malbim, at the beginning of Sefer Vayikra, has a long discussion about the difference between them. Ultimately, humans are made of earth--matter and all the rules that govern how it works--and fire--the piece of G-d that we call the soul. It is the soul that lasts; earth returns to the earth. To ignore the soul is, to me, simply tragic. I am all for technology. But I am even more for the humans that create it The whole human--body AND soul.

Mrs. Leah Herzog

Touching Story Written by Gilad Shalit

When the Shark and the Fish First Met
A small and gentle fish was swimming in the middle of a peaceful ocean. All of a sudden, the fish saw a shark that wanted to devour him.
He then began to swim very quickly, but so did the shark.
Suddenly the fish stopped and called to the shark:
"Why do you want to devour me? We can play together!"
The shark thought and thought and said:
"Okay- fine: Let’s play hide and seek."
The shark and fish played all day long, until the sun went down.
In the evening, the shark returned to his home.
His mother asked:
“How was your day, my dear shark? How many animals did you devour today?”
The shark answered: “Today I didn’t devour any animals, but I played with an animal called FISH”.
“That fish is an animal we eat. Don’t play with it!” said the shark’s mother.
At the home of the fish, the same thing happened. “How are you, little fish? How was it today in the sea?” asked the fish’s mother.
The fish answered: "Today I played with an animal called SHARK."
"That shark is the animal that devoured your father and your brother. Don’t play with that animal," answered the mother.
The next day in the middle of the ocean, neither the shark nor the fish were there.
They didn’t meet for many days, weeks and even months.
Then, one day they met. Each one immediately ran back to his mother and once again they didn’t meet for days, weeks and months.
After a whole year passed, the shark went out for a nice swim and so did the fish. For a third time, they met and then the shark said: "You are my enemy, but maybe we can make peace?"
The little fish said: "Okay."
They played secretly for days, weeks and months, until one day the shark and fish went to the fish’s mother and spoke together with her. Then they did the same thing with the shark’s mother; and from that same day the sharks and the fish live in peace.
THE END

This story was written by Gilad Shalit when he was 11
and was a student in the 5th grade at the Maale HaGalil Elementary School!

You can see students in a public school in the Bronx doing a touching reading from the book that was made of Gilad's story on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0rb_SmjUKc

Chinese Mothers and Jewish Values

I've actually read a lot of the blogosphere's thoughts about the "Chinese mother" that Rabbi Besser wrote about in his recent post. The funniest line I've seen was a blog comment: "All parents raise your hand if in the last week you've said to your kids: 'If Amy Chua were your mother...You don't know how good you have it!'" I am constantly seeking ways to grow and improve as a parent, and after reading Amy Chua's writing I thought, like R. Besser, "she's got something there." But demanding the maximum achievement from kids neglects a major value in Judaism - middot tovot, especially those bein adam le-chaveiro. The achievement Ms. Chua focuses on is only for her children to better themselves and get ahead of others; not to better the world and reach out to others. Here's an article that illustrates what the goal of Jewish parenting should be.

Hidden Messages from Chinese Mothers

A recent article in the Wall Street Journal has set off a frenzy of controversy on-line, and in real life conversation (can an article go viral?).  In a piece entitled "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior" (she later clarified that she doesn't claim that either method is better, and didn't write the title), Amy Chua describes an approach to parenting that forbids all of the following:

• attend a sleepover

• have a playdate

• be in a school play

• complain about not being in a school play

• watch TV or play computer games

• choose their own extracurricular activities

• get any grade less than an A

• not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama

• play any instrument other than the piano or violin

• not play the piano or violin.

There's a lot in there to think about, especially for those of us who are about to start dealing with these issues with our young children.  Besides the main argument that she makes, the following passage caught my attention:

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle. Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America. Once a child starts to excel at something—whether it's math, piano, pitching or ballet—he or she gets praise, admiration and satisfaction. This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun. This in turn makes it easier for the parent to get the child to work even more.

This is a lesson that my son's first grade Rebbe once taught me on a meet-the-teacher night about Tefilla.  So many of us find davening very difficult and fun or enjoyable is probably not an adjective that comes to mind for many of us either.  I know some people for whom it is downright painful.  What we need to keep in mind is that as with anything else of value, we are unlikely do enjoy something that we don't do well, and unlikely to get good at it without fighting through the discomfort and hard work needed to get good at it.  The same is true of Gemara study, and many other skills - particularly those that we aren't used to.

While this level of commitment may not be worthwhile for everything (does my kid HAVE to be great on the violin?), but for the things that we really value, it is worth the investment, and maybe even to force our kids to invest in until they are mature enough to realize that value.

What do you think?

Getting Out of a Routine

In Parshat Yitro we read this week of B’nei Yisrael’s arrival at Har Sinai and the awe-inspiring events of Mattan Torah. This section is introduced with the words,
בחדש השלישי לצאת בני ישראל מארץ מצרים, ביום הזה באו מדבר סיני. שמות יט:א
In the third month after B’nei Yisrael had left Mitzrayim, on this day they came to Midbar Sinai.

Rashi informs us that bayom ha’zeh refers to Rosh Chodesh Sivan, but he questions the usage of the term bayom ha’zeh (on this day), rather than bayom ha’hu (on that day), which would have been more linguistically appropriate. The usage of the term “this day” makes it sound as if B’nei Yisrael came to Midbar Sinai today, when it is really referring to a date long ago. Rashi brings an answer from the Midrash Tanchuma for this question and says that the reason the term “this day” is employed is because the Torah should always be new to us, as if we received it today.

When one learns something for the first time one feels a degree of wonder and excitement that one doesn’t feel when the material is being learnt a second or third time. Rashi is therefore telling us that each time we learn Torah, even if it is just a repetition of something we have learned already, we should try to feel the same degree of excitement as if we were hearing it for the first time.

This is the way I have always understood this Rashi, but recently I have been thinking that perhaps we can understand it slightly differently, as well.

Have you ever gone into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and when you came out you automatically said “Asher Yotzar”? Or bentched after you ate, but did it so automatically that a few minutes later you ask your friend if she saw you bentch, because you can’t remember if you did or not?

When we do something for the first time we pay it more attention, concentrating on what we are doing and making sure we are doing it right. But as time goes on and we get more used to doing it, we think about it less, until it becomes habit. It is good when we get into a routine of making berachot before we eat, but if we do it so automatically that we aren’t sure what we’ve said then it has lost its meaning and become rote.

Perhaps Rashi is telling us here that we should always try to perform mitzvot with the same degree of attention and meaning as the first time we did them.

It is hard to break a habit. When we are so used to doing something it is hard to remember to stop and think about it before we do it. But vacation is the perfect time to work on this concept, because we are getting out of our daily routine, going different places, doing different things. The change of pace might make it easier for us to remember to pause before we rattle off that bracha, think about what it means, and say it as if we were doing it for the first time.

Are we allowed to say that?

I know that the הלכות of מוציא שם רע, רכילות, & לשון הרע can sometimes be subjective (if you're telling a white lie, or trying to spare someone's feelings etc., then we're more מיקל). Is it okay to talk about Person A who hurt your feelings or was not nice to you to Person B, whom you trust, even if Person B won't be able to do anything, but it'll make you feel better to talk about it, even if you'd be bashing Person A in the process of trying to make yourself feel better?

Thanks!

-Anonymous

You’re asking: Is “venting” considered lashon hara?

It’s a great question. The classic sefer on lashon hara is Chafetz Chaim, which became so famous that the rav who wrote it, R. Yisrael Meyer Kagan (1838-1933; he also wrote the Mishnah Berurah), became known as Chafetz Chaim. In Kelal 10, Siman 4, the Chafetz Chaim writes that speaking about someone is allowed – with certain preconditions – le-to’elet – for a purpose, and the purpose can include simply making yourself feel better, such as venting to a friend. Certainly seeking advice from a trusted adult, even if they don’t “do anything” but just advise you on how to deal with a situation, is also le-to’elet. However, the following conditions apply:

1) You need to have firsthand knowledge of whatever Person A did – not just have heard about it from someone else.

2) It is clear that what happened is truly a problem, and not just a miscommunication or misunderstanding

3) Person A should be talked to directly about the situation, if at all possible

4) Make sure, when you tell the story, you are telling it truthfully

5) Telling Person B about the situation is really the best way to make yourself feel better, in a way that say, writing in a diary won’t do

The Chafetz Chaim lists a few other conditions and elaborates if you want to look up the original source. If one has a rabbi to ask questions to (and everyone should), lashon hara is just as legitimate an area for sha’ilos as Shabbos or kashrut.

A final note: In the process of researching this answer I caught myself about to vent to a relative, and then I realized I didn’t meet the conditions! Thank you for reminding me of the necessity to think before I speak.

Have a word-wise vacation!

MLK Day

As with Tu B'Shvat on Thursday, when we have significant dates during midterms or vacation, they are often lost  in the shuffle.  I just found something I posted a year ago on the subject.

This morning on my way in to school, I heard Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous "I have a dream" speech, almost in its entirety.  Aside from how great and powerful a speaker he was, what struck me was that virtually all of his dreams for the future; all of the aspirations for America that he demanded have pretty much been fulfilled, and then some.  All of his fantasies, that at the time must have seemed as absurd as the cell phone or the internet, every last one of them is now so much a part of the American culture, that dissent is (appropriately) not tolerated in polite company.  While bigotry of all kinds (he references Jews and  gentiles joining hands at the end) is not dead in America, I think it is relegated to the fringes of society in a way that would have been virtually unimaginable just a generation ago.

On Rosh Chodesh Iyar, we spoke the idea that I heard from a Rebbe in Israel that אייר stands for אברהם, יצחק, יעקב, רחל, and that while the אבות each have the מידה that they represent, רחל represents the כח החלום.  Today is a day that to continue to learn this lesson of the power of dreams, of seeing slightly beyond what seems realistic.  There is a lesson here for us all when it comes to our own personal growth.  We have spoken before about how we should always try to have personal goals that we strive for.  We can think about these similar to college applications.  First, you want to make sure that you have your "safety school" - so take something that you are currently proud of, and commit yourself to maintaining that level of achievement (I'm davening well, I've been very sensitive to the needs of my friends or family, I have been making strong, mature decisions lately, I learn some Torah lishma, I volunteer my free time to help others etc.).  Next, you have your target schools that you aspire to, here you are looking slightly beyond where you are now, but these are very doable, realistic goals.  This category is the bread and butter of growth, as almost all progress is gradual, and there is nothing to be gained by setting yourself up for failure.  The message that I see in Martin Luther King Day, is to also also have your "reach" school - to set a longer term goal right now seem to be way out of  range, but approach it with a blend of anxious patience.  Both as individuals and societies, people have a tendency to prove predictions wrong, and to be capable of growing far faster than anyone, or almost anyone dreamed we would

The Story Behind Rechov ha-Lamed Heh

Today, the 5th of Shevat, is the anniversary of the massacre of the 35 members of the Palmach who were killed as they made their way on foot to bring much needed ammunition to the Gush Etzion kibbutzim that had been attacked by Arabs 2 days earlier on January 14, 1948.

The group numbered 38 men (many of them young students) when they set out at 11pm from Har-tuv, but one man sprained his ankle and two others were sent back with him to accompany him. The remaining 35 did not have enough time to reach their destination while it was still dark. Towards dawn when they were about an hour away from the Gush bloc they encountered two Arab women gathering firewood (or an Arab shepherd, as legend has it). The Arabs sounded an alarm and alerted others to the presence of Jews in the area. The commander of the 35 decided to keep going forward, hoping that the group would reach safety before any violence broke out.

However, hundreds of Arabs gathered quickly from neighboring villages and attacked. Rather than retreat, the 35 men fought heroically until their last bullet, and when that was spent they threw rocks at the enemy. The last of the 35 was killed at approximately 4:30pm and their bodies were mutilated by the Arabs.

This ambush was the catalyst for public discourse on purity of arms (one of the values of the IDF which states that soldiers should retain their humanity even in warfare, and never harm a non-combatant) which has made the IDF into the most moral and ethical army in the world.

There is a wonderful series of books written for children called Minheret Ha’zman (The Time Tunnel), by Gelilah Ron-Feder. It is similar to the Magic Tree House series in that two children travel backwards in time to visit various points in history; in the case of this series, the history of the State of Israel and other formative events in Jewish history. There are approximately 50 books in the series, including one about the Lamed-Heh. Although the series is written in Hebrew I highly recommend reading it – you can find it in any bookstore in Israel.

The story of the Lamed-Heh is a tragic story that is part of the fabric of the establishment of the State of Israel and has been held up throughout the decades as an example of bravery and heroism. One of the ways that the 35 fighters have been memorialized is in the street name Rechov ha’Lamed Heh which can be found in various communities in Israel.

Thank You Laptop!

In this past Parsha we are all familiar with the famous maamar Chazal that the reason that Aharon performed the first three Makot is because Moshe could not hit the land or water that had saved him in the past.  The curious notion of a requirement of hakarat hatov to inanimate objects has probably launched a thousand sermons.  The most common, and I think most correct message is that we don't thank people because they need it, but because we, the beneficiary of the favor need to express it - an important point to keep in mind when we daven.

Maybe the reason why there is such an extreme emphasis on this midah in the context is because in reality, the person (or institution) that he really owed hakarat hatov to was Paroh and the Egyptian royal family who raised him.  For obvious reasons, he could not give them the appreciation that they would normally have merited.  Therefore, to protect Moshe from being affected or learning the wrong lesson from this experience, Hashem had him go to the other extreme, expressing his thanks even to the and and Nile to maintain the מידה even in the face of his lack of expressed appreciation to the home of his childhood and the heir to his step-grandfather who welcomed him into his palace.

My very wise wife points out that the Paroh - Moshe familial and then political relationship is one that is surprisingly under-explored in traditional Torah commentaries.  I then noted that that same relationship is probably overblown in the Hollywood production of the Ten Commandments (I'm pretty sure that there is no source for Moshe dating Paroh's queen).