An IDF Ripped From the Pages of Daf Yomi: Mi K'amcha Yisrael!

The Gemara in Megillah 3a (which happened to be yesterday's daf), in the midst of a discussion about which is more important - sacrifices or the study of Torah - notes that an angel visited the great prophet Yehoshua in the middle of the night, as he was busy preparing for the war to conquer the Land of Israel, in order to offer his "constructive criticism". The angel tells the prophet,

אמש בטלתם תמיד של בין הערבים ועכשיו בטלתם תלמוד תורה

Yesterday you cancelled the afternoon Tamid offering, and now you're cancelling the study of Torah?
Yehoshua asked him, "Which one did you come for? (i.e. what are you upset about - the sacrifice, or the Torah study?)

The angel answered, "Now I came" (Meaning that he was upset about the lack of Torah study in the camp)
The Gemara tells us,

מיד (יהושע ח, ט) וילן יהושע בלילה ההוא בתוך העמק אמר רבי יוחנן מלמד שלן בעומקה של הלכה

Immediately, "And Joshua laid that night in the midst of the of the valley" - said Rabbi Yochanan: This verse teaches us that he laid in the valley of halachah.

According to the Gemara, Yeshoshua understood that fighting a war isn't an excuse not to study Torah. Rather, we are commanded to do both: fight by day, and study Torah at night. So, after a long day of training and preparation, he spent the night studying Torah.

I couldn't help but think of this Gemara when I came across this incredible article and the accompanying video of an officer in the paratrooper corps (Unit 101), who finished Masechet Taanit yesterday, and wanted to make a siyyum. So, by the light of the soldiers flashlights, he made the siyyum you see here, literally bringing the words of the Gemara to life: Our soldiers fight by day, and lay in the "Valley of Halachah" at night.



מי כעמך ישראל, גוי אחד בארץ!

Why is it So Important For Chareidim to Learn Secular Subjects?

You know that famous book, "All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten"? While the book does have an important message, it turns out not to be true. In order to lead a successful, professional life, most people will need to know a bit more than they could ever learn before they reach grade school.
Mind you, I firmly believe that many of the life skills we learn in kindergarten are critical for a child's future development. But it's not enough. You need to have knowledge and skills. Which is why there's such a huge debate about whether Chareidim should be required to teach their boys (Chareidi girls already study this stuff) basic subjects like English and math.
Chareidim claim that in order to properly educate their sons for Torah greatness, the study of any other subjects would distract from their development. Moreover, should a chareidi wish to enter the workforce, he can easily pick up the subjects that he missed in a few short months.
It sounds good. After all, most Chareidim do spend much of their time studying involved and intricate Talmudic texts. They are by no means stupid. How hard could it be for them to pick up computer programming, or engineering, or accounting, or so many other possible professions? Actually, it's quite hard, because advanced study assumes a number of basic skills that an average college takes for granted as prerequisites for admission.
English: Many important texts are in English, including engineering and computer texts. "So they'll learn English," you say. "How hard could it be?" Actually, when you think about it, it's much, much harder than it sounds. It might be relatively simple to learn basic aspects of a language. But remember: these students don't need basics. They need to be able to read and understand advanced texts describing complex issues. The study of the English language compounds over time, growing increasingly advanced. It's nearly impossible to learn a sophisticated language quickly. It takes many, many hours of study, practice, and most importantly, use. That's why Israeli schools teach English from grade school. Unless you start early, you'll find yourself hopelessly behind later on. It's not a subject you can just "make up." While Americans often don't realize it, English is an incredibly complex language, with myriad rules and innumerable exceptions to those rules that make it quite challenging to pick up and master.
Math: This one I think is easier. You can learn math quickly, and move from subject to subject at a pretty rapid pace.
Yet, there's another critical aspect to core education independent of any particular discipline.
Basic study skills: Yes, it sounds funny, but Chareidim - who spend all day every day learning Torah - lack basic, critical study skills.
A neighbor here in Yad Binyamin teaches at Machon Lev, a well-known College of Technology in Jerusalem. On a number of occasions, he has described to me some of the challenges that he faces with chareidi students he teaches.
For their entire lives, they have been taught that the most important aspect of Torah study is, what's called, עמלות - "the toil." During every siyyum marking the completion of a major text we declare:

שאנו עמלים והם עמלים. אנו עמלים ומקבלים שכר, והם עמלים ואינם מקבלים שכר

For we toil and they toil. We toil and receive reward, while they toil and do not receive reward.

Yet, everyone knows that the rest of the world toils and does receive reward. It's called a salary. Why then do we insist that they do not? The most common answer offered is that in the study of Torah, results are not a critical measure of success. Of course it's better to understand what you're learning and study on an increasingly sophisticated level. But even if you don't succeed in Torah study, the עמלות - the toil itself is what's important.
It's a beautiful thought and a wonderful idea communicating the value of Torah study as an end to itself. But if you're raised on this value, then you never learn or internalize that in the outside world - to "them" results count. No one cares if you tried. They need you to get the job done.
My friend said to me the other day: Forget math. Just give tests. Give tests in Gemara for all I care, but make children accountable for their work, because right now, they're not. They study all day, but they don't have homework that needs to be checked and graded. Imagine spending your entire childhood in a system that made no measurable demands of you, and then you entered a course that required homework, studying, tests and evaluations. And carried with it the possibility of failure. It's simply unfair, unreasonable and unrealistic to expect that young man to simply "pick up" those skills instantaneously.
These aren't skills you can learn in a course. If you had them because you spent your childhood acquiring them, then you could relatively easily learn more advanced skills in a short period of time. But without them, what are the odds that you'll be able to study towards a career, and, when the time comes, complete tasks, meet deadlines, follow through on projects - with all the critical skills essential for success in today's workforce?
The odds are low. Which is why it's so important for young Chareidi boys to begin early - before they grow up and it really is too late.

Will I At Least Get Credit for the Idea? Or Maybe an Invite? Please Mr. Prime Minster: Can I Come to Your Shiur? Or Give One?

Back in October, I posted about how, after reading about Menachem Begin's Tanach Shiur in Yehuda Avner's book, The Prime Ministers, I sent a note to Prime Minster Netanyahu suggesting that he follow suit and reestablish the custom.
I got a short note from his PR people that said,

Honorable Rabbi Spolter, first of all, we thank his honor for his communication to the Prime Minister, Mr. Netanyahu. Secondly, of course, for his important idea to reestablish the custom of Mr. Menachem Begin z"l with relation to the Tanach.Honorable Rabbi Spolter, it is true as you note in your communication, that the Prime Minister is occupied by an exceedingly busy schedule, a matter that prevents him from participating in activities that do not directly relate to the many subject that he must deal with.

Truthfully, it was a brush-off letter. "Thanks for the idea. See ya." I figured that I made a suggestion, and it would have been a nice idea, but let things go.
But then, in this morning's Jerusalem Post, I read a headline that said, "Netanyahu re-establishes PM Bible class."

Taking a page out of David Ben-Gurion and Menachem Begin’s playbook, Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu will begin hosting a regular Bible study group in his official residence for researchers, public officials and invited guests.Netanyahu announced the establishment of the study circle on Friday at a ceremony marking 30 days since the passing of his father-in-law, Shmuel Ben-Artzi. The study group will be named after Ben-Artzi, a noted poet and Bible teacher.

What? I mean...great! I mean...What? Didn't the Prime Minster's Right Hand Man tell me that he was too busy for these kinds of things? Isn't it just a little too convenient for me to suggest that he restart the shiur, and then a couple months later, after brushing me off, does exactly that? 
I smell scandal.
Mr. Prime Minister, no need for yet another government scandal. I'll forget the whole thing. But any chance I can get an invite to the shiur?

Mazal Tov to my son Bezalel. And to me.

Recently, a neighbor approached me about his son's learning. It seems that he wants to supplement the Torah that his son is learning at school, and wanted to know what I suggested. After a moment, I suggested that he learn with his son Mishnah Yomit. First of all, it's not a lot of learning every day, but it is every day. Secondly, over the course of time, his son would acquire a tremendous amount of knowledge. And finally, the time invested learning with him in person would be invaluable to their relationship.

I made the suggestion, because I've been doing exactly that with my son Bezalel for almost a year now. Last summer, when the Mishnah Yomit started shas anew, I got a bug in my head that we should learn the two daily mishnayot together. Initially, Bezalel strongly resisted, wondering why I was forcing him to learn. But very, very quickly, he really took to the program, taking his learning very seriously, and ensuring that we were up to date. His reading ability (in Hebrew - we do the Kehati) has improved dramatically, as has his shas knowledge and learning skills. We fell quite a bit behind at one point, but eventually caught up, and last week concluded Seder Zeraim. Over the months we learned mostly in person, but at times on the phone, over Skype, and recently he's been calling me on my cell so that we could learn while I'm on the bus.

Tomorrow morning Bezalel will make a siyyum on the Seder, and we've already begun Moed. I'm really very proud of him, but I'm also proud of myself for sticking with the program and keeping after Bezalel when he wasn't in the mood, or I wasn't, or I was crazy busy - or all three. I myself had doubts about how things would go, and feel great about sticking with it. Now I just feel guilty for not learning regularly with Simcha.

Watching the joy on Bezalel's face when we finished that last Mishnah in Bikkurim gave me great joy. He had a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that few children his age have, and I got that rare sense of satisfaction that one has from a long-term project which has reached a major milestone. It was hard work, but truly worthwhile.

That's what I was thinking when I suggested Mishnah Yomit to my neighbor. It's not just about his son's knowledge. It's about so much more.

He seemed hesitant, and when I asked him why he responded (honestly) that he didn't feel he had the knowledge to learn the Mishnah together with his son. That got me thinking (yet again) about a project that I had long wanted to do: a Mishnah Yomit website that would have the audio of the Mishnah, together with the text (and probably some clear explanation and translation). The audio could be specifically geared towards someone who didn't already understand the Mishnah (most Mishnah Yomit audio takes knowledge, lingo, and familiarity pretty much for granted). I got as far as buying a domain name (MorningMishnah.org), and then came to realize just how much time I would have to invest to do the project right.

I don't have that kind of time right now. But wouldn't it be a great project?

The Haredi Army - Thoughts for Parashat Behar-Bechukotai

Secular Jews really don't like Haredim. This is something you hear all the time, both in the media, and in private conversations. You might have heard Tel Aviv Mayor Ron Huldai's rant against the Haredi education system recently. (Just as an aside, he'll only grow stronger in Israeli secular society for voicing his opinion on the issue.) Sitting at a wedding this week, a friend of mine now working in an Israeli hospital said, "You know, most Israelis really don't like religious people. At all." I know.
Making a broad generalization, secular Israelis have two main complaints against Hareidi society:

1. Hareidim don't serve in the army
2. Hareidim don't really work, and they live off social services and benefits

While both complaints have a great degree of truth to them, there are cracks in the dam. Hareidim have begun enlisting in the IDF in special units, and their numbers will continue to grow. Moreover, the recent financial crisis and the massive funding cuts for countless yeshivot has generated a wave of underfunded educators and kollel fellows. Yeshivot are simply months behind - often many months - on their payrolls, and the light at the end of the tunnel has yet to appear. But children still have to eat, so many Hareidim have begun to enter the workforce through supplementary vocational training and job placement. But, for the vast majority of Hareidi society, the stereotypes still hold true.
Except, at least for the army part, the underlying values might not.
The complaint that Haredim don't serve in the army assumes that their learning in Kollel has no intrinsic national value. But, according to a comment of the Netziv in Ha'amek Davar on this week's parshah, that assumption is simply not true.

Concluding the section describing the Yovel year, the Torah tells us, (25:18)

וַעֲשִׂיתֶם, אֶת-חֻקֹּתַי, וְאֶת-מִשְׁפָּטַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם--וִישַׁבְתֶּם עַל-הָאָרֶץ, לָבֶטַח

Wherefore ye shall do My statutes, and keep Mine ordinances and do them; and ye shall dwell in the land in safety. (sorry about the Old Tyme translations. I get them from Mechon Mamre who got them from the JPS in 1917.)

Commenting on this verse, Netziv writes,

הוא הטעם והסיבה מה שנדרש בשני היובל להגדיל תורה, דשמירת הארץ מאוה"ע הוא ע"י אנשי חיל היושבים על הספר, וביובל אין אנשי חיל חמושים למלחמה שהרי כל א' שב לאחזותו ולמשפחתו, וא"כ יש סכנה בישיבת הארץ, שנית דלשמירת הארץ נדרש שיהיה אוצרות המלך במבצרים כדכתיב בדה"ב י"א כ"ג, ויובל הבא אחר שנה שביעית כבר האוצרות מתרקנות, מש"ה הזהיר הכתוב "ועשיתם את חקתי וגו'", ופלפולה של תורה היא חרבם של ישראל, והיא המוספת שמירת המדינה, וכל מה שהמלחמה יותר מסוכנת יש לחדד יותר החרב...

This is the understanding and the reason for the fact that during the years of Yovel we must increase [our study of] Torah, for the guarding of the Land from the nations of the world is through the warriors who sit over their books. And during the Yovel year, there are no warriors armed for war, for each and every person returned to his property and his family, and if so there is a danger to the settlement of the Land. Secondly, in order to guard the Land this requires that the coffers of the king be full...and during the Yovel year, which comes after the Shemittah year the coffers have already been emptied. For this reason the verse warns us, "And you shall do my statutes.." and the battle of Torah is the sword of Israel, and adds to the security of the State. And the greater the danger in war, the more we must sharpen this sword.

Some fight with their swords. Others fight with their books. I guess the question is, do they see it that way?

Israel Media Phobia, and Some "Untruths" About the Gap Year

We all know the Israel-media phobia. When you tell a coworker that you're taking your vacation in Israel, they give you a wide-eyed stare, wondering if you've lost your mind. "You're going there? But it's so violent and dangerous."
There's really nothing to say, because you can't argue with what they've seen on CNN. How do you explain that, thank God, life in Israel is great: calm, serene - secure, sure - but nothing like what it seems like on TV.
Now it seems like the Gap Year in Israel will soon suffer from the same Israel-media phobia.

Poor post high-school year in Israel. It can't seem to catch a break. First a series of articles published by ATID on the nature of the education in many of these schools and the employment challenges faced by those who teach in them. At least those articles rang true, and raised real issues.
But now the Jewish Week has published an expose revealing the terrible truths of life for "many of our youth" during the gap year. Sadly, the article violates so many of the rules of responsible journalism that it's difficult to know where to start.

Jerusalem — It’s 2 a.m. in Israel’s holiest city. Do you know where your children are?
Probably not, if your kids are learning in one of the dozens of yearlong post-high school yeshiva or seminary programs in Israel, an increasingly frequent rite of passage in many Orthodox communities in the diaspora.
While some Israel-based “gap year” programs have strict guidelines about where their students can go during their free time, as well as curfews, others give their 17- to 20-year-old charges free rein to hang out wherever they please, even if it’s in Jerusalem’s bar district way past midnight.
“If my parents knew where I was right now, they wouldn’t have sent me to Israel,” a very drunk 17-year-old yeshiva student confides during a night out with his school buddies at “Crack Square,” a well-known downtown hangout for thousands of young Jerusalemites in search of a good time.
The teen, who says his father is “a very Orthodox” American rabbi, explains that his parents sent him to a mainstream Orthodox yeshiva “to get me back on the derech,” the Hebrew term for path. He spent part of the previous year in the States “drunk and high a lot.”
The rabbi’s son comes to Crack Square — a picturesque plaza on bustling Jaffa Road leading to a warren-like series of alleyways with dozens of bars — “a few nights a week,” where, he says, he throws back “six or seven drinks” a night.

I think we can all agree that this is not a good thing. But by using this element to introduce the piece, the author gives the impression - clearly intentionally, that this phenomenon appears across the spectrum of religious communities. Not true. It's quite clear that many yeshivish children come to Israel - or are deliberately sent here by their parents - to send them away from the house. Maybe they'll turn around in yeshiva. There are a number of chareidi yeshivot dedicated specifically to dealing with these types of children.
But the article then proceeds to discuss not chareidi yeshivot - but Modern Orthodox ones, specifically mentioning Sha'alvim, Hakotel, Kerem B'yavneh and others. How many modern Orthodox yeshivot in Israel are there for students with drug-related problems? I can't think of any.
The article then proceeds to list some of the challenges that young people may face during their gap year.

While only a small percentage of the estimated 2,000 to 3,000 yeshiva and seminary (“Torani”) students spending their gap year before college in Israel frequent places like Crack Square on a regular basis, up to a third of them will face some type of potentially serious problem during their time abroad, according to the experts who counsel them.

First of all, what is that small percentage? Why doesn't the author tell us what it is? Does she know? If not, that's terrible reporting. And if she does know and doesn't tell us, it's because she's trying to make her article seem worse than it really is. Also terrible journalism.
Let's run the numbers. A third of a third of somewhere between two and three thousand - let's say 2,700 (to make the math easy) - which comes out to about three hundred kids. What are they struggling with?

Caryn Green, the director of Crossroads, a Jerusalem organization that assists troubled English-speaking youth, estimates that at any given time a significant percentage of yeshiva and seminary students are dealing with anxiety, depression, eating disorders, overwhelming religiosity (commonly referred to as “flipping out),” a crisis of religious faith or substance abuse.

I'm certainly not flippant about the problems that kids face during their year after high school. I consider eating disorders, depression (clinical) and substance abuse serious problem that require direct and immediate intervention. But what post high school student doesn't experience anxiety - especially when they're at a difficult crossroad in life, aware that the choices they make during this year can greatly influence the rest of their lives? Also, while parents - or the Jewish Week - might consider "overwhelming religiosity" a "problem", the kids who do flip out certainly don't feel that way. And what better place to deal with a crisis of religious faith than in the framework of a yeshiva or seminary dedicated to learning about faith?
First of all, I find the wholesale lumping of these issues - the clinical and the common - terribly unfair. Secondly, how many of these problems stem from the Israel programs, and how many of them existed before Israel? Sure, a good number of young women develop or arrive in Israel with eating disorders. But how many of them stemmed from home, imagery in Western society, or any number of other factors completely unrelated to the year in Israel?
Finally, the most damning aspect of the article is the conclusion: the year in Israel is a dangerous experience that must be reigned in.

“It’s the elephant in the room nobody’s talking about,” Poleyeff said bluntly. “It’s an uncomfortable issue that can involve the police. There have been drug busts.”

Please. Every school administrator at every school talks about and deals with these issues, for simple business reasons. Every school lives year to year. A bad autumn, with a simple incident (that every student knows about) leads instantaneously to a bad reputation that will harm next year's recruiting.
In that atmosphere, there's no better place for young Orthodox students to spend their year after high school. Does anyone seriously think that our kids would be better off skipping their year in Israel and spending the year in an American university? And what about the high schools themselves? Drinking problems? Parties? Pre-prom events? These don't happen at schools in Israel, but they do happen in many of the high schools from which they recruit.
Do I think that there are no problems with the Israel experience, and that there are no yeshiva students struggling with serious issues? Hardly.
But to write a suggestive article implying a danger that's just not there, using examples out of context to paint a pictures that's simply inaccurate hurts the very population the article claims to want to protect: the children who stay home out of fear due to Israel-media phobia, as a result of the puffed up imagery of irresponsible reporting.