An NFL Kiddush Hashem

My friend Nethaniel Warshay shared this on Facebook. It's a real kiddush Hashem. I especially appreciated his comment at the end that given the chance to do it all over again, he would still have played in the NFL. And I'm pretty sure that I've never seen anyone davening with a Super Bowl ring. Enjoy.

Audio Shiur: Matot-Masei - Parshat Matot-Masei: Individual Wants vs. Communal Needs

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Matot-Masei: Individual Wants vs. Communal Needs
The requests of the tribes of Reuven and Gad to remain on the East Bank of the Jordan River elicits a powerful and negative reaction from Moshe. We discuss the problems related to their request, which leads us into communal and personal issues, shtiebelization, Israel politics, and even the challenge of Aliyah.

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

Parenting Conundrum

On Shabbat morning, my son came to me with a request. It seems that a group of his friends decided to get together and play poker on Shabbat, and they were going to play for chips. Potato Chips. Could he play?
I found myself in a very sticky situation. On one hand, it's potato chips. The kids are playing a game together. And more importantly, I already say "no" to a whole host of things. For exapmle, we don't play ball on Shabbat. His friends often do. So I truly felt that I didn't want to give him another "no."
On the other hand, I really did not approve. I know that the game itself is harmless, but the gambling bothers my. Why should kids need to gamble - even potato chips - to have fun on a Shabbat afternoon? Can't they find something better to do than poker?
In the end, I tried to play it both ways, which I think was the proper way to go. First, I explained to him the halachic issues with regular gambling. In a nutshell it goes like this:
The Gemara says that when a person bets, he doesn't really think he's going to lose. Actually, he rather hopes he's going to win, because if he knew that he'd lose for sure he'd never have bet. So the winning of a bet is called "avak gezel" - the dust of theft. It's not outright theft, but it's certainly not honestly gained winnings.
Then I said, "While I know that you'll only be playing for potato chips, I don't think that the activity of gambling is a healthy and productive activity. It's not a good habit to get into. But I'm not going to tell you that you can't. I'm only going to say that I don't want you to. It's up to you to decide what to do."
What do you think happened?

An Ethical Quandary at the Drugstore

Rena and I were at a mall near Rechovot and we stopped in at the grocery store to buy some vitamins for the kids. As an aside, there are about a zillion brands of kosher vitamins for sale in Israel, in every possible form and size. It's truly amazing. In any case, I don't like to buy new vitamins until we've run out, but our local store stopped carrying our brand, so she walked in to check. When she got to the shelf she took one look at the product which was selling for 47 shekel and said, "Wow. It's way cheaper than where we buy it." (It was at the same chain.) Then we looked at the other boxes of the same product. 67 shekel - the normal price. Which brought us to our quandary.
Is it right to purchase a product when you know definitively that it was mis-tagged? We put it down, picked it up, and then put it down again. Then I had a bright idea: "Maybe the store has a policy that it only charges the price as marked?" Then, the price of the item is whatever the price tag says it is, and not what the store marks the price as?
So I brought the item to the checkout counter. The lady scanned it and immediately noticed the difference in prices. Without either of us saying a word to each other, she marked it down to 47 shekel. I paid and we left the store.
Which brings me to my question: Should I have pointed out the difference in price and paid the extra amount (or not bought the item)? Did I have to do so, or would that just have been the nice thing to do? I'm really not sure about this one.

The Controversy over the IDF Chief Rabbi: Should Girls Serve in the IDF

Last week, IDF Chief Rabbi Brig. Gen. Avihai Ronsky raised an apparent ruckus in secular Israeli society when he said that "women should not have to serve in the military." This had secular lawmakers, pundits, journalists and the like in a tizzy for his apparently insensitive remarks. "How dare the head of the IDF - who's the head of the entire army, both men and women, express a sentiment that up to half of the army shouldn't really be serving!"
(1) Was Rav Ronsky right that women shouldn't serve in the army? (2) And should he have the right to express that opinion while serving as the head of the IDF?
(1) Of course and (2) Yes.
In the Religious Zionist world, it's very much taken for granted that serving in the IDF constitutes a breach of both tzniut, and the appropriate place for women in society. In general when you take a bunch of young people and put them in close quarters, you'll find that it's almost impossible for them to maintain any semblance of religious standards of modesty. (See Exhibit A: The American College Campus.) That's especially true in the IDF. Moreover, Judaism has always attributed different roles for men and women - and fighting in an army does not constitute a fulfillment of a role that Judaism attributes to its young ladies. This is not me talking - it's pretty much every rabbinic authority in our community, who universally discourages religious girls from serving. (The desire on the part of women to serve in the IDF is not insignificant and requires special attention - but I'll deal with that in another post.)
Should Rav Ronsky have expressed his opinion? I think so, for two reasons: first and foremost, as a rav he's obligated to tell the truth; to say it the way that he sees it. The fact that he's a member of the IDF does not negate the fact that he's first and foremost a Jew, and a rav with an allegiance to Torah and halachah. Moreover, he sees himself as obligated to infuse the army with classical Jewish values, and sometimes to do that you have to express uncomfortable truths.
But there's an important subtext to this entire brouhaha. Rav Ronsky has been at the forefront of returning a sense of Jewish identity and religious values to what has long been a very secular army. His efforts were particularly apparent in the recent Gaza war, where army rabbis were embedded in combat units, encouraging and supporting soldiers in the field. They gave them a strong sense of mission and purpose, and the results were clear and apparent.
Secular Israeli society sees Rav Ronsky and his successes. They also see a rising number of committed, passionate religious soldiers and especially officers, coinciding with a dwindling number of secular soldiers, many of whom are now avoiding service. (Combine that with what will soon be an entire Nachal Chareidi Brigade, and they're really worried.)
This is why they look for any and every opportunity to attack Rav Ronsky. They're afraid not only of what he's done, but how far he'll go. The army is a fundamental cultural value in Israel. It colors everything that happens in Israeli society. If the army grows more religious, so will the broader society.
And while that might make secular members of the Knesset worried, it makes me - and many people like me quite happy.

Real Life Israel

Reading the Jerusalem Post, I noticed two ads on the right side of the text. The bottom one, of course, is for "Real Life Israel", a program aimed at getting young people to consider making aliyah. The top on is for...exploding vans?
That's right - terrorism. Actually, it's for United Hatzalah Volunteers, and nothing gets people to click and donate like images of exploding cars, ostensibly the work of terrorists.










Here's a look at the entire ad...

How's that for "Real World Israel?"

Competition in Education Part 1: The New Program at Hesder Yeshivot

Last month, the newspapers in Israel took note of a seemingly minor decision made by the heads of the Hesder yeshivot in Israel, to open a new four-year program that will now be available to Hesder students. Seems reasonable, and not really that big a deal. But the decision reflects a troubling trend in Jewish education that does not bode well for our children.
Regular soldiers serve three years mandatory service in the IDF. Hesder is the term for a type of yeshiva that allows Israeli men to combine Torah study with their military service. Hesder typically lasts five years, comprised to two years of Torah study, followed by two years of army service and then another year of learning. Mechinah (or mechinot) are preparatory schools, but most often refer to one year academies that many students attend to emotionally and spiritually prepare themselves for army service. Following the year in mechinah, men serve a regular army stint of three years.

While I would like to believe that Hesder yeshivot have decided to offer a shorter program to serve, as Rav Druckman said, the "many young men who do not have what it takes to be scholars, but who still want a very religious framework," the cynic in me sees things quite differently. Oh yes, in the Hebrew press (see page six on that link if you want to read the article) things sound just a little different.

מסלול זה נותן מענה לצורך שהיה קיים בנוף של גיוס בני ישיבות. בעקבות פתיחתו, אוכלוסייה שלמה של תלמידים שנרתעו בעבר מאורך המסלול או מתקופת הלימוד המשמעותית בישיבה, יוכלו להשתלב במסלול הסדר חדש שמותאם לצרכיהם", אומר מנכ"ל איגוד ישיבות ההסדר, איתן עוזרי

"This track answers a need that existed in the landscape of the draft of Yeshiva students; an entire population of students who were afraid in the past of the length of the program and the intensive period of study in the Yeshiva. Now they will be able to participate in a Hesder track that's appropriate to their needs," said the head of the Organization of Hesder Yeshivot, Eitan Ozeri.

What could be bad about more students learning in yeshivot? Sounds like a great thing, right? Let's read on.

עוד התברר בדיון כי בנוסף לכ 50- הישיבות החברות באיגוד, ממתינות שתי ישיבות הסדר נוספות לאישורו של משרד הביטחון, ועוד כ 10- ישיבות חדשות לאישורו של האיגוד. באיגוד אומרים כי ריבוי הישיבות החדשות שנפתחות מצביע על מגמה של הצטרפות אוכלוסיות חדשות לישיבות ההסדר, בעיקר בוגרי תיכונים דתיים. "עבור אותם מצטרפים חדשים שבעבר לא פנו לישיבות, מתאים גם המסלול החדש, בו שנות הלימוד בישיבה קצרות יותר".

It was also revealed during the discussion that in addition to the almost fifty yeshivot Hesder in the Iggud, two other yeshivot are waiting for approval of the Defense Department, and ten more [are waiting] for the approval of the Iggud. In the Iggud they say that the large number of new yeshivot opening indicates a trend of entire new populations joining the Hesder yeshivot - mainly graduates of religious yeshivot. "For these new students who in the past did not turn to the yeshivot this new track is appropriate - in which the number of years in the yeshiva are less."

So, to read between the lines, there are now fifty - and there will soon be sixty Hesder yeshivot dotting the landscape of Israel, in almost every city and town you can imagine. On one hand, it's great. But from a different perspective, it's not so great.
If you're graduating yeshiva high school and deciding what to do next, you would generally decide whether you wanted to spend three years in the army, four years in mechina + army, or five years in Hesder. It would seem to make sense that the more serious you are about your spirituality and your learning, the longer you'd be willing to commit towards Torah study. (Let's also not forget that for truly serious budding scholars, there's a program called Hesder Mercaz, where young men who study for up to ten years then serve about six months in the army.) So we're not dealing with the normal "future Roshei Yeshiva" of the world. Just frum, devoted high school graduates.
If you used to be the kind of student who really didn't think that Hesder was for you - you either didn't want to put in five years or couldn't learn for three full years - you went to a mechinah. But now you have another option. While you're still spending the full four years, now you don't have to do a full army stint, as you can spend two of those years learning. Don't get me wrong, but the option of trading a full year of army service for yeshiva seems enticing indeed.
And it's not just me saying it. The Jerusalem Post article says that,

Rabbi Shlomo Rosenfeld, head of the Shadmot Mechola Yeshiva in the Jordan Valley, said he was still debating whether to offer the four-year option. "There is the danger that guys with intellectual potential will choose an easier path. That would be a shame," he said. Rosenfeld said that over the years, as the number of hesder students has grown, there has been a larger proportion unable to sit and study for long periods. "There are a lot of good guys who are God-fearing and want to be in a religious environment, but who find the curriculum too demanding," he said."These guys will spend a little less time in the study hall and a little more time in the army." However, sources close to the Pre-military Yeshiva Academies, which combine a one-year preparatory course of Torah studies - that is sometimes expanded to two years - with a full three years of military service, voiced concern that the new four-year program might attract students who would otherwise have gone to the Pre-military academies. One source close to the academies said in response, "This new option will breed mediocrity. The guys won't learn properly and they also won't do full army service properly. I don't see the justification for shortening a religious guy's army service if he is not learning Torah seriously."

And there's the rub. How will this new influx of students affect the current atmosphere in the Beit Midrash of the normative Hesder yeshivot? Will the traditional Hesder student continue to spend five years in the yeshiva, when his classmates are finishing after four? After all, let's not forget that these young men put their lives on hold for yeshiva and army. They want to get married, get degrees, and get on with their lives? In five years and ten years, what percentage of the Hesder students will be studying the full five years?
This is just a single example of the watering down of education due to competition. More yeshivot open, causing each to clamor for students. New programs (mechinot) prove a threat to the old way of doing things. Ultimately, what suffers in the long run could very well be the quality of education across the board.
And then no one wins. Certainly not the Jewish people.

Audio Shiur: Parshat Pinchas: Were Tzlafchad's Daughters Feminists?

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Pinchas - Were Tzlafchad's Daughters Feminists?
Through a careful reading of both the text, commentaries and midrashim on the story of the daughters of Tzelafchad, we'll discuss some of the challenges that they had to overcome and the way that they affected the Jewish people, even today.

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

Audio Shiur: Parshat Balak - the Sexual Ethic of the Jewish People

First of all, I'm sorry about this late posting. Somehow it didn't upload properly to the YU site last week.

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Balak - The Sexual Ethic of the Jewish People
Balak is a strange parshah with even stranger details. But underneath the strange and unusual details lies a theme that has marked the strength of the Jewish people for all time: our sexual propriety and sense of sexual modesty.

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

A Lasting Legacy

This week I officiated at the wedding of Josh Schopf, an old classmate from grade school. It was great to participate in his wedding, and I enjoyed being a part of their simcha. During the dinner, his mother, Paula Schopf and I were talking, and she said something that stuck in my mind. She said, "You know, no matter what you do in your profession, no matter how great your accomplishments, the bottom line is that your greatest legacy is your children."
The conversation was about her, so I didn't tell her what I was thinking, but what crossed my mind is, "And that's why I now live in Israel." Twice this week I've seen people from the States, both of whom asked me whether I miss the rabbinate. (I won't answer the question now - that's an entirely different post.) But it was very hard - gut-wrenchingly hard - to leave our shul and congregational life. It was, without a doubt, the hardest decision we ever made, because while we loved leading the membership of the shul and playing a role in our community, we knew that no matter how good Detroit or the rabbinate was for us, Israel would be better for our children.
And we were right on so many different levels. The schools are an order of magnitude higher than comparable schools in the States (at least for us). Life has much greater meaning. Children are freer, and yet given more responsibility. My children already have a sense of devotion to Am Yisrael that it would have been difficult, if not impossible to convey to them in the States.
I thought of this notion of legacy in light of a rather tragic section in Parshat Pinchas. After God instructs Moshe to climb Mount Avarim and gaze upon the Land of Israel before his death, Moshe asks God to appoint a new leader for the Jewish people. Rashi wonders: why does he wait this long? After all, he knew that he was going to die long before, so why does he only ask God to appoint a new leader at this point.
Rashi's answer always makes me a little sad:

כיון ששמע משה שאמר לו המקום תן נחלת צלפחד לבנותיו אמר הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי שיירשו בני את גדולתי. אמר לו הקב"ה לא כך עלתה במחשבה לפני, כדאי הוא יהושע ליטול שכר שמושו שלא מש מתוך האהל

When Moshe heard God's instructions regarding Tzlafchad's inheritance that went to his daughters he said, "The time has arrived for me to make my own request - that my sons should inherit my greatness. Said God, "That did not enter into consideration before Me. Yehoshua is worthy to receive the reward for his service, for he did not stray from within your tent."

After everything Moshe had done for God and the Jewish people; after all his hard work and dedication; after giving up his nice life in Midyan to save the Jewish nation, separating from his wife, suffering through the forty years in the desert - after everything, all he wants is one thing. הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי - "the time has come for me to claim my needs." For all that he had done: rescuing a nation, transmitting the Torah to them, remaking world history single-handedly; none of that was enough. He wanted his legacy to be his children. And that he could not have.

I listen regularly to a podcast called "This American Life." A recent episode called "Origin Stories" contained a story about advertising executive Julian Koenig, who made up famous ad campaigns like the "Think Small" campaign for the VW Beetle. Apparently, a former colleague claimed credit for much of his work, and Julian Koenig has spent a ton of time trying to retake credit for his work. But why, his daughter asked him, did he care that much about who got credit? After all, no one really knows about this stuff or cares, and anyone who does care already knows the truth? His daughter Sarah, who narrates the story says,

"He's eighty eight years old now, so his legacy is understandably on his mind. And even though he did famous campaigns: for all sorts of good causes: gun control, nuclear proliferation, Robert Kennedy's senatorial and presidential campaign, my father's not really satisfied with his work."

Said Julian:

Advertising is built on puffery, and on deception, and I don't think that anyone can go proudly into the next world with a career built on deception, no matter how well they do."

On one hand, it's impressive to see a person capable of looking back at his life's work with honesty and candor. But from another perspective, all I can think is: How sad. How many people will look back at a life of work spent sitting at a desk in front of a computer at an office, knowing that they helped corporations grow and prosper, or computers talk to one another, but spent less time on our true legacies - the values and principles they passed to their children; the energy they spent on their people, or their relationship with God?