see Rashi to Breishit 20:5.
"Gam hi - [these words come] to include her slaves, camels, and donkeys, I [Avimelech] asked all of them and they told me he was her brother."
:-)
Monday, July 18, 2005
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Aramaic
You know you've been in yeshiva too long when you try to say a sentence in Hebrew and an Aramaic word comes out instead.
The Israeli I was talking to understood, though.
The Israeli I was talking to understood, though.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Annan Kofei
"Vayomer Elokim, na'aseh et haadam b'tzalmenu kidmutenu..." (Breishit 1:26)
This verse is a favorite of those who would like to prove that Tanach acknowledges the existence of multiple deities. Not only does the word "Elokim" literally mean "gods" (though elsewhere the plural simply indicates a greater level of respect, similar to the "royal we"), but God uses the plural "let us make" in stating His intention to create mankind. This explanation can be quickly dismissed by pointing out that the third-person narrator of Breishit, when speaking of God, uses the singular form both in this verse ("vayomer") and consistently elsewhere. The question remains, though, why God chose to use the plural here. Who could the "us" under discussion have included, other than God Himself?
Many commentators, including Rashi, Rashbam, Radak, and Sforno, suggest that the remaining members of "us" are the angels. Either the creation of man was so important that it called for a public proclamation before the audience of the time, or else God wanted to ask the angels' permission before creating a creature that would take their place as the most important beings in the universe, other than God.
An irrefutable explanation, but I wanted to explore other possibilities. Specifically, I wondered if the remaining members of "us" were not the angels, but the chimpanzees.
Why the, um, chimpanzees?
The scientific evidence we have today indicates that humans form a species of great ape, descended from an ancient ape ancestor. The difference between us and other apes, of course, is that we have a sense of morality and can be held to an ethical standard. At some point in the evolution of the apes, God implanted these qualities into a humanoid ape, and the first human was created. Thus, the apes supplied the bodies of mankind, while God supplied the souls. It was a joint effort, and the roles of both parties is indicated by the words "na'aseh", "b'tzalmenu", and "kidmutenu".
Both Ramban and Radak provide explanations which are similar and congruent to this idea. According to Ramban, "God created ex nihilo only on the first day, and afterwards, from the created basics he fashioned and made... and the statement regarding land animals was 'May the earth bring forth'; thus, regarding man 'we will make', i.e. I and the aformentioned earth will make man - that the earth will bring forth the body from its basics as it did with land animals... and [God] will give spirit from above." One could read this as indicating that man came directly from the earth, but I see it as no stretch to say that man came from animals which themselves came from the earth, as the theory of evolution suggests.
The next verse, though, seems to upset this framework. "Vayivra Elokim et haadam b'tzalmo, b'tzelem Elokim bara oto, zachar unkeva bara otam." God is mentioned as creating three times here, while the animals (or the earth) are not mentioned at all! But - look closely at the verbs - in the last verse we had "naaseh" - "we will make". Here, the verb is "bara" - "created from nothing". The word "bara" is rare and the fact that it occurs three times in one verse should make us look closely. Clearly the animals were not creating from nothing - only God has that power. But while God was off conjuring up the soul, it makes sense to say that the apes were going about their daily business at the same time. Only the miraculous element - the creation of the soul - is worth mentioning in the text, so while verse 26 indicates that both God and nature were to be involved in the creation in man, just half of that story made it into the narrative of verse 27.
This verse is a favorite of those who would like to prove that Tanach acknowledges the existence of multiple deities. Not only does the word "Elokim" literally mean "gods" (though elsewhere the plural simply indicates a greater level of respect, similar to the "royal we"), but God uses the plural "let us make" in stating His intention to create mankind. This explanation can be quickly dismissed by pointing out that the third-person narrator of Breishit, when speaking of God, uses the singular form both in this verse ("vayomer") and consistently elsewhere. The question remains, though, why God chose to use the plural here. Who could the "us" under discussion have included, other than God Himself?
Many commentators, including Rashi, Rashbam, Radak, and Sforno, suggest that the remaining members of "us" are the angels. Either the creation of man was so important that it called for a public proclamation before the audience of the time, or else God wanted to ask the angels' permission before creating a creature that would take their place as the most important beings in the universe, other than God.
An irrefutable explanation, but I wanted to explore other possibilities. Specifically, I wondered if the remaining members of "us" were not the angels, but the chimpanzees.
Why the, um, chimpanzees?
The scientific evidence we have today indicates that humans form a species of great ape, descended from an ancient ape ancestor. The difference between us and other apes, of course, is that we have a sense of morality and can be held to an ethical standard. At some point in the evolution of the apes, God implanted these qualities into a humanoid ape, and the first human was created. Thus, the apes supplied the bodies of mankind, while God supplied the souls. It was a joint effort, and the roles of both parties is indicated by the words "na'aseh", "b'tzalmenu", and "kidmutenu".
Both Ramban and Radak provide explanations which are similar and congruent to this idea. According to Ramban, "God created ex nihilo only on the first day, and afterwards, from the created basics he fashioned and made... and the statement regarding land animals was 'May the earth bring forth'; thus, regarding man 'we will make', i.e. I and the aformentioned earth will make man - that the earth will bring forth the body from its basics as it did with land animals... and [God] will give spirit from above." One could read this as indicating that man came directly from the earth, but I see it as no stretch to say that man came from animals which themselves came from the earth, as the theory of evolution suggests.
The next verse, though, seems to upset this framework. "Vayivra Elokim et haadam b'tzalmo, b'tzelem Elokim bara oto, zachar unkeva bara otam." God is mentioned as creating three times here, while the animals (or the earth) are not mentioned at all! But - look closely at the verbs - in the last verse we had "naaseh" - "we will make". Here, the verb is "bara" - "created from nothing". The word "bara" is rare and the fact that it occurs three times in one verse should make us look closely. Clearly the animals were not creating from nothing - only God has that power. But while God was off conjuring up the soul, it makes sense to say that the apes were going about their daily business at the same time. Only the miraculous element - the creation of the soul - is worth mentioning in the text, so while verse 26 indicates that both God and nature were to be involved in the creation in man, just half of that story made it into the narrative of verse 27.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Al Homotayich Yerushalayim Hifkadti Shomrim
Last Thursday Gush offered a tiyul for foreign students to see the "security barrier" around Jerusalem. While along most of its length the security barrier consists of a fence running through rural areas, its most controversial parts around Jerusalem are mainly large concrete walls. Being the batlan that I am, I decided it was worth a few hours to get a good look at the structure which has recently been the focus of so much world attention.
Going in, we were curious as to what perspective would be presented on the trip. Gush has a reputation for being left-wing as far as yeshivot go, but I've seen little of that since I came, and someone told me that the terrorism of the last few years has moved everyone to the right. Gush still seems to have none the messianic R' Kook-inspired fervor I saw at Yeshivat Or Etzion my first shabbat in the country, nor any underground terror cells like the one recently discovered two bus stops away at Bat Ayin, but there seems to have been an immense hardening of opinion and much increased pessimism as to the Palestinians' intentions.
Our tour guide, as she told us, works with the "Ir Amim" organization, which (as far as I can tell) promotes understanding and consideration between Jewish and Arab Jerusalemites in the hope of minimizing mutually destructive behavior and making an eventual peace agreement possible. Technically this puts her into the category of wacko hippie left-wing peace activists (i.e. characterized by lofty universal ideals paired with an utter lack of moral or practical perspective), but she seemed surprisingly open and honest compared to the so-called "peace activists" I am used to. At the beginning she said "I'm not trying to give you propaganda - I want to give you all the facts, and you can decide whether it's a good thing or not" - and she did a good if not perfect job of sticking to that formula.
We started out at Gilo, on the south edge of Jerusalem. Here the barrier changes from a double fence to a wall as it reaches the edge of Bethlehem. The guide explained how the route and type of fence were reasonable here. As she said, it's impossible to put fences in built-up areas, and all the Arabs here are on one side, with the Jews on the other. The only inconvenience to Palestinians is that a few of them can't reach their olive groves on the other side of the barrier, but as the guide said, that's an understandable inconvenience given the security needs.
Then we got back in the bus and drove northeast - past the new and heavily debated neighborhood of Har Homa, then right through the Arab parts of the city. I was a little nervous going through these neighborhoods in a bus whose decoration proclaimed that it was owned by a West Bank settlement, but the windows were bulletproof and several of us were carrying (unloaded?) assault weapons, so we were probably OK. The only angry Arab we met the whole way wanted us to move more quickly so that he could get out of his parking space.
As we went the guide told us about the standard of living in the Arab neighborhoods and how much lower it was than in then Jewish ones (though, she said, it was extremely high relative to the West Bank as a whole). She also mentioned that the level of municipal services provided was much lower in Arab than in Jewish neighborhoods. And, in fact, the roads here were mostly one lane each way, twisty, slow, and probably dangerous - much different from the broad and landscaped arterials which you find in West Jerusalem (though, oddly, they were less congested than those West Jerusalem roads). But as the guide also said, most Jerusalem Arabs have made a political choice not to vote in municipal (Israeli) elections, so the lack of services provided seemed to us to be their own fault - they can't really complain if they have the opportunity to change the situation and don't. (For the most part they choose not to vote in Palestinian elections either, and thus have apparently screwed themselves over in every possible way.) Also, nearly every Arab house looked much nicer than the typical buildings you find in Jewish neighborhoods. Possibly each of these Arab buildings houses an extended family, unlike Jewish residences which include only a nuclear family, usually in a single apartment. But still, the degree of ornamentation visible makes it hard to argue that these people are living in dire poverty. If only I could have a brand-new three-story stone house with a balcony overlooking the Temple Mount.
We stopped in Jabel al-Mukabar, east of the Tayelet, where there was a good view of Abu Dis (outside the wall and the city) and Ras al-Amud (inside both). Here the wall passes through a densely populated area where no Jews live - or did, until recently. The guide pointed out two Jewish houses in open areas directly abutting the "inside" of the wall. By making the Israeli side of the wall more Jewish, these houses (which may soon be expanded into a larger settlement called I think Kedmat Tzion) increase the likelihood that the wall becomes a permanent border with a mixed population on the Israeli side. The guide pointed out that including those Arabs in Israel may be less advantageous for Israel than conceding the small chunk of East Jerusalem on which they live to a future Palestinian state. I think she was entirely correct in saying that this should concern the right wing, even as it decides one way or the other which policy to support.
Next we drove to the end of the barrier in Abu Dis. Here the old road from Jerusalem east to Jericho is entirely cut off by the wall, which however ends just north of the road. (When it became unsafe for Jews to drive through Abu Dis probably a decade ago, a bypass road was paved several kilometers to the north.) The wall does not extend past this point because plans call for it to turn east from here, into the West Bank, and the Israel Supreme Court is still deciding whether to allow this. Here, numerous slogans such as "Norway Supports Palestine" have been spray-painted onto the wall. We took the liberty of adding our own. Where someone had written "This wall shall fall" in marker, we crossed out the last two words and wrote "saves lives" instead. We wrote "Gush Etzion supports" over another comment about the wall. In the middle of this a police jeep stopped and threatened to arrest us for graffiti-ing the wall. Lots of fun.
As I said, the wall simply ends in Abu Dis. North of this, the streets have been blocked off with fences or short concrete barriers, which stop cars but are relatively easily climbed over. Also, if you live on the "border" here, you can apparently go out your front door to get to one side of the barrier, and out your back door to get to the other side. If the border residents were nice, they would open their backyards to the children and old ladies who right now have to climb over the fence or concrete barriers. Of course, in a few months there will probably be a 30-foot concrete wall here and it won't matter. (As a side note, I've yet to discover why the wall is considered so ugly. Yes it's 30 feet tall, but its size looks reasonable as it passes 30-foot-tall buildings. And sure it's made of bare concrete, but nobody complains that city streets are ugly, when they're also 30-foot strips of concrete. Of course the wall isn't an architectural asset to the city. But the suicide bombings it is designed to prevent clearly aren't assets either.)
After a stop at Har haTzofim where we discussed the planned extension of the fence east to Maale Adumim, we drove to the Kalandia checkpoint at the north edge of the city. This is a nasty, hot area with swirling dust, trucks, and crowds of impatient people waiting to cross into or out of Jerusalem. It must not be fun to be either a soldier or a Palestinian here, and this is probably a place where everyone learns to hate "the other side". The army is apparently building new facilities to ease the wait here. The guide mentioned this to as us a counterpoint to her complaint that right now there are only two places where Palestinians can enter Jerusalem, and that both are overcrowded. We were only too glad to get back in the bus and take the brand-new Begin freeway (whose northern part is an environmental atrocity - but that's another story) back home to Gush Etzion.
Perhaps this story deserves an ending, but as this has already so long, I will leave further thoughts to the reader(s).
Going in, we were curious as to what perspective would be presented on the trip. Gush has a reputation for being left-wing as far as yeshivot go, but I've seen little of that since I came, and someone told me that the terrorism of the last few years has moved everyone to the right. Gush still seems to have none the messianic R' Kook-inspired fervor I saw at Yeshivat Or Etzion my first shabbat in the country, nor any underground terror cells like the one recently discovered two bus stops away at Bat Ayin, but there seems to have been an immense hardening of opinion and much increased pessimism as to the Palestinians' intentions.
Our tour guide, as she told us, works with the "Ir Amim" organization, which (as far as I can tell) promotes understanding and consideration between Jewish and Arab Jerusalemites in the hope of minimizing mutually destructive behavior and making an eventual peace agreement possible. Technically this puts her into the category of wacko hippie left-wing peace activists (i.e. characterized by lofty universal ideals paired with an utter lack of moral or practical perspective), but she seemed surprisingly open and honest compared to the so-called "peace activists" I am used to. At the beginning she said "I'm not trying to give you propaganda - I want to give you all the facts, and you can decide whether it's a good thing or not" - and she did a good if not perfect job of sticking to that formula.
We started out at Gilo, on the south edge of Jerusalem. Here the barrier changes from a double fence to a wall as it reaches the edge of Bethlehem. The guide explained how the route and type of fence were reasonable here. As she said, it's impossible to put fences in built-up areas, and all the Arabs here are on one side, with the Jews on the other. The only inconvenience to Palestinians is that a few of them can't reach their olive groves on the other side of the barrier, but as the guide said, that's an understandable inconvenience given the security needs.
Then we got back in the bus and drove northeast - past the new and heavily debated neighborhood of Har Homa, then right through the Arab parts of the city. I was a little nervous going through these neighborhoods in a bus whose decoration proclaimed that it was owned by a West Bank settlement, but the windows were bulletproof and several of us were carrying (unloaded?) assault weapons, so we were probably OK. The only angry Arab we met the whole way wanted us to move more quickly so that he could get out of his parking space.
As we went the guide told us about the standard of living in the Arab neighborhoods and how much lower it was than in then Jewish ones (though, she said, it was extremely high relative to the West Bank as a whole). She also mentioned that the level of municipal services provided was much lower in Arab than in Jewish neighborhoods. And, in fact, the roads here were mostly one lane each way, twisty, slow, and probably dangerous - much different from the broad and landscaped arterials which you find in West Jerusalem (though, oddly, they were less congested than those West Jerusalem roads). But as the guide also said, most Jerusalem Arabs have made a political choice not to vote in municipal (Israeli) elections, so the lack of services provided seemed to us to be their own fault - they can't really complain if they have the opportunity to change the situation and don't. (For the most part they choose not to vote in Palestinian elections either, and thus have apparently screwed themselves over in every possible way.) Also, nearly every Arab house looked much nicer than the typical buildings you find in Jewish neighborhoods. Possibly each of these Arab buildings houses an extended family, unlike Jewish residences which include only a nuclear family, usually in a single apartment. But still, the degree of ornamentation visible makes it hard to argue that these people are living in dire poverty. If only I could have a brand-new three-story stone house with a balcony overlooking the Temple Mount.
We stopped in Jabel al-Mukabar, east of the Tayelet, where there was a good view of Abu Dis (outside the wall and the city) and Ras al-Amud (inside both). Here the wall passes through a densely populated area where no Jews live - or did, until recently. The guide pointed out two Jewish houses in open areas directly abutting the "inside" of the wall. By making the Israeli side of the wall more Jewish, these houses (which may soon be expanded into a larger settlement called I think Kedmat Tzion) increase the likelihood that the wall becomes a permanent border with a mixed population on the Israeli side. The guide pointed out that including those Arabs in Israel may be less advantageous for Israel than conceding the small chunk of East Jerusalem on which they live to a future Palestinian state. I think she was entirely correct in saying that this should concern the right wing, even as it decides one way or the other which policy to support.
Next we drove to the end of the barrier in Abu Dis. Here the old road from Jerusalem east to Jericho is entirely cut off by the wall, which however ends just north of the road. (When it became unsafe for Jews to drive through Abu Dis probably a decade ago, a bypass road was paved several kilometers to the north.) The wall does not extend past this point because plans call for it to turn east from here, into the West Bank, and the Israel Supreme Court is still deciding whether to allow this. Here, numerous slogans such as "Norway Supports Palestine" have been spray-painted onto the wall. We took the liberty of adding our own. Where someone had written "This wall shall fall" in marker, we crossed out the last two words and wrote "saves lives" instead. We wrote "Gush Etzion supports" over another comment about the wall. In the middle of this a police jeep stopped and threatened to arrest us for graffiti-ing the wall. Lots of fun.
As I said, the wall simply ends in Abu Dis. North of this, the streets have been blocked off with fences or short concrete barriers, which stop cars but are relatively easily climbed over. Also, if you live on the "border" here, you can apparently go out your front door to get to one side of the barrier, and out your back door to get to the other side. If the border residents were nice, they would open their backyards to the children and old ladies who right now have to climb over the fence or concrete barriers. Of course, in a few months there will probably be a 30-foot concrete wall here and it won't matter. (As a side note, I've yet to discover why the wall is considered so ugly. Yes it's 30 feet tall, but its size looks reasonable as it passes 30-foot-tall buildings. And sure it's made of bare concrete, but nobody complains that city streets are ugly, when they're also 30-foot strips of concrete. Of course the wall isn't an architectural asset to the city. But the suicide bombings it is designed to prevent clearly aren't assets either.)
After a stop at Har haTzofim where we discussed the planned extension of the fence east to Maale Adumim, we drove to the Kalandia checkpoint at the north edge of the city. This is a nasty, hot area with swirling dust, trucks, and crowds of impatient people waiting to cross into or out of Jerusalem. It must not be fun to be either a soldier or a Palestinian here, and this is probably a place where everyone learns to hate "the other side". The army is apparently building new facilities to ease the wait here. The guide mentioned this to as us a counterpoint to her complaint that right now there are only two places where Palestinians can enter Jerusalem, and that both are overcrowded. We were only too glad to get back in the bus and take the brand-new Begin freeway (whose northern part is an environmental atrocity - but that's another story) back home to Gush Etzion.
Perhaps this story deserves an ending, but as this has already so long, I will leave further thoughts to the reader(s).
Friday, May 27, 2005
Israel
Happy Lag beOmer to all. Amsterdam was fun, probably because I missed all the fun stuff. Israel is cooler though. Dragging 70 pounds through the streets of Jerusalem is uncool. But the shul at 127 Agrippas is really cool.
P.S. I'm writing this at about 2pm Or Etzion time.
P.S. I'm writing this at about 2pm Or Etzion time.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Amsterdam
On my flight to Israel this May 25, I have a 7-hour layover in Amsterdam. My plans are to take a boat tour (the whole downtown area is criscrossed by canals) and visit the Anne Frank house. If there's extra time, there are a couple art galleries and a Portugese Synagogue worth visiting. My plans largely come from this site.
Over the past 4 years I've made a point of visiting cities such as Baltimore and Chicago in conjunction with traveling to and from college. Now that I'll be studying in Israel, it will be nice to be able to do the same in Europe. Perhaps my next trip will be on British Airways, or Air France.
Over the past 4 years I've made a point of visiting cities such as Baltimore and Chicago in conjunction with traveling to and from college. Now that I'll be studying in Israel, it will be nice to be able to do the same in Europe. Perhaps my next trip will be on British Airways, or Air France.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Crashing
The relative frequency of crashing of various programs on my computer:
My next post will presumably be written in EditPlus.
- Microsoft Word: Every 5 seconds. Which is why I don't use it any more. See next entry.
- OpenOffice: Never crashed yet. Recent versions are roughly as capable as Word, so I don't feel that I'm missing anything by using it.
- Excel and Powerpoint: Don't use them too much, but can't remember either of them crashing.
- Internet Explorer: I rarely use it, but when I do it seems to crash at a reasonable clip
- EditPlus: My preferred text and web site editor; never crashed.
- Photoshop: Seems pretty stable
- Gaim: Crashes very rarely
- Mozilla Firefox: My main web browser. Known to crash, but infrequently, and it has a nice auto recover feature which remembers which sites you were at when anything happens. BUT, it doesn't remember the text you're entering on those sites. Hence my loss.
My next post will presumably be written in EditPlus.
AARRGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is where a 500 word post would have gone, if it hadn't been wiped out by a browser crash. No, "recover post" doesn't seem to do anything. Maybe I'll rewrite it later.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Minor update
Due to extensive work - I've had to give presentations each of the last 3 days, not to mention the papers and problem sets and stuff - I haven't been able to post recently. For now, I'll just post a single link. My goal for the next 48 hours is to use both of the made-up words from that site, "Operation Chomblitz" and "Chumropoly", in conversation.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Achat Kibalti Me'Et Hashem...
...shivti b'veit hashem... for at least one year.
It's (almost) official. This summer and next year, I'll be at Gush.
It's (almost) official. This summer and next year, I'll be at Gush.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Google Maps
As everyone probably knows by now, Google Maps is the coolest mapping program in existence. Even better, the management has just introduced satellite imaging, which isn't that useful but makes it easy to waste hours on end. Finally, the site is written using a publicly accessible XML interface, which some people have used to add extremely useful and interesting features of their own.
Now, if only they could add a scale feature, and perhaps symbols for landmarks such as hospitals and subway stops... but even now, it's a revolutionary improvement over its competitors.
Now, if only they could add a scale feature, and perhaps symbols for landmarks such as hospitals and subway stops... but even now, it's a revolutionary improvement over its competitors.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Our Lord of the World
Every Shabbat morning, after mussaf, we sing the piyyut Adom Olam. This song is not an integral part of the service. I do not remember it ever being being sung in Israel or in the more fundamentalist communities (Lakewood, Ner Yisrael) that I have visited. In many siddurim, it also appears at the beginning of Shacharit and as part of the bedtime Shema prayers.
Its authorship is unknown. Several non-authoritative sources I found online suggested that it was composed in 10th-century Babylonia, or by Ibn Gabirol in 11th-century Spain. The more respectable sources I found generally did not suggest any attribution. It seems to have been added to the prayer services around the 16th century.
The first three stanzas are theological; the last two describe the believer's relationship to God. The last stanza begins with the words, "בידו אפקיד רוחי", "In his hand I entrust my spirit".
These words are a direct quotation from the New Testament.
I noticed this a few days ago in a news report about the Pope's death. I don't know how to take it. I can't be the only one who finds it strange that a supposedly Jewish prayer includes a line from the Christian Bible.
This brings us back to the question of authorship. The following possibilities suggest themselves to me.
Its authorship is unknown. Several non-authoritative sources I found online suggested that it was composed in 10th-century Babylonia, or by Ibn Gabirol in 11th-century Spain. The more respectable sources I found generally did not suggest any attribution. It seems to have been added to the prayer services around the 16th century.
The first three stanzas are theological; the last two describe the believer's relationship to God. The last stanza begins with the words, "בידו אפקיד רוחי", "In his hand I entrust my spirit".
These words are a direct quotation from the New Testament.
I noticed this a few days ago in a news report about the Pope's death. I don't know how to take it. I can't be the only one who finds it strange that a supposedly Jewish prayer includes a line from the Christian Bible.
This brings us back to the question of authorship. The following possibilities suggest themselves to me.
- The resemblance is coincidental.
- The poem was written by a Jew who had read the Christian Bible and felt comfortable reusing its language in a Jewish context.
- The poem was written by a Christian, or perhaps a "Jewish Christian" who considered himself a traditional Jew but believed that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah.
- Part of the poem - the last stanza or two - was written by an author who drew on the Christian Bible, while the rest was written by one of the previously suggested authors. This would account for the presence of the line "והוא אחד ואין שני להמשיל לו להחבירה", "And he is one, and there is no second, to be compared to him, to be joined with him". While this line is not necessary a direct refutation of Christianity (Christians presumably think that they are in fact monotheists, believing in three aspects of one God), it does sound to me like anti-Christian polemic. However you read it, it's strange to see this and a Christian Bible quote located just four lines apart from each other. Perhaps this indicates that Adon Olam is an accretion of several authors' contributions, although the uniformity of the poem's meter (it's strict iambic pentameter all the way through) might indicate otherwise.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Homosexuality
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Rav Gigi
The current roshei yeshiva of Gush have passed their collective 150th birthday, and in preparation for their retirement, the yeshiva has already chosen several successors.
Like most of us who haven't (yet) studied at Gush, I'm less familiar with R' Gigi and R' Medan than with the current roshei yeshiva. Thus, I was happy to see an interview with R' Gigi in the religious Zionist De'ot journal.
My take:
He was very diplomatic and didn't say anything revolutionary. But it seemed to me that he was a bit more liberal than the current consensus at Gush. Which is eminently reasonable, seeing that R' Medan apparently leans to the conservative side. (Admittedly, those are gross generalizations.)
A partial translation is available here. (This is also where I found out about the interview.)
Like most of us who haven't (yet) studied at Gush, I'm less familiar with R' Gigi and R' Medan than with the current roshei yeshiva. Thus, I was happy to see an interview with R' Gigi in the religious Zionist De'ot journal.
My take:
He was very diplomatic and didn't say anything revolutionary. But it seemed to me that he was a bit more liberal than the current consensus at Gush. Which is eminently reasonable, seeing that R' Medan apparently leans to the conservative side. (Admittedly, those are gross generalizations.)
A partial translation is available here. (This is also where I found out about the interview.)
Monday, March 28, 2005
4T
Apparently, in Windows XP, when the number 4 on your keyboard is depressed, it is impossible to simultaneously enter the letter "T". When I inserted my completed absentee ballot (for local school board) into the slot above my keyboard, it accidentally depressed the 4 key. Later I happened to remove it, and the T worked fine again. Clearly, this is a feature, not a bug.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Ouch
My roommate and I just got in a fight over brachot. This is not a good situation. Maybe I should just start making brachot again.
Hashem Oz leAmo Yiten, [v'az] Hashem Yivarech et Amo baShalom
"King David was not allowed to build God's temple because he was a man of war. It was left for his son Solomon, who would enjoy peace. Ariel Sharon's tragic miscalculation is to confuse the two roles. While one's enemies are still armed with evil intent, one must forever remain a David. Of the two men, it is the legacy of the father that is greater than the son. The Messiah is called the son of David rather than Solomon, not because war is greater than peace, but because a just war that defeats evil leads to the sprouting of peace."
(From today's Jerusalem Post.)
(From today's Jerusalem Post.)
Jews don't make brachot
I have come to the conclusion that you are pretty much never supposed to make a bracha achrona. I don't assert that this conclusion is correct. In fact, it is so crazy that I plan on asking my posek about it ASAP. But in the meantime, it makes perfect sense to me, and here is my logic. None of what follows should be treated as halacha, because it probably isn't, even if it seems to me to be correct.
First, and most importantly, we have the principle of "safek brachot lehakel". Which is to say, when you are uncertain whether to make a bracha, you don't make it. Quite possibly, this rule does not apply when the bracha is d'oraita (birkot hatorah and sometimes birkat hamazon), but these situations normally don't concern us here. Furthermore, "safek brachot lehakel" is so strong that it seems to override other fundamental rules about brachot. For example, what if you want to eat something but aren't sure if you made a bracha on it? You have to decide between the principles of "safek brachot lehakel" and "assur lo leadam sheyihaneh min haolam belo bracha". In this case, most authorities hold that it's preferable to eat without a bracha than to potentially make an unnecessary bracha.
Second, a bracha achrona should only be made after eating a k'zayit of food within a time period known as k'dei achilat pras. The latter is generally held to be 3 minutes (others say 4 minutes). There is much disagreement as to how much a kzayit is, but the opinions seem to be from 15 to 50 cubic centimeters. According to the principle of "safek brachot lehakel", I think we should only make a bracha achrona when these two measurements are satisfied according to all possible opinions. In practice, that means you only make a bracha after eating 50 cm3 of a given food within 3 minutes.
Some of you might not be aware how much 50 cm3 is. According to a quick Google calculation, it equals a cube nearly an inch and a half on a side. This is a lot. Try eating this much of a given food while watching the clock. Eating nonstop, I think you will find that it takes a large part of those 3 minutes to eat a single k'zayit. In normal social situations, or when eating candy or other such foods, your pace will undoubtedly be slower. Furthermore, it is difficult to measure exact volumes of food and (sometimes) time, and due to "safek brachot lehakel", you only make the bracha if you're entirely sure the conditions are satisfied, which rules out substantial boundary regions as well.
In some cases, there's even less chance to make a bracha achrona. I believe you do not make a bracha on the food unless you ate an entire k'zayit of the "ikkar" of a food combination, not including the amount of "tafel". Thus, if you made the mezonot bracha over pie, you would never ever say "al hamichya" afterwards, because it's not humanly possible to eat 50 cm3 of pie crust and the accompanying filling in 3 minutes. This would also apply, to a greater or lesser extent, to all other foods which are combinations of mezonot and other stuff, like hamantashen, lasagna, and so on.
Thus, I've come to the conclusion that there are very few situations when you actually make a bracha achrona. It's just very unusual that one eats 50 cm3 (or sometimes, a much larger quantity) of food within 3 minutes. Of course, this opinion conflicts with the whole world seems to do, and everyone who's heard my explanation thinks I'm crazy (without providing logic for or against me). In addition, on a behavioral level, it seems to conflict with the statement I remember from R' Bodner's Kzayis book, that a normal person eats about 6 kzaitim (sp?) per 3 minutes. These discrepancies could be resolved by pointing out a fundamental logical flaw of mine, which I haven't found, or else by defining the k'zayit to be less than the value of 50 cm3 I made use of.
While my conclusions may in fact turn out to be wrong, I do think that my thought process was reasonable. Everyone agonizes over whether they have eaten the correct amount of matzah on the night of Pesach, but the other 364 days of the year we seem to ignore the laws of k'zayit. Why the difference in attention? It's not so hard to get halachot such as this correct. I see no reason not to think critically and clarify them to the fullest extent possible.
First, and most importantly, we have the principle of "safek brachot lehakel". Which is to say, when you are uncertain whether to make a bracha, you don't make it. Quite possibly, this rule does not apply when the bracha is d'oraita (birkot hatorah and sometimes birkat hamazon), but these situations normally don't concern us here. Furthermore, "safek brachot lehakel" is so strong that it seems to override other fundamental rules about brachot. For example, what if you want to eat something but aren't sure if you made a bracha on it? You have to decide between the principles of "safek brachot lehakel" and "assur lo leadam sheyihaneh min haolam belo bracha". In this case, most authorities hold that it's preferable to eat without a bracha than to potentially make an unnecessary bracha.
Second, a bracha achrona should only be made after eating a k'zayit of food within a time period known as k'dei achilat pras. The latter is generally held to be 3 minutes (others say 4 minutes). There is much disagreement as to how much a kzayit is, but the opinions seem to be from 15 to 50 cubic centimeters. According to the principle of "safek brachot lehakel", I think we should only make a bracha achrona when these two measurements are satisfied according to all possible opinions. In practice, that means you only make a bracha after eating 50 cm3 of a given food within 3 minutes.
Some of you might not be aware how much 50 cm3 is. According to a quick Google calculation, it equals a cube nearly an inch and a half on a side. This is a lot. Try eating this much of a given food while watching the clock. Eating nonstop, I think you will find that it takes a large part of those 3 minutes to eat a single k'zayit. In normal social situations, or when eating candy or other such foods, your pace will undoubtedly be slower. Furthermore, it is difficult to measure exact volumes of food and (sometimes) time, and due to "safek brachot lehakel", you only make the bracha if you're entirely sure the conditions are satisfied, which rules out substantial boundary regions as well.
In some cases, there's even less chance to make a bracha achrona. I believe you do not make a bracha on the food unless you ate an entire k'zayit of the "ikkar" of a food combination, not including the amount of "tafel". Thus, if you made the mezonot bracha over pie, you would never ever say "al hamichya" afterwards, because it's not humanly possible to eat 50 cm3 of pie crust and the accompanying filling in 3 minutes. This would also apply, to a greater or lesser extent, to all other foods which are combinations of mezonot and other stuff, like hamantashen, lasagna, and so on.
Thus, I've come to the conclusion that there are very few situations when you actually make a bracha achrona. It's just very unusual that one eats 50 cm3 (or sometimes, a much larger quantity) of food within 3 minutes. Of course, this opinion conflicts with the whole world seems to do, and everyone who's heard my explanation thinks I'm crazy (without providing logic for or against me). In addition, on a behavioral level, it seems to conflict with the statement I remember from R' Bodner's Kzayis book, that a normal person eats about 6 kzaitim (sp?) per 3 minutes. These discrepancies could be resolved by pointing out a fundamental logical flaw of mine, which I haven't found, or else by defining the k'zayit to be less than the value of 50 cm3 I made use of.
While my conclusions may in fact turn out to be wrong, I do think that my thought process was reasonable. Everyone agonizes over whether they have eaten the correct amount of matzah on the night of Pesach, but the other 364 days of the year we seem to ignore the laws of k'zayit. Why the difference in attention? It's not so hard to get halachot such as this correct. I see no reason not to think critically and clarify them to the fullest extent possible.
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