New Audio Shiur - The Role of Women on Chanukah

The original title of this shiur was "Severed Heads and Women's Initiative: the Role of Women on Chanukah". Either way, the shiur examines the fundamental role of two very fascinating women who appear in Midrashic literature and play prominent roles in the Chanukah story. Enjoy!

Click here to access the shiur.

A Wonderful Lesson from a Gadol

I paid a shiva call on Friday for Rabbi Yehoshua Zev Abramoff of Toronto. While I never knew Rabbi Abramoff personally, my mother asked me to pay a shiva call as Rabbi Abramoff was a chavruta (study partner) of my father’s about forty years ago in Washington Heights. It just so happened that when I arrived, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein and his wife were sitting in the room also paying a shiva call. It seems that Rabbi Abramoff learned in YU’s Kollel when Rav Aharon was the Rosh Kollel.

Understandably, the conversation turned to Rav Aharon’s influence on the deceased, and the family started to tell Rav Aharon about a lesson that always stayed with Rabbi Abramoff that he had learned from Rav Aharon and taught all of his children. It seems that one evening Rav Aharon gave Rabbi Abramoff a ride home from learning – down the hill from YU to Washington Heights. As Rav Aharon was driving, they got to an intersection where Rav Aharon would have had to turn off to go home, and Rabbi Abramoff told Rav Aharon to let him off and he would walk the rest of the way.

“Nonsense,” said Rav Aharon. “I started a mitzvah, and I’m going to finish it.” And he took him all the way to his building.

The Abramoff children all said that this was a lesson that their father told them all throughout his life. When you start a mitzvah, do it all the way.

A wonderful lesson indeed.

Lying Liars and Parashat Vayeshev

Fraud and theft have been at the top of the news these past few weeks. Sadly, Orthodox Jews committed these crimes, causing unimaginable chillul hashem and unthinkable monetary losses. Every one of us either has or will be personally affected by the money that was acknowledged to have been stolen this past week. We all benefit from Jewish organizations: from Orot to your local Jewish Day School to the Jewish Federation in your city. No – Orot didn’t have money in the Madoff fund (not even close), but the trickle-down effect of a loss so massive will eventually affect the entire Jewish world.

We need to start to talk about honesty. And integrity. And we need to start reminding ourselves regularly that Orthodoxy isn’t only about מצוות בין אדם למקום – but equally about מצוות בין אדם לחברו – being honest in business, truthful with our friends and customers, and ethical in our daily lives.

Dishonesty rears its ugly head in many ways in Vayeshev. The brothers steal Yosef’s coat and sell him into slavery. Bad enough. But then, instead of owning up to their crime before their father, they lie to him and pretend that Yosef had been killed, causing him decades of anguish. Yosef isn’t entirely innocent either. The Torah tells that Yosef would bring דבתם רעה – “evil tales” about his brothers to Ya’akov. While Rashi says that Yosef reported every negative thing he could find about his brothers to Ya’akov, Ramban disagrees, saying, אבל מוציא דבה כסיל האומר שקר – “one who brings out dibbah is the fool who says falsehoods.” Put simply, according to Ramban Yosef lied too. He made up evil stories about his brothers to denigrate them in Ya’akov’s eyes.

Fraud finds its way into Yehudah’s life as well. In the famous story with Tamar, following the tragic deaths of his first two sons Er and Onan, Yehudah sends Tamar home telling her, “Go home to your father’s house and wait for Shelah to grow up. But don’t call me. I’ll call you.” Rashi (38:11) tells us clearly that Yehudah has no intention of calling her. In other words, he lies to her. Not to be outdone, Tamar gets back at him by dressing as a prostitute and seducing him by the side of the road. When the world discovers her pregnancy and sentences her to death for violating her marriage, she doesn’t rat him out. Rather, she leaves everything up to him. “Do you recognize this seal? Do you know whose ring this is? The owner of these items is the father of my child.”

Yehudah can easily say nothing. If he only chooses this option, all of his problems will disappear. Tamar will be dead leaving his son Shelah free from marry anyone but this black widow. Best of all, no one would know about his little dalliance at the roadside inn a few months back. What could be simpler than simply saying nothing? But it’s not so simple. Yehudah finally admits his lie in two words: צדקה ממני – “she is more righteous than I.”

What does he mean? Why doesn’t he just say צדקה – “she’s right”? How is she more right than he? And most importantly, why does he finally admit to his fraud?

Sforno explains that both Yehudah and Tamar lied. Yehudah realized that her lie wasn’t for her own benefit. Rather, she masqueraded as a prostitute to bring a child into the world. But he lied for his own personal benefit – to increase his own honor and achieve greater personal leverage. That’s why he said צדקה ממני. Her lie is better than mine. At least she didn’t lie for herself.

Even more importantly, Yehudah finally realized that the lying must end. The deceit and fraud that had become hallmarks of his family now threatened to destroy him – and all of them as well. The time had come to own up to his behavior – to tell the truth and accept the consequences. From this point forward Yehudah can becomes the de-facto leader of the family and takes his place in leading the family through the dangers of Egypt.

Fraud, lying, theft – sometimes they seem so easy. If you forgot to study for an important test, it’s so much easier to copy your neighbor’s paper than own up to the failing grade. Apparently, it’s much easier to take people’s money and give it to new investors as dividends than it is to actually find ways to make real money. But sooner or later it all catches up to us. Someone catches on. The cheating becomes obvious. Your investors ask for their money back. And then cleaning up the mess, dealing with the consequences, saying צדקה ממני – becomes that much harder to do.

Shabbat Shalom.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Petachya came home from gan today with a question: "Right I don't eat dogs Ima?"
What?
"Right I don't eat dogs?" Petachya asked again.
"Who said that you don't eat dogs?" Rena wondered.
"Mazal" - his ganenet. (The woman in charge of his gan).
What in the world was he talking about. Then Rena looked around and noticed that all of the other kids were carrying small bags of Bamba. And then the light went on in her head.
You see, our next-door neighbors have a small dog that they named Bamba. Petachya happends to be allergic to sesame and peanuts, so we're very careful about what foods we give him. (Rena likes to say that we brought a child allergic to sesame and peanuts to the land of chumus and bamba.) As Mazal is well-aware of his allergy, when she gave out the Bamba she gave him a chocolate wafer instead, and must have said to him, "You don't eat Bamba."
Which Petachya obviously translated as: You don't eat dogs.
Right Petachya. You don't eat dogs.

What's In a Name? Everything.

The Jewish people are called the B’nei Yisrael – the Children of Israel. Where did we get this name from? From this week’s parshah.
After Ya’akov spends an entire night wrestling with the angel of Eisav, the angel decides that it’s time to go. Only Ya’akov doesn’t want to let him: “I won’t let you go until you bless me,” he tells the angel.

“What’s your name,” the angel asks him.

“What’s my name? You don’t even know who I am? Don’t you think you should have asked me that before we had this whole fight?”

“What’s your name?”

Sigh. “Ya’akov.”

The angel replied: “No it’s not – at least not anymore. From now on, your name will be Yisrael, ki sarita im elokim v’im anashim va’tuchal, “for you have striven with God and with man and have prevailed.” The word sarita is the root of the word Yisrael that identifies us as a people. What does it really mean? What does the word say about us?

Let’s look at two interpretations and see what we can learn from them. Rashi teaches that the word sarita comes from the word serarah, ruling and leading. Ya’akov’s old name implied sense of weakness, shame and deceit. Yisrael implies a sense of power, strength and pride. Radak explains the word in terms of struggle. Yisrael is a person who is willing to struggle – to work hard to overcome obstacles to accomplish his goals.

Both of these explanations tell us a great deal about the Jewish people and especially the State of Israel. We are a people who are willing to work hard and overcome challenges to build a land and recreate the Jewish people. At the same time, we stand before the world with a sense of pride. Israel has made tremendous strides during the past sixty years, and for all our faults, we have a lot to be proud of.

This asks a lot of each of us as members of the Children of Israel. Do you face challenges or run away from them? Do you stand up as a Jew with a sense of pride and accomplishment? Or do you hide your Jewish identity from the people around you?

Only you can answer those questions.

Lavan's Motto - Parshat Vayetze and the Mumbai Attacks

Enraged at Ya’akov’s midnight flight from Haran, Lavan gathered his brothers and chased after his son-in-law, daughters and grandchildren. The Midrash (Mishnat Rabbi Eliezer 9a) explains that Lavan decided that rather than lose his extended family, he would destroy them. In fact, we take note of his evil intentions at the Passover Seder when we recite, Arami oved avi, “an Aramite (Lavan) intended to destroy my father.” Lavan only desisted from murdering his family because God appeared to him in a dream, warning him to refrain from harming Ya’akov.

When Lavan finally reached Ya’akov and confronted him, he threatened him using curious language: Yesh l’el yadi - “it is in the power of my hand” to harm you. I wanted to kill you all, but I won’t because your father’s God warned me not to. (verse 29) The term el yadi – the power of my hand, carries a double implication. Rashi explains that the word el means “power” or “ability.” Yet, the word el clearly carries a deistic connotation as well, often used to refer to God. In fact, Chizkuni explains the phrase to mean, “Even your God knows my power, and fears that I will take vengeance against you.” Why does Lavan strangely infuse God in his threat against Ya’akov?

Lavan invokes God because tyrants and terrorists must always invoke God to justify their heinous crimes. How can Lavan - a father and grandfather - even contemplate the cold-blooded murder of his entire family? Yesh l’el yadi. He invoked the name of his god. After all, Lavan asks Ya’akov, “Why have you stolen my gods?” (verse 30) In the battle for religious supremacy, Lavan foreshadows a world devoid of morality, whose only goal of religious domination justifies any act, no matter how barbaric and repugnant.

The world witnessed yet another example of Lavan’s fanaticism in the vile terrorist attacks in Mumbai this past week. In addition to the senseless murder of over 174 civilians and countless more injuries, the attackers also specifically “were sent specifically to kill Israelis to avenge “atrocities” against the Palestinians,” the Times of India reported. They accomplished their goal, killing six Israelis among nine Jews, including the local Chabad emissary Gavriel Holtzberg, 29, and his wife Rivka, 28 – both American citizens. Moreover, we this week learned that they were not only murdered. Debka reported that, “Mumbai hospital doctors were horrified by the condition of the six Israeli bodies recovered from the smashed, blood-spattered rooms of Chabad Center Monday. Local and Israeli pathologists confirmed they were tortured by their Islamist terrorist captors before being bound together and killed in cold blood.”

Israelis and Jews have always served as a target for religious extremists. After all, Arami Oved Avi is the continuation of vehi she’amdah – “in every generation they stand up against us to destroy us.” The entire world last week painfully discovered Lavan’s motto: yesh l’el yadi. In the name of God, one can justify any act. Even the brutal murder of a father and pregnant mother in front of their two-year-old son.
The hagaddah offers only one consolation: ve’hakadosh baruch hu, matzileinu m’yadam; in the end, we believe – we know that “the Holy One blessed be He, saves us – and will continue to save us, from their evil, violent and brutal hands.”

My Statement on Agriprocessors

By now you know that a federal grand jury has handed down a 12-count indictment against Agriprocessors and its managers, effective shutting the door on what was the largest kosher slaughterhouse in America. (Link) While we needed to give this story time to play out and for the wheels of justice to turn ever so slowly, I think it's time for me to make my statement regarding this issue, without implying any wrongdoing on the part of any party in this matter:

One should not cheat in business. One should not break federal or state law, even if you don't think that you won't get caught. You should not lie to investigators, break immigration law, cheat on taxes, or do anything else that's dishonest, deceitful or otherwise illegal.

There. I said it. And now no one can say that Orthodox rabbis don't come out and make strong statements about current issues.

Steak anyone?

Shades of Grey

We like it when things fall into clear categories: black and white, right and wrong. I either add someone to as a “friend” on Facebook or I don’t. There’s no in-between category for “sort-of-a-friend-but-not-really-and-I’d-like-to-say-hi-but-not-have to-stay-in-touch-forever.” Yes or no. Friend or not. In or out. Life’s easier that way – simpler too. We want everything to fit into categories we can deal with.

But life isn’t that way. Things aren’t as simple as they seem. We don’t fit into simple boxes. Each of us has qualities that make us different, special and unique – qualities we can’t label as “good” or “bad.” And what’s true for each of us also applies to every child – especially in the eyes of their parents. Even if that parent’s name is Rivkah, and her son’s name is Eisav.

We generally like to fit Ya’akov and Eisav into those same simple categories. Ya’akov - dweller of tents, learner of Torah, cooker of soup: Good Son. Eisav - hairy hunter, sells his birthright for a bowl of stew, marries Cana’ani women: Bad Son. And then everything fits. Ya’akov gets the brachah, Eisav loses out. Ya’akov becomes the father of the Jewish people, Eisav’s children hate us. It’s simple – or at least seems simple.

But what about the fact that Ya’akov loved Eisav? The Torah tells us that ויאהב יצחק את עשו כי ציד בפיו – “Yitzchak loved Eisav because he put food in his mouth.” (see Bereishit 25:28) Sure, Rashi says that Eisav “tricked” his father with silly questions, like “Do you have to take Ma’aser on salt?” But, at the very least Eisav shows a great deal of respect for his father. When Yitzchak tells him to hunt some food to make him a tasty meal, Eisav doesn’t walk. He runs to fulfill his father’s wishes. (When’s the last time any of us ran to do what our parents asked us to do?) Also, is Ya’akov really the angel that we always think he is? Sure, he doesn’t want to trick his father into giving him the brachah. But why not? Not because it’s wrong – but because he’s afraid that he’ll get caught. Why doesn’t he tell his mother that tricking your blind father is wrong? Would Eisav have stolen the brachah had the shoe been on the other foot?

Nechama Leibowitz makes an interesting point about a strange phrase at the end of the parshah. When Yitzchak and Rivkah send Ya’akov away to hide from Eisav, the Torah tells us that,וַיִּשְׁלַח יִצְחָק אֶת-יַעֲקֹב, וַיֵּלֶךְ פַּדֶּנָה אֲרָם--אֶל-לָבָן בֶּן-בְּתוּאֵל, הָאֲרַמִּי, אֲחִי רִבְקָה, אֵם יַעֲקֹב וְעֵשָׂו“And Yitzchak sent Ya’akov, and he went to Padan Aram, to Lavan the son of Betuel the Arami, the brother of Rivkah, the mother of Ya’akov and Eisav.” (28:5)Why does the Torah tell us that Rivkah is “the mother of Ya’akov and Eisav”? Don’t we already know that from the story? In fact, this is such a good question that Rashi actually says, אינני יודע מה מלמדנו – “I don’t know what this teaches us.” (Note that Rashi wasn’t afraid to admit that he didn’t know the answer to a question. Sure, he could have given us an answer. But he didn’t like any of the answers he thought of – and he’s honest enough to tell us so.)

Nechama answers this question by looking at what Rivkah tells Ya’akov when she first wants to send him into hiding: לָמָה אֶשְׁכַּל גַּם-שְׁנֵיכֶם, יוֹם אֶחָד – “why should I lose you both in one day?” Her question seems strange. If Eisav killed Ya’akov, she’d only lose one son that day. What does she mean by saying that she’d lose “both”? Nechama quotes the explanation of the Italian commentator Ben-Amozag, in his Eim Lamikra.

“Rivkah said: whichever of you kills the other, I will mourn for you both
on the same day. The murdered will be dead, and the one who kills will be hated
in my eyes like a stranger and an enemy, and it will be as if he is gone. So in
any case I will mourn for both of my sons.”

Nechama suggests that by calling Rivkah “the mother of Ya’akov and Eisav,” the Torah teaches us that Rivkah sent Ya’akov away not just to save Ya’akov from Eisav, but to save Eisav from killing Ya’akov. She understood his anger, and instead of allowing him to kill Ya’akov, she sent Ya’akov away to give Eisav time to calm down.Rivkah knew both of her sons. Just as she realized that Ya’akov needed the brachah from his father, she realized that the very same brachah would be disastrous for Eisav. He could never be the father of the Jewish people. He was special and unique and strong and had many amazing talents; but that brachah was just not for him. We should never think that Rivkah did not love Eisav as her son. Just because he wasn’t Ya’akov does not mean that his mother wasn’t looking out for his best interests, making sure that he got what he needed to grow and succeed in life.

Like Rivkah, every parent loves his or her children both for their strengths, and for their weaknesses. Children aren’t robots. They’re good at some things, and not so good at others. But that’s what makes them unique and individual; it’s what gives them their own original perspective on life, and their own insights to offer to others.

And, what’s true for parents must also be good for educators. Good teachers can see the qualities that make each individual child shine – even if she might not be the “best” student. And sometimes the very best students – the strongest, most studious – the ones who get the best grades – sometimes need to learn how to see beyond the books; how to apply knowledge or even just connect to others.

No, not everyone should be our Facebook friend. And how many of your “friends” do you really know that well? But every person does have something to add to your life and something to teach each of us.We can even learn from an Eisav. Just ask his mother.

Coming Home

After three and a half weeks of traveling for Orot, I finally came home on Friday morning. In truth, this is the first time that I've really been away from my family for more than a few days, and it wasn't fun.
I was still able to stay in touch with the family, sometimes in amazing ways. I bought a cellphone at radioshack for $10 and a plan that gave me unlimited minutes for the month, and then I could call home to our Vonage phone without giving it a second thought. It was essentially free - and I called home a lot. I also used my laptop to Skype the kids at home, and even read the children a bedtime story over the Internet. But the distance was still too much.
As easy as communication is nowadays - it's easy to forget the critical importance of presence, not over the phone, but being there in person. Making kiddush for my family. Washing the dishes. (Yes, I do that.) Giving my children blessings on Friday night, and sitting next to them during davening. While I helped my son with his Gemara homework over the phone, I learned with him in person over Shabbat.
In so many ways, big and small, it's good to be home.
But there's another dimension to coming home. This is the first time that I arrived in Israel not as a visitor or tourist or even immigrant, but as a resident. It felt strange, but also strangely comfortable, to arrive at Ben Gurion airport on my way home. Any other time I've arrived in Israel, I always felt a pang of jealousy for people who lived in Israel. I had no idea what they had gone through to get here, but they had the luxury of being both in Israel and at home.
This week, I finally got to know what that felt like. In ways both small and big, I came home.

Parshah Questions for Kids - Vayera 5769

Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I've been traveling the world recruiting for Orot. If you know of a high school girl looking for a great seminary experience, please have her contact me. I'm really excited about our program at Orot, and looking forward to building an amazing program.
Meanwhile, enjoy the Parshah Questions at the Shabbos Table.
If you have any comments or questions, let me know.