Showing posts with label Halachah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halachah. Show all posts

Monday, March 2, 2026

The Conservative Revolutionary - A Window in the Psak of Rav Moshe Feinstein zt"l

This past Shabbat in Mekor Rishon, Rav Shabtai Rappaport, who is married to the granddaughter of Rav Moshe Feinstein, published a long retrospective on his relationship with - and undertanding of - perhaps the greatest American posek of the twentieth century. 

The article traces his history with Rav Moshe, his powerful impressions of this great man, and a critical section on Rav Moshe's understanding of how to issue halachic rulings. I'm assuming that the editors of the paper appreciated the irony in Rabbi Rappaport's claim that Rav Moshe was a halachic conservative, when they named the piece, "The Conservative Revolutionary." 

While the full piece in Hebrew is not yet up on the site - I will like to it when it goes up - I took the time to have ChatGPT transcribe and translate the part of the piece that relates to Rav Moshe's halachic rulings. I think it's accurate, but there might be minor errors. Nonetheless, I found the description of Rav Moshe's view on psak both fascinating and critical, due to its understanding of the need for a psak that adapts to changing realities, alongside a steadfast refusal to admit to the innovative and adaptive spirit at the heart of this type of psak. 


Rav Moshe’s Methodology in Halachic Ruling

In my view, Rabbi Moshe was a complete halachic conservative—but not conservative in the sense of stagnation. Rather, conservative in the sense of deep-rooted fidelity. He saw himself as a faithful continuator of the halachic tradition across generations and did not believe he had the authority to innovate on the basis of the “spirit of the times.” He wrote many times that we do not have the right, through one pilpul or another, to render our predecessors mistaken, Heaven forbid. What they ruled, they ruled in accordance with the law. It is inconceivable that a generation would declare something untrue, even inadvertently, due to ignorance of reality. Our responsibility is not to correct earlier generations, but to clarify the halacha from the foundations they laid.

From this did not emerge stagnation, but rather a profound dynamism. In Rabbi Moshe’s world, halacha is not an abstract system suspended in midair; it applies to reality—and our perception and understanding of that reality is a living, constantly evolving process. The conception of reality held by earlier generations is not a fixed and immutable doctrine carved in stone, nor does it bind us. When our understanding of reality changes, this does not mean that the Torah changes. Rather, the manner in which we apply it requires renewed clarification. Not because the generation is more modern, but because the knowledge at our disposal has changed. Fidelity to tradition demands fidelity to the reality upon which it operates.

For this reason, Rabbi Moshe often relied on his son-in-law—my father-in-law—Rabbi Prof. Moshe David Tendler z”l, who stood by his side in understanding contemporary scientific perspectives. In this respect he had disagreements with several poskim who sanctified the medical assumptions of earlier generations. Rabbi Moshe was revolutionary precisely out of rooted conservatism, carefully distinguishing between eternal Torah truth and changing scientific conceptions.

So too, for example, in his ruling regarding the determination of the moment of death. In earlier generations, when electrocardiographic monitoring did not exist and precise tools for measuring cardiac activity were unavailable, death was determined based on accepted external signs. We are not permitted to conclude that they erred and buried a living person; they ruled according to the knowledge available to them. However, in a generation that possesses precise medical instruments, if monitoring shows cardiac activity—the person is alive. The halacha has not changed; what has changed is our ability to clarify reality. Indeed, fidelity to tradition obligates us to use the intellectual tools of our time in order to rule correctly.

The same applies in the social sphere. The Talmudic principle “Tav le-meitav tan du mi-le-meitav armelu” (literally: “Better to sit as two than to sit as a widow”), from which various halachic implications were derived, reflects a reality in which a woman saw marriage as an almost absolute value, despite a husband’s flaws. Rabbi Moshe argued simply that in our present reality this assumption is not necessarily correct. A woman in our generation is not prepared to remain married at any cost, and may at times prefer remaining single to living within a harmful or dysfunctional framework. In accordance with this understanding, he ruled that it is possible to annul a marriage retroactively if it constituted a mekach ta’ut—a mistaken transaction—according to contemporary standards. If the underlying social assumption has changed, a posek may not continue building upon a previous premise as though nothing has occurred. This is not the adoption of foreign values nor an ideological revolution; it is a faithful clarification of the reality to which halacha applies. In this matter as well, he stood courageously against those who disagreed with him.

In Rabbi Moshe’s view, reliance on rulings and on the books of earlier decisors is not the essential work of a true posek. Authentic halachic decision-making is a new edifice that the posek constructs through careful study of the Gemara and the words of the Rishonim and Acharonim, and through that process redefines the relevant halachic categories. Such psak makes it possible to rule leniently even where others are stringent—and obligates stringency where others are lenient. However, when a ruling is merely transmitted from books or from other decisors, it does not carry that authority. If it has spread and become accepted practice, one may rely upon it within the boundaries of established custom, but one may not derive new conclusions from it. For that, one must descend to the roots.

For this reason, he opposed the publication of abbreviated halachic summaries extracted from his responsa. For someone who did not ask the original question, the value of the responsum lies not in its practical bottom line but in the detailed analytic process. A posek’s final ruling is addressed to a specific questioner in a specific context; the reader may weigh its reasoning, but bears responsibility for determining whether the ruling applies to his own situation. Out of methodological humility, he saw himself as a teacher offering his students a conceptual framework for their own judgment.

Another clear example of his approach to changing reality is his ruling regarding milk in modern countries. The rabbinic decree concerning chalav akum (“milk of non-Jews”) was enacted to prevent the possibility that non-kosher milk might be mixed in. The traditional definition of such milk is milk that a Jew did not supervise at the time of milking. However, in modern countries there exists a regulatory system overseeing the dairy industry, and there is no practical possibility of mixing in prohibited milk. Rabbi Moshe ruled that such milk is effectively supervised by virtue of its production process and is therefore considered chalav Yisrael. This was not the abrogation of a rabbinic decree nor a flashy leniency, but rather a clarification of the underlying rationale of the decree and its precise scope of application.


Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Lessons from the Daf: Just Because I Have a Sevara Doesn't Give Me License to Paskin

In the middle of an involved discussion on Pruzbol, the Gemara raises the question of whether Shemittah would nullify a written loan contract with a lien against real estate. (Yes, it's pretty involved.) Reish Lakish and Rav Yochanan suggest that Shemittah would not cancel such a loan, while Rav and Shmuel disagree, and rule that Shemittah would cancel this type of loan. The Gemara also brings a proof from a Beraita which explicitly supports Rav Yochanan's position. The Gemara (Gittin 37a) then relates the following story:
A relative of R. Assi had a bond containing a lien clause. He came before R. Assi and said to him: Is this cancelled [by the seventh year] or not? — He replied: It is not cancelled. He left him and went to R. Yochanan [and asked the same question]. [R. Yochanan] replied: It is cancelled. R. Assi went to R. Johanan and asked him: Is it cancelled or not cancelled?
He replied: It is cancelled.
[Rav Assi asked] But you yourself [once] said that such a bond is not cancelled?
He replied: Because we have an opinion of our own [different from what we have learnt], are we to act on it?
Said R. Assi: But there is a Baraitha in support of your opinion?
[Rav Yochanan] replied: perhaps that follows Beth Shammai...
Rav Yochanan's comment is more striking in Aramaic: וכי מפני שאנו מדמין נעשה מעשה - "Because we imagine (or think) something to be so, should be act upon it? Commenting on this strange phrase Rashi writes, נראה בעינינו וכמדומין אנו כן ולא שמענו מרבינו - "It seems to be correct in our eyes, but we did not hear it from our rabbis." Rav Yochanan even rejects a clear proof text to his legal theory, suggesting that it might not be a normative opinion.

The story represents a fascinating tension between theoretical interpretation of a text and actual implementation. Rav Yochanan teaches us that while learning in the Beit Midrash must be honest and open, translating that theory into action requires great care and precision. You don't make changes without the approval and instruction of your rabbis.

To me, this message seems especially relevant in the halachic climate in which we live today.


Monday, July 20, 2015

Pregnant and Nursing Women Fasting on Tisha B'av: P'sak Halachah in the Age of the Internet

The Facebook post started with a simple question:
Has anyone ever heard of a pregnant or nursing woman only fasting until Chatzos if Tisha B'av is a nidcheh? I remember someone once telling me this and I'm trying to find a source for it...
The post clearly touched a nerve with the Facebook friends who began to suggest answers to the question.
- There are definitely kulahs with a nidcheh fast. Ask your LOR (Local Orthodox Rabbi). Will probably depend on the specific situation.
- Ask your rabbi...I've heard a few different things.
Then, the poster responded with a semi-joking comment:
I'm trying to send my LOR in the right direction :-)
This was followed by a series of comments and suggestions, including piskei halachah by no less than two rabbis, both of whom offered different opinions. One said, "A choleh should fast until morning. There's nothing special about chatzos for fasting." In other words, she must begin the fast, but can break it by morning. Another wrote that, "On a tisha bav nidche pregnant women who experience even mild discomfort, break their fast . see biur halacha 559:9 s.v. vaino . nursing women are in the same category this means whenever you feel worse than normal fast even a headache alone is enough to eat you eat normally no shiurim." In other words, you must fast normally, until and unless you feel discomfort, at which point you can break your fast.

In the course of the thread, other posters shared the rulings of Rav Avigdor Neventzal (who rules that pregnant or nursing women need not fast at all) and Rav Yaakov Ariel (who ruled that they must begin the fast and can break it if they feel discomfort).

The entire thread and ensuing discussion raises for me the thorny issue of psak halachah in the age of the Internet. What is psak halachah, and can there even be such a thing, when every possible question has already been asked (and answered), and is readily available to anyone who knows how to search for it - and often those answers conflict?

Clearly, this "open information" has already affected the way that we ask our questions. The thread I mentioned above is a case in point: instead of asking her rabbi, the poster asked a "shaila" of the "crowd". Moreover, it's not really a question per se, but a search for a specific answer that she's heard of. If she wanted a "clean" answer, she could have texted her rabbi, "Hi! As you know, we just had a baby. Do I need to fast this year on Tisha B'av?" But that wasn't her question. As she herself admits, she doesn't want a clean answer. She wants the "right" answer: "I'm trying to send my LOR in the right direction."

Then, as I noted above, the post developed into a discussion about actual psak, pitting two sets of rabbis (LORs and Gedolim) against one-another, leaving our harried poster both confused and frustrated. She wanted a clear answer, not a "see how you feel". After all, who doesn't feel hungry and thirsty and in discomfort on a fast day? (She's totally right about that point.) Yet, her desire for a straight, clean answer of yes or no is directly in conflict with her posing of the question originally. Does she really want a "yes or no", or is just a "no, you don't have to fast" the answer that will satisfy her?

I wonder how these types of questions are now affecting rabbis and the pressure they feel to issue more lenient piskei halachah. Imagine that I receive this question from a congregant, and I feel that halachah requires women to fast (unless they feel "discomfort"). Yet, I know that the person asking the question has already looked up this issue on the Internet. And if she hasn't, she will then turn to Facebook to express her frustration that she has to fast on Tisha B'av. I can just see the post now.
Poster: Ugh! I hate fasting on Tisha B'av, especially when I'm nursing!
Friend 1: What? Why are you fasting? My rabbi (who lives in another part of the world) told me that I don't have to fast.
Friend 2: I never fasted for two years after I gave birth. Sefardim rule!
Friend 3: Rabbi Such and Such posted three years ago that if you're thirsty, you can break your fast...
It's not that difficult to imagine. It happens all the time.

The next time this woman has a question, will she turn to her LOR? Or, will she turn to the rabbi across the country, or just to the "hive" to figure out what psak makes the most sense to her. The rabbi knows all of this. He knows both positions. To what degree does this knowledge affect the answer that he gives her?

I find the whole thread fascinating in that it raises important questions about psak and poskim in an Internet age where everything is available on the Internet. How can there be psak when we all have five rabbinic "friends" who give different answers? What does it even mean to ask a question?

The answers to these questions might very well be determined by no less than our relationship to halachah. The answer to all of these questions will ultimately depend on the degree to which we can return to the famous concept in Pirkei Avot called, "Aseh lecha rav" - make for yourself a rabbi. Halachah is uniquely personal. It can be both rigid but also flexible when necessary. But we, as a community, seem to have fallen into such a robotic adherence to ritual, without its attendant deeper meaning, that we're always looking for the easiest way to fulfill our obligation and be done with it. To do that, all you need is information. You don't really need a rabbi. You need a website, and today there are plenty of those. Then its simply a race to the bottom, to find the most lenient "accepted" rabbi, and before you know it, the most lenient position becomes normative.

The job of a rabbi isn't just to be a website. I've never really liked SMS questions (which are all the rage in Israel - still!) because they rid the halachic process of any relationship between the petitioner and the rabbi. The job of the rabbi isn't just to issue black and white rulings. It's to transmit not only the ruling in a manner that's most meaningful and relevant to the person asking the question.

The entire discussion about fasting revolved around purely technical issues - must a nursing woman fast on Tisha B'av or not? Of course there are technical halachic issues at play, but nowhere in the thread did anyone raise the issue of why: Why should she fast? Why should she not? No one "wants" to fast on fast day. Today we wish each other an "easy fast". "Hope it's not too hard!" Does that really make sense? Isn't the idea of fasting supposed to be hard? In essence, wishing someone an easy fast is saying, "I know we're all fasting because we have to; But I hope the day goes by quickly, with as little discomfort as possible." Clearly people don't mean it this way, but that's what it boils down to. If you're going to do it, hopefully the bitter pill goes down easy.

Nowhere in the discussion of whether this woman must or must-not fast was the issue of meaning. Chazal felt that our actions influence our attitudes, nowhere more than on days of mourning, like Tisha B'av. Nowhere in the discussion, did the personal needs of the individual arise. What if, instead of asking Facebook, the person asking the question called her rabbi with the very same question, and got this answer:
R: Well, how do you fast? (That's a really important question in this discussion, which never really came up.)
Cong: Well, I get pretty thirsty - but not really different than most mornings. It's a fast day after all.
R: Do you get bad headaches? Does fasting make it challenging for you to function?
Cong: Not usually, but I'm worried about having to fast and take care of my baby.
R: Can your husband come home and help out, instead of spending all morning in shul? If we can find a way to handle the childcare together, could you fast in a meaningful way?
Thus, the same rabbi might very well give two different answers to two different women, depending on each one's personal situation.

Rabbis would love to answer questions in this way, but they also need to feel secure in knowing that their congregants aren't shailah-shopping. Aseh lecha Rav means asking a rav a question with the confidence that the rav will give me the best answer for me, regardless of what he answered someone else (or what someone else answered on the Internet). It means asking an open, honest question, without a predetermined answer. It doesn't mean that you can't push back - that's definitely part of the conversation. But it does imply the trust that when I ask my rabbi my question, I trust that he will, to the best of his ability, give the answer that he feels best applies to me, in my current situation.

In the end, it's all about trust. And trust in rabbis in general isn't a popular topic nowadays. I guess we all have a lot to fast for this coming Tisha B'av.

Friday, January 30, 2015

Opportunism or Extortion?

You’re standing on the street in the rain, desperately trying to hail a cab, flailing away, recognizing just how late you are for your flight. Finally, a taxi stops for you, and you explain your plight, and beg the driver to make haste to the airport.
He fully appreciates the gravity of the situation. So he turns to you and says, “No problem. I’ll be happy to take you, and pronto. But…it’ll cost you $250 dollars.”
“What!?” you protest. “That’s at most a thirty dollar cab fare! How can you charge me so much?”
“No problem,” he answers. “It just so happens that I just went off duty. Please sir, step out of the cab, and have a nice day.”
He’s got you. It’s clear that if you don’t agree to pay, you’ll never make the flight, or that critical meeting, and will probably lose the client. So, begrudgingly, you close the door and tell the cabbie, “Two-fifty it is.” But I better make that flight.
He’s a man of his word, and apparently knows every possible shortcut, cut-through and alleyway, and you arrive at the airport with moments to spare. As you get out of the cab, you put a wad of cash in his hand and run to the terminal.
“Hey!” he calls out to you. “This is only fifty! Where’s the other two hundred!”
“Fifty is more than fair,” you call back. “Including the tip. Thanks for the ride.”
“But you agreed to my price! I want the rest of the money.”
You pause, now under the awning, and finally admit the truth. “You were trying to take advantage of my distress, and were hoping to rip me off. I only agreed to your price because I knew that you’d never take me unless I did. I never had any intention of paying you the full amount. To my mind, you’ve been well paid for your efforts. Thanks for the ride!”
And with that, you turn into the terminal and rush to the flight.
Who’s right: the harried traveler, or the cabbie? Do you owe him another two hundred dollars, or was he paid fully for his efforts?


To be continued…

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Hilchot Siren During Tefillah

What do you do if a siren sounds while you're davening Shemoneh Esreh? The following is a translation of a short guide issued by Rav Rafi Shtern of the Bar Ilan University Kollel.

1. There are several types of interruptions during Tefillah: (1) Walking (2) A non-verbal interruption (3) A verbal interruption

2. There are a number of different types of interruptions: (1) an intentional interruption (meizid) (2) an unintentional interruption (shogeg) (3) a coerced interruption (ones) by thieves or wild animals (4) a coerced interruption (ones) due to the individual or the location (i.e. he needs to use the restroom, or the location becomes unfit)

3. There is sometimes a difference for the purposes of psak whether the interruption is long enough that a person could "complete the entirety" of Shemoneh Esreh (irrespective of if the person happens to be at the beginning or end of Tefillah), and whether the interruption was for a shorter period of time

4. In our discussion of an interruption due to a siren, we assume that such an interruption is similar to "a coerced interruption by thieves or wild animals" (ones)

5. Walking (without speaking) due to coercion is not considered an interruption

6. Therefore, regarding a person who hears a siren during the silent Amidah and walks to a protected space (without speaking): If the interruption was for a brief period (=less than the time it would take him to recite the entire Amidah) - then he should continue his Amidah from the place he stopped. But, if the interruption was for an extended period (=longer than the time it would take to recite the entire Amidah) - then he must return to the beginning of the Amidah.

7. If he not only walked, but also spoke: If his speech was "under coercion" (ones - e.g. he had to instruct the members of his family to go to the safe room), then if the speech was extensive enough that he could have completed the entire Amidah then he must return to the beginning of the Amidah; but if he spoke only briefly, he continues from where he stopped.
If the speech was not coerced or necessary, he must return to the beginning of the Amidah.

8. For an interruption at any other part of tefillah (pesukei D'zimra, Shema, etc.) one should continue from where he was interrupted.

May our prayers be heard and bring us all safety and serenity!

Friday, August 16, 2013

Showering over the Upcoming Three Day Yom Tov in Israel

Rafi Goldmeir on his popular Life in Israel blog recently noted some of the reasons why he's not looking forward to the upcoming Three Day Yom Tov.
If you are anything like me, the worst thing about 3-day yomtov is the shower situation.. The next worst thing is probably the food preparation - heating, reheating, cooking, leaving fires on, using timers, etc...
I emailed him wondering why he doesn't shower over Yom Tov, something that I've been doing for a few years now. Truth be told, this isn't a halachah blog, but I feel compelled to write about this, if only to make your Rosh Hashanah and Shabbat Shuvah bearable - at least if you live in Israel. (Yet another reason to make Aliyah!)
There's no reason for me to write a synopsis of the issues of showering on Yom Tov, as many have already done me the favor. Rabbi Howard Jachter has a great piece on the topic, in which he concludes:
Showering and bathing on Yom Tov remains forbidden except for exceptional circumstances.
Fair enough. Except that it's important to note that the matter is subject to significant debate, and while he is stringent, there are more lenient views - which he himself notes.
More importantly, in Israel there's a very important factor which significantly mitigates a strict ruling. Much of the debate surrounds the issue of cooking on Yom Tov, and whether one may heat up water and bathe one's entire body. In Israel the issue is far less pressing halachically, as we have automatic hot water from the "dud shemesh" - the solar panel water heater in every Israeli home. To get a bit technical for a moment, this makes the hot water "toldat hachamah" (heated from the heat of the sun), and not "toldat ha'or" (heated from a fire), which is less significant halachically.
There's another point as well. Stringency in halachah is often laudable, but every chumrah (and yes, I mean every single one) has a price. If your stringent in one area, you're also being lenient in another. That price might be worth paying, but it's also important to be aware of. In this case, if you're stringent about not bathing on Yom Tov, you will, in the words of Rafi Goldmeir, hate it. In our finicky, spoiled modernity, we very, very rarely go two days without showering, much less three. You begin to feel grimy and dirty. Is that Simchat Yom Tov (a Torah commandment)? Is that the way to achieve Oneg Shabbat (also a Torah commandment)? I personally do not feel that it is.
But don't take my word for it. Take Rav Melamed's word for it. He's the author of the very popular and widely accepted set of books called Peninei Halachah. (My favorite part of Peninei Halachah is that you don't have to buy the books - although we just bought the whole set, because the entire work is available on the Internet. I've heard they're now working on an English translation.) Rav Melamed writes:
מפני חששות שונים המלווים את הרחיצה, רבים נוהגים שלא להתרחץ ביום טוב. אבל בשעת הצורך, מותר להתרחץ במים חמים שהתחממו בערב יום טוב, או במים חמים שהתחממו ביום טוב על ידי דוד שמש או שעון שבת. וזה ההבדל שבין שבת ליום טוב, שבשבת מותר לרחוץ במים פושרים אבל לא חמים, ואילו ביום טוב מותר לרחוץ במים חמים.
ויש מחמירים וסוברים שדין יום טוב כדין שבת, ואסור לרחוץ ביום טוב במים חמים אלא רק בפושרים. ויש מחמירים וסוברים שאסור מדברי חכמים לרחוץ בשבת ויום טוב אף במים פושרים. וכך נוהגים חלק מיוצאי אשכנז. אולם למעשה, העיקר כדעת רוב הפוסקים, שמקילים לרחוץ ביום טוב במים חמים. וכאשר הדבר גורם צער, כגון בראש השנה שנמשך יומיים, או ביום טוב שסמוך לשבת, ראוי לנהוג כמקילים, כדי לכבד את החג ולהתענג בו.
Due to numerous concerns associated with washing, many have the custom not to bathe on Yom Tov. But in a time of need, one is permitted to bathe in hot water that was warmed before Yom Tov, or in hot water that was heated on Yom Tov with a "dud shemesh" or a Shabbat timer. This is a difference between Shabbat and Yom Tov: for on Shabbat one may wash in lukewarm water, but not in hot water, but on Yom Tov one may bathe in hot water.
Some are strict and hold that the ruling of Yom Tov also applies on Shabbat, and one is forbidden to bathe on Yom Tov in hot water, and [may only do so] in lukewarm water. Some are strict and hold that one is rabinically prohibited from bathing on Shabbat and Yom Tov in either hot or lukewarm water. This is the custom of some Ashkenazim. But in practice, the essential [halachah] follows the opinion of the majority of the poskim who are lenient and allow bathing in hot water on Yom Tov. And, when this issue [of not bathing] causes pain, like on a two day holiday like Rosh Hashanah, or on a Yom Tov adjacent to Shabbat, it is appropriate to follow those who are lenient, in order to honor the holiday and enjoy it.
If that's true for a two-day holiday (remember that Rosh Hashanah is the only two-day holiday of the year here in Israel), it's especially true for a three-day Yom Tov.
If you live in Israel, enjoy your shower, and have an enjoyable, clean, fresh Yom Tov!

Friday, August 9, 2013

Half Shabbos/Shabbat Comes to the Holy Land. Is it Zomet's Fault?

The cover story on texting
on Shabbat
Back in Israel after a relatively long family vacation, I was rifling through the Motzash magazines I missed (that's the magazine put out by Mekor Rishon, the paper most favored by the Religious Zionist community), and noticed that they did a long piece on the phenomenon of otherwise religious people texting on Shabbat.
The piece clearly generated a significant backlash (suggesting that rather than reporting on a phenomenon, Motzash actually helped to create one), because in the next issue the magazine editor defended himself from that charge, and it devoted two pages to responses from Rabbi Yona Goodman, Director of Chinuch Emuni (faith-related education) of the Orot College of Education (where I happen to work) and one from Rav Yisrael Rosen, the director of the Zomet Institute for Halachah and Technology. You can read the articles here.
The Responses of Rabbis Goodman and Rosen
Most American readers will probably not be surprised that the phenomenon has reached the Holy Land. It's been discussed in educational circles for several years now. People have been taking shortcuts (or making personal decisions about keeping certain halachot while ignoring others) since we received the Torah. Is this a phenomenon? Is it more unique than entire sections of the community ignoring halachot about negiah, or tzniut, or watching inappropriate media? Personally, as I too find myself addicted to my smartphone, I relish the fact that I cannot look at it on Shabbat, and feel sorry for people so addicted that they can't put it down for that twenty-four hour period. I also usually leave my phone home when I go to shul during the week; it's one less thing to distract me from the davening itself.
Yet, the conclusion to Rav Rosen's article fascinated me. After noting happily that the article outlines people who text on Shabbat aren't calling to change halachah, but instead don't think that their behavior is that terrible halachically (on the grand scale of things), he offers a fascinating confession:
In truth, as the head of Machon Zomet, which develops "gimmicks" to circumvent the prohibitions of Shabbat, mainly in the areas of electricity and electronics in the areas of medicine, security and similar fields, I ask myself many times if we are not legitimizing disrespect for the laws of Shabbat, specifically with regard to technology. Do we not bear some of the responsibility for the drift towards the slippery slope of tradition of "rounding of corners" in the words of the interviewees in the article?
It's  a great question. Why specifically are we seeing this trend of corner-cutting specifically in the area of technology? Why aren't people cutting corners in the laws of Borer, or carrying outside an eiruv, or any other area of the Laws of Shabbat? Might people think to themselves, even subconsciously, "Well, if a doctor can make a call on his cellphone; if he can type on his nifty computer - then it can't really be that big of a deal, can it?" Sadly, Rav Rosen clears himself of all responsibility.

My answer is that exact opposite is true. The gimmicks of Machon Zomet, limited specifically to cases of great need, testify like a hundred witnesses to the vitality of halachah, which includes allowances to account for necessary circumstances, even if there is no danger of loss of life. The solutions of Zomet do not negate the Halachah. Rather, they highlight the imminent possibilities hidden within it, which say: Up to this point is forbidden, but from this point forward is permitted. Openings such as these are the foundations of the unfrozen Jewish Halachah, a guiding light for legitimate Poskim. However, these boundaries are not given into the hands of each and every individual, but instead [only] to those rabbis and their students spread and involved across the chain of the halachic generations. For the development of Halachah is one of the foundations of our faith.
Read what he wrote again, because it's certainly a mouthful. First and foremost, Rav Rosen's Hebrew is rich and difficult. And I also agree with his underlying conclusion: Halachah isn't static; it does adjust to the needs and developments of time. It's easy to say no, and much, much more difficult to find creative halachic solutions to challenging problems.
Moreover, the new reality of a Jewish country presents challenges that simply must be addressed: What is the meaning of Shabbat in an Israeli hospital? Or army? Or police? The country cannot and will not shut down. Even if you could, would you want to rely on non-Jews to run the country every seventh day? Was that really the ideal given to us at Sinai? (ושמרו בני ישראל את השבת - The nation of Israel shall guard the Shabbat [and have all the goyim do the stuff they can't?]") I don't believe this to be the case.
I firmly believe in the great work of Zomet, and the fascinating approach that they've taken to addressing difficult challenges of fealty to Shabbat in an increasingly technological world. But at the same time, Rav Rosen, "Thou doth protest too much!" ("Testify like a hundred witnesses"? Really?) Can we really say that the leniencies of Zomet have not, to some degree, contributed to this phenomenon of casualness towards observance of halachah in the area of technology? Issuing lenient opinions related to Shabbat and technology is exactly what Zomet does, day in and day out. So it can't just wash its hands when we see negative effects of that work, as important as it is.
What then is Zomet to do?
I believe that Zomet must begin to take the other side of the coin, and speak not only about things that are permitted, but things that are forbidden. It should embark upon a campaign for Shemirat Shabbat - perhaps on an elevated, more stringent level - precisely because so much of our community must invoke the kulot in their lives either as doctors, or soldiers or as members of local security details across the country. After all, it's impossible to measure the effect of permitted use on a person's attitude towards Shabbat. After you've used the computer (with the kosher mouse and keyboard) to manage your yishuv's security cameras, how greatly does that affect your attitude towards the normal, non-Shabbat computer? Is there any way to really answer that question?
Of course half-Shabbat is not Zomet's fault. But it also bears a responsibility to counter the negative affects of its work, so that it ensures that as it finds important workarounds to challenging questions, it isn't undermining the very value of Shemirat Shabbat it works so hard to uphold.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Navigating the Dangers of Western Culture

I'm at the end of a very extended family vacation. During the course of our vacation, we used some of the family time for leisure, and some for enrichment (which was also usually leisurely as well). One morning we awoke in New Jersey looking for something to do, and we decided to head to the Jersey shore to walk the boardwalk, play some games - generally have a nice time. Sounded good.
As soon as we got there, my teenage son took one look around and said, "We can't stay here. The women are walking around in their underwear." I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking, because he was clearly right. I took a short stroll to see if there was any way to get near the boardwalk without over-exposure to the locals - there was not. I immediately agreed with my son, and told him that we would not be staying at the shore. We take great pains to try and help our children choose the media that they watch carefully, and it makes no sense to protect their eyes from a screen and then expose them to the same images in the flesh (literally!) We quickly drove away, and ended up taking a wonderful, impromptu family hike at a nearby nature trail. In the end, it was a far better day than we would have had at the shore.
Several weeks later, we planned a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I have an appreciation for late European Impressionist painting, and wanted to expose my children to the amazing collection at the Met. (By the way, the admission prices at the Met are just suggestions. You can pay whatever you want to get in.) Yet, I knew going in that the museum visit would similarly expose my children to multiple images of (a) naked people - mostly women and (b) idolatry. I'm not sure why, but the naked women were more personally troublesome to me than the idolatry, while halachically, the avodah zarah is probably worse. In fact, as soon as we arrived we joined a tour of "master paintings" which took us to a number of Christian oriented paintings that were clearly used for religious purposes. It just so happens that in my daily morning Rambam study I came across the following halachah:
צורות שעשו אותן גויים לנואי, מותרין בהנאה; וצורות שעשו אותן לעבודה זרה, אסורין. 
One may benefit from images that the nations made for beauty; Yet images made for the purpose of idolatry are prohibited.... (Laws of Idolatry 7:8)
As we entered the museum, I described to my sons what they were about to see, and even mentioned the famous quote from Supreme Court Justice Stewart Potter about the difference between art and pornography. Still, while Judge Potter might distinguish between the two, I doubt that the Shulchan Aruch makes any such distinction.
As we made our way through the museum, it was exactly as we expected: wonderful paintings, photographs and other works of art, surrounded on all sides by statues, paintings and other works of idolatry, religious symbolism, and naked bodies (of men and women). We eventually did make our way to the French Impressionists, and it was as good as I remembered. I really like those paintings, and especially a famous sunflower painting by Monet (my personal favorite. I know - so cliche - but it really speaks to me).
At some point, my kids had had enough, and as we left the museum, I felt that they at least got a sense that art is something greater than magic markers and crayons, and has the power to convey great beauty. At the same time, I find myself torn: exposure to any form of culture brings a risk, as most "kosher" culture (paintings of sunflowers) is surrounded by a great deal of "treif" culture. Is the opportunity to experience the good worth exposure to the bad? Most rabbis would probably say "no." Knowing this, I still took my family to the Met.
Was it worth it? What were the costs? I'm not sure that I know how to answer this question.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Kol Isha and Modern Orthodoxy

In a previous post I wondered how the Modern Orthodox community seems to ignore the accepted halachic psak regarding the issue of kol isha. I received some thoughtful comments, including one from Noam Stadlan who wrote:
Many in the thinking MO community agree with the rationale, underlying assumptions, and thinking set forth by Rav Bigman, and certainly do not agree with Chareidi views of society and the place for women. Why should they adopt the Chareidi psak? If you think that Rav Bigman's view should not be followed, then in order to make a case that will fall on accepting ears you have to address the issues. For the thinking MO, it is the quality of the argument, not who said it (within reason) or how many said it, that matters. So if you oppose the action, you have to make an argument based on sources and logic, not a list of poskim.
Noam's comments concretized exactly why Modern Orthodox practice regarding kol isha bothers me so much. Since when has the Shulchan Aruch been appropriated by the Chareidi community? Suddenly, every rav and posek who doesn't conform to our values is now Chareidi? Even Seridei Eish, who allowed mixed groups to sing for kiruv purposes would never have permitted a public performance like "The Voice". Does that now mean that he was clearly Chareidi as well?
The comment suggests that the normative halachah of Kol Isha follows Modern Orthodox practice, and that some kind of Chareidi chumrah has crept into modern day Jewish life. Reading the sources (and I did); that is simply not the case, and to suggest otherwise is disingenuous. It's one thing for Rabbi Bigman to publish his position, which is of course his right. But at least he himself must acknowledge that his opinion contradicts normative halachic psak. It's quite another to suggest that someone who disagrees with him is "Chareidi" (i.e. radical), which can and should be easily dismissed. Noam wrote,
"For the thinking MO, it is the quality of the argument, not who said it (within reason) or how many said it, that matters."
Really? That's how halachah works? Every psak must be argued and debated and explained to the satisfaction of every individual? This entire line of thinking is precisely what bothers me (and to my understand, many, many others) about so-called "Modern Orthodoxy". It articulates the view that if a behavior or value that's explicit in the Shulchan Aruch and later poskim - and it is explicit and cannot be denied - doesn't match with my view, I can choose to ignore that view and attach myself to the da'at yachid I do like and do agree with, labeling anything more radical than myself as "Chareidi". Is there no notion of submission in Modern Orthodox thinking? Is everything subject to the litmus test of the individual?
That's not the way I learned that Halachah works. Rabbi Bigman is a moreh hora'ah, and can issue whatever psak he chooses. But Halachah isn't a poo-poo platter of choices for us to choose from, grabbing the ruling that we like and disregarding those that offend our tastes. Doing so flies in the face of the concept of Mesorah and an allegiance to the tradition that we believe can and must be transmitted through the generations. While the thinking you articulated certainly does match post-modern values which reject absolutes and demand that we only adhere to practices that match our personal, individual attitudes, that's not how Jewish law works.
If you want to follow Rav Bigman, then follow Rav Bigman. But don't just do it for kol isha. Do you know anything else about the piskei halachah that he issues? Do you follow his chumrot as well as his kulot, or does he too need to justify his thinking to you? (Clearly he does).
I'm not suggesting that I'm perfect. Far from it. I doubt that the Shulchan Aruch smiles on the fact that I watch "Top Chef" (not a good example, I know). But instead of suggesting that I'm really correct, and that anyone who thinks watching "Top Chef" is out of touch, and even worse - Chareidi - I'm mature enough to recognize that I probably shouldn't watch it, and this an issue that I struggle with.
A recent comment on Hirhurim about keeping two days of Yom Tov illustrated this point precisely. Joseph Kaplan wrote,
I was once told by R. Adler that there are Teaneck residents who daven in other shuls but are affiliate members of Rinat just so they can consider R. Adler their moreh deasra and follow his psak on observing only 1 day. We’re full members so it was slam dunk that all four of my kids observed 1 day during their year in Israel. And my sense is from speaking to friends that more and more MO observe only 1 day in Israel, some of whom observed 2 days not so long ago.
At least in Teaneck they some feel the need to affiliate with Rabbi Adler's shul in order to follow his psak. But according to Noam's way of thinking, who needs to affiliate? What difference does it make if he's your rabbi? After all, it's the arguments that count, which is precisely why "more and more MO observe only 1 day in Israel." They like the psak, so why not follow it?

This brings me to another comment regarding kol isha related to the Rav. Another commenter wrote that the Rav attended the opera. Sorry, that's not a psak to me, and the fact that individual rabbis allowed (or allow) individual people to attend the opera also doesn't convince me.
There's a concept in Jewish law of individuality, and not everything every rabbi tells an individual immediately becomes normative Jewish law. It's well-known that the Rav's wife did not cover her hair. Does that mean that the Rav also didn't believe in kisui rosh? Quote me a shiur, a written article, anything - where the Rav issued a psak allowing men to attend to opera. He was a very, very smart man, and knew his audience and the time in which he lived. He knew when he was speaking publicly, and when he was speaking privately, and the two are not the same.
I myself have issue piskei halachah for individuals that I would never write in public. Halachah is quite flexible in this manner. Yet, when every individual has a me-too attitude, and tells himself, "If he could do it, why can't I," the very foundation of halachah finds itself in peril of collapse.
Truth be told, this is where I fear a significant chunk of Modern Orthodoxy is headed. Without fealty to mesorah; when we can choose what appeals to us and reject authority when rulings do not - the very concept of shemirat hamitzvot finds itself on very shaky ground indeed.

My problem with a religious girl singing on The Voice isn't the fact that her rav allowed it. I know for a fact that he doesn't permit public singing. My problem is the fact that she never even asked the question in the first place. And that, as you wrote, is the very essence of Modern Orthodoxy.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Is Exercise Before Tefillah Permissible?

I run regularly, and have been logging somewhere between 12-15 miles per week for years now. (I'm almost reached "purple" on NikeRunning - about 30 miles to go!) I run to try and keep a handle on my weight, but even more to keep myself sane. Running helps me stay balanced and in control, and is something I make sure to keep doing on a regular basis.
The problem, especially in the summer, is that it's hot. Really, really hot. And in Yad Binyamin, which is essentially the coastal plane of Israel, its especially hot, reaching the mid-90's (F) regularly during the day. You can either run late at night, or even better, early in the morning - very early, which I've been doing for much of the summer. But you have to run really early, before the sun gets too high in the sky and the air grows too hot. By 8am, it's just too late to run at all during the summer months.
So I've been getting up early - a little after 6:00am to run. The air is just cool enough to breathe, and I can cool down and shower and, if I'm lucky, make minyan by 8:00am (and if not, there's always 8:30).
Then, a couple of weeks ago, a member of the community approached me with a question. He too needs to work out regularly - although he prefers swimming. (It seems that when he lived in Gush Katif he would snorkel regularly in the early morning in the ocean and would allow himself to do so with the rationale that the ocean is essentially a mikveh, and his immersion is halachically acceptable before tefillah. But now, his swim would be in a pool and wouldn't count.) He noticed me running in the morning, so he wondered about the halachic basis for my practice. Why would I be allowed to run before davening?
His question becomes even stronger in light of a statement of the Gemara from this week's Daf Yomi where the Gemara (Brachot 14a) states:
אמר רב אידי בר אבין אמר רב יצחק בר אשיאן אסור לו לאדם לעשות חפציו קודם שיתפלל שנאמר (תהילים פה) צדק לפניו יהלך וישם לדרך פעמיו: 
R. Idi b. Abin said in the name of R. Isaac b. Ashian: It is forbidden to a man to do his own business before he says his prayers, as it says, Righteousness shall go before him and then he shall set his steps on his own way.
It's pretty clear from the Gemara and the halachic rulings that follow, that a person must place prayer as the first priority in his daily schedule. First pray to God and then do everything else. The Shulchan Aruch rules:
אסור לו להתעסק בצרכיו או לילך לדרך עד שיתפלל תפלת שמונה עשרה (ויש מקילין לאחר שאמרו מקצת ברכות קודם שאמרו ברוך שאמר וטוב להחמיר בזה) (תרומת הדשן סימן י"ח) ולא לאכול ולא לשתות אבל מים מותר לשתות קודם תפלה בין בחול ובין בשבת ויום טוב וכן אוכלים ומשקין לרפואה מותר:
A person is forbidden in engaging in his needs or traveling on the road until he prays Shemonah Esreh (some are lenient after he recites some of the brachot that are said before Baruch She'amar, and it is proper to be stringent in this matter - Terumat Hadeshen 18) and not eat or drink. Yet, [drinking] water is permitted before Tefillah both during the week and on Shabbat and Yom Tov, and eating and drinking for medicinal purposes is permitted.
The ruling seems rather strict: no eating, drinking - not even the study of Torah is allowed - before one prays to God.
Indeed, to me the ruling makes intuitive sense. A religious individual starts his or her day by first acknowledging God's presence and influence in her life. That faith and devotion sets the critical tone for the rest of the day, and is a cornerstone of a spiritual life. What we do first, at the beginning of the day, says everything about us: our priorities and attitudes about the way we live our lives.
With this background, is there any wiggle room to permit running, or any type of exercise, before engaging in daily prayer?
Actually, there is. Piskei Teshuvot, a compendium of responsa written pretty much over the last century, has a nice summary of the various reasons that a person would want to engage in all sorts of activities before prayer:
  • Can you engage in tzedakah before davening or acts related to Chesed? Yes?
  • What about helping get your kids out to school? Rav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach allowed it.
  • How about buying minor food items (i.e. milk and bread) to get said kids out to school? Again yes.
So, there is some amount of wiggle room to allow for a certain level of activity before prayer. What about running and exercise? Piskei Teshuvot (O.C. 89:15) quotes Rivevot Ephraim who likens exercise to eating for medicinal purposes, which the Shulchan Aruch explicitly allows. He allows "running for medicinal purposes or exercising in the water, for someone who requires this activity for medicinal needs, and anything similar to this..." (see footnote 190) He also quotes Sefer Tefillah Kehilchatah in the name of Rav Shainberg who allowed exercise for health, explaining that this is no worse than eating or drinking which Shulchan Aruch allows, but only "if there's a justifiable reason" for exercising before prayer.
Moreover, one can and should combine this with the leniency of Rema, who allows one to engage in forms of activity after reciting birchot hashachar - morning blessings. Then, you're combining the fact that you have indeed offered words of prayer with the leniency of health concerns.
This leaves us with two questions: is it absolutely necessary to run before davening? Theoretically, I could get up and daven vatikin, at sunrise, and run afterwards. That's hasn't really happened thus far. Is my inability/unwillingness to get up at 5am to run a mitigating factor which will allow me to run before I daven? Secondly, all of the sources discuss exercise for "refuah", which generally refers to someone in rehabilitation, or someone who requires exercise on the advice and counsel of a doctor for a specific malady. While I don't know any doctor who would not advice regular exercise, does my need to run regularly rise to the level of "refuah"?
I think so, but I could see someone disagreeing.
In any case, hopefully the staggering heat will dissipate soon and I can get back to running at a normal hour.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Halachic Prenups: Why Rabbis Should Insist on Them

A terrific pic of Rav Gedalia Dov Scwartz from the NY Times
The issue of halachic prenuptual agreements has been a source of debate (a while back), and media coverage more recently, including a recent NY Times article which basically tells much of the story without painting Orthodoxy as barbaric (for once). If you want to know a great deal more about halachic prenups, you can listen to the shiur that I gave on it here. Source sheets and audio shiur)

Controversy in Israel
On a private rabbinic (Israeli) listserv to which I subscribe (but never post - too much Hebrew!), the rabbis got into a heated discussion about whether the group should advocate that rabbis "insist" that the couple sign a halachic prenuptial agreement as a condition of performing the wedding ceremony. Some rabbis were strongly in favor of such a clause (for obvious reasons), while others recoil at the notion of "forcing" anyone to do anything. In this country, the words כפייה דתית - "religious coercion" are met with derision, so the notion of trying to force someone to do anything religious - as good for him or her as it may be - is often rejected out of hand. Personally, I think that the documents, while good, are less critical here in Israel, where the beit din has real jurisdiction to "convince" a recalcitrant husband to give his wife a get. In America, where the rabbis have no legal recourse, the only tool they have is the halachic prenup.

My Rabbinic Experience: Make Sure that It's Just Business
As a rabbi, I insisted that the couples for whom I performed their marriage signed a prenup. I felt that the document represented a modern-day, halachic solution to a problem that no one ever wanted to face (or thought they would). But I insisted on the document for another reason, that derived from a more personal, emotional source.
Objectively, when a couple prepares for marriage, no one reasonably thinks that the marriage will dissolve, and that the husband might withhold a get from his wife. (If you do think that about your future spouse, don't marry him!) This being the case, asking for a prenup (and it's the female who'd usually be asking) is, in a very real way, an affront. After all, what kind of person do you think that he is? Do you really think that he's capable of acting like a monster? Why are you marrying him if you think so, and why are you asking for a prenup if you don't? And, all the claims that, "I just want to be sure," and "We'll never need it anyway, so why not just sign it?" ring hollow.
Asking for a halachic prenup is an affront - and probably even more of one than asking for a normal financial prenup. It's insulting to suggest that your future life partner should sign a document just in case he ends up acting in such a spiteful and disgusting manner that the entire community will disassociate itself from him and demonstrate publicly outside his office. It's that bad.
That's why I think that the rabbi should insist on it. Then, neither member in the loving couple suspects anything. They really aren't worried about it. It's just a formality that the rabbi demands that no one thinks they'll ever need (and hopefully won't). The rabbi removes the prenup from the personal, relegating it back to the technical, where it can be filed away and forgotten. (Unless it's needed, and the woman will thank God that the rabbi insisted upon them signing one.)

To sum up:
1. I believe that every rabbi should insist on the couple signing a halachic prenuptial agreement (most do, but I wish it wasn't most, but "all")
2. If you're getting married, make sure that the rabbi who performs the wedding insists on a halachic prenup. It won't be personal, just business. And then everyone can move on to the business at hand, of building a beautiful, loving and happy marriage.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Guilt for Excercise? A Torah Value Taken to the Extreme

My weight and I have long engaged in a friendly, and sometimes not-so-friendly competition. It tries to the get the best of me while I struggle to keep it under control. I was never one of those people who could eat whatever I wanted and maintain a healthy weight (and found myself quite envious of those who were). For many years I adhered to a SugarBusters diet (though I fell off that wagon about a year ago), and since my college days I've been a regular runner. (Back in semichah, when I lived in Washington Heights, I used to run over the George Washington Bridge. It was a great, beautiful run.)
Aside from the issue of trying to stay healthy, I just feel better when I excercise, both physically and emotionally. Running helps me stay calmer, more balanced, and well-adjusted. I figured it was a good thing all around.
Then I received the OU's most recent Shabbat Shalom email, which contained an article entitled, "Why Do I Feel Guilty When I Run?" in which Rabbi Pesach Sommer, who lost about 100 pounds over the last year writes,

So when I began to vigorously engage in what seemed like a strictly physical pursuit, I felt guilty. I was uncomfortable with activities like sports and exercise. Running, with all the health benefits it had to offer, left me uneasy.
I tried to ignore the little voice in my head that told me that running was bitul zman, a waste of time. When that didn’t work, I tried to convince myself that my time in the gym was justified by the fact that it would allow me to live longer and fulfill the goal of v’nishmartem meod, protecting my life. I suppose that should have been enough, but somehow it left me less than satisfied. Not enough to get me to stop, but, still, I was determined to understand and hopefully get rid of the gnawing feeling I was experiencing.
Rabbi Summer ends his brief article concluding that his excercise was actually improving his spirituality, which is nice and true. But reading the article, I found myself wondering, "Why in the world did he feel guilty? What if he achieved no spiritual nirvana through running, but simply led a more healthy lifestyle? Where did we get the notion that excercise is "bittul zman"?
A commenter on the article states it this way,
I'm actually shocked and even horrified at the idea that we Jews have produced a culture that could leave someone feeling guilty for exercising.
I believe that the answer - and the source of Rabbi Sommer's guilt - lies in a good value taken to the extreme, which manifests itself in many areas of Orthodox life.
Judaism considers the study of Torah to be a core component of a religious, spritual life. In fact, halachah considers Torah study to be obligatory. One must study Torah. The question is: how much? For how long?
Boiling a complicated halachic discussion into a nutshell, two basic opinions emerge. The first, articulated by Rambam and actually encoded into the Shulchan Aruch (Yoreh Deah, 246:1), posits that one must, at a minimum, study Torah every day and night. They derive this from the verse where God tells Yehoshua, והגית בו יומם וליליה - "and you shall delve [Torah] day and night." (Yehoshua, 1:8) According to the most lenient position, one can even fulfill this obligation with the simple recitation of the Shema each morning and night.
On the other side of the spectrum - way, way on the other side - is a chorus of opinions that take the verse quite literally: one must study Torah at all times, always, day and night. According to opinions in the Talmud, this precludes any secular study (See Menachot 99b), learning a trade, (See Mishnah Kiddushin 4:14), and basically anything else. Any activity, other than the study of Torah, is a waste of time, and represents the shirking of one's spiritual obligation to study Torah.
Despite the fact that the Shulchan Aruch ruled leniently, the strict opinion - perhaps even the most extreme formulation of that opinion, has become the guiding mantra of the entire yeshiva world. Any serious yeshiva considers, as one of its founding principles, that the study of Torah is not only the most valuable endeavor in which a person can engage, but that as a direct result, any other endeavor is, by definition, a waste of time, and must be calculated as such.
Is it wrong to have such an attitude? Of course it's not wrong. But I don't think that it's right for everyone. In fact, it might only be the correct attitude for a very small subset of people who are capable of devoting every waking moment to Torah study. For them, the sense of obligation to learn all the time propels them forward, spurring them to achieve greatness in their learning. But what about for everyone else?
How would you feel if you were told, from the moment that you walked into school, that you must study Torah without pause for the rest of your life...and if you just couldn't do it, either because while you liked learning, the hours of sitting were just too long; or you weren't all that good at it; or you needed to get a job to support your family; Or you were 100 pounds overweight?
I can tell you how you'd feel, because I've felt it: You'd feel guilty. You'd feel like you were wasting your time. You'd feel that running, to stay in shape and be healthier, simply couldn't be justified, no matter how unhealthy you'd become. And that guilt is not a healthy thing.
More importantly perhaps, this guilt-fest does not accurately represent the only perspective on this issue. The Torah also conveys other values that Torah Jews must consider. Case in point: living a healthy lifestyle. It's not simply a matter of common sense. Rather, being healthy is a Torah value as well.
Rabbi Shlomo Ganzfried, in his "Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (Chapter 32) writes,
הואיל והיות הגוף בריא ושלם, מדרכי השם הוא, אי אפשר שיבין או ידע דבר מידיעת הבורא והוא חולה, לפיכך צריך האדם להרחיק את עצמו מדברים המאבדין את הגוף, ולהנהיג את עצמו בדברים המברין והמחלימים את הגוף, וכן הוא אומר ונשמרתם מאד לנפשותיכם. 
Since it is among the ways of God to have a whole and healthy body, and it is impossible for a person to have knowledge of God when he is sick, for this reason, a person must distance himself from things that destroy the body, and purport himself in ways that bring health and well-being tot he body, as it is written, "And you will carefully guard your lives."
They don't emphasize that halachah in yeshiva, because if they did, every bachur would take a couple of hours, a few times of week, to get some excercise. And he'd do it, not because he was overweight, and not because he couldn't feel his legs after hours of sitting in the Beit Midrash.
No, he'd do it because he saw his Rosh Yeshiva exercising too. And then, I am certain that he'd have no problem exercising without ever feeling guilty.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Now Available in Israel! The Morning After Pill!

Last Friday afternoon, I rushed to the pharmacy to fill a prescription for a sick child. (As an aside, we couldn't find a doctor who was open on Friday, and we thought - correctly - that she needed a round of antibiotics. Happily, the message at the local clinic said, "If you'd like, for an additinal fee, you can have a doctor pay a house visit." Curious, I called the number. How much would it be for a doctor to come to the house? 73 shekel. I paid, and the doctor - a very nice, thorough Russian woman, was at our home several hours later.) In any case, as I waited on line at the drug store to fill my prescription, I noticed the following sign hanging over the counter.


It says, "Now, also in Israel! NORLEVO - The pill for 'The Day After' sold worldwide." The box is for show only, because it only holds one pill.
That's right - the Morning After Pill is not only now sold in Israel - but prominently so! I'm not surprised that they're selling it here; just the open brazenness of the advertising - as if this pill is no different than the antacid sign that used to be there before.
I tried to imagine seeing an ad for "Plan B" (what the drug is called in the States) over a pharmacy counter in the United States. I simply can't. There was an outcry when the ad was scheduled to run on MTV. Imagine the uproar if this sign showed up in your local Walgreens. Quite the opposite. In the US pharmacists get fired when they refuse to sell the drug at all. And there's even a ballot initiative in Mississippi that would legally asign personhood to a fetus immediately after conception, making this type of drug - and most forms of contraception - illegal. (One wonders whether state troopers would examine womens' personal effects for contraband when entering the State). And yet, in Israel, which really is a far more conservative society in many ways than is America, nobody bats an eyelash at ads like these.
What about halachah's take on these pills? Can a rabbi allow a woman to take a "Morning After Pill"?
From a halachic point of view, the implications of these types of pills are not entirely clear. Halachah generally forbids contraception for normal, married couples, encouraging procreation strongly. At the same time, Jewish law permits some forms of contraception in unique, specific circumstances. (This is not a post about this topic. If you have a question, ask your rabbi, as this is a very complicated, involved halachic issue that's not fodder for a pithy blog post.)
In general, these "Morning After" pills don't abort the fertilized egg, but instead prevent it from emplanting in the uterus by triggering an early period. It's also probably fair to say that if a young woman wants to know if she can take the pill, there really is an extenuating circumstance. On the other hand, allowing the use of pills like these would only encourage even greater sexual promiscuity.
A rabbinic friend told me (off the record) of a case that he knew of where a posek permitted a young woman (not married) to take the pill. To what degree would an unplanned pregancy affect an unmarried, religious young woman? I would venture to say that it would affect her a great deal. Would that be enough to allow her to take the pill the mornnig after an "unOrthodox" encounter?
I don't know. To get an answer to that question, you'd need to ask a posek.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Two Days of Yom Tov and Other Halachic Challenges

Tablet recently ran a piece about the challenges of keeping two days of Yom Tov, especially when the calendar bombards Shomer Shabbat communities with three three-day Yom Tovs in a row (and will again over the next three years!) The piece, while chronicling the challenges of fastidious observance to Yom Tov, also notes that there are people in the Orthodox community who "choose" to keep only one day. After all, they reason, the first day is biblical, while the second is only rabbinic.
This isn't a new observation. I can remember one member of a shul I served in who would "work" on the second day of Yom Tov for many of the same reasons outlined in the piece. Moreover, I've noticed a growing phenomenon of Orthodox Jews who, when in Israel, don't keep a second day of Yom Tov in any way - not even a "day and a half".
If this is a "growing" trend, I can think of several reasons:
Many people who live within the big tent of Orthodoxy are not all or nothing people. They struggle with the challenge of the demands of traditional Judaism, and make compromises. I'm not judging them, and actually celebrate the fact that they consider themselves Orthodox nonetheless. But they should keep both days, and I hope that they know this, despite any justifications they create for themselves.
More significantly, people who come to Israel and keep only one day (because they either own an apartment here, or they come for all three yom Tovim, or they have a cousin who operates an Israeli website, or any other reason) then return home for the next holiday and and feel a sense of dissonance. After all, last year, they ate a falafel on the 8th day of Yom Tov, and this year it's completely forbidden? Last year, they were snorkeling in the Kineret on the first day of Chol Hamoed while their friends were sitting down to yet another heavy meal in the Sukkah. And this year they too must "suffer". What other halachah seems to change by location? (Imagine having to keep the laws of tzniut in Brooklyn, but not in Miami. Ridiculous, right? Er...) That dissonance makes it easier to begin to slowly reject the entire notion of the validity of the second day.
Moreover, with the advent of global, instant communication, people in the Golah know exactly what concerts we've been to on their "second" day. They have an immediate sense that people they know who are perfectly observant don't observe two days of Yom Tov. And, while they know the law, that doesn't make it any more emotionally palatable.
I suppose that we here in Israel don't make things any easier for our exiled brethren. In emails and phone calls, blog posts and Facebook updates, we're constantly extolling the virtues of one day of Yom Tov: the added vacation day of Chol Hamoed, the avoidance of three-day yom Tovs, (two this year. And next year. And the year after that. Sorry, I'm doing it. See? We just can't stop ourselves.) One Seder! But, in doing so, we cheapen the idea of the two days of Yom Tov in the exile, and the obligation of observant Jews to maintain both days under all circumstances. Sure, it's in good fun. And of course Golah Jews could avoid our good-natured jabs by simply moving to Israel. But I must admit: It's not that nice, and it probably doesn't help matters. Nor do I believe it promotes aliyah either. (I just can't see Nefesh B'nefesh's new marketing campaign as, "Aliyah: You'll Never Make a Second Seder Again.")
On the other hand, I have little sympathy for people who complain that keeping two days is just two hard. The article quotes Rabbi Alan Brill who posted on his blog,
“The past few years there has been a growing tension among those who work in interactive professions about their need to check their blackberries on Yom Tov,” he wrote. “Some fields need daily input.”
Really? These people never go on vacation? They never ever walk away from their Blackberries for more than one full day? Please.
I just think back to the stories my grandfather would tell about his work life during the early 20th century in New York. He'd get a job on Sunday in some store, and not show up on Shabbat. When he'd come back on Sunday morning, his boss would tell him to get lost. That went on until he found a boss who didn't fire him on when he came to work on Sunday morning.
He sacrificed for Shmirat Shabbat, and every one of his grandchildren remains observant today. I don't doubt that putting away the iPhone for three days is hard. I'm certain that the work pressures are immense. But the costs of not making the sacrifice are far greater in the long run.

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Techelet Controversy 2 - An Email, and My Response

Continued from this post.

I received the following email from a very close acquaintance, who wrote,
A few points to ponder:
1. The title Godol is not one bestowed upon "little" people (no pun intended). a "Godol" is a "Godol B'Torah" and they are called that because they no more Torah and have greater insight into the Torah than the rest of us. If all of the Gedolim do or don't do something that IS reason enough for us to do or not do that thing - end of discussion. If there was merit to the opposing view then at least ONE of the Gedolim would do it. Since there is plenty of machlokes in the Torah world and many opposing views within Halacha (note how long the Gemmoroh is - without opposing views Artscroll woudl be out of business). IF a Godol felt strongly about something he WOULD do it. The fact that none of them wear techeiles IS enough of a reason not to do it. I won't go into all the Torah sources for mimiking the behaviour of the Gedolim - nor will I invade the privacy of their bedroom, but it IS in our best interest to follow their lead.
2. You wrote that it's ok to have the color of the tzitzis match the color of the beged and therefore it's ok to have techeiles. I saw your talis and it's not blue, nor are all of your tzitzios...
3. There is a price to pay for going against the accepted "tide". It has become fashionable to do that and that helps destroy the fabric (again, no pun intended) of the community. Bnai Yisroel were lauded for very few things when they were in Mitzrayim - not changing their clothing to follow some new "trend" be it Egyptian or "new age" was one of the them. We are who we are and we are that way because we steadfastly cling to what is handed down to us. Minhag Avosaynu B'yadeinu is not limited to holding an extra day of Chag in CHU"L. Remember the adage - change your Minhag and you're gong to Gehenam - both words may have the same letters but very different outcomes.
I responded to him (and you, as follows)
Dear (Very close Acquaintance),
First and foremost, thanks for your thoughtful response. As you can see, I'm pretty passionate about this issue, and I can see that you are too. All the better.
I'd like to post your response to me - and my answers to you on the blog. If you give me permission, I'll do it with your name, and if not, I'll do it anonymously.
I'll respond to your points one by one:
1. Of course we look to Gedolim for guidance and leadership. But I think that today this has gotten out of hand, to the point that we won't even try and perform a mitzvah unless the gedolim do it. Sometimes gedolim, as great as they are, make mistakes. (see Eim Habanim Semeichah on the position of the Gedolim that advised, and even forbade Jews from moving to Israel. He has very harsh things to say.) But more to the point, I don't think that Judaism was ever meant to be a religion where we only do things that gedolim do. I'm not talking about issur; moreover, gedolim don't say (generally) not to wear techelet; they don't do it themselves. When did the fact that great rabbanim don't do something make it assur?
Secondly, you should know that Rav Tal, Simcha's Rosh Yeshiva, as well as Rav Hershel Schachter of YU do wear techelet. Rav Tal is not my Rav, and I don't ask him questions, but Rav Schachter is certainly someone I consider a rav of mine, and I have and do ask him shailot. Are they "great" enough to rely on?
2. Regarding the color of the beged: the mishnah berurah says that it's a hiddur of zeh keili v'anveihu to have the tzitzis be either white, or the color of the beged. but al pi din, they can really be any color you want. Am I willing to give up the hiddur of all white for the chance to fulfill a d'orayta. You betcha.
3. Regarding לא שינו את מלבושם - this is really a ridiculous argument. Is it really "trendy" now to want to fulfill דאורייתות? For years and year, people wore תפילין דקות. Why? Because they didn't have the technology to properly make גסות. When someone finally figured out how to do it well, why didn't the whole world say, "you know what, we've got a minhag that we don't want to give up"? Because גסות are better. They're a hiddur. Go check your father or grandfather's tefillin. They didn't have גסות. But you do. And I do. Isn't that the abandonment of a minhag that will lead us all to gehenim? Of course not! It's an attempt to fulfill a mitzvah in a more special and appropriate manner.
And to suggest that putting techelet on our clothing is some trend, and that we're abandoning the principle of שלא שינו את מלבושם represents nothing less than a complete bastardization of the midrash. I can tell you one thing: this morning, when you said ונתנו על ציצית הכנף פתיל תכלת, you knew with absolute certainty that despite the fact that you're saying the words, and you know God wants you put that blue string on - you're still not doing it. When I say the very same words, I think, "You know, there's a chance that I'm actually doing what הקב"ה wants in this one area." And instead of thinking about bucking trends and changing minhagim, I feel lucky - fortunate about the fact that I live in a time when we've been given the gift of being able to fulfill this mitzvah once again.
And I feel pretty good about that.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The Techelet Controversy, or: I Can't Understand Why People Won't Wear Techelet

During my shiur on Parshat Shelach, I mentioned the mitzvah of Techelet, which, from the text of the Torah represents an integral part of fulfilling the commandment of tzitzit. Today, as many people are aware, there's a great debate about the identity of the organism that produces the enzyme from which we can manufacture authentic Techelet. The fine folks at the Techelet Institute believe that they have identified the source as a Murex snail, and now produce tzitzit strings from that snail. Others question whether that snail is the correct organism, and reject the notion of wearing blue strings today.
Full disclosure: I wear Techelet on my tallit. I do this for a simple reason. I have no idea whether the Techelet people are correct or not. When I read (and listen to) their arguments, they sound convincing. And then, when I read the opposing view, it sounds convincing. I'm not equipped to decide who's right. But, as someone in the Eim Habanim Semeichah shiur recently asked me, there's a much simpler way to look at things.
He wondered: If I took my regular white tzitzit strings, and colored them with a blue magic marker, would they still be kosher? The answer is yes, without a doubt. That's a clearly acknowledged point in the halachic literature. The Mishnah Berurah writes that it's a hiddur - a beautification of the mitzvah - to have either white strings, or to have strings that match the color of the garment. Clearly, colored strings are not problematic. This being the case, if there's no halachic downside, I simply fail to understand why someone would resist using strings that might be a fulfillment of a Torah commandment. People wear wool tzitzit in the summertime, sweating through the heat because according to a major opinion in the Rishonim, only wool garments fulfill the Torah obligation to have tzitzit. But many, if not most of those very same people refuse to wear a blue string on their tzitzit. Why? I simply have no idea.
I recently listened to a shiur given by Rav Reisman on Techelet, which was powerful, if not convincing. He spent an hour generally explaining the problematic aspects of identifying the Murex as the original chilazon. Personally, I found many of his arguments less than compelling. But his approach and his level of respect for the people who advocate Techelet was refreshing and inspiring. He's ninety-nine (one hundred?) percent sure that the Murex isn't the chilazon. I'm not so sure. I then listened to a rather passionate (and convincing) response from Rav Aryeh Lebowitz. It's also worthwhile to read the response from Dr. Sternman as well. (Both links also appear in the notes to Rav Reisman's shiur on YUTorah.)
As I listened to Rav Reisman's shiur, his arguments raised another issue about psak halachah in my mind. I'll admit it - I've got skin in the game. I wear Techelet, so I want the Murex to be the chilazon. So, as I listened to his arguments, I immediately began to question his arguments, poke holes in his logic, and find fault where I could. But he also, even before analyzing the issue, has a predilection towards the position that the Murex is not the chilazon. Can we really imagine Rav Reisman, a leading figure in the American Chareidi world, rejecting the accepted Daas Torah and deciding on his own that he's going to wear techelet? I don't know him personally, but I doubt it. And if he did, he'd pay a heavy price for doing so. So that fact, in and of itself, clouds his ability to make an absolutely objective analysis of the facts.
This is not a criticism of Rav Reisman personally. It's also not an anti-chareidi thing. (Rav Aviner also came out against wearing Techelet.) When we make decisions about issues, we all have skin in the game. We bring a set of values and attitudes that color our perception of the facts. I want the Techelet to be real, so I find one set of arguments convincing. Rav Reisman has a strong sense of fealty to Gedolim who rejected the Murex, so his predilection is to see the other side. It's not a good or bad thing. It's just there, and I think it's important to point out that this phenomenon exists everywhere. (The reminds me of a recent clip that I saw from the Daily Show about the Wisconsin Supreme Court justices who couldn't agree about whether one member of the Supreme Court put a choke hold on another fellow justice.)
Returning to Techelet, I still have yet to hear a satisfying answer to my underlying question: At the end of the day, there's everything to gain and nothing to lose. If you wear Techelet and when Moshiach finally arrives he tells us that the Murex is the correct and proper source for Techelet, then you've fulfilled a positive Torah commandment. If it ends up not being the real thing, then you've lost nothing. I simply don't understand why Jews - and many of them - who care deeply about meticulous Mitzvah observance, ignore this argument. And I have yet to hear a convincing response that has moved me in the least.
I'll do it when the Gedolim do it? I just don't get it.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Shabbat, Phones and Techonology - The Story Continues

A follow-up to this post

Rena sent me a link to this article, about special Shabbat phones created by Machon Zomet which were purchased by the government to allow government officials to use them on Shabbat. I think that these phones are a great thing, for a number of reasons:
First of all, I think that it's great that the Prime Minister doesn't look at whether a person has a kippah on his head, but rather whether the individual is right for the job. Moreover, Shemirat Hamitzvot isn't considered a detriment that will hinder the civil servant's ability to get the job done. It's a fact, and it's also nice to know that the Prime Minister thinks so as well.
Some might wonder: if the situation mandates that one can talk on the phone on Shabbat - i.e. there's a matter of life and death, or national security - then a government official could use a regular phone. Why then buy the special phones? The answer has to do with the nature of work and "melachot" on Shabbat.
Let me take you back a few years to the birth of my third child, Leah. For our first three children, my wife had a habit of going into labor on Shabbat. At the birth, my wife actually arrived at the hospital with sufficient time to receive an epidural, and immediately asked for one. (other times she wasn't so lucky.) Yet, the doctor would not administer the drugs until she signed a waiver. Could she do so? Without a doubt, and I'll explain why.
A woman in active labor is, in halachic terminology, a חולה שיש בו סכנה - "one who is sick, and in (potential) mortal danger." According to halachah, we violate the Shabbat for someone in this situation, which is why we could have driven to the hospital had the cab not shown up on time. So, when the doctor insisted that she sign to get the drugs, according to Jewish law she was permitted to do so. Yet, we always try and minimize the violation of Jewish law, even when an act is permitted. So, while she could have signed the form normally, it was advisable for her to sign (i.e. write - which is a melachah on Shabbat) with a shinuy - in an abnormal manner. Normally, one is still prohibited from writing in an abnormal manner on Shabbat as well. But writing abnormally is a rabbinic prohibition, and doesn't rise to the level of a Torah prohibition. So she scribbled an X with her left (wrong) hand, the doctor was happy, and the drugs began to flow.
The same is true for our hard-working Israeli government officials. If the situation calls for them to speak to the Prime Minister on Shabbat, then in reality they could use a regular phone. Yet, it's far better for them to use a phone specially designed to present only rabbinic prohibitions, and not possible Torah violations.  (If you want to know how Machon Zomet does that, you should really visit them and hear their presentation. That's a lot of inside baseball that's beyond the scope of a blog post. For full disclosure, it's also important to realize that a number of major poskim completely disagree with Zomet's entire methodology, and don't consider many of the Zomet technological innovations to be halachically preferable. If you'd like to know more about it, listen to a shiur given by Rabbi Dovid Miller on precisely this issue, that he gave right after the YU Israel Kollel visited Machon Zomet this past year.)
This is also why doctors should make an effort to procure these special phones. While they often must call to issue orders on Shabbat, it's always best that they minimize the level of Shabbat violation as well, which is what these phones do.

The phones do present a challenging problem, that Rabbi Rosen, the Head of Zomet, alludes to when he says,
"If the user realizes the call isn't justified or is not urgent we recommend that they ask the caller to postpone the call until after Shabbat," Rabbi Yisrael Rosen, Zomet Institute head said. "But if the phone has already been picked up, there is no problem, as the actual action of talking on an already open device does not constitute Shabbat desecration." 
Let's say that you're a high-level official who gets a call about an important issue. You take the call and the topic is dealt with. But then, the guy on the other end of the line asks you about something that can really wait until after Shabbat. Will it wait? Will you hang up on him? Remember that he's probably not Shomer Shabbat himself? And, when members of the P.M.'s staff grow accustomed to being able to reach you on the phone, will they limit themselves to calling in only true emergencies? An even more difficult question to answer is: Where's the line between life and death that must be dealt with on Shabbat, and diplomacy and politics? It's a truly fine line. Finally, as these phones make inroads into the general population (for doctors, emergency workers and security personnel), will we grow so used to them that we'll no longer see using the phone as a form of chillul Shabbat?
In truth, Halachah truly does deal with not only how we speak - i.e. what implements we use, be they microphones, hearing aids or telephones - but what we say. The Torah forbids us from speaking about business on Shabbat, making deals, and even discussing mudane issues. But, we've become so form-focused, that we completely neglect the issue of content. Perhaps that's becase it's easy to draw clear lines: you can't use a telephone. The computer is forbidden. Put away the blackberry. It's far, far harder to censor the discussion itself. But in truth, on Shabbat it's not only how we say it. It's also what we say.
More on this later.