I Thanked My Congressman. Have You?

I'm a big, big AIPAC supporter. Even before I moved to Israel, I got involved in AIPAC, attending the policy conference in Washington, local event in Michigan, and even bringing in AIPAC representatives to our shul for a small event. I really came to the conclusion that one of the best ways American Jews can support the Jewish State is by getting involved in the legislative process. Simply put, United State's support for Israel provides crucial backing to the Jewish State, both in financial terms, but also in the international community. Putting our energy into ensuring that the US government continues to support Israel is a great investment of time and energy.
This week, seventy five percent of the US House of representatives signed a letter encouraging the US to stand behind Israel's right to self-defense. Without a doubt, the UN is eventually going to get around to criticizing Israel for its commandos acts of self-defense on the "Peace Flotilla" ship. The letter from Congress to President Obama demonstrates the strong support that Israel has across the country, and how important it is for the US to stand behind Israel's right to self-defense.
My congressman, Rep. Sander Levin, signed the letter. I know, because I checked. And I also don't believe that because he's Jewish, we should take it for granted that he's going to sign these types of letters, and make Israel a priority. So I called to thank him. No, I didn't speak to him - but I did leave him a message.
It was pretty easy. I looked up the phone number in Washington on his web site, and asked for the name of the legislative assistant for foreign affairs. Turns out that her name is Erin Hughes. I asked to speak to Erin, and explained to her that I'm a constituent of the Congressman living in Israel (which surprised her) and that I wanted to thank him for signing the letter. She clearly appreciated the call, and told me that she'd convey the message.
That was it. Not a big deal. Took about five minutes. But it is a big deal, especially if enough people do it.
I thanked my Congressman. Have you?

My New Favorite Web Application

I work on a number of different computers: home, netbook, work, other work, and often find myself in need of files from one job at a different computer. (This is a rather common need. I'm pretty sure that I'm not alone.) A few months back I stumbled upon a great web app that fills exactly this need called Dropbox. Basically, it creates a folder on your computer in which you put any document you want. Then you install Dropbox on any other computer you want, and you'll immediately find every document that you use in the folder automatically updated. Even better, if you use the file and make changes on one computer, those changes will be updated on every computer.
You can even access the files on the Dropbox web site if you need. So now, wherever I am, the files that I need are right where I need them, and I don't have to wonder whether I've got the latest version of that file.
I must admit: this is not rocket science. It's something that a zillion people have needed for ages, and one wonders why Microsoft never built this into Windows. Oh yes, they're trying with something called Windows Live Skydrive from Microsoft. In typical fashion, Microsoft has succeeded in creating a convoluted, cludgy, difficult-to-use web application that I can't see anyone adopting. (expect Dropbox to be bought out by Google in the near future.)
Stick with Dropbox. It's simple, intuitive, easy, simple, and useful.
And oh yes, for up to 2gb of information it's also free.

Disclaimer: I am not an employee of Dropbox or any of its subsidiaries. Nonetheless, I would be happy to receive free stuff from them at any time. To that end, if you're considering trying Dropbox (which you should), I'd be very happy if you used this link to connect to the service, so that I can get some free space. Thanks.

Thoughts for Shiva Asar B'Tammuz: Can't We All Just Get Along?

Last week as I entered the Beit Midrash of Torat Hachayyim (the local yeshiva in Yad Binyamin), I noticed that on the computers in the front of the Beit Midrash, a couple of the bachurim were watching a shiur by a rav that I did not recognize (and don't remember his name). When I asked my chavruta about it, he not only told me the rabbi's name (which I forgot), but also that he's a very well-known rabbi in the world of "nistar", and that his message was stern and frightening: bad things are going to happen. Apparently, the death of Rav Mordechai Eliyuha gave us a three month reprieve, but things aren't looking good for us.
"So what are we supposed to do?" I asked.
"Teshuva," my chavruta told me.
That's not enough for me. Just Teshuva? For what? If you just tell people to repent, improve, change, I think that's such an overarching, far-reaching goal, that it's difficult to know where to start, and hard to feel that my general repentance will actually make a difference.
"No," I said. "I need something more specific. Give me an area, a general direction. What should we be doing teshuva for?"
I think I know. At least for the next few weeks.
I was listening to Rabbi Berel Wein speaking on JM in the AM, and after he described his Talmud Yerushalmi project, Nachum Segal asked him what he thought of the whole Emmanuel issue, and whether he felt there was a historical precedent that he could relate. He said that it reminded him of the Jews during the Second Temple era. So much Torah. So much learning. But so much divisiveness and derisiveness for others who are not like we are.
Today is Shiva Asar B'Tammuz. We recited Kinot this morning for the breaching of the walls, leading to the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash. But the real walls - the important ones - fell long before, when the Jews lost trust in one-another; when they began to distrust each other more than their enemies. When they forgot what united them, and the fact that all of them were supposedly acting in the service of God.
This, I think, is a proper teshuva for us all that we can begin right now.
This Three Weeks, I think we all, starting with myself, need to work on our unity. I generally try not to bash other groups, but through Tisha B'av I'll try especially hard. I'll make an effort to see the good in other Jews with whom I often do not agree. I'll try to accentuate the positives, making an effort to see the side that I often disregard. I'll try and build, and not tear down.
And I hope you will too.

The Real Cause of Anti-Semitism: A Vort from the Netziv on Parshat Balak

This year in particular, we're feeling the sting of antisemitism more profoundly than we're used to. From the international focus and condemnation of Israel, to the world-wise rise of Jew hating, to the overt Israel-bashing from Iran, it's becoming alarmingly acceptable to disdain the Jews. All this despite the continued hard work of tens of alphabetic Jewish Organizations from the ADL to the SWC (Simon Wiesenthal Center. OK, that acronym I made up) to the JCRC? Why, if we're working so hard to combat hatred of the Jews, do things still seem to be getting worse?
The Netziv, commenting on our parshah, offers a striking answerIn his famous blessing of the Jewish people Bilam said:

הן עם לבדד ישכן, ובגויים לא יתחשב

"lo, it is a people that shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations" (Bamidbar 23:9)

What did Bilam mean when he said this? What does it mean for the Jewish nation to dwell alone? Commentaries throughout the ages interpreted this phrase in different ways, adjusting their interpretations for the times in which they lived. (listen to this year's shiur to learn more).
One very striking interpretation is the commentary of the Netziv in Ha'amek Davar, who offers a novel reading of this phrase, writing (in his comments to Bereitshit 15)

"המה מבקשים לכלותינו, הוא בשביל שאנו מבקשים להתערב עמהם. וכבר ניבא על זה בלעם 'הן עם לבדד ישכון ובגוים לא יתחשב'. ובארנו שאם יהיה לבדד ולא ירצה להתערב עמהם, ישכון במנוחה. ובזמן שהוא בגוים שמתערב עמהם, לא יתחשב בעיני אומות העולם ואין לו תקומה ביניהם. וזה בתורת השגחה מן שמים שיהיה כן"

They wish to destroy us - and the reason for this is because we want to intermingle with them. Bilam already prophesized about this when he said, "lo, it is a people that shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations". And we explained that if [Israel] will be "alone" and not wish to mix with them, then "he will dwell" in tranquility. And at the time that he is "among the nations", then "he will not be reckoned" in the eyes of the nations of the world, and he has no stature among them. This is a matter of divine providence from heaven that this should be so.

In his commentary to our parshah, Netziv offers a chilling additional, tragically prophetic point:

אינו נחשב בעיניהם כלל כאדם...והרי כקוף בצורת האדם

He is not considered in their eyes at all like a human being, and he is like a monkey in the form of a human being.

(There's a long, important essay that I skipped during the ellipsis within which he explains his logic, but I don't have the time to translate the whole thing.)
It's frightening to think about Netziv's point: when we try to act like the nations of the world, instead of liking us more, the world only hates and derides us, to the point that they consider us subhuman; animals in human form.

How tragically, chillingly prophetic were his words, written towards the end of the 19th century, only decades before the rise of the Nazi regime that followed his prediction precisely.
This truly is the struggle of our time: what does it mean to be a Jew? How must a Jew live? What is the definition of Judaism? Torah Jews point to the words of the Netziv as frightening truth. The more we try to be "like them", to assimilate, westernize, and abandon our holy tradition, the more we hurt ourselves.
Assimilation doesn't just destroy the Jews from within. According to the Netziv, it's the most powerful cause of anti-Semitism known to man.

Shwekey Jr.

Petachya has, for the longest time, been on a Shwekey kick. Once he was looking through the newspaper, and saw a large ad for a Shwekey concert in which Shwekey appeared like this:


This prompted Petachya to strike his own Shwekey pose, like this: (notice the glasses and kippah placement).

I guess there are worse role-models he could have chosen to emulate.

Audio Shiur: Balak 5770 - The Walls We Build

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Balak 5770 - The Walls We Build

Recent events in Emanuel raised the charges of racism within Orthodoxy as well as the challenging issue of ethnic and religious separatism. Why do we build the walls we build? Should we? Is it better to separate ourselves from the outside world - even Jewish - or to try and integrate and suffer the consequences?

Click here to download the shiur, or here to navigate to the shiur on YUTorah.org.

For last year's shiur, "The Sexual Ethic of the Jewish People," click here.

Ethnic Profiling and Emanuel

I was racially profiled this morning. And it didn't bother me in the least.
Bezalel had a dentist appointment at Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital, but I also had three huge food warming boxes that I needed to return to our caterer in Jerusalem. (long story, different post). Any time you drive into any complex in Israel, be it an office complex, mall or hospital, security searches your car. So here I was, entering a major hospital complex, with three huge, sealed blue boxes in the back of my car. The security guy took one look at us, and without a second thought, waved us in.
Why didn't he check the boxes? Didn't he wonder at least why I have them in the car and what I was doing with them? He didn't, because he was profiling us. I'm a religious Jew with a kippah, and I was driving into the hospital with my wife, son and infant daughter. Probability, and probably his sixth sense told him to wave us on, and that searching the boxes (which were empty) would be a waste of his and our time. He was right.
Contrast this morning with another, very different security check that I also underwent, also right here in Yerushalayim exactly a week ago, at the American consulate. There, instead of profiling you, they treat every one - every single person - like a criminal. I've never been through such a thorough check anywhere in Israel before.
When you get there, they first check to see if you have a reservation, and only then do they let you into the outer courtyard, where you have to leave your baby stroller. No strollers inside. Period.
Then, a security guard hand-checked every bag. He took any electronics - even the USB key on my keychain. He took our cellphones as well. (Are there really any secrets at the US consulate in East Jerusalem?) He made Rena apply some lip balm on her hand, and asked me to taste the water inside the baby bottles that we had brought for Moriyah. It was really ridiculous. Then, after that, we went through a locked door into a second room, where we went through a second metal detector, and they put our bags, which they had just searched, through an XRay machine. Really?
I felt victimized because I wasn't racially profiled. In Israel proper (the consulate felt like a different country), they would have done exactly what they did this morning: looked at a couple with an infant child, checked our bags, and waved us through. But the US cannot profile everyone. Everyone is suspect; a potential threat. So everyone suffers.
The recent Emanuel case raises the important issue of racial profiling. Is it right for Chasidim to assume that Sefardim are different than they are?
Truth be told, in general - and those are important words - Sephardim and Ashkenazim really are different. You just have to open up to any page of the Shulchan Aruch to see just how true that is. We have different fonts in the book; the block lettering is for the Sephardim, the Rashi script for the Ashkenazim.
And it's not just about ritual. Sephardic and Ashkenazic Jewry have significantly different perspectives to Jewish practice and community.
In Sephardic tradition, there's really no such thing as sectarianism. There's no Conservative Sephardic Judaism. Does this mean that every Sephardic Jew follows the halachah to the letter of the law? Hardly. But the community doesn't excommunicate someone who doesn't adhere. It admonishes him, even shames him. But for whatever reason, it never rejected him to the point that he broke away and began his own flavor of religion. A Sephardic Jew may sin, but his shul and rabbi are still Orthodox.
Ashkenazim, for better or worse made a different choice, resulting in breakaway sects that attracted huge numbers of followers, but left the original community "pure", with far less tolerance for people who do not adhere to the precepts of faith with precision and care.
Someone from a true Sephardic background grows up with the values of his faith tradition, as well he should - with great pride. He will view the "sinner" in a very different way than will his counterpart raised in an Ashkenazi household.
Now, if I know that a certain faith tradition teaches a certain set of values, would it not make sense for me to assume that someone Sephardic subscribes to his own ethnic values? We all do it, all the time.
The media (and much of Western society) treat racism and ethnic preference as if it's a zero-sum game. It's all black and white. If you make any racial distinctions, then you're a racist. You have to treat, judge, address, assess and evaluate every single person equally, regardless of any predilection or indication you may have based on ethnicity. That's the American way, where the label "racist" is literally a death-sentence to a career and reputation. But in the real world, we all profile. It's the way that we function in the world.
It's how we decide to which school to send our children. It's how we decide where to buy a house. It's how we decide whether to suspect the man that just got on the bus, whether to open the door when the stranger knocks; whether to call the police when someone unusual appears on our block. We might not like it, and profiling sometimes paints too broad a stroke, punishing the innocent.
But I'm not sure that the American way, of suspecting no one, but therefore suspecting everyone, is really any better.

A Beautiful Bar Mitzvah

This past Shabbat we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of my oldest son, Simcha. It was a wonderful, powerful and meaningful experience, from a number of different perspectives.
I'll spare you the boring details of who spoke when and what we ate for dinner. Suffice to say that Simcha spoke about the contrast of the Eizov and the Erez - the hyssop bush and the Cedar tree, both of which are used for the parah Adumah mixture. In a nutshell, he explained how the tall Erez referred to the attribute of haughtiness and self-confidence, while the lowly Eizov alluded to both humility and self-effacement, and how the Torah wants us to find that sweet spot between arrogance and self-negation. Nice message.
For me, the most moving aspect of the Shabbat was my aliyah, listening to my son read from the Torah. It was tremendously meaningful to have him lead me. I had the feeling that he had reached a point where he was beginning to find a level of independence that can only come after years of guidance and direction. It was a moment that you cannot buy; these moments only come with the hard work of parenting, disciplining, encouragement, not a little frustration and sweat.
But these are the best moments; the ones when you stand next to your son, watching him read from the Torah with poise and confidence, and give thanks to God for His granting you such a powerful, meaningful experience.
One other point struck me. Simcha spoke twice - he gave his drashah once in English, and then at Seudah Shlishit when we invited friends from the yishuv, he gave the same talk in Hebrew. He wrote his speech on his own (his mother helped him with some of the sources), and I just helped him clarify his ideas. But he translated the drashah entirely on his own. Watching my son deliver a drashah entirely in Hebrew - and from my point of view - in rather beautiful Hebrew, also resonated strongly with me.
We left the United States for Israel, giving up careers, family and friends, first and foremost for our children. We wanted them to connect to their Judaism and the Jewish nation in the most powerful possible way. Seeing my son deliver a sophisticated devar Torah in Israel in fluent Hebrew emphasized to me how fortunate we are to have made this challenging choice. It's wasn't easy - and it's still not easy.
But, this Shabbat it was nice to give myself the luxury of sitting back and allowing myself to enjoy the fruit of our hard work.

Audio Shiur: Parshat Chukat 5770 - Unrealized Expectations

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Chukat 5770 - Unrealized Expectations

Unrealized expectations always lead to disappointment - both in our private lives, and in communal life as well. Moreover, how we deal with that disappointment has a great impact on us, on how we fight with each other, and the relationships that we have. Why did the Jewish people complain to Moshe about circumventing Edom? Why did Moshe build a copper snake? How did it help?

Click here to download the shiur, or here to navigate to the shiur on YUTorah.org.

Wearing a Tallit After Bar Mitzvah - Part 1

About a month before my Bar Mitzvah (almost 25 years ago!), my tefillin arrived to my great excitement. The entire Bar Mitzvah process represents a gradual rite of passage that commences at the outset of a boy's twelfth year with the study of trop for the Torah reading, continues with the wearing of the tefillin, and I assume reaches its crescendo at the Bar Mitzvah itself.
I know all of this because we're about to celebrate the Bar Mitzvah of Simcha, my oldest son. (As every parent I'm sure feels, it's difficult to imagine that my child has reached Bar Mitzvah age, but that's a different post entirely.)
I remember that when my tefillin arrived in the United States from Israel, my uncle also purchased a beautiful matching Tallit and Tefillin bag with my name on it, as well as a rather lovely Tallit. I remember this because I wondered why my uncle had purchased the Tallit. Other than at the celebration itself when I led the davening, when else would I wear it? Indeed, the Tallit remained in its special bag for years, languishing in a closet. At my wedding, I rescued the beautiful bag (its Tefillin counterpart had long before frayed from the year of use) to use with my Shabbat Tallit, but the Tallit itself was now too small for regular use.
I think that Tallit still sits on the top shelf in the closet of my mother's den. Just thinking about it kind of makes me sad. I never really used it. In fact, I had no intention of using it, and as far as I can remember, no other kid in my class wore a tallit during davening. In fact, I never even thought about it. Nobody did it, and I didn't really give it a second thought. We are, after all, hardcore Ashkenazim, and we don't wear a Tallit until our wedding. I never really asked – or cared – why.
Except, now that my son's Bar Mitzvah approaches, I'm not sure why I failed to wear a tallit for the ten years following my own Bar Mitzvah. More to the point, I think that I was wrong. This is why my son wore a Tallit during davening when he dons his Tefillin for the first time later this month, and will continue to do so.
If you look in the Shulchan Aruch, you'll find no mention of any custom of children not to wear a tallit. In fact, you find exactly the opposite, in the instruction to specifically teach our children to wear tzitzit from a young age. The Shulchan Aruch writes (Orach Chayyim 17:3),

A minor who knows how to wrap himself – his father must purchase tzitzit for him to educate him.

Rema adds:

This specifically applies to a child old enough to wrap two tzitzit in front and two behind him, and he knows to hold the tzitzit in his hand when reciting the Shema.

Two interesting points stand out in this text. Both Shulchan Aruch and Rema use the term להתעטף, meaning “to wrap oneself,” the ideal manner of wearing tzitzit. More importantly, it’s clear that children begin wearing tzitzit at a very young age. How old do you have to be to know to wear two tzitzit in front and two behind? Not very old.
Moreover, the point seems obvious. We educate our children to perform mitzvoth from a very early age. We teach them to recite the Shema at three, to pray, recite blessings, wave the lulav – ritual acts forms the very fabric of Jewish life as soon as our children can grasp them. Why should donning tzitzit be any different? In fact, Shulchan Aruch specifically emphasizes that teaching our children to wear tzitzit is different in that we educate them about this particular mitzvah before most others, at an earlier age than we might have thought.
If this rule applies to children as young as four or five, it without a doubt applies to “children” above the age of Bar Mitzvah. Technically, they’re certainly not children. Judaism considers young men and women above the age of mitzvoth adults “for every matter,” certainly regarding the wearing of tzitzit as well.
At least you would think.

To be continued.