New Order: No Tefillin in Judea and Samaria

I received the following notice in the Yad Binyamin email list. You can click here to download the item yourself or send the link to a friend. It's just a good way to get a feel for the mood in the Religious Zionist community in Israel.

Heading: To the Mayors/Heads of Regional Councils in the Areas of Judea and Samaria

Subject: Orders Regarding Suspension the Procedures of the Donning of Tefillin (Temporary Order)
1. On the date of November 25, 2009 the decision of the National Ministry Committee accepted the decision regarding the suspension of the donning of Tefillin in Judea and Samaria.
2. The decision is anchored with the appropriate command signed by the IDF commander in the region.
3. Attached for your attention in the IDF Force order in its complete form.
4. The fundamental implications of the order are that it is forbidden for the residents that fall under the jurisdiction of these authorities to don Tefillin - beginning from the date of the signature of the order (i.e. November 26, 2009). Tefillin that we written after this date are subject to this order, and one may not take any action of donning with them, including the wrapping of the Tefillin on the arm, nor tightening them to the body.
5. We would like to call to your attention that the point of reference that has been established is that someone who has completed the tightening of the Tefillin of the head can continue with the donning.
6. In order to deal with individual cases - a board will be appointed in the Regional Authority that will examine requests according to the procedures and criterion which will be distributed to you.
7. We understand the implications of the order and the challenge that stands before you as representatives of the community in this complicated situation.
8. As a democratic state and its security arm, it is expected from us to actualize the decisions of the government. It is expected of you that as public representatives you will act lawfully and responsibly.
9. Arabs in the region can continue to don Tefillin as they had before this order.
10. With Blessings of Shabbat Shalom.

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Parshat Vayishlach - Bridges in Jewish Life

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Vayishlach: Bridges in Jewish Life
This shiur is dedicated in memory of my father (Harav Simcha ben Yitzchak Kalman).
Ya'akov's battle with the strange "man" serves as a source of both intrigue and inspiration. His actions in grappling with this stranger, and the lessons that we learn from him, lead to some spirited comments about Jewish life and aliyah.

Click here for the audio link, or listen in the handy audio player supplied below.

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Judaism According to the "Times" 2

Second in a series. (Previous article here.)

Two columns in the Times this week caught my attention. Both relate to the interesting and unusual (and rather sad) perspective on Judaism so prevalent in the Western World. It's a sort of love-hate relationship - a love of Judaism and staunch protectionism, but a rather visceral recoil from any sense of obligation.
Roger Cohen, writing about being Jewish in London, addresses the ongoing court case addressing the question of defining Judaism as a set of beliefs or a genealogical reality. (See my post on the matter here). Cohen writes,

I won’t go into the case here but will say that I found the court’s ruling that the criteria for Jewishness must be “faith, however defined” — rather than family ties — quaint. Nobody I know ever defined a Jew, or persecuted one, on the grounds of whether or not he went to synagogue regularly.

His argument seems two-faced. On the one hand, he rejects the notion that one's Jewishness must be defined by his behavior. He's a Jew - and no court in England has the right to question that fact, whether he attends synagogue, eats bagels on Sundays, or davens thrice daily. (I have no idea what he does or doesn't do. But I have a strong suspicions that the "thrice daily" thing isn't likely.) It's in the blood. But then he concludes:

Openness has grown. Bigotry’s faint refrain has grown fainter still. But I think my old school should throw more light on this episode. And I still believe the greatest strength of America, its core advantage over the old world, is its lack of interest in where you’re from and consuming interest in what you can do.

One second. Several paragraphs before he demanded to be defined as "Jewish" because of his lineage. Behavior didn't matter. Blood did. But now he's lauding America as the place where your lineage matters not at all. All that's important is "what you do."
Is it just me, or Cohen trying to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to be Jewish because he is. But then he wants to say that it doesn't really matter what you are, it matters how you act. Which is it?

Maureen Dowd, writing about Washington Wizards (although to me they'll always be the Bullets) owner Abe Pollen after his passing records Pollen's son's words:

Bob noted: “My mother and he always celebrated Shabbat dinner on Friday night. And they always had lobster.” As strongly as Abe Pollin felt about Judaism, Bob said, it was not the rituals that he considered important so much as “leading a moral life.”

I'll let the Shabbat-lobster issue go. I don't understand, but we all pick and choose. But it's Bob's words that I really don't understand. If Shabbat was really that important, and they always celebrated dinner on Friday night, why would Bob then say that rituals weren't important? Clearly they were very important to Pollen.
Of course "leading a moral life" was important to Abe Pollen. But so was Shabbat. It's a shame he could never communicate that fact to his children.

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Yosef's Well and the Lights of Chanukah

To download a printable pdf version of this article (on one page) click here.

We like to think that the story of Chanukah chronicles the good guys against the bad: the righteous Jews against the evil Greeks. While in some ways that's true, it's also s a gross oversimplification. In many ways, the story of Chanukah tells the tragic tale of Jew vs. Jew; secularist against religionist; those who remained faithful to Torah and halachah against a powerful group that had abandoned the traditional Jewish way of life. Examined in this light, Chanukah takes on a greater sense of urgency as we watch the two major camps in Israel – the religious and the secular – grow increasingly farther apart from each other. (Watching the competing protests over the character and nature of Yerushalayim on one hand, and the growing tension over the question of following orders in the army, it's easy to see how history could repeat itself, God forbid.)
While the essence of the miracle of Chanukah focuses on the war against the Greeks and the miracle of the oil in the Beit Hamikdash, Chazal left us clues to remind us about the underlying conflict that precipitated the terrible war.
When we examine the very brief mention of Chanukah found in the Gemara (Shabbat 21b – 22b), we encounter an interesting anomaly. (I've numbered the different subjects to make my point clear.)

אמר רב כהנא, דרש רב נתן בר מניומי משמיה דרבי תנחום נר של חנוכה שהניחה למעלה מעשרים אמה - פסולה, כסוכה וכמבוי. ואמר רב כהנא, דרש רב נתן בר מניומי משמיה דרב תנחום: מאי דכתיב +בראשית לז+ והבור רק אין בו מים. ממשמע שנאמר והבור רק איני יודע שאין בו מים? אלא מה תלמוד לומר אין בו מים - מים אין בו, אבל נחשים ועקרבים יש בו. אמר רבה: נר חנוכה מצוה להניחה בטפח הסמוכה לפתח. והיכא מנח ליה? רב אחא בריה דרבא אמר: מימין, רב שמואל מדפתי אמר: משמאל. והילכתא - משמאל, כדי שתהא נר חנוכה משמאל ומזוזה מימין.

1. Said Rav Kahana: Rav Natan bar Minyomi taught in the name of Rabbi Tanchum: A Chanukah lamp placed above the height of twenty amot is invalid. 2. And said Rav Kahana: Rav Natan bar Minyomi taught in the name of Rabbi Tanchum: What is the meaning of the verse: "And the well was empty, it contained no water"? Since it says "the well was empty" did I not know that it contained no water? Rather, what does "it contained no water" teach? [The well] had no water, but it contained snakes and scorpions. 3. Said Rabbah, it is a mitzvah to place the Chanukah lamp in the tefach adjacent to the doorway. And where should he place it? Rav Acha the son of Ravva said: to the right. Rav Shmuel from Difti said: to the left. And the halachah is to the left, so that the Chanukah lamp is on the left, and the mezuzah on the right.

Sandwiched between two short passages relating to specific halachot of lighting ((1) the height and (3) placement of the Chanukah lamp), the Gemara includes a seemingly unrelated Midrash. Why did Chazal record the familiar Midrash about the well into which the brothers threw Yosef in between two halachot about Chanukah? Also, can we connect this Midrash to the rules about where to place the Chanukah lamp?

When we examine the language Chazal utilize in the Midrash about Yosef's well, we find a subtle but critical Chanukah lesson. In addition to the Midrash about the well in the Gemara, the Midrash records a different, less-known teaching (Midrash Agadah 37) about that well:

והבור רק אין בו מים [אין בו דברי תורה]. ואין מים אלא תורה, שנאמר הוי כל צמא לכו למים (ישעי' נה א), מלמד שמרוב הצרה שכח תלמודו

"And the well was empty, it contained no water" – [it contained no words of Torah]. For "water" can only refer to Torah, as it is written, "Let all who thirst go to the water." (Isaiah 55:1). This teaches us that out of great anguish [Yosef] forgot his [Torah] studies.

Yosef's brothers threw him into two "pits". They first cast him into the actual water-well, empty as it was. But then, by selling him into slavery headed towards Egypt, they cast him into a far larger well: the empty pit of Egypt. Yet, this pit was devoid not of water, but of the Torah and spirituality that Yosef learned from his father at home. The Midrash notes a critical message about the absence of Torah. Lack of Torah is not benign. Rather, that lack of Torah and spirituality itself presented a danger to Yosef. The absence of Torah is not a vacuum, open to both positive and negative opportunities. Rather, the very lack of Torah in the well necessitates the fact that "snakes and scorpions" dwelled in that well instead. A place without Torah is never innocuous. The lack of Torah spells danger for Yosef, and for us, his descendants, as the void is filled not by the positives of Hellenism: the philosophy, science and progress, but by its dangers: hedonism, materialism and self-gratification.
This could help us understand the very next passage in the Gemara: ideally, one should place the menorah not in the window, but in the doorway – on the left-hand side (when entering). In this way, we surround our doorway with mitzvot that represent the Torah: the powerful words of Shema in the mezuzah on the right, and the light of Chanukah representing the spirituality of Judaism on the left.
Where does your family light your Chanukah candles? For the past several hundred years, we lit our candles in the window, not because we wanted to but because we had to. Too many generations were forced to keep the light of Chanukah to ourselves, shut in from the dangers (both literal and spiritual) of the outside world. But today things are different, both here in Israel and across the Diaspora. We no longer fear to light our candles in the public square. Our doors today are open. We should follow the ruling of the Shulchan Aruch and light not in the window, but with open doors.
And when we do, there can be no more powerful message about the way we relate to the outside world. Our doorways represent the portal between the insularity of the Jewish home and the "well" of the Western world. What values do we permit to pass through that portal? Are they informed by the mitzvot of Chanukah and mezuzah? The moments we spend lighting our candles this Chanukah present a perfect opportunity to contemplate these crucial questions.

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Food as a Uniter, Food as a Divider; On Halachah. Ethiopian Jewry and Thanksgiving

Food can both pull us together and push us apart at the same time. Thanksgiving is an especially good example of this phenomenon. The meal - the turkey with the trimmings - brings families together like almost no other holiday on the calendar, especially in America. But as soon as the family sits down, or maybe even beforehand what does everyone start doing? Usually fighting, and mostly about the same fights that they had the year before.
This seems to be unique quality of food: its pulls and pushes, almost simultaneously.
I've started doing some programming work for semichah students at the Gruss Kollel in Yerushalayim on behalf of the Center for the Jewish Future at Yeshiva University. Part of this programming involves exposing the rabbinical students to different people and issues affecting Israel. This past Tuesday we welcomed Rabbi Michael Cytrin , who started an organization called Or L'Doron in memory of Doron Mahareta, who was tragically murdered in the Yeshivat Mercaz Harav massacre in 2007. (You can read about his organization, which supports Ethiopian kollel fellows here.)
Rabbi Cytrin brought and an Ethiopian Kollel fellow named Uri Elazar who spoke about some of the unique challenges facing Ethiopian Jewry. He described a community that has been maintaining its own unique Jewish identity for over two thousand years, completely removed from the rest of the Jewish world. They had the same written Torah, but no Mishnah, gemara, or developed Shulchan Aruch. They had an oral tradition spanning thousands of years. And it worked for them, allowing them to maintain a dedicated, devoted, insular Jewish community in the face of adversity and persecution in the heart of Africa.
Imagine then arriving in Israel in the early 1990s and learning that the religion you considered authentic and timeless had actually "moved on"; that the religion you had been practicing for centuries was: wrong. How would you react? Would you simply change over and say, "Well, we've been doing it one way, but let's just switch"? Probably not. But then you send your children to educational institutions that, while honoring your traditions, teaches your children the new way. And as they learn the new rules and traditions, they not only forget the ways of their parents, but begin to reject them entirely.
When asked for a concrete example, Uri immediately brought up the issue of food. Eating food has been, and is supposed to be - a medium that unites. We come together around food, whether we do so as friends, as family, or as community. There is nothing as uniting as the ability to break bread together, and nothing as dividing as the inability to do that very same thing. (The rabbis were actually quite cognizant of this fact when they legislated against bishul akkum, pat akkum, stam yeynam - all instituted to create a barrier of separation between Jews and non-Jews.) In the Ethiopian culture (among many, many others), eating at someone's home symbolized respect and friendship. Not eating at their home when asked was a sign of rejection and disrespect.
Consider then the following problem:
According to Jewish law, before a shochet slaughters an animal or bird, he must carefully inspect his knife in a meticulous and prescribed manner immediately before the actually shechittah. Then, immediately following he must again examine the knife to ensure that the knife did not become nicked, rendering the animal treif. If a shochet failed to inspect the knife before the shechitah, Jewish law renders the animal treif. That's a halachic fact, with no wiggle room at all.
Ethiopian custom, on the other hand, does not have this requirement of knife inspection. Instead, according to Ethiopian tradition, the shochet must continually sharpen his knife until immediately before slaughtering the animal, without any pause between sharpening and slaughter. Essentially, it boils down to the fact that according to Jewish law, animals slaughtered according to Ethiopian tradition are effectively treif. (And Ethiopians don't buy meat from a store. To quote Uri quoting his relatives: "Buy meat from a store? In a package? How do you know who slaughtered it? How can you tell that it's kosher?" Good questions, actually.) So you're left with a situation where Ethiopians consider "regular" kosher meat unacceptable, and halachah considers meat slaughtered in the Ethiopian tradition treif as well.
So, when an Ethiopian young man or woman comes home from yeshiva for Shabbat, what should they do? Should they eat the food - which their teachers, who they respect, love and admire - have told them is treif? Should they reject their parents' food, tearing their family apart? (In the words of Uri, it's not uncommon for a father to say, "A son who does not eat in my home is no son of mine.")
I identified strongly with Uri's description of this ongoing problem in the Ethiopian community. It's not uncommon at all for members of a family to not eat in each-others' homes - and we're not talking about treif homes either, which only complicates matters. (One day, I'll write about the balance - or lack thereof - between the value of stringency in kashrut and the value of interpersonal family relationships and the friction caused when kashrut divides instead of uniting. But that's not a blog post. It's an article.)
I guess it doesn't matter whether you're an FFB, an Ethiopian Jew who made aliyah or just a plain American: Food does the same thing to all of us.

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Parshat Vayetze - Finding God in Times of Strife

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Vayetze: Finding God in Times of Strife
We imagine Ya'akov's journey to Haran as a pleasant one, interrupted by a beautiful, powerful dream. Yet, analyzing the Midrashim and the comments of Rashi, his trip is anything but pleasant. Ya'akov's behavior - and his call to God for help and protection provides a powerful example we can emulate in times of strife and struggle.

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In Memory of my Grandfather, Rabbi Dr. Hyman H. Friedman

Tonight my family marks the yahrtzeit of my grandfather, Rabbi Dr. Hyman (Chaim) Friedman. Or, as we called him, Zayde. I have a special affinity for Zayde in that I followed after him into the professional rabbinate. He served first in Atlanta, Georgia, and then moved to Winthrop, Massachusetts where he served for decades (I don't remember how many). I think that I appreciate his years of service in the rabbinate more now than I did when he died. I certainly learn new things about him all the time. Who knew that he tutored Rav Gifter when he first arrived at YU?
I served at rabbi of a shul in West Hartford, CT, that was probably a lot like his shul in Winthrop - Orthodox shul, not many Orthodox people. It's not an easy life; thankless in many ways, with many frustrations and few successes.
And yet, serve he did for so many years. After he retired, he moved to Silver Spring, MD where he spent the final years of his life studying Torah, attending minyan, becoming a noted and very popular speaker, visiting the sick and becoming a fixture in Kemp Mill. Yet, that's what he did - not what he was.
What was he? First and foremost, a Talmid Chacham. He knew how to learn. He was a masterful speaker - just watch the video - he had mastered the craft over a lifetime. He was loving, caring and gentle. He was perpetually responsible. He was soft-spoken.
And he built a family of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren numbering literally in the hundreds, all dedicated to the values of living a Torah lifestyle and devotion to the Jewish people.
That's a legacy that speaks for itself. Which is something Zayde was quite good at.
(If you want to know more about my Zayde, you can click here to listen to a fascinating interview my brother did with him.)

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Religion According to the "Times"

The New York Times featured an article today about a traveling clerical roadshow called the "Interfaith Amigos", who circle the United States giving presentations on interfaith dialogue. Most troubling to me was the entire tone of the article. Reading it, I got a sense that this article represented what the Times considers the ideal form of religion: one in which religious ideology contains not eternal truths, but as optional path towards God. My favorite section:

The room then grew quiet as each stood and recited what he regarded as the “untruths” in his own faith. The minister said that one “untruth” for him was that “Christianity is the only way to God.” The rabbi said for him it was the notion of Jews as “the chosen people.” And the sheik said for him it was the “sword verses” in the Koran, like “kill the unbeliever.”
“It is a verse taken out of context,” Sheik Rahman said, pointing out that the previous verse says that God has no love for aggressors. “But we have to acknowledge that ‘kill the unbelievers’ is an awkward verse,’ ” the sheik said as the crowd laughed. “Some verses are literal, some are metaphorical, but the Koran doesn’t say which is which.”

And, at the end of the piece,

Afterward, Mark Wingate, a computer programmer and a Methodist, said: “Talking about the untruths of each tradition is very courageous. It gets it out of the platitude category and into dialogue.”
Mr. Wingate’s wife, Sally, added: “They had to work really hard to get to that point. Most of us are not willing to work that hard.”

First of all, to Sheik Rahman: Really?
"Kill the unbeliever" is taken out of context? It's not meant to be taken literally? I'm very sorry, but I live in a place where a great many of my neighbors take that verse quite literally indeed. Our young people spend their formative years learning and working to ensure that those believers cannot translate their beliefs into reality. Maybe instead of preaching to Methodists in Nashville he should be speaking to Muslims in Rafiach. Only I doubt that they'd really want to hear what he has to say.
But looking at the larger picture, in essence, interfaith dialogue and common ground carry great importance in the world of the NY Times. In this worldview, in the end we really all believe the same thing and want to get to the same place. We just disagree about how to get there.
But we don't agree with one another. And more importantly, the Jewish people are the "chosen people." It's a fundamental tenet of the Jewish faith, established through an eternal covenant with God at Sinai:

וְעַתָּה, אִם-שָׁמוֹעַ תִּשְׁמְעוּ בְּקֹלִי, וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם, אֶת-בְּרִיתִי--וִהְיִיתֶם לִי סְגֻלָּה מִכָּל-הָעַמִּים, כִּי-לִי כָּל-הָאָרֶץ. וְאַתֶּם תִּהְיוּ-לִי מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים, וְגוֹי קָדוֹשׁ:

Now therefore, if you will listen to My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own treasure from among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine; and you shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. (Exodus 19:5-6)

Did God mean that figuratively? Was He only kidding? Which part of the deal did He not mean literally? The problem becomes acute, because when you start throwing out some truths, you eventually throw out them all. All that you're left with then is a vague sense of religious allegiance; a desire to approach God but no real way to do so, and a religion that speak not in absolutes, but in obscure platitudes.
Which is exactly the type of Judaism (and religion) that the New York Times likes.

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What Did You Do Last Night?

I regularly listen to a sports talk show on my iPod, which somehow turned into a discussion between the cast members about what they had done the previous evening. Among the four was:
1. Eating dinner and hanging out
2. Watching TV
3. Eating junk food and watching TV
4. Watching a lot of TV
Hearing this rather sad report, I thought to myself: "Wait a minute, what did I do last night?" Thankfully, I spent a nice chunk of time working on a Torah-related piece, so the evening wasn't totally blown. Obviously, family-related activities: putting the kids to sleep, helping them with homework, etc. are clearly worthwhile. But the question seems relevant: what do we do at night? Do we spend our evenings (or at least a part of them) doing something productive, or do we wile away our evenings on some show or another, surfing the web and endlessly updating our Facebook profiles until sleep overcomes us?
This question brought to mind a rather powerful quote from the Rambam about the importance of learning Torah at night. Rambam (Laws of the Study of Torah, 1:8) writes that there's a mitzvah to study Torah every day and every night.

כל איש מישראל, חייב בתלמוד תורה: בין עני בין עשיר, בין שלם בגופו בין בעל ייסורין, בין בחור בין שהיה זקן גדול שתשש כוחו, אפילו עני המחזר על הפתחים, ואפילו בעל אישה ובנים--חייב לקבוע לו זמן לתלמוד תורה ביום ובלילה, שנאמר "והגית בו יומם ולילה"

Every man from Israel is obligated to study Talmud: whether rich or poor, of whole body of one who suffers afflictions, whether a young man or an elders whose energy has waned, even a poor beggar who knocks on doors, and even the husband of a woman with you children - he must dedicate time for the study of Torah during the day and night, as it is written, (Joshua 1:8) "you shalt meditate therein day and night

But then, later on in Chapter 3, (13) Rambam expands on this idea of learning at night rather sharply.

אף על פי שמצוה ללמוד ביום ובלילה, אין אדם למד רוב חכמתו אלא בלילה; לפיכך מי שרצה לזכות בכתר התורה, ייזהר בכל לילותיו, ולא יאבד אפילו אחת מהן בשינה ואכילה ושתייה ושיחה וכיוצא בהן, אלא בתלמוד תורה ודברי חכמה. אמרו חכמים, אין גורנה של תורה אלא לילה, שנאמר "קומי רוני בלילה" (איכה ב,יט). וכל העוסק בתורה בלילה, חוט של חסד נמשך עליו ביום, שנאמר "יומם, יצווה ה' חסדו, ובלילה, שירו עימי--תפילה, לאל חיי" (תהילים מב,ט). וכל בית שאין דברי תורה נשמעין בו בלילה, אש אוכלתו.

Although there is a commandment to study during both the day and night, a person can only study the majority of his wisdom at night; Therefore, anyone who wishes to merit the crown of Torah, should be careful with all of his nights, and not lose even one of them sleeping and eating and drinking and talking and engaged in similar activities, but instead in the study of the words of Torah and wisdom.Said the Sages, the "storehouse of wisdom" is only at night, as it is written, "Arise, cry out in the night". (Lamentations 2,19) And anyone who immerses himself in Torah at night, a thread of grace is extended to him during the day, as it is written, "By day the LORD will command His lovingkindness, and in the night His song shall be with me, even a prayer unto the God of my life" (Psalm 42,9). And any home from which Torah is not heard from it at night - a fire consumes it.

Ouch. While I might feel a little good about what I did last night, it only makes me wonder: what did I do the night before that? And before that?
And how will I spend my evening tonight?

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Parshat Toldot - Raising Different Children

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Toldot: Raising Different Children
Looking at the very different children raised by the Avot – how Avraham raised both a Yishmael and a Yitzchak, and Yitzchak raised both an Eisav and a Ya’akov, one question comes to mind: what happened? How can such good people raise such different – and in the eyes of the Midrash, bad – children like Eisava and Yishmael? Where did they go wrong? And what can we do to avoid their mistakes?

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