The Yeshiva World recently posted letters from prominent Israeli and American rabbis against the use of "Sabbath Mode" ovens. The letters made reference to an individual opinion that they believed to be erroneous. That opinion, although not explicitly attributed to him, was that of R. Moshe Heinemann of Baltimore's Star-K.
Today, the Star-K sent out an email stating that R. Heinemann stands by his ruling:
June 5, 2008Regarding Star-K certified Sabbath Mode ovens
Rav Heinemann, shlita, stands by his Psak that it is permissible to raise and lower temperatures on Yom Tov on ovens equipped with that particular Sabbath Mode feature. Please see Star-K website at http://www.star-k.org/consumer.htm , or call our office for details about your particular model. Star-K will, in the next few days, post an audio presentation from Rav Heinemann explaining his views.
For those who wish to refrain from placing their ovens in Sabbath Mode and still use their oven on Yom Tov, please be aware of the possible serious "Michshol" on many models. Opening the oven door will immediately shut off the heating elements, an act clearly forbidden on Yom Tov. Thus, even if you don't raise or lower the temperature, it is still important to keep the oven in Sabbath Mode.
Star-K Certification
Below is R. Heinemann's original teshuva on Sabbath Mode ovens, which can also be found on the Star-K's website, along with additional information regarding Sabbath Mode appliances:
Q. Did Hillel really make a sandwich in the times of the Beit ha-Mikdash?A. No. Otherwise a ‘sandwich’ would be called a ‘hillel’ since he predated the famed Earl by over a millennium. Seriously, though, Hillel had it right. He wrapped (‘korech’) his matza around some marror and some korban Pesach. Clearly, his matza was soft and flexible. The Mishna’s marror was lettuce. Thus, he basically took a lafa and put on some lettuce and roast lamb, wrapped it up, and chowed down. We commemorate this by eating horseradish on a cracker and saying “This is what Hillel did”, on the very night that we ostensibly preserve and transmit our collective memory.
From AddeRabbi’s Pesach FAQ.
For those of you who missed part one of R. Gottlieb's Shabbos HaGadol drasha, check out R. Alfred Cohen's article from the RJJ Journal entitled Erev Pesach On Shabbat.
In the fourth season finale of HBO's Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David is about to star as Max Bialystoyk in Mel Brook's Broadway musical, The Producers, with David Schwimmer as Leo Bloom. Before the show, Schwimmer loses his watch, which Larry finds, but then loses (or so he thinks), an argument ensues as to who is responsible for the lost watch. Later, Larry discovers that the watch was acutally stolen from him by one of the hotel workers; he recovers the watch and returns it to Schwimmer, and The Producers is a big hit (much to Mel Brooks' chagrin). See the above clip.
The question is: had the watch not been found, who would have been responsible? Would Larry have to either reimburse or replace the watch? Or is Schwimmer out of luck? Usually, things don't work out to well for Mr. David. Whose side is the law on?
Fortunately for us, this is a famous debate in the Talmud. What is the halacha when someone finds a lost object, but then that object is either lost, stolen or accidentally damaged? The Talmud, in tractate Bava Metzia, 29A (and other places) brings down the famous case of pruta d'Rav Yosef, the penny of Rav Yosef.
When one finds a lost object, one becomes a guardian over that object; ostensibly, one is an unpaid guardian, which would mean that should anything happen to the object while one has guarding it, one would not be liable. Rav Yosef, however, has a famous opinion which changes the game: Rav Yosef holds that when one guarding a lost object, since they are at times taking care that the lost object is maintained (making sure it remains functional, clean, etc.), they are considered "involved in a mitzvah", and, should they happen to be approached by a poor person asking for money while caring for the lost object, they could claim that they are exempt from the mitzvah of tzedakah, as they are involved in the mitzvah of hashovas aveidah, returning a lost object. The monetary savings, albeit insignificant and probably theoretical, do have some actual value to the guardian. When applied in this case, it turns out that, according to Rav Yosef, Larry is benefiting, however minutely, from watching over David's watch. Therefore, he is considered a shomer sachar, a paid guardian, and would be obligated to reimburse David should the watch be lost or stolen (but not if it was accidentally damaged). For those that do not hold like Rav Yosef (Rabah, in this case), Larry would simply be a shomer hinam, an unpaid guardian, in which case he would not have any responsibilities vis-a-vis the watch, and would not be obligated to pay back Mr. Schwimmer.
The Rambam, in Hilchos Gezeilah V'Avedah (13:10), holds like R. Yosef (which would mean that Larry would be on the hook for the watch); other rishonim, such as the Ri and the Rosh, hold like Rabah, that Larry was a shomer hinam and free of responsibility. The Rambam's opinion, however, is favored, and the Shulchan Aruch, in Choshen Mishpat 267:16 agrees, paskening that one who is guarding a lost object is considered like shomer sachar. As usual, things aren't looking good for Larry.
But wait! The Ramah adds that, "just as in a case of collateral, we have the same ruling here." This cryptic statement can be understood with the help of the Meiras Einaim, who explains that in a case one takes collateral on a loan, but the collateral is worth more than the value of the loan, we are uncertain if the lender is responsible for the value above the total amount of the loan in the same way as he is for the principal value. For the principal value, the lender is certainly considered a shomer schar, and would be responsible for that portion of the collateral. But the value of the collateral beyond the total amount of the loan? We aren't sure, and so we are lenient and treat him as an unpaid guardian. So to, in the case of the guardian of a lost object, we say that we are unsure, and therefore Larry would be, quite uncharacteristically, off the hook.
Happy Purim!
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.
Adderabbi posts about the Rashbam's interpretation of the beginning of parshas Vayera. My son and I were learning this a few weeks back, as he is learning Vayera in school, and picked up on the ambiguity of the psukim, and came up with this explanation on his own (despite the fact that he had been taught the medrash's explanation as pshat in school). As Adderabbi points out, the beginning of the parsha could really go either way, and is probably more in line with the Rashbam's explanation. The ending (Gen. 18:22), however, fits better with the midrashic explanation: "And the men turned from thence, and went toward Sodom; but Abraham stood yet before the LORD." I do see how this fits even according to Rashbam; the fact that God says "I will go down" and then the two "men" go would seem to indicate that the two men are representative of "God" in this case. But, if you had to read it straight, the beginning of the perek works best according to the Rashbam, while the end works best according to the midrashic explanation.
I find this often to be the case where a midrashic explanation deviates from the pshat; that there is compelling evidence on both sides of the equation. As a rule, we seem to favor the midrashic explanation over pshat, mostly, I think, because of Rashi's prominence and because it allows more doctrinal flexibility.
A commentor over on Adderabbi's blog brings up the concept of header verses; verses that act as a description, or header, of what is to come. There are many examples of these in pshat, that are glossed over via midrash. A good example is Genesis 1:1; according to the pshat, this is a header describing what takes place over the next few days. We have come to interpret it differently due to a combination of reasons, some midrashic, some epistemological.
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.
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.
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.
I meant to link to this before Shavuos; better late than never. Last year I wrote an essay entitled: Conversion, Covenant and Commandments: Maimonides on Joining Yisrael. The basic idea is that the acceptance the commandments, according to Maimonides, is not a pre-requisite to conversion, but instead acts as the terms of the deal, so to speak. At last week's Kollel Yom Rishon, I had a chance to speak with R. Zvi Sobolofsky after his shiur on assorted topics in conversion, and he told me that he believes that R. Soloveitchik understood the Rambam that way as well, but the majority of rishonim felt differently.
I'm sure I'm missing something with Rashi's explanation of the connection between Shmittah and Har Sinai; to me it sounds like polemics. Ramban's explanation is more along the lines of what I was thinking. After the Golden Calf, Moshe had to convince God to continue his association with B'nei Yisrael. He was successful, but it didn't change the fact that, at this point, He would be "dwelling amongst them in the midst of their impurity." In order for this to happen, for God to rest his Presence among the flawed and imperfect community of Man, a system of separation had to be established between the Divine and the profane; this is Vayikra, which introduces the concept of repentance which enables Man to reestablish contact with the Divine, as well as the laws of holiness which delineate the separations, both constant and occasional, required to approach and coexist with the Divine. When this ground work is laid, when the system of barriers is formalized, we can then resume the narrative where we left off at Sinai, with the entrance into the land and related laws.
Kollel Yom Rishon presents two outstanding local opportunities to hear from renowned Roshei Yeshiva at Yeshivat Rambam on May 13, 20.Rav Michael Rosensweig (5/13)
Yerushalayim: The Center of the Jewish People
Rav Zvi Sobolofsky (5/20)
Who is a Jew? Contemporary Halachic Perspectives on Conversion
Schedule
Shacharis: 9:00
Breakfast and Preparation of Mareh Mekomos: 9:45
Shiur: 10:30
In Book 3, Chapter 32 of the Moreh Nevuchim (Friedlander translation available from Wikisource, which will have to suffice until the copyright on Pines' version expires), Maimonides writes:
The Israelites were commanded to devote themselves to His service; comp." and to serve him with all your heart" (ibid. xi. 13):" and you shall serve the Lord your God" (Exod. xxiii. 25);" and ye shall serve him" (Dent. xiii. 5). But the custom which was in those days general among all men, and the general mode of worship in which the Israelites were brought up, consisted in sacrificing animals in those temples which contained certain images, to bow down to those images, and to burn incense before them; religious and ascetic persons were in those days the persons that were devoted to the service in the temples erected to the stars, as has been explained by us. It was in accordance with the wisdom and plan of God, as displayed in the whole Creation, that He did not command us to give up and to discontinue all these manners of service; for to obey such a commandment it would have been contrary to the nature of man, who generally cleaves to that to which he is used; it would in those days have made the same impression as a prophet would make at present if he called us to the service of God and told us in His name, that we should not pray to Him, not fast, not seek His help in time of trouble; that we should serve Him in thought, and not by any action.For this reason God allowed these kinds of service to continue; He transferred to His service that which had formerly served as a worship of created beings, and of things imaginary and unreal, and commanded us to serve Him in the same manner; viz., to build unto Him a temple; comp." And they shall make unto me a sanctuary" (Exod. xxv. 8): to have the altar erected to His name; comp." An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me" (ibid. XX. 2 1): to offer the sacrifices to Him; comp." If any man of you bring an offering unto the Lord" (Lev. i. 2), to bow down to Him. and to burn incense before Him. He has forbidden to do any of these things to any other being; comp." He who sacrificeth unto any God, save the Lord only, he shall be utterly destroyed * (Exod. xxii. 19):" For thou shalt bow down to no other God" (ibid. xxxiv. 14). He selected priests for the service in the temple; comp." And they shall minister unto me in the priest's office" (ibid. xxviii. 41). He made it obligatory that certain gifts, called the gifts of the Levites and the priests, should be assigned to them for their maintenance while they are engaged in the service of the temple and its sacrifices.
By this Divine plan it was effected that the traces of idolatry were blotted out, and the truly great principle of our faith, the Existence and Unity of God, was firmly established; this result was thus obtained without deterring or confusing the minds of the people by the abolition of the service to which they were accustomed and which alone was familiar to them.
This famous passage is used by some as a proof that Maimonides would not require sacrifices in the third Temple. There's a few problems with this, however. First is that in Laws of Kings, Rambam states that in the Messianic era, there will be a third Temple, and that sacrifices will be offered there. While bringing a proof from the Yad to contradict the Moreh is not necessarily a valid approach, since Maimonides makes a disclaimer that he will intentionally make explicit contradictions with things he has written in his earlier works, and only those with the proper understanding will be able to discern his true opinion, nevertheless, one of Maimonides foundational tenets is that the Law of Moses will not change. As such, it would seem that, although Maimonides feels that the ideal form of worship would not be through sacrifices, since the Law of Moses was implemented in such a fashion, we are tied to that implementation.
Another issue: the logical deduction made from the above passage is that since sacrifices are not the ideal form of worship, then in a future Temple, being that we have now progressed and are accustomed to a more appropriate form of worship, the older, less-than-ideal forms would be put aside. There's just one problem with this logic: the Temple itself is listed as one of those less-than-ideal modes of worship. The question, then, is not whether or not Maimonides would require sacrifices in the third Temple, but whether or not Maimonides felt a third Temple itself would even be historical reality. Granted, in Maimonides depiction of the the Messianic era in the Yad, he leaves open the possibility of there not being a Temple, there's no getting around the fact that from a logical perspective, asking whether or not sacrifices would be extant is a invalid argument.
A final note: if you've heard rumor of the secret opinion of the Guide, of how Maimonides hid his true opinion in statements that seem to coincide with the accepted, common opinion, while in actuality he is covertly communicating an idea that is very much different from, and often at odds with, the norm, the above quoted passage provides a good example of such a "secret" opinion. Read it carefully, and you will learn Maimonides true opinion.
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.
In the book The Minority Report (The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick, Vol. 4), by science fiction legend Philip K. Dick (and the subsequent film starring Tom Cruise
), future criminals are arrested before they commit a crime. In Dick's future world, new precognition technology allows law enforcement to see into the future and stop a bad guy before he commits a heinous act. The bad guys are locked up without every having committed a crime. I won't spoil the book for you, it's an excellent read, but it does bring up an interesting question: is it just to hold someone morally responsible for a crime he has yet to commit?
The instinctive response is that this is unjust. How can one be convicted of a crime without having done anything? However, in fact, we do already punish some individuals for only thinking or planning on committing a crime; conspiracy to commit murder and reckless driving are some examples where we punish even though nothing happened. In these cases, the behavior exhibited shows that the offender would have committed a greater offense, and so punishment is justified even though nothing was actually done (part of this depends on how you view the function of punishment, but that's a post for another day).
Beyond this, however, a deeper question arises: wouldn't it be possible that, although this person planned on committing a crime, that they would, at the last minute, for some inexplicable reason, decide not to? How can we punish, or hold responsible, someone who might, at the last minute, change their mind?
Of course, this gets into a broader discussion of man's free will, or perhaps his perception of his free will, which is a topic for another time. The question I would like to address here is: what is the Torah's perspective?
I was a bit surprised to find that the Torah, in fact, addresses this topic directly. In Devarim 21:18-21, the Torah states:
18 If a man have a stubborn and rebellious son, that will not hearken to the voice of his father, or the voice of his mother, and though they chasten him, will not hearken unto them; 19 then shall his father and his mother lay hold on him, and bring him out unto the elders of his city, and unto the gate of his place; 20 and they shall say unto the elders of his city: 'This our son is stubborn and rebellious, he doth not hearken to our voice; he is a glutton, and a drunkard.' 21 And all the men of his city shall stone him with stones, that he die; so shalt thou put away the evil from the midst of thee; and all Israel shall hear, and fear.
The famous case of the Ben Sorer, the Rebellious Child. The Mishnah goes to great lengths to show that a case of Ben Sorer is extremely unlikely to ever occur; the parameters for qualification are so specific that the Talmud goes so far as to propose that the whole parsha is simply a thought experiment. But what is the thought?
The Mishneh in the eight chapter of Sanhedrin makes this clear:
בן סורר ומורה, יידון על שם סופו--ימות זכאי, ואל ימות חייב: שמיתתן של רשעים--הניה להם, והניה לעולם; ולצדיקים--רע להם, ורע לעולם.
The Rebellious Child is judged by his future deeds; better for him to die in merit, than to die after committing a crime. For death, for evildoers is a benefit to them, and to the world, while death for a righteous individual is bad for them, and bad for the world.
We see that the purpose of the passage of the Ben Sorer is to teach that, in certain circumstances, we are so certain of the future path of a particular individual, we take preemptive action to prevent it from occurring. If we have enough information as to his background, which will inevitable inform his future actions, the Torah tells us that we can, with certainty, take preemptive measures. In the case of the Rebellious Child, those circumstances are so many and specific to the point that they will never happen, but that's not the point; for some people, the Torah feels, their past completely determines their future actions, with no hope of their exercising free will to change it. In this case, it's better to act preemptively than to let the evil transpire.
As further proof that preemptive justice is the point of the parsha of Ben Sorer, take a look at the last two mishnayos in the eighth chapter of Sanhedrin. The penultimate mishnah uses the same language that was previously used to describe the Ben Sorer: "A tunneling burglar is judged by his future deeds." In this case, as the burglar has gone to so much trouble to break into a house, if confronted by the owner, he won't hesitate to commit murder. One is, therefore, allowed to kill a tunneling burglar without fear of reprisal [this case is interesting in that the burglar is destined to commit murder only if he is confronted; so there is a potential that he will not do anything - yet preemptive justice is still sanctioned]. And the final mishnah lists those the cases where one is allowed to kill another person to prevent them from harming another, the classic example of which is the rodef, one who is chasing another person with intent to kill. Again, the example shows the sanction, in this case, of preemptive action to prevent a crime from being committed.
As strange as it may sound, we see that preemptive justice is sanctioned in specific cases by the Torah. When an individual's past, a combination of his biology and experiences, unfold in specific ways, their future actions are certain, beyond the realm of choice. In these cases, the Torah instructs that it is better to prevent the certain future event from taking place, than to allow events to unfold on their own.
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.
I'm still looking for support for my Moshe-as-Bovine-Calf-Replacement theory from Parshas Ki Tissa. If anyone, ANYONE, has anything to lend support to this theory I would be much obliged. I know we've got a bad taste in our mouths due to the whole "Jews have horns" thing, but I'm hoping we can look past that and appreciate the narrative symmetry at work here.
And don't forget the Hebrew word for ladybug is parat Moshe Rabbeinu. A while back I wrote a post about a few theories on how this name came to be adopted (the original article from the Forward has moved).
R. Gottlieb (and, from what I've heard, other rabbonim as well) came down hard on drinking on Purim. Apparently alcohol abuse is on the rise in the community, and many kids who get tangled up in drugs get the first taste on Purim. I've heard many were upset with what the rabbis were saying (our minyan was all abuzz well after the rabbi's speech), which I think is a good thing. If a rabbi never upsets anyone, he's probably not doing his job.
I had what I thought to be a symbolic explanation for drinking on Purim, but it was based on the existence of a statement I can not find. I had thought that somewhere there was a statement that the extent to which one must become inebriated was formulated in terms of, "until unable to to tell the difference between good and bad." Stranger yet, I specifically remember this being in Aramaic (bein tav l'bish). But I am unable to find this formulation anywhere. I am aware of the formulation in the Talmud Megillah 7b. If anyone knows the source of my perceived formulation, please let me know, I would be much obliged.
Baltimore Hebrew University is holding a screening of Lonely Man of Faith: The Life and Legacy of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik this Sunday, February 25th at The Charles Theatre. Although both the film's site and The Charles' website don't specify a time, I've heard it's showing around 2:00PM. Matinees at The Charles are usually $6.
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).
JewishSurveys.org, run by some Ph.D. types, is conducting an anonymous survey on adherence to the laws of family purity. I'm very interested to see the results of the survey, and any conclusions that may or may not be drawn from the information.
While reading the chapter of Understanding Genesis about Noach and The Flood, an understanding of the sign of the rainbow occurred to me that, at first blush, seemed obvious. A rainbow appears when sunlight is reflected through falling rain; this usually occurs towards the end of a rainstorm, or during a light rainfall. It would seem then, that the rainbow was a sign from God to mankind that He remembered His promise to never again inundate the earth with water. The rainbow acts as a sign to man of God's adherence to His promise.
While reviewing Noach with my son, I realized this interpretation doesn't hold water. A cursory reading of the verses shows that the the keshet acts as a sign to God, not as a sign to Man.
13 I have set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth. 14 And it shall come to pass, when I bring clouds over the earth, and the bow is seen in the cloud, 15 that I will remember My covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh. 16 And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.'Going back to Understanding Genesis
Just stumbled across a site called BCBM.org (Bergen County Beis Medrash) that has links to mp3s of many of R. Soloveitchik's shiurim (apprently ones from the Nordlict collection). The quality on the few shiurim I sampled was less than ideal, but that's to be expected.
The links for other YU rabbeim are the same as what is found on YUTorah.org.
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.
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).
Sorry this is a little late; Shomrei has a Scholar in Residence this week.
Rabbi Moshe Taragin - Yeshivat Har Etzion December 8-9, 2006
Schedule
For more details, see the Shomrei website.
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.
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.
David Guttman posts about Maimonides on Objective Morality. He paraphrases from Marvin Fox:
The Sechel, rational part deals with true and false. It analyzes data and extrapolates from it in a methodical rational way arriving at conclusions that are either true or false. It is a purely scientific method for which man utilizes his Tzelem Elohim. Another part of a human being is his ability to discern right from wrong. That is a subjective method where cultural and personal preferences are the arbiters.
I suppose I hadn't considered this ramification of Maimonides understanding of Genesis, but I think it's correct; according to Maimonides, the nature of morality is subjective.
Whereas Maimonides (as R. Guttman explains) concludes that Man should therefore focus on the rational (true or false) rather than the good and bad, I would argue that it is precisely because of its subjective nature that we abrogate authority to the Divine in the area of morality.
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.

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.
It would seem there would be a question as to the propriety of blogging on the intermiediate days of the festivals (less problematic would be podcasting, by the way). As the olam seems to be adopting a leinient approach, I'll follow suit. Fortunately for me, my wifi reaches into the Sukkah.
No, not Elvis. One Night With the King is a cinematic retelling of the Book of Esther. Check out the two trailers, the first with requisite Hollywood voice over and dramatic music, the second with...Enya? Yeah...somehow I don't think this is going to be quite the cultural juggarnaut that Passion of the Christ was.
As for the cast: John Rhys-Davies is pretty awesome in whatever, but I can't imagine he was sitting at home in his library, smoking a pipe in his high-back leather chair, reading the classics, thinking, "Oh, how I've longed to play Mordecai! I could play him with such gravitas!" As for everyone else, well, you've got to feed the monkey.
I think they could have done a lot better with the title. Also, inquiring minds want to know: will Vashti have a tail?
The cast list is interesting: Peter O'Toole is playing Samuel (The Prophet, not The Sperling), some other guy is playing Jesse, which suggests that the narrative will go beyond the content of the Book of Esther itself, in an attempt to frame the story in a greater historical context. I wonder, as the folks behind this film are most certainly not Members of the Tribe (the homepage includes the logo of the American Bible Society, whose mottoe is "Sharing God's Word with the World") if they've taken some creative liberties and included some Chrisitan/Messianistic overtones.
One last note: the cast lists Xerces as the king, no mention of any Achashverosh. Just an interesting note, for those who are in the know; I don't want to get into the whole thing right now, as I haven't had my coffee yet (actually, I don't drink coffee). [Thanks Sara K. for the tip!]
If you could, sign up for some mishnayos for a siyum in memory of my grandfather. I've created a signup page using LZecherNishmas.com. Thanks.