On last week's episode of House, patient of the week was a woman who became suddenly ill at her wedding. The catch: the patient was "a music producer living in the fast lane until she converted to Hasidic Judaism."
I'd heard much about this episode, but hadn't seen it when it aired; it recently became available online and I got a chance to watch it.
House is insistent that people don't change. He is adamant that the woman's religious renewal is related to her illness. House characterizes religion as both mental illness and masochism before it is revealed that, in fact, the woman's illness was unrelated to her choice to become Orthodox. Throughout the episode, there is a parallel between House's diagnosis of the woman's illness, and his argument with Wilson regarding his girlfriend (known on the show as CTB). At the end of the episode, House consents to Wilson dating CTB, even though it will damage their friendship. Wilson accuses House of changing, but House continues to insist that people don't change.
I think House's point is: people don't change; we may make changes, sometimes even drastic ones, to our lives and lifestyles, but those changes are often only superficial, done in service to something deeper in our psyche that is unchangeable. The woman's illness, although unrelated to her religious changes, doesn't indicate that people do change. Becoming Orthodox, for her, was simply following the same inner compulsion that she had been following her whole life. Although her life may seem drastically different to the casual observer, when looked at as a whole, her entire life's actions would fit into a single context. This is also illustrated by the Dr. Taub, who left a career as a plastic surgeon to become House's intern; although a drastic change in career, the change was preserve his marriage, to prevent change. House's change of heart for Wilson is simply based on the fact that he now feels that the relationship is good for his friend.
On note of trivia: the actress who plays the patient of the week is Laura Silverman, sister of comedienne Sarah Silverman.
Came across this today on Amazon: Fisher Price Little People Hanukkah Set.
If you're not Jewish, don't feel left out; you can always pick up the Little People: A Christmas Story:
Note: Unlike comments on this blog, I have no way of seeing your answer and correlating that to any kind of identifiable information. In other words, I can't see who is voting for what.
Philosophy Bites' latest podcast interviews Quentin Skinner on Hobbes' view of the State. It's really interesting. I'm not really as adept a student of philosophy as I'd like, but it seems like Hobbes was, more or less, attempting to transition what had been traditionally a theological system of government into a humanized system. The idea of the absolute rule of the sovreign is very reminiscent of the narrative of Rosh HaShannah.
On a related note, Hobbes states in Leviathan: "Do not that to another, which thou wouldst not have done to thyself," which is notable as it follows Hillel's, rather than the Gospel's, formulation of the Golden Rule. There's also a book that explores the relationship between Maimonides, Hobbes and Nietzsche. The author is a frum Jew and a student of R. Soloveitchik.
I don't see anything wrong with what Ann Coulter said; it's New Testament 101. I certainly don't think she's anti-semitic for saying it. Truth is, I think there's a lot to be learned about the Old Testament from the New Testament; it's basically a critique of Rabbinic Judaism.
It's too bad the host of the show didn't try to have a dialogue with Coulter, instead of just playing the anti-semite card, it could have been interesting.
In the beginning, Man rejects Divine authority in favor of his own reason and autonomy. This leads to all sorts of problems for Man, most of which involve other people being unhappy. At some point, a small group of Men, related by blood and recently emancipated from the tyrannical authority of an oppressive despot, subjugate themselves (not completely willingly) to Divine authority and accept upon themselves to abide by God's Law. This goes somewhat well, but, as with most things, there's a few bumps along the way; what becomes clear is that Man is locked in a constant battle, between obedience to a higher power and asserting himself as an autonomous individual; it is taken as a given that disobedient Man is not good.
As such, once a year (on what is considered the anniversary of the initial rejection of Divine authority), that nation gathers to reestablish their willing subjugation to Divine authority by submitting themselves, their deeds, their legal record, if you will, for judgment before God. As they are inevitably found lacking both on a collective and individual level in some aspect of their adherence and devotion to Divine authority and law, they enter into a plenary period of repentance, culminating in a final day of atonement for their grievances. By doing so they, to some extent, make whole the relationship with the Divine and reaffirm their acceptance of Divine Law. They begin a celebration of communion with their King by dwelling in his house for a period of time, in happiness and free from the concerns brought about by their finite nature.
I've had this in my "to-blog" queue for a while, and figured that this week would be an appropriate time to let it out. I give you: The Abstinence Song.
I'm forwarding this on to the folks at the OU (v'hamvin yavin).
This video comes from a site called GodTube, which is basically YouTube for Christians; it's full of videos all focused on Christianity, with titles like "The Reality of Hell" and "Little Girl and Psalm 23."
On a whim, I typed in JewTube.com, where the top videos are Borat and Lewis Black. Oy vey!
If you've got 13 minutes, check out the Philosophy Bites podcast episode with Peter Adamson discussing the Muslim philosopher Avicenna. Besides the fact that his philosohpy is pretty interesting, Avicenna is quoted many times by Maimonides in the Guide.
In general, the Philosophy Bites podcast is excellent.
From JPost, US school ordered to halt Hebrew classes. This is the Jewish Charter school blogged about previously. The article doesn't give a clear reason as to why the Hebrew classes were shut down, just that various outside groups were concerned with the religious character of the curriculum.
I'm guessing that the school was using Bible verses or Mishna text to teach Hebrew (which, by the way, can be pretty effective. I taught myself Hebrew by learning Kehati). Having grown up going to public school, I'm pretty sure I was never asked to read a religious text for English class. Then again, I grew up in very-liberal Maryland; I'm sure there are public schools in the US that still require/incorporate specific religious texts/prayers/etc. into the curriculum or daily life of the schools. Which is a huge double standard.
Hat tip to Uncle Uhvi.
R. Natan Slifkin's article in the Jewish Press, entitled Harry Potter's Fabulous Jewish Monsters examines the biblical, talmudic and midrashic sources for some of the creatures found in the Harry Potter novels.
Apart from Anthony Goldstein (a Ravenclaw, quite appropriately), one has to look carefully to find Judaism at Hogwarts. While much has been written on this subject, most is at the superficial level, using examples from the stories as starting points for discussions of quaint, and often jejune, simplistic Jewish moralisms.
The fundamental question to address is the main theme of the Potter books: that Love is the only force capable of withstanding the Will to Power. Despite the fact that the novels are not evangelical in nature, they are Christian in this respect. Judaism, on the other hand, would posit that Law would be the ideal vehicle through which not only the individual, but also the community, triumphs over the Power of Evil. Rowling is characteristically critical of governments as incapable of effectively combating true Evil. There is an interesting dichotomy between the personal and the communal, which, from my limited understanding, also seems to be a major point of contention between Judaism and Christianity.
Other connections to Judaism include the Philosopher's Stone (Nicholas Flamel's guide in creating the stone was purported to be the Book of Abraham, attributed the patriarch), and the obvious parallels between Nazi Germany and Voldemort's reign of terror.
CartoonBarry has a good breakdown of the costs of being an observant Jew. His prices are based on Monsey cost of living, and some of the numbers seem strange (who pays $800 a month to their shul?) but overall it's a fairly accurate accounting.
We just signed our payment agreement for tuition for our three kids for the coming year: $26,000. And that's before scholarships, banquet ads, scrip; not to mention hot lunches, books, uniforms, and who knows what else. It boggles the mind.
Via the Baltimore Achdus mailing list:
Join a Torah Tour of the National Zoo in Washington DC, led by the famous "Zoo Rabbi," Natan Slifkin! The tour will take place on Sunday, July 22nd, from 2pm to 5pm. It is aimed at adults and older kids, but all ages are welcome. The cost of the tour is $18 for adults and $12 for children. Advance registration is essential as group spaces are limited. If you would like to join the afternoon tour, please email zoorabbi@zootorah. com with the number of people in your group and a contact cellphone number, and you will be sent details of exactly where to meet.
Michael Chabon's new novel The Yiddish Policemen's Union, which takes place in a fictionalized present in which the State of Israel never was, the Jews instead living in a giant ghetto in Alaska, has sparked some interesting commentary regarding the contemporary Jewish experience. In an article in The Nation entitled The Imaginary Jew, William Deresiewicz writes:
But over the past three decades, the dense particularity of American Jewish life has, outside the Orthodox community, largely disappeared. No one speaks Yiddish anymore, or even English that sounds like Yiddish. There may be suburbs with a lot of Jews, but there are no Jewish suburbs as there were once Jewish neighborhoods. With Jews as senators and governors and Ivy League presidents, the wounding, binding sense of exclusion has melted away. Communal institutions remain strong, traditions are still cherished, but American Jewish experience is now, by and large, simply American experience. Jewish mothers don't say "Ess, ess" anymore; they say, "Do you want me to call Sophia's mom to make a playdate?"While there are young Jewish writers aplenty, no important voice has emerged to speak about contemporary Jewish life. Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude, perhaps the finest recent novel by a young Jewish writer, is not about being Jewish at all; it's about the quintessentially American subject of race. But there have always been Jewish writers who have chosen to speak about things other than being Jewish (most notably, in the Bellow-Roth generation, Norman Mailer and J.D. Salinger). What's really telling about the current state of Jewish fiction is that even those prominent young writers who do speak about Jewish experience don't speak about contemporary experience.
It's true; "Jewish" fiction is either about the past (mostly the Holocaust), or the early struggles of Jews in America. There is hardly anything in the contemporary Jewish experience, outside the Orthodox world, that can be called uniquely Jewish.
On the flip side, there remains little to no work within the Jewish community that attempts to understand and reflect on the contemporary Orthodox Jewish experience in America (there likely is some such stuff in Israel, but I'm not familiar with it). There's a lot to be said on this, both on the fact that this kind of literature is not seen as valuable by the community leaders, and the fact that it's not really sought after by the general public.
Talk about meeting of the minds:
Say it with me know: Yeesh.
It's amazing that in this conversation, two people are talking, but no one is listening. The "debate" that is currently taking place in our popular culture between science and faith is nothing more than a shouting match.
Meanwhile, no one is listening to the head otter.
I wanted to post my thoughts on R. Gottlieb's drasha, but I wanted to do it as a separate post, so there would be no confusion as to what I am saying and what R. Gottlieb said. There will be much news that will be coming out over the coming weeks, and I will have to decide if, what and how I want to comment on it. In the mean time, I wanted to offer a concise thought on how and why these changes came about.
My main thought about this is that it shows the positive value of the Internet in contemporary Orthodox society. I firmly believe that the reason this issue is finally being dealt with in a forthright manner by the rabbinate is that they have no choice but to do so. The way information is controlled and disseminated to and within the community has fundamentally changed. This is due in large part to the web in general, and blogs in particular. That is not to say that everything done on the web is done appropriately or in the best possible fashion, but the very existence of the medium, and the fact that information can be published and circulated freely and quickly, has made past approaches to this problem no longer viable. That is not to say that past approaches were correct, either; the existence of the web has enabled a more accurate understanding of the magnitude of the problem to become apparent to those who erred with good intentions and now have the ability to make changes.
Let me make it clear that I do not mean this to be critical of the rabbinate; on the contrary, the fact that they are addressing the issue, rather than not, is responsible and commendable. I do think, however, it is important to recognize the crucial role that the "grass roots" had in bringing about this change.
As a general rule, in any social ecosystem, those in positions of authority by definition maintain the status quo; change must come from the people, and it is the responsibility of those with authority to be sensitive to the needs of the people and judge how to best respond. There is a famous interchange between two poskim that beautifully illustrates this point. The Terumat HaDeshen would often invent theoretical cases to server as the basis for responsum. The Magen Avraham frowned on this practice, arguing that a posek receives special divine guidance when weighing an issue of halachic jurisprudence from an actual real, live person. I don't think it's homiletics to explain this as meaning that halachic decisions are more meaningful when considered in the context of those that practice them, and that the posek must first and foremost respond to the individual.
At any rate, those of us who believe that blogs in particular, and the web in general, have a positive role to play in the Jewish community can count this as a point in our favor.
For more thoughts check out Kefirot's post on the subject.
Via Hirhurim: An article in the YU Commentator by R. Haskel Lookstein recounts an exchange between R. Lookstein and the Rav about aborting a fetus known to have Tay-Sachs:
A particularly poignant exchange between us occurred after I had attended a Rabbinic Alumni convention and heard a very prominent rabbinic scholar discuss the issue of Tay-Sachs testing. That scholar advised against any kind of testing for reasons which he explained. Furthermore, he said, once a woman was pregnant there is certainly no reason to test because even if the fetus were found to have Tay-Sachs disease there is nothing that can be done about it. One may not abort. I was concerned about that approach and, as luck had it, I had been invited to have dinner that evening at the home of a member of the Rav's family at which the Rav was going to be present. He was scarcely in the door when I described to him the view that had been expressed earlier that day and I asked him what his opinion was. He said very firmly: "You can abort a Tay-Sachs fetus through the sixth month." I said nothing but he must have noticed a quizzical look on my face as if to say - which, of course, I would not - what was the basis for the p'sak? I will never forget what he told me. He said: "Chatzkel, did you ever see a Tay-Sachs baby?" I replied that I had not. He said: "We had a Tay-Sachs baby in Boston. I tell you that you can abort a Tay-Sachs fetus through the sixth month." I saw at that moment a gadol in action, deciding a difficult question of Jewish law with absolute confidence and courage, based upon his scholarship and experience.
An apt title summarizing R. Adlerstein's weekend as Scholar-in-Residence at Shomrei would be, "An Apology for Charedi Orthodoxy." In two, possibly three, of the five times R. Adlerstein spoke, his focus was defending a fundamentalist viewpoint from criticism.
Friday night, R. Adlerstein spoke about the banning of R. Natan Slifkin's books.
R. Adlerstein was, and remains, one of R. Slifkin's supporters. R. Adlerstein gave a bit of background on how the ban unfolded (the infamous call that R. Slifkin received where he was threated, "You have two hours to recant your position, or you will be put in herem."), and how R. Slifkin sought an audience with any of the rabbis threatening to ban him, and they all refused. R. Adlerstein explained that three basic groups of people were affected by the ban were ba'alei teshuvah, kiruv professionals and anyone else who has an education. R. Adlerstein related that, as a kiruv professional himself, he had considered discontinuing his work, as the conflict between presenting Judaism as not in conflict with scientific or rational thought while at the same time conveying the system of authority inherent to Orthodox Judaism was impossible. R. Adlerstein continued by asking us to appreciate the ban from the perspective of the Charedim. This apology consisted of a critique on the general approach of interpreting Genesis as allegory (due to the potential to slippery-slope taking as allegory other parts of the Torah), as well as a general appeal to unification of the Orthodox world. While R. Adlerstein was adamant that his feeling was that the ban was unfounded on rational, logical and historical levels, he felt that falling into line with the approach outlined by the rabbis in Israel that issued the ban was a more important value than speaking out against the ban.
R. Adlerstein closed by answering questions. I asked how the rabbonim in Israel, who themselves speak either Yiddish or Hebrew, and little English, became aware of a book written in English. R. Adlerstein acknowledged that the rabbis banning the book did not read it, and that this was not an issue that was at all pertinent to their communities. What happened was that two overzealous YU guys read Slifkin's work and started shopping it around in an effort to get it banned. After failing to get any traction in Monsey and Lakewood, they took it to B'nei Brak and Israel and finally found someone that would listen to them. When the ban hit the States, R. Adlerstein explained that many within American Orthodoxy have an axe to grind with the Kaminetsky family, as they felt that R. Yaakov Kaminetsky had long fostered a version of "Charedi-lite" Orthodoxy to which they took issue with. R. Yaakov Kaminetsky was well known to openly teach that Chazal were not infallible and that often their science was wrong. As such, some on the American Orthodox community took this as an opportunity to get back at the Kaminetsky family by supporting the ban. I really don't know all the details here, but it was clear that, whatever went on, decisions to support or oppose the ban were not being made on rational grounds.
So all in all, the talk left me depressed and disheartened at the state of present-day Orthodox Judaism. It doesn't bother me so much that some rabbis in Israel feel that what R. Slifkin wrote is heretical; I suppose they are entitled to their opinion, and certainly have the authority to make statements for those that listen what they have to say. Their statements, however, should not be beyond criticism from others (especially when, in this case, their arguments are certainly assailable on a number of levels). I am also extremely disappointed by the lack of a response by those, both in America and Israel, who have, and continue to believe the opposite to not only be a legitimate approach (both historically and haskafically), but true in an objective sense. R. Adlerstein made a consistent appeal for unity of opinion, that for some reason we are better off all supporting the position espoused by the rabbis in Israel. But why? This seems to me to be a pretty big deal, and if those that believe Judaism isn't still shackled to pre-medieval dogmas aren't willing to take a stand on this issue, what are they willing to take a stand on? There were a few notable exceptions, rabbis who did speak out in support of R. Slifkin, such as R. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb. But by and large, the proclamation by the rabbis in Israel that a significant portion of Orthodox Jewry held heretical beliefs was met with little to no resistance, because people are afraid to stand up for the truth. To me, this is the saddest part of the whole affair.
Shabbos afternoon, R. Adlerstein spoke about the differences between Islam and Judaism. His approach was to take a passage from the Koran or the Hadith which seemed to correspond either to an established Jewish tradition, or a recent Charedi stringency. One example: the Islamic court in Saudi Arabia ruled that a woman is not allowed to drive her dying brother to a hospital if her husband is not accompanying her; apparently, women in Islam are not allowed to drive a car by themselves, as it would promote lewdness. A woman must have her husband present, and therefore, even if someone's life were in danger, she would not be able to drive him to the hospital (I apologize in advance to any Muslims who might read this and find fault with my portrayal of their law; I am relating this from memory as it was explained in a lecture, I have regretfully done no research to verify if this is in fact the case, or even if I am explaining it correctly. I intend no disrespect). Compare this to recent proclamations in Lakewood that woman should not drive their husbands to yeshiva. R. Adlerstein offered a few reasons why, despite almost identical phenomenologies, why Judaism is different (i.e. better), and how we don't really need to worry about the manifestation of what appear to be fanatical, fundamentalist, misogynistic, etc. behaviors in our community, because our system of halacha will prevent things from ever getting too off course.
My response to this is, with all due respect, "bologna." If anything, the Slifkin affair demonstrates the complete opposite to be the case. If those in power are willing to trample over several hundred years worth of Jewish history and thought, and continue to foster an oligarchy that has little to no oversight and zero checks and balances, and is afraid to even criticize itself on the most fundamental of issues...there's nothing that will stop Judaism from backsliding in the same direction.
In summary, and in conclusion, I was extremely disheartened after R. Adlerstein's visit. He painted a bleak picture of contemporary Orthodox Judaism, not so much because specific factions take fundamentalist approaches, but because those factions that have reasonably justified non-fundamental approaches in the past are unwilling to stand up for what they have heretofore supported. I was led to believe that R. Adlerstein would be presenting a controversial approach, but what I got was standard apologetics for the status quo.
I know this is a week old already, but if you haven't read Losing Faith: How Scholarship Affects Scholars: 2 Who Did and 2 Who Didn’t, print it out and read it over Shabbos. I would relish the opportunity to sit down and talk with any of these men.
[Hat tip: On the Main Line]
Jeers: In Musings on the Proper Way to Learn Chumash:
The same goes for learning Chumash. If your question and answer are what a rishon would ask and answer, then you're doing great. If not, well, maybe you're doing something wrong. You shouldn't be going out on any limbs that way.
I'm not sure why the Rishonim are all of a sudden the gold standard when it comes to biblical exegesis. Certainly a lot went on before them, as well as after them, that is worthy of aspiring towards. Whatsmore, the Rishonim were by and large working from a medieval view of the world, and looking at the Torah through a medieval lens. This often influenced their understanding of a specific passage or entire narrative. With information we now have available, interpretations of narratives can now be made that were unavailable to the Rishonim. A good example is the idea of the wife-sister.
Cheers: In Abandoned by the Rabbis?:
When I read a book like this, I feel profoundly sad. It makes me think that the rabbis have abandoned us. There was once a time when rabbis recognized that people struggle to feed and clothe their families. They considered working to be a devar mitzvah and struggled to find leniencies to allow people to earn a living. And what do we get? Don't shake hands.* Don't make small talk. Don't compliment a woman. Etc. etc. Unrealistic advice does not help us get through our challenges. It just leaves us abandoned, trying to figure it out on our own. No wonder there are many people who fail these challenges.
Amen. Read the whole post. I have worked with a few people in the past who thought they were being "frum" by acting completely inappropriately in social situations in the workplace. The worst part of it is that these folks always had a smug sense of self-satisfaction about it; they knew they were looking odd in the eyes of their non-Jewish and non-Orthodox co-workers, and reveled in their supposedly higher level of conduct. I've had non-Jewish co-workers ask me wha tthe deal is with these people, why they act in such an odd manner, and I have very little to tell them.
An anecdote: I worked as a contractor for a brief period of time at one of the local government enclaves where the Orthodox Jewish population is quite significant; where the frum folks walk around with hats on and tzitzis out (or snoods in some cases), don't shave during the three weeks, have minyanim three times a day and a daf yomi shiur. Which is all very nice, don't get me wrong. But when, on my first day, I shook the hand of my new female supervisor, she exclaimed, "Oh, you're not allowed to do that!" I have no problem with someone making a decision on how to comport themselves in the workplace, but please take responsibility for your choices as your own, so that others don't have to apologize for their legitimate behavior.
ת"ר לפי שראה אדם הראשון יום שמתמעט והולך אמר אוי לי שמא בשביל שסרחתי עולם חשוך בעדי וחוזר לתוהו ובוהו וזו היא מיתה שנקנסה עלי מן השמים עמד וישב ח' ימים בתענית [ובתפלה] כיון שראה תקופת טבת וראה יום שמאריך והולך אמר מנהגו של עולם הוא הלך ועשה שמונה ימים טובים לשנה האחרת עשאן לאלו ולאלו ימים טובים הוא קבעם לשם שמים והם קבעום לשם <עבודת כוכבים> {עבודה זרה}
Our Rabbis taught: When primitive Adam saw the day getting gradually shorter, he said, 'Woe is me, perhaps because I have sinned, the world around me is being darkened and returning to its state of chaos and confusion; this then is the kind of death to which I have been sentenced from Heaven!' So he began keeping an eight days' fast [and prayer vigil - GJG]. But as he observed the winter equinox and noted the day getting increasingly longer, he said, 'This is the world's course', and he set forth to keep an eight days' festivity. In the following year he appointed both as festivals. Now, he fixed them for the sake of Heaven, but the [heathens] appointed them for the sake of idolatry.
The obvious question from this passage (Avodah Zarah 8A) is: if Adam realized that such was the nature of the world, that the shortening of the days was not due to his sin, but instead simply the natural way in which the world operates, why did he feel the need to make a holiday to God? If his motivations would have been idolatrous, it would be understandable, but it is specifically stated that Adam acted "for the sake of Heaven." Why make a holiday simply because one mistook a natural event for an act of God?
Perhaps this helps explain why these holidays, in the end, became associated with idolatry. The fact that their institution was not really in direct correlation to an act of God, but instead in celebration of the natural order of the world, caused later generations to lose sight of their original intent. To Adam, it seemed rational to celebrate those days, since he feared Divine retribution for his sins, and felt he had been given a reprieve, even if in actuality, he had not. But future generations, who did not have this fear, took the holidays as simply a celebration of the natural order, and perverted their original intent to idolatry.
It is interesting to note that whenever we make holidays or special occasions, it is always in confluence with a directly perceived act of God. All major festivals, even those related to the seasons of the year, are associated with some Divine act or revelation. Hallel is recited only on occasions where Divine influence is noticeable (and not when it isn't, i.e. Purim). The reasoning would seem to be so that future generations do not misrepresent the nature of the occasion and turn it towards idolatry (or away from God).
From Understanding Genesis, by Nahum Sarna:
It should be obvious that by the nature of things, none of [the creation] stories can possibly be the product of human memory, nor in any modern sense of the word scientific accounts of the origin and nature of the physical world.
Biblical man, despite his undoubted intellectual and spiritual endowments, did not base his views of the universe and its laws on the critical use of empirical data. He had not, as yet, discovered the principles and methods of disciplined inquiry, critical observation or analytical experimentation. Rather, his thinking was imaginative, and his expressions of thought were concrete, pictorial, emotional, and poetic. Hence, it is a naive and futile exercise to attempt to reconcile the biblical accounts of creation with the findings of modern science. Any correspondence which can be discovered or ingeniously established between the two must surely be nothing more than mere coincidence. Even more serious than the inherent fundamental misconception of the psychology of biblical man is the unwholesome effect upon the understanding of the Bible itself. For the net result is self-defeating. The literalistic approach serves to direct attention to those aspects of the narrative that reflect the time and place of its composition, while it tends to obscure the elements that are meaningful and enduring, thus distorting the biblical message and destroying its relevancy.
See also my previous thoughts, somewhat similar but much less eloquently articulated.
I'm sure you've heard the news about the title for the seventh Harry Potter book's title, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Penny and I have been covering it quite extensively over on Harry Potter Prognostications, so if you're interested, please do check it out.
In my latest post, entitled: How Harry Potter Will End - The Deathly Hallows, I explain how I think the story will end, based on ideas gleaned from the title of Book 7. The religious significance of the theory I'm proposing is fairly obvious, and should not be understated.
R. Moshe Taragin spoke a total of five times last Shabbos, and offered many poignant thoughts. One that stuck with me was his explanation of the idol worship known as Baal Peor.
For those of you unaware, the method by which one worshiped the god Peor was by defecating before its idol. R. Taragin explained this as pointing to a worship of the natural. The acolytes of Peor felt that something natural, no matter how revolting, was inherently holy. Defecation, while revolting, is completely natural, and was therefore chosen as their form of worship.
R. Taragin progressed from here to a discussion of humanism, and ultimately settled on the Akeidah and questions of natural or rational morality vs. revealed divine will (most of which can be found in previous posts on this blog).
Lots of big news last week, not the least of which was Conservative Judaism's decision on homosexuality. I read through part of the responsum over Shabbos (Canonist has a link); I haven't had time to get all the way through, Josh has done a good job of summarizing it though.
One thing I did notice, the responsum concludes by quoting the following verse (Psalms 149:4-5):
כִּי-רוֹצֶה יְהוָה בְּעַמּוֹ; יְפָאֵר עֲנָוִים, בִּישׁוּעָה. יַעְלְזוּ חֲסִידִים בְּכָבוֹד; יְרַנְּנוּ, עַל-מִשְׁכְּבוֹתָם.
Obviously someone has a sense of humor. ;)
On The Main Line has a great post on a new journal article by Menachem Kellner entitled Maimonides Agonist: Disenchantment and Reenchantment in Modern Judaism. It's a long post, worth reading, and brought to mind a number of thoughts.
First, the issue of da'as Torah and just how historically normative it is. I'll just add that if you consider the explanation of Genesis that we've been throwing around here (in short: that Adam eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil was Man asserting his prerogative to "know" morality by force of his own reason, and so was an inherent rejection of Divine authority) then it's clear that some kind of recognition of rabbinic authority (not necessarily modern-day da'as Torah) must be part and parcel of traditional Judaism.
Regarding the nature of da'as Torah, S. writes:
As far as I can tell that is the innovation of Daas Torah as a prescriptive ideology: the idea that a rabbi who spends the bulk of his time teaching Torah to 20 year bachelors is inherently better suited to practical leadership of the wider community than a rabbi who has street smarts, even if their Torah scholarship is otherwise equal.
Perhaps this is a result of galus, and the lack of a concrete reality in which the halachic reality can be realized. The subsequent focus of learning becomes segregated from the real world, more idealistic than practical or political. Very reminiscent of Halachic Man; and, in contrast, the Shalem Center and the Azure Journal work very hard at countering this perspective by focusing on reacquainting halacha with a political reality (in the Land/State of Israel).
It's interesting to consider the roots of this attitude: one would assume that it is Maimonidean, since it's more rational. But the article Kellner presents posits Maimonides as more practical. I haven't quite puzzled it all out yet.
One last comment: it hadn't occured to me of the import of the debate over the authorship of the Zohar as it pertains the traditional "proof" of the authenticity of the Torah, but it's a perfect example of why that argument falls flat.
If you missed South Park's latest round of episodes on the Richard Dawkins/Atheist stuff, you're missing out.
I won't post the YouTube videos here, as they will likely get pulled down for copyright, but you can find them easily enough (the episode is called Go God Go!). I'll just leave you with one line which made me snarf my bottled water:
Cartman: Wait, isn't everybody at war over atheism?
Future Guy #1: Atheism? No, we've learned to get rid of all the -isms in our time.
Future Guy #2: Yes, long ago, we realized -isms are great for those who are rational, but in the hands of irrational people, -isms always lead to violence.
Cartman: So there is no war now in the future?
Future Talking Sea Otter: Of course there's war! The stupid French-Chinese think they have a right to Hawaii!
C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain:
But when we have said that God commands things only because they are good, we must add that one of the things intrinsically good is that rational creatures should freely surrender themselves to their Creator in obedience. The content of our obedience—the thing we are commanded to do—will always be something intrinsically good, something we ought to do even if (by an impossible supposition) God had not commanded it. But in addition to the content, the mere obeying is also intrinsically good, for, in obeying, a rational creature consciously enacts its creaturely role, reverses the act by which we fell, treads Adam’s dance backward, and returns.
Via R. Aharon Lichtenstein, Being Frum and Being Good: On the Relationship Between Religion and Morality
R. Ezra Bick, via KMTT (Yeshivat Gush Etzion's podcast), is giving a series of shiurim on the Akeidah. ">The first installment addresses the nature of morality through the lens of the Akeidah. It is excellent, I listened to it three times yesterday.
R. Bick uses Euthyphro's Dilemma to explicate the nature of morality (are things Good because God says so, or does God simply command that which is Good). If you recall, I've discussed this before in the context of Genesis, AddeRabbi and I had a lengthy discussion about it in our first podcast as well.
R. Bick delineates three positions, the first two based on Euthyphro's Dilemma:
The final position, which R. Bick brings from Maimonides, is based on an analysis of the interaction between God and Avraham in Parshas Vayera. When God informs Avraham of His plans to destroy Sodom, Avraham argues, insisting that it would be unjust for God to kill the righteous alongside the wicked. Therefore, we see that Man can discern that which is Good, using his intellect. At the Akeidah, however, Avraham is forced to accept the decree of God despite his moral compass telling him that it is wrong. The resolution is in understanding God as One, therefore, God does not simply convey that which is Good through his commandments, but He is the Good. I'm not sure I fully understand this position, but it would seem to equate the idea of God not with a Being, but with Morality.
I would like to propose an alternate understanding of the events in Vayera, along the same lines. The question here is not whether Man can make moral estimations; we know that he can, as he ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. When Avraham challenges God's plan, based on his own moral estimations, what begins is a series of encounters that are meant to teach Avraham that, despite his moral estimations, he must subject them to the Will of God. The culmination of this is the Akeidah. Avraham feels it is immoral, but subjugates his will in order to carry out the Divine command. In other words, it is a given that Man has a moral capacity, the ability to reason that which is Good. But he must learn to deny himself that privilege under certain circumstances (and perhaps trust that God would not cause him to committ an immoral act).
It is intersting to note that, despite Avraham's protestations, nothing really changed. God had decided to destroy Sodom, and Avraham begins bargining based on the number of righteous in the city. In the end, Avraham concedes that Sodom should indeed be destroyed, that it was in fact good to do so. The same is true by the Akeidah; nothing, in the end, immoral was actually perpetrated. This is evidence that Man's moral reasoning is, at the very least, on par with God's. The question becomes one of power and authority, not one of capacity.
One final asmachta to the idea that Man indeed has the capacity to reason morality: in the Talmud, when attempting to discern a precept, we fall back on a verse from the Torah, only if we can not logically deduce the precept. We first appeal to svarah, logic, and only afterwards look to the revealed text for an answer.
I think one thing is clear: I should have gone to Gush. Or, perhaps, I should go to Gush now.
Atheism has been in the news quite a bit recently, mostly thanks to Richard Dawkins new book, The God Delusion. Wired magazine has a cover story out this month entitled "The New Atheism." I've been waiting for some kind of response from anybody; I saw Hirhurim linked to an article by R. Jonathan Sacks entitled "Danger ahead - there are good reasons why God created atheists.
Dawkins main position is that if we do away with religion, we will end all the suffering perpetrated in its name. R. Sacks responds that religion is only used as an excuse; Man will find other reasons to cause suffering (I haven't read Dawkins' book, but I did read the Wired artile in which he is interviewed, as well as seen a few interviews he has given).
It is instructive to look closer at how R. Sacks approaches Dawkins' argument. Dawkins views religion in contradistinction to science; it's the old faith vs. reason. Dawkins views religion as irrational, and therefore mutable towards ones own agenda. R. Sacks reframes the argument by positing religion as the antidote to the "will to power," the basic human tendency to seek power, authority, autonomy and control (cf. Genesis). From Dawkins perspective, religious people are simply making decisions based on myths created centuries ago to explain the unexplainable; they put faith in these myths and end up getting carried away and killing people for what are ultimately false reasons; therefore, getting rid of the myths will end the killing. From R. Sacks perspective, religion is not a counterpart to science, but is instead attempting to address the basic categories of human nature and experience, identify where and how they lead to suffering, and put an end to them. Religion is not, like science, a means towards understanding the world around us, but rather a means to understanding the world within us.
When looked at this way, Dawkins arguments for the abolishment of religion in place of atheism make no sense. If religion is a means of understanding the universe, then we have science. But if religion is aimed understanding mankind and human experience, well, science tells us little to nothing about that. Even if our behaviors are defined by evolution, the process of understanding them and seeking to overcome where they fall short is a whole seperate issue. Whatsmore, getting rid of religion will not help end the suffering that stems from our humanity, not our rituals or systems of law.
There's much, much more to be said on this topic, such as the questions for religion that R. Sacks inadvertently raises, further questions for Dawkins about the problems presented by relgion, etc.. But that's all for now. I haven't seen any other sensible responses on this topic.
If I had to sum up Koheles, I'd say his main message is: you are going to die. Nothing can stop that. It doesn't matter how rich or how poor, or how smart or how good you are. You are going to die. It might be tomorrow, it might be in a hundred years from now, but at some point, the game will be over. So why worry about the past, and why fret over the future? Enjoy life, live each day to its fullest, and don't get too hung up over stuff.
This is pretty much the message all the way through. At the very end, however, things seem to change, when in the final lines we are admonished:
The end of the matter, all having been heard: fear God, and keep His commandments; for this is the whole man. 14 For God shall bring every work into the judgment concerning every hidden thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.
I'm tempted to take the critical approach and say that the closing statements were the work of a different author (in terms of the writing style, the closing lines are clearly uttered by the "narrator" rather than by Koheles himself).
I recalled, however, an article by R. David Fohrman that discusses the significance of the story of Cain and Abel (or Hevel, for those of you who speak the vernacular). Behind Cain's murder was an attachment to the earth, or to this world; Hevel, on the other hand, freed himself from earthly attachments and chose instead to herd sheep, an occupation that allowed him to be unfettered to any physical place, but also to attach himself to something non-physical (recall that God is also referred to as The Place/HaMakom). By freeing himself from the earth, from this world, Hevel was able to attach himself more directly with the Divine (or offer up that which was his, submitting himself to Its ultimate authority).
I think herein lies the connection between the apparently contradictory voices in Koheles. It is not simply that we are to eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die; rather it is that we recognize the futility in amassing any type of power, whether it be physical or metaphysical in nature. On a basic level this means living life as it comes, taking the good with the bad and not sweating it (sometimes you eat the bar...). On a deeper level, this is affected by fear of the Divine, but not the kind of fear we traditionally think of. Instead of trembling before God, we demonstrate this fear by reliquishing authority and power, tempering our ambition for earthly pursuits before the Infinite.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that, knowing there's folks like that out there, taking her easy for all us sinners.

A quick anecdote from Hershey Park; we're standing on line for our second run on the Tilt-A-Whirl (we is me, my two older kids, niece and nephew), and the kids are really excited. And by excited, I mean they are swinging and climbing on the railings to the point where I'm concerned that one of them will fall and get hurt. So I say, "Guys, stop climbing on the railings. Can't you just stand still?"
To which my son, Ezra, age 7, replies, in his very matter-of-fact and top-of-his-lungs voice: "Dad, we evolved from monkeys, so we love to climb!"
Now my immiediate concern was not, ironically, ascertaining where he had learned this (I'm assuming he read about it in a book), but if the Chassidishe family standing in line behind us had heard. Then again, I'm sure their opinion of the guy wearing shorts on Chol HaMoed was made up before his kid starting spouting off about evolution.
I've had some thoughts rattling around inside my head about Rosh HaShannah. A few years back, I posted about the the shofar and it's possible connection to the themes of judgement. My ideas this year started in the same place; I've always felt a disconnect between the themes of judgement on Rosh HaShannah and the sources for the day as conveyed in the text of the Torah. This time, I've worked in a bit more the idea of malchus, both in the context of Rosh HaShannah itself as well as in general; this is very related to a few previous posts (especially this one), although looking through the archives just now I realize I have yet to really spell this all out coherently.
Oh well, without further ado, here's the second edition of the Presence podcast. Enjoy, and see you at the park!
If you like, you can also download an MP3 version of The Themes of Rosh HaShannah.
My last post on kaddish got me thinking about how I experience Judaism. Perhaps this is an artifact of my particular Jewish education, but I find that, for me, I spend a lot of time trying to really understand what I know to be Judaism. What I mean is, to me, Judaism is a set of practices that are, more or less, a given. Some of these practices I understand, some I don't, but, for the most part, the black and white rules are pretty clear. What I spend most of my time doing is trying to come to a better understanding of those rules, trying to reconcile questions or contradictions that I have detected and form a clearer picture as to what role these things play in my life. The last post on Kaddish is a perfect example: everybody knows we say Kaddish, when we say it, who says it, etc. But what does it mean? I had thought I had a basic understanding of what I thought it meant, but there were some problems that I had with that understanding. Over time, I came to a more complete understanding that reconciles the previous problems.
Do you find the same thing? Perhaps my approach is particular to my background; I learned a lot of halacha at first, and only later became more interested in the meaning, themes, hashkafa, if you will (although that's a loaded term nowadays) of Judaism. Maybe others have different experience of Jewish experience? Perhaps this things are obvious or intuitive to those with a different background, or the need to find meaning is less prominent (or the meaning is centered more in the act, than in the concepts behind the act)? Is it the same for you, or am I alone on this one?
From the YU Commentator:
In an effort to reverse trends of disconnect between secular and rabbinic faculty, Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS) Rosh Kollel Hershel Schachter and Yeshiva College (YC) Dean David Srolovitz met to discuss issues surrounding YC and its curriculum. The two influential Wilf Campus personalities joined members of The Commentator on Thursday, August 31 in the dean's office for an hour-long conversation.
Lots of interesting tidbits here, such as R. Schachter's comments about treating Yu like a trade school, a possible pre-semicha track offered as a college major and R. Schachter's comments on those who rush through YU:
They are just fooling themselves in to thinking that they are accomplishing something. They are not.
My opinion, for what it is worth, is that YU is in a unique position to offer an integrated curriculum that could, possibly, produce a new kind of orthodox Jew; post-modern orthodox, if you will. I could see this as working in that direction, or, quite possibly, not. The Rav was created by a new combination of circumstances: the talmudic scholar who also went to university. If we're going to find the next Rav (not just those who can teach in the same manner as he taught, but those who can take our current condition, which has changed, and provide for it a context within the Jewish tradition), this is where he would be found.
A while back I meant to compose a post about the paucity of religious Jewish fiction. I did a little research and found very little in the way of serious, introspective literature that dealt with life as a contemporary Orthodox (or even traditional/affiliated) Jew.
Then I found an article by Yoel Finkelman entitled, "Medium and Message in
Contemporary Haredi Adventure Fiction" (via the now-defunct AJHistory, who also links to a bunch of good reads). I was all in a twitter. I read the article two weeks ago, and was very impressed; I would say that this article is about 40% as important as Rupture and Reconstruction. It provides a very cogent analysis and deconstruction of modern haredi culture by focusing on the kind of literature (and, by extension, popular culture) it supports. In addition, the insight into the idiom of Yair Weinstock is fascinating; when first approaching this subject, I dismissed Weinstock's work as insignificant due to it's pop/pulp nature. After reading this article, I think Weinstock's works are central to understanding modern haredi popular culture (and, if you read the article, you're spared having to read any of it).
Anyway, give the article a read, it provides excellent insight into modern haredi culture, as well as affirms and presents what I have been thinking for a while about the Orthodox Jewish world. Triumphilism be damned. Good stuff.
What happens when you cross MySpace with Islam? MuslimSpace.com.
I'm going to try really hard to resist making stereotypical jokes (if it were JewSpace.com, I'd be all over it; in this case, I'm going to try to remain politically correct and avoid incurring the wrath of the world's second largest religion's online contingent).
A majority of MuslimSpacers listed their "mood" as "angry."
Ok, sorry, I couldn't resist just that one; but I really did see two profiles in a row that said they were "angry."
On the home page, there is a survey asking if users would be interested in purchasing Muslim-themed fiction for adults. Besides "yes" and "no" one of the choices is: "Is fiction halaal?" I never realized that halaal and kosher were colloquialized the same way.
At the conclusion of our last discussion of conversion, we saw that Maimonides' approach to the essence of conversion was strikingly different from that of the Talmud's. What I'd like to show in this post is that Maimonides did not actually feel he was restating the gemara's position in anyway; rather, he felt he was clarifying it. This is going to be long, but, I promise, will be worth it. If you don't like reading things online, I would suggest printing out this post and reading it on Shavuos, as it is very, very apropos to the themes of the day.
As you may recall, the purported point of contention between Maimonides and the Talmud seemed to be an issue of praxis vs. doxis; Maimonides refocused the conversion process to concentrate on issues of belief, ikkarei ha'das, rather than practical religious observance. But a quick review of the gemara in Yevamos shows that this is not the case. What is the intention of the gemara in stating that one teach a potential proselyte, "a few stringent commandments, and a few easy commandments?" It cannot be that we are attempting to give the convert a crash course in halacha, in order to provide him with practical knowledge to help his everyday life; what good would an assortment of legal tidbits do him in his new day-to-day life. Rather, it must be that we are attempting to expose him to the concepts behind the commandments (for lack of a better term, the haskafas haTorah). By relating to him a few critical commandments, along with a few non-critical ones, we are showing him the breadth of Torah, and how it relates to ones life in various ways. A further proof to this is the continuation of the gemara: the "sin of leket, shicha and pe'ah" as well as the other tenets mentioned, are all not to explain those commandments in particular, but to illustrate some conceptual idea of Judaism (such as kindness, justice, etc.) that the proselyte may be unfamiliar with before converting.
With this approach, the Rambam can be seen as continuing the ideas laid out in the Talmud, rather than opposing them. Maimonides reformulation is not an attempt to shift the focus of conversion (and, by extension, Judaism) from praxis to doxis; instead, Maimonides is simply expanding upon the formulation dictated in the Talmud with, what was in his mind, the contemporary content of the essense of Judaism. The common claim that the Talmud does not legislate matters of belief is misguided: in Talmudic times, the characterization of halacha was such that the beliefs underlied the practical rulings. As time went on, and Greek thought progressed and spread to the Jewish communities, Chazal were forced to more directly confront issues of belief (hence, the statements in Chapter 10 of Sanhedrin). Maimonides felt that, in his day, these matters of belief were clearly settled and delineated, to the point that the conversion process should be modified to better coincide with it's actual intention, namely to convey the foundations of Judaism to the convert.
All this is well and good, but here's where it gets exciting.
When it comes to the ikkarei ha'das, what does Maimonides quote? One would think that he would detail all of his thirteen "fundamentals of faith." Why, then, are only two fundamentals listed in the Mishneh Torah (Maimonides uses very definite language: "...the fundamentals of our religion, which are the oneness of the Name and prohibition against idol woship," which would preclude us from assuming he meant the others by extension). To fully understand this, we need to take a closer look at how Maimonides details the laws of conversion.
Chapter 13 of the Mishneh Torah's "Laws of Forbidden Relations" begins: "How does a Yisrael enter into the Covenant?" Note, this is NOT talking about conversion. Maimonides begins by detailing how the Jews, after the exodus from Egypt, became part of the bris. The three prerequisites are: circumcision, immersion and the bringing of a sacrifice (based on Krisos 6A). Only after detailing the how the Jewish people originally entered into the covenant does Maimonides then turn to the issue of conversion of proselytes: "And so throughout the generations, when a non-Jew wishes to enter into the covenant, and find solace under the wings of His Presence, and accept upon himself the yoke of the Torah: he requires these circumsion, immersion and a sacrifice."
Where did Maimonides (and the Talmud, for that matter) come up with these three requirements for conversion? The sources detailed in the gemara and in the Mishneh Torah make it clear, along with the connection to all of Yisrael entering the bris: at Har Sinai, at Matan Torah.
But why, then, does Maimonides seperate the process of conversion (Chpater 14) from the prerequisites for conversion (Chapter 13)? Here is where we can finally understand Maimonides unique interpretation of the gemara, and the connection between conversion and Matan Torah. Matan Torah, to Maimonides, was more than a simple giving of the Torah; it was the Jews entering into the covenant with God, accepting the yoke of the Torah, effectively converting. The process Maimonides lays out in Chapter 14 is nothing less than a recreation of Matan Torah. Recall the famous statement of Maimonides that the first two of the Aseres HaDibros were heard by all the people:
The Israelites heard the first and the second commandments from God, i.e., they learnt the truth of the principles contained in these two commandments in the same manner as Moses, and not through Moses. For these two principles, the existence of God and His Unity can be arrived at by means of reasoning, and whatever can be established by proof is known by the prophet in the same way as by any other person; he has no advantage in this respect. These two principles were not known through prophecy alone.”
Maimonides alters the conversion process as detailed by the Talmud to more closely resemble the revelation on Har Sinai! The ikkarei ha'das that are mentioned are the very same (Anochi and Lo Yihyeh) that the Jews heard directly from God at the mountain!
This has profound implications for how we view conversion. It is not, as we commonly perceive it, a process by which one "converts" to another nationality or race or religion. Rather, it is a process by which one joins the covenant by recreating the revelation at Sinai. The prerequisites for conversion are circumcision, immersion and sacrifice; without these, the act of conversion does not take affect. But the common conception that "kabalas hamitzvos," acceptance of the commandments, is a prerequisite for conversion, is, according to Maimonides, a misunderstanding of the fundamental nature of conversion. In Maimonides formulation, acceptance of the commandments, entering into the covenant, that IS the conversion. The process that Maimonides lays out essentially walks one through a recreation of the revelation at Sinai, where God introduced his Law to the Jewish people (the subsequent 8 commandments are viewed as the "miktzas chamuros v'kalos). That is why Maimonides splits up the laws pertaining to the prerequisites for conversion, and the actual process of conversion itself.
[It should be pointed out that the traditional statement that, once converted, if a proselyte returns to his former ways, even right away, he is considered a mumar, but still a Jew, makes sense. Acceptance of the commandments is not a prerequisite of conversion, rather, in Maimonides estimation, it is what you are signing up for! If you then choose to turn your back, that is a seperate issue.]
In summary, we've seen how Maimonides reformulation of the Talmud's process of conversion does not in fact point to a bias towards doxis over praxis; rather, it gives us deeper insight into the connection between conversion, covenant and what it means to become a Jew. Since Maimonides formulation seems to have been accepted by the Shulchan Aruch, this raises interesting questions regarding how we view converison nowadays. And regarding Shavuos, this helps give a better understanding of what we are really commemorating with the holiday. Shavuos is not a holiday that celebrates limud haTorah, but rather a celebration of the covenant between God and Yisrael. We learn not for the sake of learning, but to famliarize ourselves with God's ways, and to understand His love, justice and truth, so that we can recommit ourselves to our responsibilties.