1. INTRODUCTION
A recurring feature of recent Israeli governments is the presence of many small parties in the coalition. No single party ever has enough Knesset seats to form a government on its own. The largest party must always recruit an array of smaller parties, trying to balance their divergent agendas and distribute authority in a way that pleases all of them. Much of the prime minister's effort is spent trying to preserve the coalition rather than actually running the country. Inevitably, after a couple years this effort fails and the country is forced to premature elections. With all the effort spent on struggles for power, not enough time is left to fully confront serious problems which the country faces.
These difficulties have been the subject of much discussion, and occasional legislation, in recent years. Three basic proposals have been suggested to deal with the problem. In this post I plan to explain how each of those proposals would actually cause more harm than good. Then I will suggest a new approach, which would likely possess the advantages of the other proposals but not their disadvantages.
2. EXISTING PROPOSALS
The first proposal is to create a two-party system where one party, or one prime minister/president, runs the government at a single time. Unfortunately, Israeli society is too fragmented to be effectively represented by two parties. In particular, Arabs and charedim would end up having to vote for parties which, respectively, launch wars in Gaza and try to institute civil marriage. Neither group would have a meaningful vote, since neither of the two parties could be broad enough to accomodate their views. We like to talk about how Arabs have more democratic rights in Israel than in any Arab country. But if they can only vote for candidates they do not agree with, in practice they would be disenfranchised. The 1990s violence of the US extreme right wing (Timothy McVeigh, Ruby Ridge) shows what happens when people feel that nobody represents them. In Israel, dealing with Muslims rather than Christians, the response would likely be much more extreme.
The second proposal is to raise the threshold for admittance to the Knesset, so that only large parties received seats and coalition negotiations would be simplified. Depending on the level to which it was raised, this would be either completely ineffective, or else catastrophic for democracy. If the level was low, the small parties would simply unite with each other to avoid missing the threshold (as two charedi parties did the last time it was raised). If the level was high, then even the united parties would fall below the threshold. Groups such as Arabs, charedim, and the national-religious would be mathematically prevented from electing a party of their own to the Knesset. Thus the second proposal would lead to outcomes just as dangerous as the first proposal.
The third proposal is to divide Israel into districts and elect one Knesset member from each district. Thus, it is hoped, parties which receive a few percent of the vote would be eliminated. However, practically speaking, such a system would eliminate meaningful voting for much of the country. In every election Jerusalem would vote for the right wing, Tel Aviv for the left wing, Bnei Brak for a haredi party, Um El Fahm for an Arab party, and so on. Only a handful of districts would ever be competitive. It would be like the electoral college system in the US, where nobody's vote counts except in a few swing states.
In Israel, the social consequences of such a system could be even more serious than the moral consequences. In the US, social trends span the whole country, so most people identify with the election results even if they didn't contribute to them. But Israeli society is more fragmented and each locality more homogenous. Predictable local elections would lead to indifference and alienation among those who feel little connection to voters in other districts. Which brings me to another crucial objection: gerrymandering is inevitable when the geographic boundaries between population groups are so clear.
Besides eliminating single-interest parties, the other predicted advantage of district elections is that politicians will be held responsible for the particular needs of their constituents. Such accountability is certainly an advantage (though with Knesset districts, it would come with the disadvantage of pork-barrel spending). But in fact such accountability already exists. Each city already has mayoral and city council elections which often are bitterly contested over local issues. All that is needed is to delegate a few more local issues from Knesset to municipal control, and the benefits of the district system can be achieved without its disadvantages.
3. A NEW PROPOSAL
If each of these three proposals would have side-effects that are likely worse than the current difficulties, then what alternatives are available? I think the following approach can likely solve the problem of unstable governments, while avoiding the side effects of the other proposals.
Imagine that 110 Knesset seats were elected using the current proportional method, and the remaining 10 were given to whichever party received the most votes overall. The fringe parties would receive almost exactly the same representation they have now. But nearly all Zionist democratic votes would go to two or three parties with a shot at winning overall. Those parties would be larger since they would include current small parties, and with the 10 extra seats, the winner would have no trouble forming a stable government.
Of course, the choice of exactly 10 bonus seats is debatable - I guessed at it, and a different number might be preferable. If the number is too small, the benefits of the change will be minimal. If the number is too big, then one party could gain overwhelming control of the Knesset and do all sorts of things which the country as a whole does not support. The number might need to be tweaked after an election or two, when it is clear how exactly voters and politicians react to the changes. Unlike in the systems discussed above, in this system the amount of change to be instituted is easily adjusted.
The fundamental question we face is how to strengthen the "top" of the system - the party forming the government - without undermining the "bottom" of the system - the current existence of equitable representation for the whole spectrum of political opinion. My proposal is to give a focused gift to the "top" while keeping the "bottom" unchanged as much as possible. Unlike other government reform proposals commonly suggested these days, this proposal should preserve the advantages of the current system, while hopefully eliminating the inefficiencies which have generated so much debate.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thoughts on Mishpatim
Recently I have almost stopped writing posts on parshat hashavua. This is largely a result of my decision (which I don't regret) to learn the Ramban's commentary on the parsha each week this year. This has impacted my posting in three ways:
1) It takes a really long time and I have no time left to just think about things in the parsha.
2) The mikraot gedolot I use has maybe two lines of Torah per page - the rest is commentaries - so it's hard to compare verses or see the overall progression of a passage.
3) I find that many of my ideas were already said by the Ramban, and in some cases, he says things that prove my ideas wrong. I don't plan on deleting my posts from past years that are superseded by the Ramban, but there is no reason to write new posts like that.
With that introduction, I bring you two thoughts on Mishpatim, each of which is mostly based on the Ramban's comments.
Now these are the laws which you shall set before them: If you buy a Hebrew slave..." (21:1)
Are the many, diverse laws in this parsha in any sort of order? One possible order would be to start with the most important and serious laws, then continue with successively less important laws until the least important law is reached. Excluding the initial laws of slavery, the parsha does seem to follow exactly that pattern: murder first, then several other crimes that incur the death penalty, then injuries to a person, then injuries to property. (This pattern exists all the way through verse 22:14 or maybe 22:16 - after that, we have a new section of "religious" rather than "interpersonal" laws which must be examined separately.)
Why then do the laws of slavery precede this highly ordered section of "interpersonal" laws? Two years ago I gave one possible explanation. Now I want to take a different, complementary approach.
In Vayikra 25:42 God once again prohibits lifetime slavery, saying: "For [the Jews] are My slaves, whom I took out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold as [perpetual] slaves."
The implication is that slavery to God and to a person are mutually exclusive. One slave cannot have two masters. A person must choose where to place his loyalty: with God, or with a human being. Thus slavery for Jews cannot have the full implications of normal slavery: it must be limited in time and intensity, so that the slave continues to see himself as truly serving God. Thus, in parshat Mishpatim we find limits on the time and conditions for Jewish slaves.
(Note that this is completely distinct from humanitarian concerns one might have about slavery - which are the main purpose of certain other slavery laws, but are certainly not the only purpose here.
Why must these conditions be at the very beginning of the parsha? As just mentioned, a main purpose of these conditions is to ensure that one remains perpetually loyal to God rather than to a person. The entire parsha consists of commands which are binding because they come from God. Without the laws limiting slavery, one would not have the degree of permanent loyalty to God needed in order to accept the Torah as God's word.
Behold, I send an angel before you, to guard you on the way, and to bring you to the place which I have prepared. ... For My angel will go before you, and bring you to the Amorite, and the Hittite, and the Perizzite, and the Canaanite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite; and I will cut them off. (23:20-23)
According to God, this angel is supposed to guide the journey to Canaan and the conquest thereof. However, such an angel is never again mentioned in the Torah. In parshat Mishpatim it seems pretty significant, so why does it just disappear later on?
To answer this question, some note that "angel" also means "messenger" and say that the verse is speaking of Moshe, God's messenger to guide the people. There is some degree of difficulty in this explanation: 1) Moshe became leader long beforehand so why should God introduce him now, and 2) Yehoshua rather than Moshe actually guided the final entry into the land and the conquest.
Ramban has a much more elegant explanation. He says that the angel is indeed an real angel. Here, God promised that it would accompany the people. But later on in Shemot 33:16-17, Moshe successfully prayed that God Himself, rather than the angelic representative, would accompany the people. Apparently this request was granted for the duration of Moshe's lifetime. Thus throughout the 40-year journey, the angel did not appear.
But after Moshe's death the angel does appear. In Yehoshua 5:13-15, just as Yehoshua is preparing for the first conquest of Jericho, an angel introduces himself to Yehoshua as "Hashem's minister of war", and then departs. It is perplexing why the angel "says hello" and then leaves without doing or saying anything of consequence. But according to the Ramban, this is the same angel God initially promised to guide the entry to Canaan. Once God personally has distanced Himself from the people (in verse 5:12 the manna stopped falling), Yehoshua must be reminded that the angel from parshat Mishpatim is taking over, right where God left off.
1) It takes a really long time and I have no time left to just think about things in the parsha.
2) The mikraot gedolot I use has maybe two lines of Torah per page - the rest is commentaries - so it's hard to compare verses or see the overall progression of a passage.
3) I find that many of my ideas were already said by the Ramban, and in some cases, he says things that prove my ideas wrong. I don't plan on deleting my posts from past years that are superseded by the Ramban, but there is no reason to write new posts like that.
With that introduction, I bring you two thoughts on Mishpatim, each of which is mostly based on the Ramban's comments.
Now these are the laws which you shall set before them: If you buy a Hebrew slave..." (21:1)
Are the many, diverse laws in this parsha in any sort of order? One possible order would be to start with the most important and serious laws, then continue with successively less important laws until the least important law is reached. Excluding the initial laws of slavery, the parsha does seem to follow exactly that pattern: murder first, then several other crimes that incur the death penalty, then injuries to a person, then injuries to property. (This pattern exists all the way through verse 22:14 or maybe 22:16 - after that, we have a new section of "religious" rather than "interpersonal" laws which must be examined separately.)
Why then do the laws of slavery precede this highly ordered section of "interpersonal" laws? Two years ago I gave one possible explanation. Now I want to take a different, complementary approach.
In Vayikra 25:42 God once again prohibits lifetime slavery, saying: "For [the Jews] are My slaves, whom I took out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold as [perpetual] slaves."
The implication is that slavery to God and to a person are mutually exclusive. One slave cannot have two masters. A person must choose where to place his loyalty: with God, or with a human being. Thus slavery for Jews cannot have the full implications of normal slavery: it must be limited in time and intensity, so that the slave continues to see himself as truly serving God. Thus, in parshat Mishpatim we find limits on the time and conditions for Jewish slaves.
(Note that this is completely distinct from humanitarian concerns one might have about slavery - which are the main purpose of certain other slavery laws, but are certainly not the only purpose here.
Why must these conditions be at the very beginning of the parsha? As just mentioned, a main purpose of these conditions is to ensure that one remains perpetually loyal to God rather than to a person. The entire parsha consists of commands which are binding because they come from God. Without the laws limiting slavery, one would not have the degree of permanent loyalty to God needed in order to accept the Torah as God's word.
Behold, I send an angel before you, to guard you on the way, and to bring you to the place which I have prepared. ... For My angel will go before you, and bring you to the Amorite, and the Hittite, and the Perizzite, and the Canaanite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite; and I will cut them off. (23:20-23)
According to God, this angel is supposed to guide the journey to Canaan and the conquest thereof. However, such an angel is never again mentioned in the Torah. In parshat Mishpatim it seems pretty significant, so why does it just disappear later on?
To answer this question, some note that "angel" also means "messenger" and say that the verse is speaking of Moshe, God's messenger to guide the people. There is some degree of difficulty in this explanation: 1) Moshe became leader long beforehand so why should God introduce him now, and 2) Yehoshua rather than Moshe actually guided the final entry into the land and the conquest.
Ramban has a much more elegant explanation. He says that the angel is indeed an real angel. Here, God promised that it would accompany the people. But later on in Shemot 33:16-17, Moshe successfully prayed that God Himself, rather than the angelic representative, would accompany the people. Apparently this request was granted for the duration of Moshe's lifetime. Thus throughout the 40-year journey, the angel did not appear.
But after Moshe's death the angel does appear. In Yehoshua 5:13-15, just as Yehoshua is preparing for the first conquest of Jericho, an angel introduces himself to Yehoshua as "Hashem's minister of war", and then departs. It is perplexing why the angel "says hello" and then leaves without doing or saying anything of consequence. But according to the Ramban, this is the same angel God initially promised to guide the entry to Canaan. Once God personally has distanced Himself from the people (in verse 5:12 the manna stopped falling), Yehoshua must be reminded that the angel from parshat Mishpatim is taking over, right where God left off.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Dracula
One thing that struck me about Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (and the only redeeming factor in the book, which otherwise was 400 pages of steaming, formless literary excrement), was the following fact: In the book, the male vampires only drink women's blood, and the female vampires only drink men's blood.
The fact that blood drinking only happened at night, and the weird emotional atmosphere that always surrounded it, are further indications of the same basic theme.
Evidently the whole vampire idea was just a representation of repressed Victorian sexuality.
The fact that blood drinking only happened at night, and the weird emotional atmosphere that always surrounded it, are further indications of the same basic theme.
Evidently the whole vampire idea was just a representation of repressed Victorian sexuality.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Memshelet hayom vememshelet halaya
אל חי וקיים תמיד, ימלוך עלינו לעולם ועד. ברוך אתה ה, המעריב ערבים
God who lives and exists always, He will rule over us forever. Blessed are You Hashem, who makes evenings come.
(end of the first bracha of maariv)
Once you finish ruminating over the unusual comma placement in the above quote, there is a question you should ask yourself about the words. The entire blessing talks about day and night, except for this one line which talks about God's kingship. What is the connection between day/night and kingship, and thus, what is this line's relation to the rest of the blessing?
I think the answer is as follows: One primary consequence of God's kingship is control over all the diverse natural phenomena. The sun "rules" over the day and the moon over the night. Saying that God created both sun and moon implies that God rules over sun and moon, and by implication, over all of creation.
(Inspired by R' Yaakov Medan, "Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 42)
God who lives and exists always, He will rule over us forever. Blessed are You Hashem, who makes evenings come.
(end of the first bracha of maariv)
Once you finish ruminating over the unusual comma placement in the above quote, there is a question you should ask yourself about the words. The entire blessing talks about day and night, except for this one line which talks about God's kingship. What is the connection between day/night and kingship, and thus, what is this line's relation to the rest of the blessing?
I think the answer is as follows: One primary consequence of God's kingship is control over all the diverse natural phenomena. The sun "rules" over the day and the moon over the night. Saying that God created both sun and moon implies that God rules over sun and moon, and by implication, over all of creation.
(Inspired by R' Yaakov Medan, "Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 42)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The wheels on the bus go...
It is well known that in videos of moving cars, the wheels often appear to be rotating unnaturally slowly or even in reverse. This is explained well here, and I thought of it today, while studying signal processing.
Several years ago, I was surprised to see the same phenonemon in real life, not in a video. I was in a bus on a highway at night, and looking out the window, the wheels of the car next to me appeared to be barely rotating at all. How could this possibly happen? Was this the Matrix and was I being shown a video of a car next to me, not the car itself?
Eventually I thought of a good explanation. Since it was nighttime, the only lighting was provided by overhead streetlights. Being fed by AC power, they apparently flickered on and off 100 times per second (twice 50 Hz, the Israeli power frequency). I saw cars only when the light flickered on, and while it was off, each wheel traveled a whole revolution but I was unable to see it.
It was nice to have that explained, but some time later, an even weirder thing happened. I was in Istanbul (enjoying a flight layover on an Israel-NY trip), and was on a train traveling parallel to a freeway. Looking at the cars on the freeway, I saw their wheels turning backwards. My flickering-light theory was inapplicable, because the time was 11am!
But it wasn't long before I found an explanation for this too. Between the cars and train was a fence, made up of vertical bars with gaps between them. I didn't see it at first because we were moving fast enough that it became a blur. But apparently, this fence blocked one part of a car's wheel at any given time, and a moment later blocked another part. For each part of the wheel, there was a time gap in which I could not see its rotation. Thus, the same effect described above took place and the wheels appeared to be rotating backwards.
Some of the complications and weird features of this explanation:
1) Even though I couldn't see the fence itself due to the blurring, I could see its effects on the wheels.
2) Only part of the wheel was obscured at any one time, yet the same effect seemed applied consistently to the whole wheel.
3) As the wheel rotated, different parts of it moved to different places, some of which did not have the same fence-obscurance pattern as the original place - yet the effect of the fence remained unchanged. This rotational movement must be a "second-order effect" which is negligible when you analyze the equations. Though it's not obvious why it should be negligible, since rotation as a whole is a central part of the effect.
What can I say... the world is an interesting and confusing place.
Several years ago, I was surprised to see the same phenonemon in real life, not in a video. I was in a bus on a highway at night, and looking out the window, the wheels of the car next to me appeared to be barely rotating at all. How could this possibly happen? Was this the Matrix and was I being shown a video of a car next to me, not the car itself?
Eventually I thought of a good explanation. Since it was nighttime, the only lighting was provided by overhead streetlights. Being fed by AC power, they apparently flickered on and off 100 times per second (twice 50 Hz, the Israeli power frequency). I saw cars only when the light flickered on, and while it was off, each wheel traveled a whole revolution but I was unable to see it.
It was nice to have that explained, but some time later, an even weirder thing happened. I was in Istanbul (enjoying a flight layover on an Israel-NY trip), and was on a train traveling parallel to a freeway. Looking at the cars on the freeway, I saw their wheels turning backwards. My flickering-light theory was inapplicable, because the time was 11am!
But it wasn't long before I found an explanation for this too. Between the cars and train was a fence, made up of vertical bars with gaps between them. I didn't see it at first because we were moving fast enough that it became a blur. But apparently, this fence blocked one part of a car's wheel at any given time, and a moment later blocked another part. For each part of the wheel, there was a time gap in which I could not see its rotation. Thus, the same effect described above took place and the wheels appeared to be rotating backwards.
Some of the complications and weird features of this explanation:
1) Even though I couldn't see the fence itself due to the blurring, I could see its effects on the wheels.
2) Only part of the wheel was obscured at any one time, yet the same effect seemed applied consistently to the whole wheel.
3) As the wheel rotated, different parts of it moved to different places, some of which did not have the same fence-obscurance pattern as the original place - yet the effect of the fence remained unchanged. This rotational movement must be a "second-order effect" which is negligible when you analyze the equations. Though it's not obvious why it should be negligible, since rotation as a whole is a central part of the effect.
What can I say... the world is an interesting and confusing place.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Elections 2
Both Kadima and Likud did much better than projected in the last pre-election polls. And Yisrael Beitenu, Labor, and Meretz did unexpectedly badly. The reason for all this is absolutely clear. Once people realized there was actually a tight race between Likud and Kadima (beforehand everyone assumed Likud would win easily), they abandoned the small parties to support either Likud or Kadima - whichever they wanted to run the government.
But while both Likud and Kadima did better than expected, neither did well enough to make a strong coalition. For either party to make a coalition without the other, they'll almost certainly need to enlist both Yisrael Beitenu and a haredi party, probably Shas. Given the bad feelings between those parties (during the campaign Shas' chief rabbi said YB were enemies of God and religion, while YB suggested that Shas members' citizenship be revoked), that does not look like for a recipe for success. I know the almighty dollar (or shekel) can win out over both principles and emotions, but a favor right now is not enough, you'd need to somehow keep the parties off each other's throats until the next elections.
So Kadima and Likud are probably stuck with each other - on what exact terms, it's hard to predict. I think both parties are capable of being bludgeoned by Obama into "peace" agreements which predictably ensure the death of hundreds of Israelis over the next few years. Netanyahu is more against such a policy on principle, but Livni might have an easier job opposing it in practice. The real question is who has the talent and guts to deal with Iran as needed. I certainly don't trust the Kadima hacks and I'm not sure I trust even Netanyahu to make such difficult decisions. One person worth trusting for the implementation is Ehud Barak - witness his successful and complication-free attack on the Syrian reactor. But the defense ministry is the top job except for prime minister, and if Labor is the third party in the coalition they probably won't get it.
So in short I, and probably nobody else, is especially happy with the election results. This is not the first election in which everyone was disappointed, and in recent years many proposals for election reform have been suggested. I plan to share my thoughts on the issue in a hopefully soon-to-be published post.
But while both Likud and Kadima did better than expected, neither did well enough to make a strong coalition. For either party to make a coalition without the other, they'll almost certainly need to enlist both Yisrael Beitenu and a haredi party, probably Shas. Given the bad feelings between those parties (during the campaign Shas' chief rabbi said YB were enemies of God and religion, while YB suggested that Shas members' citizenship be revoked), that does not look like for a recipe for success. I know the almighty dollar (or shekel) can win out over both principles and emotions, but a favor right now is not enough, you'd need to somehow keep the parties off each other's throats until the next elections.
So Kadima and Likud are probably stuck with each other - on what exact terms, it's hard to predict. I think both parties are capable of being bludgeoned by Obama into "peace" agreements which predictably ensure the death of hundreds of Israelis over the next few years. Netanyahu is more against such a policy on principle, but Livni might have an easier job opposing it in practice. The real question is who has the talent and guts to deal with Iran as needed. I certainly don't trust the Kadima hacks and I'm not sure I trust even Netanyahu to make such difficult decisions. One person worth trusting for the implementation is Ehud Barak - witness his successful and complication-free attack on the Syrian reactor. But the defense ministry is the top job except for prime minister, and if Labor is the third party in the coalition they probably won't get it.
So in short I, and probably nobody else, is especially happy with the election results. This is not the first election in which everyone was disappointed, and in recent years many proposals for election reform have been suggested. I plan to share my thoughts on the issue in a hopefully soon-to-be published post.
Tikva Memaamakim
I just finished "Tikva Memaamakim", R' Yaakov Medan's book on Megillat Ruth. I have long thought that R' Medan does two things better than any other contemporary Jewish scholar: 1) Notice connections and commonalities between widely different realms: individual history, national history, halacha, machshava, minhag, and so on. 2) Express one's complex emotional and religious orientations in a logical manner, through which one's intuitive decisions can be clearly explained to others. (If that made any sense than perhaps I have the skill too...)
To whet your appetite for the book, here are some examples of the second ability.
1) One who fails to perform the mitzvah of yishuv eretz yisrael is punished by karet. Historically this is shown in the deaths of Lot, Yehudah, and Elimelech's families. Halachically it appears in the korbanot of Bamidbar 15:22-25,30 , which apparently talks about positive mitzvot which incur karet, and which comes after the meraglim story.
2) Miriam's tzaraat was a result of her attempts to disinherit Moshe's kids (due to their non-Israelite mother) and thus transfer future leadership to her and Aharon rather than to Moshe's kids. (In the previous story Moshe declared his inability to lead, so a replacement looked likely.) God likens the punishment to "spitting in her face" because spitting is what we do to people who try to disinherit their brothers - see halitza.
3) Boaz redeems land with a shoe, because walking across land (particularly in the original owner's shoe) is a means of acquiring it. Similarly Moshe at Sinai and all Jews in the Temple couldn't wear shoes, because it's not our land being walked on, it's God's land. And in halitza, the guy's shoe is symbolically taken from him: we want him to be disinherited just like he caused his brother to be.
To whet your appetite for the book, here are some examples of the second ability.
1) One who fails to perform the mitzvah of yishuv eretz yisrael is punished by karet. Historically this is shown in the deaths of Lot, Yehudah, and Elimelech's families. Halachically it appears in the korbanot of Bamidbar 15:22-25,30 , which apparently talks about positive mitzvot which incur karet, and which comes after the meraglim story.
2) Miriam's tzaraat was a result of her attempts to disinherit Moshe's kids (due to their non-Israelite mother) and thus transfer future leadership to her and Aharon rather than to Moshe's kids. (In the previous story Moshe declared his inability to lead, so a replacement looked likely.) God likens the punishment to "spitting in her face" because spitting is what we do to people who try to disinherit their brothers - see halitza.
3) Boaz redeems land with a shoe, because walking across land (particularly in the original owner's shoe) is a means of acquiring it. Similarly Moshe at Sinai and all Jews in the Temple couldn't wear shoes, because it's not our land being walked on, it's God's land. And in halitza, the guy's shoe is symbolically taken from him: we want him to be disinherited just like he caused his brother to be.
Um Shmum
ההוא גברא דמנהרדעא דעל לבי מטבחיא בפומבדיתא, אמר להו הבו לי בישרא.
אמרו ליה נטר עד דשקיל לשמעיה דרב יהודה בר יחזקאל וניתיב לך.
אמר מאן יהודה בר שויסקאל דקדים לי דשקל מן קמאי (קידושין ע.)
A person from Nehardea went to the butcher in Pumbedita and said, "Give me meat".
They said to him, "Wait until Rabbi Yehudah bar Yehezkel's servant takes, and then it wil be given to you."
He said, "Who is Yehudah bar Shvezkel that he has priority over me and can take before me?"
(Kidushin 70a)
אמרו ליה נטר עד דשקיל לשמעיה דרב יהודה בר יחזקאל וניתיב לך.
אמר מאן יהודה בר שויסקאל דקדים לי דשקל מן קמאי (קידושין ע.)
A person from Nehardea went to the butcher in Pumbedita and said, "Give me meat".
They said to him, "Wait until Rabbi Yehudah bar Yehezkel's servant takes, and then it wil be given to you."
He said, "Who is Yehudah bar Shvezkel that he has priority over me and can take before me?"
(Kidushin 70a)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Elections
There is a Hebrew phrase which gets on my nerves these days: "Ein li koach". It translates to "I don't feel like" and generally precedes such unwanted tasks as doing homework, running errands, and so on, as you might expect.
But while the usage of "I don't feel like" and "Ein li koach" is identical, the meaning of the words is rather different. "I don't feel like" means that emotionally, I would prefer not to. It says nothing about what your emotions are, just what their practical consequences will be.
"Ein li koach" differs from this in that it specifies exactly what your emotion is: weakness. If you were strong, you would be willing to perform the activity. But you are weak, timid, and defeatist in your nature, so you are unable to find the enthusiasm to do something that's really worth doing. That is what the phrase literally means, and it's not a pretty meaning.
Now, this distinction between English and Hebrew could be trivial and misleading, if native speakers of a language learn such phrases as a whole and never think about how the words in the phrase fit together. Be that as it may, given the current political situation, whenever I hear the phrase "Ein li koach" it has a strong negative resonance to me.
For in the Israeli elections being held today, the choices are not so much between right-wing and left-wing as between serious political discussion and apathy. There are two parties - Labor and Likud - with well-defined political platforms, whose leaders have long resumes of both success and failure by which they can be judged. And there are two parties - Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima - with no discernable platform (beyond Yisrael Beitenu's visceral antagonism towards Arabs) nor any positive accomplishments in office (though Kadima has negative accomplishments).
You might expect that people would think about what policy is best for Israel, think about which party is best able to implement that policy, and vote according. Yet in the most recent polls, Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima were together expected to get just as many votes as Labor and Likud together. Why are so many people voting for parties that seem to have nothing to recommend themselves to anyone?
Undoubtedly some left-wingers see Kadima as a generally left-wing party, larger and thus better able to form a government coalition than Labor. And undoubtedly some right-wingers enjoy Yisrael Beitenu's rhetoric about disenfranchising Arabs. But I think these factors account for only a minority of Kadima and Yisrael Beitenu's support. More important is the fact that both parties have brand-new leaders, neither of whom was ever prime minister, and neither of whom has any significant record in their brief political careers. Experience showed that neither Netanyahu nor Barak could magically solve all the country's problems all at once. Apparently for many people, the jury is still out on whether Livni or perhaps Lieberman possess such superhuman abilities. Rather than seriously think about and confront the country's political issues, half the population would rather roll the dice and hope that the new leader will instantaneously make everything perfect. Half the country is saying "Ein li koach", and the other half will live with the consequences of that decision.
What are the likely consequences, seeing as these parties will likely not make everything perfect? Yisrael Beitenu's leader, ex-Soviet immigrant Avigdor Lieberman, apparently intends to establish Putin-style "democracy" in which all decisions will be made by trustworthy people like himself. And Kadima alternates between half-hearted attempts at left-wing and right-wing policy, failing each time and succeeding only in enriching itself in the process through bribes, money laundering, and theft from charities. Thankfully neither of these parties is projected to win the elections. But the likely result is an unstable and ineffective coalition, composed of disparate parties that agree only on the necessity of undermining each other.
Among the smaller parties, the situation is not necessarily any better, as you can see from the photographs below. Apparently the neighborhood charedim possess a list of every person of voting age in their community. Whenever someone shows up to vote, unofficial charedi election observers cross that person's name off the list. Whoever does not show up gets a personal visit from "headquarters" encouraging them to vote, for the correct party, of course. Luckily, this country still has secret balloting.
But while the usage of "I don't feel like" and "Ein li koach" is identical, the meaning of the words is rather different. "I don't feel like" means that emotionally, I would prefer not to. It says nothing about what your emotions are, just what their practical consequences will be.
"Ein li koach" differs from this in that it specifies exactly what your emotion is: weakness. If you were strong, you would be willing to perform the activity. But you are weak, timid, and defeatist in your nature, so you are unable to find the enthusiasm to do something that's really worth doing. That is what the phrase literally means, and it's not a pretty meaning.
Now, this distinction between English and Hebrew could be trivial and misleading, if native speakers of a language learn such phrases as a whole and never think about how the words in the phrase fit together. Be that as it may, given the current political situation, whenever I hear the phrase "Ein li koach" it has a strong negative resonance to me.
For in the Israeli elections being held today, the choices are not so much between right-wing and left-wing as between serious political discussion and apathy. There are two parties - Labor and Likud - with well-defined political platforms, whose leaders have long resumes of both success and failure by which they can be judged. And there are two parties - Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima - with no discernable platform (beyond Yisrael Beitenu's visceral antagonism towards Arabs) nor any positive accomplishments in office (though Kadima has negative accomplishments).
You might expect that people would think about what policy is best for Israel, think about which party is best able to implement that policy, and vote according. Yet in the most recent polls, Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima were together expected to get just as many votes as Labor and Likud together. Why are so many people voting for parties that seem to have nothing to recommend themselves to anyone?
Undoubtedly some left-wingers see Kadima as a generally left-wing party, larger and thus better able to form a government coalition than Labor. And undoubtedly some right-wingers enjoy Yisrael Beitenu's rhetoric about disenfranchising Arabs. But I think these factors account for only a minority of Kadima and Yisrael Beitenu's support. More important is the fact that both parties have brand-new leaders, neither of whom was ever prime minister, and neither of whom has any significant record in their brief political careers. Experience showed that neither Netanyahu nor Barak could magically solve all the country's problems all at once. Apparently for many people, the jury is still out on whether Livni or perhaps Lieberman possess such superhuman abilities. Rather than seriously think about and confront the country's political issues, half the population would rather roll the dice and hope that the new leader will instantaneously make everything perfect. Half the country is saying "Ein li koach", and the other half will live with the consequences of that decision.
What are the likely consequences, seeing as these parties will likely not make everything perfect? Yisrael Beitenu's leader, ex-Soviet immigrant Avigdor Lieberman, apparently intends to establish Putin-style "democracy" in which all decisions will be made by trustworthy people like himself. And Kadima alternates between half-hearted attempts at left-wing and right-wing policy, failing each time and succeeding only in enriching itself in the process through bribes, money laundering, and theft from charities. Thankfully neither of these parties is projected to win the elections. But the likely result is an unstable and ineffective coalition, composed of disparate parties that agree only on the necessity of undermining each other.
Among the smaller parties, the situation is not necessarily any better, as you can see from the photographs below. Apparently the neighborhood charedim possess a list of every person of voting age in their community. Whenever someone shows up to vote, unofficial charedi election observers cross that person's name off the list. Whoever does not show up gets a personal visit from "headquarters" encouraging them to vote, for the correct party, of course. Luckily, this country still has secret balloting.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Thoughts on Shemot
[Yocheved] became pregnant and bore a son. She saw that he was good ("ותרא אותו כי טוב הוא"), and hid him for three months. (2:2)
What does it mean that the baby was "good", and why should this be a condition for its mother being willing to save it?
The best explanation I've seen for this is that "good" means "viable". In ancient times, a large proportion of infants would die early in childhood. If the baby Moshe was likely to die anyway, then it would not be worthwhile for Yocheved to endanger herself in order to protect him. Abandoning your baby to save yourself and your future offspring could not have been easy, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
What is the textual basis for this explanation? For this we can look to another, more famous instance of the phrase "ki tov", in the first chapter of Breishit. After finishing the creation of each part of the world, God looks at it and says that it is good - "וירא אלקים כי טוב".
The Ramban suggests that these comments are not simply a passive commentary on creation. Rather, they are part of the act of creation itself. In the Ramban's philosophy, there is no "clockmaker God" who created everything and then let it run on autopilot except for the occasional miraculous intervention. Rather, the world could not exist for more than an instant, if God did not constantly give it the ability to exist for another instant and another instant, and so on forever.
For the Ramban, "ki tov" in Breishit is the crucial textual indication of this philosophy. When God first created the world, it was only guaranteed to exist for a single moment. But then God called the world "good" - meaning long-lasting, that the world was guaranteed to exist continually, for an indefinite time and perhaps forever. And thus the stable natural processes we are familiar with came into being.
If "good" means "long-lasting" regarding creation, then it might mean the same thing regarding babies. When the baby Moshe was created, he might have been sick and lived only briefly, like the universe which originally would have lasted for just one moment. But regarding both Moshe and the universe, we learn that they were "good" and thus destined to live for much longer.
Even if we do not accept all aspects of the Ramban's cosmology, his understanding of the word "good" may nevertheless be correct and provide a clear explanation of why Yocheved acted the way she did.
What does it mean that the baby was "good", and why should this be a condition for its mother being willing to save it?
The best explanation I've seen for this is that "good" means "viable". In ancient times, a large proportion of infants would die early in childhood. If the baby Moshe was likely to die anyway, then it would not be worthwhile for Yocheved to endanger herself in order to protect him. Abandoning your baby to save yourself and your future offspring could not have been easy, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
What is the textual basis for this explanation? For this we can look to another, more famous instance of the phrase "ki tov", in the first chapter of Breishit. After finishing the creation of each part of the world, God looks at it and says that it is good - "וירא אלקים כי טוב".
The Ramban suggests that these comments are not simply a passive commentary on creation. Rather, they are part of the act of creation itself. In the Ramban's philosophy, there is no "clockmaker God" who created everything and then let it run on autopilot except for the occasional miraculous intervention. Rather, the world could not exist for more than an instant, if God did not constantly give it the ability to exist for another instant and another instant, and so on forever.
For the Ramban, "ki tov" in Breishit is the crucial textual indication of this philosophy. When God first created the world, it was only guaranteed to exist for a single moment. But then God called the world "good" - meaning long-lasting, that the world was guaranteed to exist continually, for an indefinite time and perhaps forever. And thus the stable natural processes we are familiar with came into being.
If "good" means "long-lasting" regarding creation, then it might mean the same thing regarding babies. When the baby Moshe was created, he might have been sick and lived only briefly, like the universe which originally would have lasted for just one moment. But regarding both Moshe and the universe, we learn that they were "good" and thus destined to live for much longer.
Even if we do not accept all aspects of the Ramban's cosmology, his understanding of the word "good" may nevertheless be correct and provide a clear explanation of why Yocheved acted the way she did.
More thoughts on Vayechi
Both Yaakov and Yosef, through their burial instructions, wish to encourage their family to await a return to Israel rather than assimilating in Egypt. But they do so in very different ways.
Yaakov makes a point of being buried immediately in Hevron, in the family burial cave, with as much of the family as possible attending the funeral. In contrast Yosef was buried in Egypt, but made his family promise that when they eventually left Egypt they would take his body with them for an Israeli burial.
Aside from the practical issues that might have impelled these two different types of burial, it seems Yaakov and Yosef were using different methods to convey the message of the importance of returning to Israel. Yaakov's impressive funeral leaves an indelible impression of the effort worth going to to return to Israel. In contrast, Yosef's funeral is much less impressive. But his temporary tomb in Egypt is a constant, if subtle, reminder that there is unfinished business and eventually everyone would need to return home.
These two burials represent two different kinds of leadership. One can be a kind of distant lighthouse signalling a clear direction to lost people. Or one can live among those people, sending a less clear message but through one's proximity exerting a more constant influence.
On every issue of public policy we must decide: Which of these ways is preferable?
(the above is from a "post" by Tzviel Gantz and Tomer Mevorach, in last week's Gush Daf Kesher)
And it was after these events, that it was told to Yosef saying "Behold your father is sick", and he took his two sons with him - Menashe and Efraim. (48:1)
Something is missing from this verse. It omits the central event - that Yosef goes to visit his father. Instead it tells us just one detail of that event - that the children came too. Why?
I think the answer is that the Torah does not tell us things that are obvious. Knowing Yosef's character, saying that he is informed of his father's sickness is equivalent to saying that he will then visit his father. So there is no need to mention this separately. Only the detail of bringing the children, which is not obvious, must then be mentioned.
Yosef's behavior, as pointedly not described in this verse, can be a model for our own behavior. Often when confronted with moral challenges we choose correctly, but only after a period of vacillations and doubts. That was not the level of Yosef, nor the level which we should aspire to. When it comes to mitzvot such as visiting the sick, our help should be instinctive and without hesitation. It should literally go without saying that we help out, just like it went without saying that Yosef would help out. If we notice any hesitation and laziness in this regard, it shows that our sense of empathy is incomplete and we must work to strengthen and encourage it.
Yaakov makes a point of being buried immediately in Hevron, in the family burial cave, with as much of the family as possible attending the funeral. In contrast Yosef was buried in Egypt, but made his family promise that when they eventually left Egypt they would take his body with them for an Israeli burial.
Aside from the practical issues that might have impelled these two different types of burial, it seems Yaakov and Yosef were using different methods to convey the message of the importance of returning to Israel. Yaakov's impressive funeral leaves an indelible impression of the effort worth going to to return to Israel. In contrast, Yosef's funeral is much less impressive. But his temporary tomb in Egypt is a constant, if subtle, reminder that there is unfinished business and eventually everyone would need to return home.
These two burials represent two different kinds of leadership. One can be a kind of distant lighthouse signalling a clear direction to lost people. Or one can live among those people, sending a less clear message but through one's proximity exerting a more constant influence.
On every issue of public policy we must decide: Which of these ways is preferable?
(the above is from a "post" by Tzviel Gantz and Tomer Mevorach, in last week's Gush Daf Kesher)
And it was after these events, that it was told to Yosef saying "Behold your father is sick", and he took his two sons with him - Menashe and Efraim. (48:1)
Something is missing from this verse. It omits the central event - that Yosef goes to visit his father. Instead it tells us just one detail of that event - that the children came too. Why?
I think the answer is that the Torah does not tell us things that are obvious. Knowing Yosef's character, saying that he is informed of his father's sickness is equivalent to saying that he will then visit his father. So there is no need to mention this separately. Only the detail of bringing the children, which is not obvious, must then be mentioned.
Yosef's behavior, as pointedly not described in this verse, can be a model for our own behavior. Often when confronted with moral challenges we choose correctly, but only after a period of vacillations and doubts. That was not the level of Yosef, nor the level which we should aspire to. When it comes to mitzvot such as visiting the sick, our help should be instinctive and without hesitation. It should literally go without saying that we help out, just like it went without saying that Yosef would help out. If we notice any hesitation and laziness in this regard, it shows that our sense of empathy is incomplete and we must work to strengthen and encourage it.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Between meat and milk
Mar Ukva said: Regarding [waiting between meat and milk], I am like vinegar derived from wine [i.e. much inferior], compared to my father. My father, when he ate meat, would not eat cheese until the same time the next day. But I do not eat [cheese] in the current meal, but do eat in the next meal. (Chullin 105a)
The halacha has been decided like Mar Ukva, that between meat and milk we wait from "one meal to the next", defined as either 1, 3, 5, or 6 hours. But I think the father's approach of waiting 24 hours is more logical than Mar Ukva's, even if nowadays our practice is otherwise.
The concept of waiting 24 hours is well known in the laws of kashrut. According to the halacha of ben yomo, a utensil which has been used with meat or milk acquires a milk or meat status for a period of 24 hours after use. After that, any food residue on the utensil is considered to have decayed to the point of inedibility and may then be eaten with the opposite "gender" (according to the Torah, but rabbinic law is generally stricter).
This principle might logically seem to apply not only to utensils, but also to one's mouth and stomach which come in contact with meat. Surely once you eat something, a little bit of it remains floating around your stomach or stuck between your teeth. If this kind of residue is enough to prohibit using a utensil with milk for the next 24 hours, why should your digestive system be any different? Based on the principle of "ben yomo", we should wait 24 hours between eating meat and milk (and perhaps between milk and meat, though even Mar Ukva's father might not have done that). In contrast, our custom of waiting 1 to 6 hours has no such theoretical basis and seems to be pretty much arbitrary.
So the thought expressed by the 24-hour opinion is not just "stricter is better", but also "more logical is better". And yet, we ignore both the safety of stringency and the attraction of logic in following our own custom. Sometimes our customs are annoyingly particular, but other times they provide us with great freedom. By following even the customs which take extra effort, we gain the legitimacy to rely on custom for leniencies as well.
The halacha has been decided like Mar Ukva, that between meat and milk we wait from "one meal to the next", defined as either 1, 3, 5, or 6 hours. But I think the father's approach of waiting 24 hours is more logical than Mar Ukva's, even if nowadays our practice is otherwise.
The concept of waiting 24 hours is well known in the laws of kashrut. According to the halacha of ben yomo, a utensil which has been used with meat or milk acquires a milk or meat status for a period of 24 hours after use. After that, any food residue on the utensil is considered to have decayed to the point of inedibility and may then be eaten with the opposite "gender" (according to the Torah, but rabbinic law is generally stricter).
This principle might logically seem to apply not only to utensils, but also to one's mouth and stomach which come in contact with meat. Surely once you eat something, a little bit of it remains floating around your stomach or stuck between your teeth. If this kind of residue is enough to prohibit using a utensil with milk for the next 24 hours, why should your digestive system be any different? Based on the principle of "ben yomo", we should wait 24 hours between eating meat and milk (and perhaps between milk and meat, though even Mar Ukva's father might not have done that). In contrast, our custom of waiting 1 to 6 hours has no such theoretical basis and seems to be pretty much arbitrary.
So the thought expressed by the 24-hour opinion is not just "stricter is better", but also "more logical is better". And yet, we ignore both the safety of stringency and the attraction of logic in following our own custom. Sometimes our customs are annoyingly particular, but other times they provide us with great freedom. By following even the customs which take extra effort, we gain the legitimacy to rely on custom for leniencies as well.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Rav Kook
Having more or less despaired of understanding R' Kook through his writings, which I generally find to be unreadable, I obtained "Essays on the Thought and Philosophy of Rabbi Kook" (edited by Ezra Gellman) from the local university library. It was a hard read as well, but at least it was straightforwardly written and the difficulty was in the conceptual analysis.
Based on my reading, I think the basic philosophical/mystical idea underlying R' Kook's thought is as follows:
(note - where there were gaps in what I learned from the sources, I added a little of my own thought as "glue" which could conceivably be in disagreement with R' Kook.)
============
The activity which best exemplifies God is creation. Similarly, the activity which best exemplifies the "image of God" in a person is creativity. Every moment of human creativity is valuable as an expression of the Divine image.
There are different examples of creativity in the world, some are a part of religious activity and others of secular or anti-religious activity. But since creation by definition stems from Godliness, even instances of apparently anti-religious creativity have some religious value.
Creativity does not take place in isolation: your creativity builds on developments picked up from other people, even people you disagree with. In war and commerce there are winners and losers, but in the world's intellectual development there are no losers, since one person's ideas supplement rather than replace the other's ideas. Thus the world is always progressing, never regressing or standing in place.
More creativity effectively means more revelation of God. Thus, all the instances of creativity in the world add up to a dialectical kind of evolution, with the final destination being the ultimate (complete?) revelation of God in the world.
============
So that is what I discovered. It seems to me to be an innovative, yet logical, development from previous kabbalistic thought. Sort of a generalizion of kabbalah from a set of technical concepts to encompass a broad range of human experience. Extremely brilliant, in my uneducated opinion.
I remain, though, with one question which I had before picking up Gellman's book and which the book did nothing to answer. Essentially:
============
The above approach assigns value to every intellectual possibility. But it is insufficient to decide which possibility is more valuable than the others, in order to decide on a course of action. Indeed, such a decision may be fundamentally problematic for R' Kook because it requires fragmentation in one's view of the universe (examining each action independently without regard for the other) rather than maintaining a unified overall perspective.
If so, then what if any application does R' Kook's thought have to the world? What is the unavoidable practical difference, the "nafka mina", between his approach and that of any other authority? And if there is none, what value does the philosophy have except as an intellectual toy?
============
I do not have an answer to this question. The approach of some of his followers that "conquering land is the only mitzvah nowadays" does not seem to me an authentic representation of R' Kook's views - much less a morally viable approach to life.
My best idea for finding an answer is to examine R' Kook's letters and other practical documents he wrote during his life, looking for examples of where he differs from other rabbis, and more importantly, examples of where his philosophy directly influenced the conclusions.
But that kind of analysis would take a huge amount of work, so don't anticipate seeing it anytime soon on this blog.
Based on my reading, I think the basic philosophical/mystical idea underlying R' Kook's thought is as follows:
(note - where there were gaps in what I learned from the sources, I added a little of my own thought as "glue" which could conceivably be in disagreement with R' Kook.)
============
The activity which best exemplifies God is creation. Similarly, the activity which best exemplifies the "image of God" in a person is creativity. Every moment of human creativity is valuable as an expression of the Divine image.
There are different examples of creativity in the world, some are a part of religious activity and others of secular or anti-religious activity. But since creation by definition stems from Godliness, even instances of apparently anti-religious creativity have some religious value.
Creativity does not take place in isolation: your creativity builds on developments picked up from other people, even people you disagree with. In war and commerce there are winners and losers, but in the world's intellectual development there are no losers, since one person's ideas supplement rather than replace the other's ideas. Thus the world is always progressing, never regressing or standing in place.
More creativity effectively means more revelation of God. Thus, all the instances of creativity in the world add up to a dialectical kind of evolution, with the final destination being the ultimate (complete?) revelation of God in the world.
============
So that is what I discovered. It seems to me to be an innovative, yet logical, development from previous kabbalistic thought. Sort of a generalizion of kabbalah from a set of technical concepts to encompass a broad range of human experience. Extremely brilliant, in my uneducated opinion.
I remain, though, with one question which I had before picking up Gellman's book and which the book did nothing to answer. Essentially:
============
The above approach assigns value to every intellectual possibility. But it is insufficient to decide which possibility is more valuable than the others, in order to decide on a course of action. Indeed, such a decision may be fundamentally problematic for R' Kook because it requires fragmentation in one's view of the universe (examining each action independently without regard for the other) rather than maintaining a unified overall perspective.
If so, then what if any application does R' Kook's thought have to the world? What is the unavoidable practical difference, the "nafka mina", between his approach and that of any other authority? And if there is none, what value does the philosophy have except as an intellectual toy?
============
I do not have an answer to this question. The approach of some of his followers that "conquering land is the only mitzvah nowadays" does not seem to me an authentic representation of R' Kook's views - much less a morally viable approach to life.
My best idea for finding an answer is to examine R' Kook's letters and other practical documents he wrote during his life, looking for examples of where he differs from other rabbis, and more importantly, examples of where his philosophy directly influenced the conclusions.
But that kind of analysis would take a huge amount of work, so don't anticipate seeing it anytime soon on this blog.
A writing tip
1. Take any word.
2. Count the number of letters in it.
3. Subtract three.
4. Call the number you get X.
5. Whenever you write, try very hard to wait X sentences between multiple uses of the word you chose.
Do that for all words. (And don't replace a word once with its synonym to bypass the issue - by doing so you introduce confusion as well as repetition.)
Thus you will eliminate much repetitiveness from your writing, and also get most of the long boring bureaucratic words replaced with short vivid equivalents. In certain technical types of writing, there is no advantage to these changes. But in the "humanities", I think they do an incredible amount to make your writing clear and interesting.
2. Count the number of letters in it.
3. Subtract three.
4. Call the number you get X.
5. Whenever you write, try very hard to wait X sentences between multiple uses of the word you chose.
Do that for all words. (And don't replace a word once with its synonym to bypass the issue - by doing so you introduce confusion as well as repetition.)
Thus you will eliminate much repetitiveness from your writing, and also get most of the long boring bureaucratic words replaced with short vivid equivalents. In certain technical types of writing, there is no advantage to these changes. But in the "humanities", I think they do an incredible amount to make your writing clear and interesting.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Putting the Ash in Ashkenaziss
The cities of Ashkelon and Ashdod, in the news recently due to the rockets falling on them, are close to one another and have similar names. Is this just a coincidence?
There is one other place name, originally from Tanach, which resembles Ashkelon and Ashdod: Ashkenaz. The Biblical Ashkenaz is almost certainly NOT France/Germany, the medieval meaning from which our word "Ashkenazi" comes. In Breishit 10:3 Ashkenaz is mentioned as one of the peoples descended from Noah after the flood, and a close relation of Yavan (Greece). Verse 10:5 might mean that Ashkenaz, like Yavan, lived on "islands". In any case, it seems like the Biblical Ashkenaz was at some place in the eastern Mediterranean region that was mainly accessed from Israel by sea.
In the Bible, Ashkelon and Ashdod were two of the five main Philistine cities. It is known (see Amos 9:7 and archeological sources) that the Philistines descend from the "Sea Peoples" who came by boat across the Mediterranean and conquered part of Canaan about the time the Jews were leaving Egypt. It's entirely possible that Ashkelon and Ashdod were either founded and named, or conquered and renamed, by the Philistines.
If so, the names they gave them are fascinating. For the Philistines came from the Greek islands or nearby - exactly where Ashkenaz is located - and then they started giving cities names like Ashkelon and Ashdod. Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ashkenaz - if one nation uses all of these names, then there is likely a common element between them.
A disproportionate number of Biblical Hebrew place names start with the word "Beit". This is to be expected since "beit" means "house of" or "place of" so it is a very logical first half of a place name. Similarly, many place names names start with "be'er". It seems from the above discussion that many Philistine place names start with "Ash". In the original Philistine language, whatever it was, I suspect that the word "ash" meant either "house", "town", "well", or a similar word. Then "kelon", "kenaz", "dod" would all be suffixes attached to the common prefix, "ash".
I can't help noticing that "dod" in particular resembles "Dodanim", the name of a Greek people mentioned in Breishit 10:4 who might have been another ancestor of the Philistines. Let me then go out on a limb and predict that the name Ashdod, "Ash"-"dod", can be translated to English as "Town of the Dod-ites."
There is one other place name, originally from Tanach, which resembles Ashkelon and Ashdod: Ashkenaz. The Biblical Ashkenaz is almost certainly NOT France/Germany, the medieval meaning from which our word "Ashkenazi" comes. In Breishit 10:3 Ashkenaz is mentioned as one of the peoples descended from Noah after the flood, and a close relation of Yavan (Greece). Verse 10:5 might mean that Ashkenaz, like Yavan, lived on "islands". In any case, it seems like the Biblical Ashkenaz was at some place in the eastern Mediterranean region that was mainly accessed from Israel by sea.
In the Bible, Ashkelon and Ashdod were two of the five main Philistine cities. It is known (see Amos 9:7 and archeological sources) that the Philistines descend from the "Sea Peoples" who came by boat across the Mediterranean and conquered part of Canaan about the time the Jews were leaving Egypt. It's entirely possible that Ashkelon and Ashdod were either founded and named, or conquered and renamed, by the Philistines.
If so, the names they gave them are fascinating. For the Philistines came from the Greek islands or nearby - exactly where Ashkenaz is located - and then they started giving cities names like Ashkelon and Ashdod. Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ashkenaz - if one nation uses all of these names, then there is likely a common element between them.
A disproportionate number of Biblical Hebrew place names start with the word "Beit". This is to be expected since "beit" means "house of" or "place of" so it is a very logical first half of a place name. Similarly, many place names names start with "be'er". It seems from the above discussion that many Philistine place names start with "Ash". In the original Philistine language, whatever it was, I suspect that the word "ash" meant either "house", "town", "well", or a similar word. Then "kelon", "kenaz", "dod" would all be suffixes attached to the common prefix, "ash".
I can't help noticing that "dod" in particular resembles "Dodanim", the name of a Greek people mentioned in Breishit 10:4 who might have been another ancestor of the Philistines. Let me then go out on a limb and predict that the name Ashdod, "Ash"-"dod", can be translated to English as "Town of the Dod-ites."
Ashkenaziss 2
On Wikipedia recently I happened to learn about the High German consonant shift, in which (among other changes) the pronunciation of "t" in most German communities changed to "ss".
This is basically what I suggested as the origin of the Ashkenazi accent, so it's nice to see my prediction verified and my theory thus strengthened.
This is basically what I suggested as the origin of the Ashkenazi accent, so it's nice to see my prediction verified and my theory thus strengthened.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
That cow...
It's pretty insulting nowadays to call a woman a "cow", because that implies that she is fat - and nowadays fatness is quickly approaching promiscuity as the most undesired female trait. Things did not always used to be this way. In the Biblical era it was common for women to be named after large herbivorous animals, and nobody saw anything wrong with it.
Take for example the name Rachel, which means "female sheep". Or Yael, which means "ibex" - a kind of large wild goat. And let us not forget Rivkah, whose name, according to some commentators, means "cow" or "female calf". (See Shmuel 1 28:24, Yirmiyahu 46:21, Amos 6:4, Malachi 3:20 for comparison). My sister might not want to learn that she's named after a bovine, but the original Rivkah would have had no such hesitation.
UPDATE: One more example. The name "Leah" means "cow" in Akkadian.
Looking more closely, we see that these names are not evenly distributed across all Biblical women. Rather, they seem to only appear in families whose profession was herding. Rachel and Rivkah came from the family of Lavan the Aramean, and Yael from the nomadic Kenite tribe. Certainly Lavan, and probably the Kenites too, made a living from herding rather than farming or trading.
From the nature of the herding lifestyle, we can understand why these names became respectable. Herders would watch over and care for their animals - feeding and guiding them and caring for their sicknesses. In turn the animals would provide offspring and create wealth for the herder. This symbiotic relationship reminded ancient people of the relationship between husband and wife. While it's not politically correct to compare the two, wife and flock played similar roles in pastoral society: providing wealth and a future for the herder, who in turn protected them and guided them through the outside world.
The same comparison between wife and flock appears in other contexts. For example, the prophet Natan accuses David Hamelech of adultery through the parable of "kivsat harash", in which a rich man steals the only female sheep of a poor man, which the poor man had raised "in his lap... like a daughter". Here, the love and care the poor man gives to his sheep represent the the love and care which Uriyah felt towards his wife Batsheva, which were violently intruded upon by David's adultery.
The relationship between God and humans is often likened to that of husband and wife, and it's not surprising that it's likened to that between shepherd and flock as well. Thus we find well-known comparisons such as "Hashem is my shepherd, I shall not lack" (Tehilim 23:1) which is sung every week at seudah shlishit.
Take for example the name Rachel, which means "female sheep". Or Yael, which means "ibex" - a kind of large wild goat. And let us not forget Rivkah, whose name, according to some commentators, means "cow" or "female calf". (See Shmuel 1 28:24, Yirmiyahu 46:21, Amos 6:4, Malachi 3:20 for comparison). My sister might not want to learn that she's named after a bovine, but the original Rivkah would have had no such hesitation.
UPDATE: One more example. The name "Leah" means "cow" in Akkadian.
Looking more closely, we see that these names are not evenly distributed across all Biblical women. Rather, they seem to only appear in families whose profession was herding. Rachel and Rivkah came from the family of Lavan the Aramean, and Yael from the nomadic Kenite tribe. Certainly Lavan, and probably the Kenites too, made a living from herding rather than farming or trading.
From the nature of the herding lifestyle, we can understand why these names became respectable. Herders would watch over and care for their animals - feeding and guiding them and caring for their sicknesses. In turn the animals would provide offspring and create wealth for the herder. This symbiotic relationship reminded ancient people of the relationship between husband and wife. While it's not politically correct to compare the two, wife and flock played similar roles in pastoral society: providing wealth and a future for the herder, who in turn protected them and guided them through the outside world.
The same comparison between wife and flock appears in other contexts. For example, the prophet Natan accuses David Hamelech of adultery through the parable of "kivsat harash", in which a rich man steals the only female sheep of a poor man, which the poor man had raised "in his lap... like a daughter". Here, the love and care the poor man gives to his sheep represent the the love and care which Uriyah felt towards his wife Batsheva, which were violently intruded upon by David's adultery.
The relationship between God and humans is often likened to that of husband and wife, and it's not surprising that it's likened to that between shepherd and flock as well. Thus we find well-known comparisons such as "Hashem is my shepherd, I shall not lack" (Tehilim 23:1) which is sung every week at seudah shlishit.
Thoughts on Vayechi
Yosef had near-absolute power as second-in-command to Pharoah. For example, after the famine begins, he purchased all the land and cattle in the country in return for feeding the people, and then turned all the farmers into sharecroppers when they asked for more food the next year. There is no hint that Pharoah initiated these policies. It's not even clear that Pharoah was asked to approve them.
Yet in a few cases, we see Yosef taking a much more submissive attitude. When his family comes to Egypt, he has them ask Pharoah to permit them to stay in the land. And in our parsha, when Yaakov dies, Yosef must beg nicely to Pharoah before being allowed to travel to Hevron for the burial. In fact he does not even dare ask Pharoah directly, but rather asks Pharoah's servants who convey the request to their king. Yosef has so much power in everything else that he does, so why is he so timid in these situations?
I think by looking at how positions like Yosef's came about, we can understand the inherent limitations of the position that forced him to be submissive in the above situations.
The basic issue confronting Pharoah was that running a country is hard work, and it's more fun to have somebody else doing it. The dreams and their interpretation by Yosef were simply a good opportunity to do what he probably wanted to do all along. Pharoah was not the only ancient king to make this calculation: for example, Achashverosh gave Haman and Mordechai positions similar to Yosef's.
At the same time, if these chosen subordinates had enough power to run the state, then they likely had enough power to overthrow and replace the king. Thus, the subordinate's loyalty to the king had to be unquestionable. In practice, this meant that while the subordinates had near-absolute control of policy, they were also absolutely prohibited from doing anything to help themselves personally.
So when Yosef wanted to undertake far-reaching economic reforms, for Pharoah's benefit but whose details Pharaoh did not want to be bothered with, nobody questioned what he did. But when he wanted to settle his family in Egypt, the question of his motivations arose and Pharoah had to review the decision personally. And when he wanted to visit his ancestral country - thus perhaps demonstrating his continued devotion to them rather than Egypt - Yosef's motives were all the more suspect, and he had to approach Pharoah indirectly, and to mention the oath to Yaakov which made the foreign burial morally unavoidable and obligatory.
Yet in a few cases, we see Yosef taking a much more submissive attitude. When his family comes to Egypt, he has them ask Pharoah to permit them to stay in the land. And in our parsha, when Yaakov dies, Yosef must beg nicely to Pharoah before being allowed to travel to Hevron for the burial. In fact he does not even dare ask Pharoah directly, but rather asks Pharoah's servants who convey the request to their king. Yosef has so much power in everything else that he does, so why is he so timid in these situations?
I think by looking at how positions like Yosef's came about, we can understand the inherent limitations of the position that forced him to be submissive in the above situations.
The basic issue confronting Pharoah was that running a country is hard work, and it's more fun to have somebody else doing it. The dreams and their interpretation by Yosef were simply a good opportunity to do what he probably wanted to do all along. Pharoah was not the only ancient king to make this calculation: for example, Achashverosh gave Haman and Mordechai positions similar to Yosef's.
At the same time, if these chosen subordinates had enough power to run the state, then they likely had enough power to overthrow and replace the king. Thus, the subordinate's loyalty to the king had to be unquestionable. In practice, this meant that while the subordinates had near-absolute control of policy, they were also absolutely prohibited from doing anything to help themselves personally.
So when Yosef wanted to undertake far-reaching economic reforms, for Pharoah's benefit but whose details Pharaoh did not want to be bothered with, nobody questioned what he did. But when he wanted to settle his family in Egypt, the question of his motivations arose and Pharoah had to review the decision personally. And when he wanted to visit his ancestral country - thus perhaps demonstrating his continued devotion to them rather than Egypt - Yosef's motives were all the more suspect, and he had to approach Pharoah indirectly, and to mention the oath to Yaakov which made the foreign burial morally unavoidable and obligatory.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Cease-fires
Just one comment on the fighting ongoing in Israel's south.
It's all over the news that France proposed a 48-hour cease-fire, and the Israeli government considered the proposal, but then rejected it.
This seem to me to be a mistake. In fact, it was more than one mistake, since the offer should never have been considered at face value, and then should never have been rejected outright.
In my opinion you should never, ever just say no to a cease-fire. Rather, you always say that you want a cease-fire, under conditions of your own choice.
Hamas understands this principle. Right now they are saying that they want a cease-fire, with the condition that the border is opened. We can't accept this because it will allow them to freely import weapons. But when we reject the proposal, the condition is mostly forgotten, and it comes off like Hamas wants peace and Israel wants to keep killing people.
Instead, we need to offer a cease-fire under the conditions that rocket fire is totally ended (during the previous "cease-fire" it continued at a lower rate), and that certain Hamas leaders responsible for past terrorist attacks are extradited to Israel for trial, and perhaps that Gilad Shalit is returned... and so on, the exact list does not matter.
On the off chance that such conditions are met, then we will have got what we want without fighting. And even if they aren't, just making the offer public will have a dual benefit. One one hand, it makes clear that we want peace and Hamas is rejecting it, not the other way around. And on the other hand, it puts the spotlight on the various ways in which we are are being wronged. Whenever we are asked "Why haven't you agreed to a cease-fire", we can answer with "We offered a cease-fire, but Hamas is still 'firing' by doing X, Y, and Z" - thus shifting the focus to X, Y, and Z and the necessity of ending them.
Perhaps it is Israeli leaders' moral innocence and naivete (relative to their enemies) that prevents them from engaging in the kind of cynical analysis I performed above. Indeed I doubt any Israeli politician has the evil genius of a Nasrallah or Mashaal, who manipulate Israeli parents for years with televised suggestions that their kidnapped sons are alive or dead, healthy or unhealthy, in order to mock and humiliate Israel. It's a credit to our society that it produces leaders who do not know how to manipulate people so cruelly.
But practically speaking, such innocence is not a desirable trait for those in power. Just like soldiers must on occasion overcome their natural instincts and kill people, politicians must be ready to cynically manipulate diplomatic processes to advance their national interests. In war, not to do so means to risk your citizens' lives through your incompetence. We saw the consequences of incompetent leadership two years ago. Right now the military/political situation is very similar, the leaders only slight different, and remains to be seen if they have learned anything.
It's all over the news that France proposed a 48-hour cease-fire, and the Israeli government considered the proposal, but then rejected it.
This seem to me to be a mistake. In fact, it was more than one mistake, since the offer should never have been considered at face value, and then should never have been rejected outright.
In my opinion you should never, ever just say no to a cease-fire. Rather, you always say that you want a cease-fire, under conditions of your own choice.
Hamas understands this principle. Right now they are saying that they want a cease-fire, with the condition that the border is opened. We can't accept this because it will allow them to freely import weapons. But when we reject the proposal, the condition is mostly forgotten, and it comes off like Hamas wants peace and Israel wants to keep killing people.
Instead, we need to offer a cease-fire under the conditions that rocket fire is totally ended (during the previous "cease-fire" it continued at a lower rate), and that certain Hamas leaders responsible for past terrorist attacks are extradited to Israel for trial, and perhaps that Gilad Shalit is returned... and so on, the exact list does not matter.
On the off chance that such conditions are met, then we will have got what we want without fighting. And even if they aren't, just making the offer public will have a dual benefit. One one hand, it makes clear that we want peace and Hamas is rejecting it, not the other way around. And on the other hand, it puts the spotlight on the various ways in which we are are being wronged. Whenever we are asked "Why haven't you agreed to a cease-fire", we can answer with "We offered a cease-fire, but Hamas is still 'firing' by doing X, Y, and Z" - thus shifting the focus to X, Y, and Z and the necessity of ending them.
Perhaps it is Israeli leaders' moral innocence and naivete (relative to their enemies) that prevents them from engaging in the kind of cynical analysis I performed above. Indeed I doubt any Israeli politician has the evil genius of a Nasrallah or Mashaal, who manipulate Israeli parents for years with televised suggestions that their kidnapped sons are alive or dead, healthy or unhealthy, in order to mock and humiliate Israel. It's a credit to our society that it produces leaders who do not know how to manipulate people so cruelly.
But practically speaking, such innocence is not a desirable trait for those in power. Just like soldiers must on occasion overcome their natural instincts and kill people, politicians must be ready to cynically manipulate diplomatic processes to advance their national interests. In war, not to do so means to risk your citizens' lives through your incompetence. We saw the consequences of incompetent leadership two years ago. Right now the military/political situation is very similar, the leaders only slight different, and remains to be seen if they have learned anything.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thoughts on Vayeshev
What does this week's haftarah have to do with the parsha?
It is accepted to say that the connection is in the haftarah's first line. Here the prophet Amos begins a list of the sins Israel commits, and the first is "selling the righteous for silver". This may not be literally be referring to the selling of Yosef, but it certainly brings that sale to mind.
Less well known is that an equally good connection exists in the next verse. Here Amos lists another sin the people committed: "a man and his father would go to [the same] girl, thereby desecrating My holy name". And indeed, in the middle of parshat Vayeshev we see Yehudah hiring a prostitute who turns out to be his son's widow. Thus he sleeps with the same woman his son did, and of course, the whole episode turns into a big "hilul hashem". Amos is presumably talking about a different form of licentiousness, but still, the similarity with what Yehudah did is striking.
We therefore see that the haftarah contains apparent allusions to both of the stories in our parshah (those of Yosef and Yehudah). No wonder it was chosen for this week in particular.
It is accepted to say that the connection is in the haftarah's first line. Here the prophet Amos begins a list of the sins Israel commits, and the first is "selling the righteous for silver". This may not be literally be referring to the selling of Yosef, but it certainly brings that sale to mind.
Less well known is that an equally good connection exists in the next verse. Here Amos lists another sin the people committed: "a man and his father would go to [the same] girl, thereby desecrating My holy name". And indeed, in the middle of parshat Vayeshev we see Yehudah hiring a prostitute who turns out to be his son's widow. Thus he sleeps with the same woman his son did, and of course, the whole episode turns into a big "hilul hashem". Amos is presumably talking about a different form of licentiousness, but still, the similarity with what Yehudah did is striking.
We therefore see that the haftarah contains apparent allusions to both of the stories in our parshah (those of Yosef and Yehudah). No wonder it was chosen for this week in particular.
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