Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Ata bechartanu
1. Introduction
You chose us from the all nations; you loved us and were satisfied [ratzita] by us; you elevated us [romamtanu] from all the peoples; you sanctified us [kidashtanu] with your commandments; you brought us close [keravtanu] to your service...
This prayer, recited on every holiday mentioned in the Torah, troubles some people because of its seeming "we're so great" message. It seems imply that we Jews are better than other human beings, and therefore deserve everything and are responsible for nothing.
But our unease with that idea should disappear when we look more closely and see that the passage is in fact troublesome due to quite the opposite idea.
Most of the verbs in the above passage are well known from the Temple service:
ratzita - ritzui, God's acceptance of a sacrifice
romamtanu - terumah, a gift of part of something to the Temple or priests
kidashtanu - hekdesh, property which has been donated to the Temple
keravtanu - korban, a sacrifice
This series of allusions implicitly compares the Jewish nation to a Temple sacrifice.
Taken literally, this seems like a troubling glorification of death as a religious experience. It reminds one the deviant theology which says that the Holocaust had positive value, because it was mankind's special opportunity to offer a "sacrifice" to God in the form of the Jewish people. (The very word "holocaust", which originally meant an animal sacrifice, reflects this interpretation.)
In fact, I think Ata Bechartanu's comparison of Israel to a sacrifice means no such thing. The concept of "korban", i.e. "sacrifice", does not necessarily imply death or suffering at all. Here is why.
2. Sacrifice
I think the basic conception of "sacrifice" (in Tanach and Jewish tradition) is not that the object of sacrifice is killed, but simply that the object is committed and transferred to God. The word "sacrifice" is in fact somewhat inappropriate; the equivalent Hebrew words "korban" and "lehakriv" literally meant "to bring close". Once the object has been transferred to God's domain, the act of sacrifice is over; what happens next depends on what the object is best suited for. If the object is an animal, then it is killed (the word “hikriv” in the Torah is often followed by “shachat”). If the object is a person, then the person becomes committed to serving in the Temple.
Therefore, what we call "human sacrifice" is problematic, not because of the "korban" aspect, but because AFTER the "korban" the person is killed instead of performing one of the meaningful tasks that people are capable of performing. It is an example of giving a gift, which is good, but then using the gift in a way the recipient would not like.
This understanding is evident in the following commandment, one of the first in the Torah regarding sacrifices:
"You shall give your firstborn sons to Me. Thus you shall also do to your ox and sheep: seven days it shall be with its mother; on the eighth day you shall give it to Me." (Shemot 22:28-9)
Thus the firstborns are "given" to God. Given the context (the animals in the next verse are killed as sacrifices), you might think this means the firstborns become human sacrifices. Whatever its meaning, the command is later overridden, as the firstborns are replaced by Levites:
"Behold, I have taken the Levites from the children of Israel - in place of the firstborn of each womb among the children of Israel - and the Levites are now Mine." (Bamidbar 3:12)
What is the fate of the Levites? Will they now become human sacrifices in place of the firstborn? The answer appears shortly afterwards:
"God spoke to Moshe saying: ... 'Aharon shall offer the Levites before Hashem as a wave-offering from the children of Israel, that they may be in the service of Hashem.' ... Aharon waved [the Levites] as a wave-offering ... Afterwards the Levites entered to perform their service in the Tent of Meeting before Aharon." (Bamidbar 8:1-22)
So the Levites DO become "sacrifices", but not in the expected sense of the term. They are called a "wave-offering" (elsewhere in the Torah "wave-offering" refers to ceremonially lifting a just-sacrificed animal) even though they aren't actually killed, just consecrated to their future task. Evidently, this was the original intention with regard to the firstborns, and this is what was meant by "giving" them to God.
We see the same meaning in Shmuel 1:1:11, where Hannah prays that "If You give Your servant a male child, I will give him to Hashem all the day of his life". Her words resemble and perhaps intentionally allude to Shemot 22:28 ("You shall give your firstborn sons to Me"). And when her firstborn son Shmuel is born, "giving" him to God does not mean killing him. Rather, once he is old enough he serves in the Mishkan, and eventually he becomes an important prophet and religious leader.
Probably the clearest example of this understanding appears in the Torah verses discussing the actual appointment of priests and Levites:
"You shall hakrev to you Aharon your brother and his sons with him, from among the children of Israel, to be priests to me." (Shemot 28:1)
"Hakrev the tribe of Levi, and have him stand before Aharon the priest, and serve him." (Bamidbar 3:6)
In all these verses we see that consistently, the language is that of sacrifices, but the action is that of consecration for Temple service.
3. Ata Bechartanu and the priesthood
According to this theory, when a person is brought as an “offering” to God, it in fact means that they are committed to service of God in the Temple. Let us apply this to Ata Bechartanu, which speaks of the people as a whole as if they were sacrifices. The implication is that they must all serve in a priestly role. This role, of course, is well known and most clearly indicated by Shemot 19:6, which describes the Jewish people as a "kingdom of priests, a holy people".
We can see how apt this description is by looking broadly at Torah's guidelines for kohanim, Israelites, and non-Jews. All human beings must behave morally, but Jews must additionally observe a number of rituals and prohibitions. Similarly, all Jews must keep the Torah, but kohanim must observe several rituals and prohibitions unique to them. Kohanim have the additional task of teaching and inspiring the people of Israel (see Devarim 33:10), and in the broad picture, Jews have the same task when it comes to non-Jews. Jews truly are the priests of the human race – with the tasks, status, and material sacrifices that that role entails.
On Shalosh Regalim, all Jews come to the Temple and directly act out their role as priests. It is no accident that on these days we recite Ata Bechartanu, the prayer that most directly alludes to our priestly role.
------------
* Ask your rabbi regarding practical applications of this.
You chose us from the all nations; you loved us and were satisfied [ratzita] by us; you elevated us [romamtanu] from all the peoples; you sanctified us [kidashtanu] with your commandments; you brought us close [keravtanu] to your service...
This prayer, recited on every holiday mentioned in the Torah, troubles some people because of its seeming "we're so great" message. It seems imply that we Jews are better than other human beings, and therefore deserve everything and are responsible for nothing.
But our unease with that idea should disappear when we look more closely and see that the passage is in fact troublesome due to quite the opposite idea.
Most of the verbs in the above passage are well known from the Temple service:
ratzita - ritzui, God's acceptance of a sacrifice
romamtanu - terumah, a gift of part of something to the Temple or priests
kidashtanu - hekdesh, property which has been donated to the Temple
keravtanu - korban, a sacrifice
This series of allusions implicitly compares the Jewish nation to a Temple sacrifice.
Taken literally, this seems like a troubling glorification of death as a religious experience. It reminds one the deviant theology which says that the Holocaust had positive value, because it was mankind's special opportunity to offer a "sacrifice" to God in the form of the Jewish people. (The very word "holocaust", which originally meant an animal sacrifice, reflects this interpretation.)
In fact, I think Ata Bechartanu's comparison of Israel to a sacrifice means no such thing. The concept of "korban", i.e. "sacrifice", does not necessarily imply death or suffering at all. Here is why.
2. Sacrifice
I think the basic conception of "sacrifice" (in Tanach and Jewish tradition) is not that the object of sacrifice is killed, but simply that the object is committed and transferred to God. The word "sacrifice" is in fact somewhat inappropriate; the equivalent Hebrew words "korban" and "lehakriv" literally meant "to bring close". Once the object has been transferred to God's domain, the act of sacrifice is over; what happens next depends on what the object is best suited for. If the object is an animal, then it is killed (the word “hikriv” in the Torah is often followed by “shachat”). If the object is a person, then the person becomes committed to serving in the Temple.
Therefore, what we call "human sacrifice" is problematic, not because of the "korban" aspect, but because AFTER the "korban" the person is killed instead of performing one of the meaningful tasks that people are capable of performing. It is an example of giving a gift, which is good, but then using the gift in a way the recipient would not like.
This understanding is evident in the following commandment, one of the first in the Torah regarding sacrifices:
"You shall give your firstborn sons to Me. Thus you shall also do to your ox and sheep: seven days it shall be with its mother; on the eighth day you shall give it to Me." (Shemot 22:28-9)
Thus the firstborns are "given" to God. Given the context (the animals in the next verse are killed as sacrifices), you might think this means the firstborns become human sacrifices. Whatever its meaning, the command is later overridden, as the firstborns are replaced by Levites:
"Behold, I have taken the Levites from the children of Israel - in place of the firstborn of each womb among the children of Israel - and the Levites are now Mine." (Bamidbar 3:12)
What is the fate of the Levites? Will they now become human sacrifices in place of the firstborn? The answer appears shortly afterwards:
"God spoke to Moshe saying: ... 'Aharon shall offer the Levites before Hashem as a wave-offering from the children of Israel, that they may be in the service of Hashem.' ... Aharon waved [the Levites] as a wave-offering ... Afterwards the Levites entered to perform their service in the Tent of Meeting before Aharon." (Bamidbar 8:1-22)
So the Levites DO become "sacrifices", but not in the expected sense of the term. They are called a "wave-offering" (elsewhere in the Torah "wave-offering" refers to ceremonially lifting a just-sacrificed animal) even though they aren't actually killed, just consecrated to their future task. Evidently, this was the original intention with regard to the firstborns, and this is what was meant by "giving" them to God.
We see the same meaning in Shmuel 1:1:11, where Hannah prays that "If You give Your servant a male child, I will give him to Hashem all the day of his life". Her words resemble and perhaps intentionally allude to Shemot 22:28 ("You shall give your firstborn sons to Me"). And when her firstborn son Shmuel is born, "giving" him to God does not mean killing him. Rather, once he is old enough he serves in the Mishkan, and eventually he becomes an important prophet and religious leader.
Probably the clearest example of this understanding appears in the Torah verses discussing the actual appointment of priests and Levites:
"You shall hakrev to you Aharon your brother and his sons with him, from among the children of Israel, to be priests to me." (Shemot 28:1)
"Hakrev the tribe of Levi, and have him stand before Aharon the priest, and serve him." (Bamidbar 3:6)
In all these verses we see that consistently, the language is that of sacrifices, but the action is that of consecration for Temple service.
3. Ata Bechartanu and the priesthood
According to this theory, when a person is brought as an “offering” to God, it in fact means that they are committed to service of God in the Temple. Let us apply this to Ata Bechartanu, which speaks of the people as a whole as if they were sacrifices. The implication is that they must all serve in a priestly role. This role, of course, is well known and most clearly indicated by Shemot 19:6, which describes the Jewish people as a "kingdom of priests, a holy people".
We can see how apt this description is by looking broadly at Torah's guidelines for kohanim, Israelites, and non-Jews. All human beings must behave morally, but Jews must additionally observe a number of rituals and prohibitions. Similarly, all Jews must keep the Torah, but kohanim must observe several rituals and prohibitions unique to them. Kohanim have the additional task of teaching and inspiring the people of Israel (see Devarim 33:10), and in the broad picture, Jews have the same task when it comes to non-Jews. Jews truly are the priests of the human race – with the tasks, status, and material sacrifices that that role entails.
On Shalosh Regalim, all Jews come to the Temple and directly act out their role as priests. It is no accident that on these days we recite Ata Bechartanu, the prayer that most directly alludes to our priestly role.
------------
* Ask your rabbi regarding practical applications of this.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Love, fear, and Tishrei
1. Two kinds of repentance
The gemara (Yoma 86) tells us that there are two types of repentance – from love and from fear. It further explains that the effect of repentance from love is greater than repentance from fear: through repentance from love, intentional sins are transformed into merits, not just into unintentional sins.
While this source is well known, it is not so clear what it actually means. Does repentance from fear mean from fear of punishment, or from awe at God's greatness (“yirat haromemut”)? Does repentance from love mean from enjoying the performance of mitzvot, or from recognizing them as intrinsically worth doing? And what is the link between these terms and the repentance's resulting effect on your sin? And which explanation actually corresponds to what you experience while repenting?
Literally, teshuva means to “return” - to move from one place to a certain other place (where one has previously been). The “places” in this context refer to states of moral behavior. You start out as a person who commits a certain sin, and hopefully end up in a different state, of being a person who does not commit that sin. The process of teshuva is therefore that of becoming a person who will not commit the sin.
There are two ways, I think, in which this may be accomplished. You may decide not to commit the sin, and through constant self-control prevent the sin from repeating itself. Or else, you may lose the motivation to commit the sin. In my opinion, “repentance from fear” refers to the first type of change, and “repentance from love” to the second.
Based on this explanation, the gemara in Yoma 86 is easy to understand. A person is judged based on their character at the time of judgment. According to our explanation, if you repent out of “fear”, then the part of your mind which decided to sin no longer exists. So you are judged as if you sinned without deciding to sin: “intentional sins are transformed to unintentional sins”. But if you repent out of “love”, the original desire or urge which led you to sin no longer exists. Your character is that of a person who does good, and you are judged based on this: “intentional sins are transformed into merits”.
2. Two parts of Tishrei
This explanation of repentance may help us to answer several questions which arise regarding the holidays in Tishrei.
1. Of the two kinds of repentance (from love and from fear), which of them are we doing in Tishrei? Which type of repentance is the atmosphere of Yom Kippur, for example, designed to encourage?
2. The holidays in the Torah fall into two categories: 1) The pilgrimage holidays: Pesach, Sukkot, and Shavuot. 2) The holidays of Tishrei: Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Shemini Atzeret. These three are each one day long, are spaced about 10 days apart from each other, and all have the same set of musaf offerings, which is not offered on any other day of the year. These technical similarities suggest that the three Tishrei holidays (as well as Sukkot, which may be viewed as belonging to BOTH the categories of pilgrimage and Tishrei holidays) share a common purpose. But what is it? The commonalities between RH and YK are obvious. But what do Shemini Atzeret and Sukkot have in common with them?
3. The Mishna (Rosh Hashana 1:2) says we are judged regarding water on Sukkot. Thus Hoshana Rabbah is considered to be a solemn day of judgment, and we say special, very solemn prayers for rain on Shemini Atzeret. But doesn't all this solemnity contradict the idea that Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are “zman simchatenu”?
Let us now try to answer these questions.
1,2. I think that in Tishrei we do both types of repentance – from love and fear – but on different days. On RH and YK and during selichot, the theme is repentance “from fear”. As explained previously, this means we make the decision not to sin. We search for negative character traits in ourselves, which manifest themselves in certain situations. We resolve to avoid those situations when they can be avoided, and restrain ourselves through self-control and increased motivation when they cannot. The major factors motivating this resolve include fear of punishment (and other fears, such as of not having lived a meaningful life, or of losing one's Jewish identity) – which is why this is called “repentance from fear”.
On Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret we also repent – but “from love”, not fear. Having just gone through RH and YK, we now have an exceptional degree of self-control and are avoiding many our the sins from the past year. But human nature is weak. We developed this self-control in response to the crisis of YK. But once the crisis passes, we very often relax and revert somewhat to our previous behavior. (For this reason, many people question the value of the repentance they do around YK – how can it be real repentance if the next year they'll be trying to repent for exactly the same thing?) To avoid this regression, on Sukkot we must “repent out of love” – that is, develop the good character traits which ensure that even in our “lazy” state we have no desire to sin.
The main tool we use for this is positive reinforcement. Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are described in the prayers (unlike any other holidays) as “zman simchatenu”, and the celebration of Simchat Torah is scheduled for these days. Just after Yom Kippur, before our behavior has declined too much from its peak, we provide ourselves with as many happy experiences as possible. The goal is that we begin to associate our new, good behavior with these positive experiences. If we succeed at this, then our natural urge will be to do what is moral and correct, because it makes us happy. Even if our discipline level slips during the remainder of the year, we will still manage to avoid sin, because we no longer desire it.
This change can be illustrated with a metaphor. Behavioral decisions are like paths through high grass. If one path is commonly taken, it becomes worn down and more convenient to take in the future. To start on a new path, you must be willing to leave the old path and fight your way through the bushes. But each time you take the new path it becomes easier, and as you neglect the old path it becomes overgrown again. After Yom Kippur, having chosen a new path, we take these first few difficult trips through the bushes. The encouraging atmosphere of Sukkot gives us strength to continue with this, until the new path becomes more worn-down and convenient than the old one.
This “repentance through love”, through positive reinforcement, can only be performed after Yom Kippur. If we began the special repentance period with the happiness of Sukkot, then we would never get around to fully repenting. Certain necessary parts of the repentance process – for example, confession – are just not fun to do. Once we have gone through a traumatic period in which we take these steps and make these changes, we can take more pleasant steps which ensure that the changes become permanent.
3. The above analysis suggests that Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are days of “repentance from love”, days of happiness, “zman simchatenu”. But this is not incompatible with their being days of judgment.
We normally associate judgment with beating one's chest, crying, and other unpleasant experiences. This is because judgment implies a deadline, before which we must make ourselves worthy of a positive judgment. Thus there is urgency and crisis. Unhappiness is a great stimulator of change, and with judgment approaching, we need change immediately.
But on Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret, we take a different approach to judgment. Yom Kippur is so recent that we (hopefully) are still on a spiritual high. In the short term, we cannot realistically hope to improve ourselves much more than we did in Yom Kippur. So the best strategy is not to begin an ambitious new repentance program, but to continue the path we decided for ourselves on Yom Kippur. And the most effective way to do this is to be happy, not sad.
Of course, judgment is still a time for seriousness, not frivolity. But a thoughtful person with self-control is capable of being both serious and happy simultaneously. (See
here for an argument that the difference between desirable happiness [“simcha”] and undesirable frivolity [“schok”] is the presence of composure and self-control.) By the end of Yom Kippur we have hopefully developed the qualities of thoughtfulness and self-control. In these circumstances, happiness on Sukkot contributes to our worthiness in judgment, rather than detracting from it.
At first glance the Shemini Atzeret prayer for rain, with its Yamim Noraim tune, appears not just serious but mournful. This fits so badly with the happiness of Sukkot that I suspect most of us either tune the prayer out, or pretend for a minute that it's Yom Kippur again. But if we see the prayers as both serious and happy simultaneously, there is no need for this cognitive dissonance. The prayer for rain is the moment at which we most directly confront the purpose of Sukkot (see Zechariah 14:16-17). If we are truly happy on Sukkot and not just frivolous, we should not see the prayer's serious tune (or content) as inappropriate for the emotions of the day.
3. One more implication
At the end of Musaf on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, in the middle of the Sim Shalom blessing, we sing an alphabetical song which goes "Hayom ta'amtzenu, Hayom tevarchenu..." and so on, with an "amen" said after each phrase.
The first line of this song seems out of place to me. Translated, it means something like "May You give us courage/strength today". Why are we asking for this at the END of Musaf? The climax of the prayer service has passed and we are about to either eat lunch or take a two-hour snooze, depending on the day. Is this the moment at which we need courage and strength? Wouldn't this request be more intelligible at the beginning of Musaf, say, along with the chazzan's prayer before Kaddish?
This question arises from the assumption that when we finish RH and YK, we are finished with repentance. My suggestion is that at this point, we are only finished with ONE TYPE of repentance. As we finish this type, we begin another type. Along with a sense of accomplishment at having committed ourselves to a better way of life, we must understand the challenge of implementing our decision and making sure we live up to it. As we begin this equally large task, we ask God for help. The decisions we make ourselves; the implementation is mostly likely to succeed if God creates the correct circumstances for it.
The gemara (Yoma 86) tells us that there are two types of repentance – from love and from fear. It further explains that the effect of repentance from love is greater than repentance from fear: through repentance from love, intentional sins are transformed into merits, not just into unintentional sins.
While this source is well known, it is not so clear what it actually means. Does repentance from fear mean from fear of punishment, or from awe at God's greatness (“yirat haromemut”)? Does repentance from love mean from enjoying the performance of mitzvot, or from recognizing them as intrinsically worth doing? And what is the link between these terms and the repentance's resulting effect on your sin? And which explanation actually corresponds to what you experience while repenting?
Literally, teshuva means to “return” - to move from one place to a certain other place (where one has previously been). The “places” in this context refer to states of moral behavior. You start out as a person who commits a certain sin, and hopefully end up in a different state, of being a person who does not commit that sin. The process of teshuva is therefore that of becoming a person who will not commit the sin.
There are two ways, I think, in which this may be accomplished. You may decide not to commit the sin, and through constant self-control prevent the sin from repeating itself. Or else, you may lose the motivation to commit the sin. In my opinion, “repentance from fear” refers to the first type of change, and “repentance from love” to the second.
Based on this explanation, the gemara in Yoma 86 is easy to understand. A person is judged based on their character at the time of judgment. According to our explanation, if you repent out of “fear”, then the part of your mind which decided to sin no longer exists. So you are judged as if you sinned without deciding to sin: “intentional sins are transformed to unintentional sins”. But if you repent out of “love”, the original desire or urge which led you to sin no longer exists. Your character is that of a person who does good, and you are judged based on this: “intentional sins are transformed into merits”.
2. Two parts of Tishrei
This explanation of repentance may help us to answer several questions which arise regarding the holidays in Tishrei.
1. Of the two kinds of repentance (from love and from fear), which of them are we doing in Tishrei? Which type of repentance is the atmosphere of Yom Kippur, for example, designed to encourage?
2. The holidays in the Torah fall into two categories: 1) The pilgrimage holidays: Pesach, Sukkot, and Shavuot. 2) The holidays of Tishrei: Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Shemini Atzeret. These three are each one day long, are spaced about 10 days apart from each other, and all have the same set of musaf offerings, which is not offered on any other day of the year. These technical similarities suggest that the three Tishrei holidays (as well as Sukkot, which may be viewed as belonging to BOTH the categories of pilgrimage and Tishrei holidays) share a common purpose. But what is it? The commonalities between RH and YK are obvious. But what do Shemini Atzeret and Sukkot have in common with them?
3. The Mishna (Rosh Hashana 1:2) says we are judged regarding water on Sukkot. Thus Hoshana Rabbah is considered to be a solemn day of judgment, and we say special, very solemn prayers for rain on Shemini Atzeret. But doesn't all this solemnity contradict the idea that Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are “zman simchatenu”?
Let us now try to answer these questions.
1,2. I think that in Tishrei we do both types of repentance – from love and fear – but on different days. On RH and YK and during selichot, the theme is repentance “from fear”. As explained previously, this means we make the decision not to sin. We search for negative character traits in ourselves, which manifest themselves in certain situations. We resolve to avoid those situations when they can be avoided, and restrain ourselves through self-control and increased motivation when they cannot. The major factors motivating this resolve include fear of punishment (and other fears, such as of not having lived a meaningful life, or of losing one's Jewish identity) – which is why this is called “repentance from fear”.
On Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret we also repent – but “from love”, not fear. Having just gone through RH and YK, we now have an exceptional degree of self-control and are avoiding many our the sins from the past year. But human nature is weak. We developed this self-control in response to the crisis of YK. But once the crisis passes, we very often relax and revert somewhat to our previous behavior. (For this reason, many people question the value of the repentance they do around YK – how can it be real repentance if the next year they'll be trying to repent for exactly the same thing?) To avoid this regression, on Sukkot we must “repent out of love” – that is, develop the good character traits which ensure that even in our “lazy” state we have no desire to sin.
The main tool we use for this is positive reinforcement. Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are described in the prayers (unlike any other holidays) as “zman simchatenu”, and the celebration of Simchat Torah is scheduled for these days. Just after Yom Kippur, before our behavior has declined too much from its peak, we provide ourselves with as many happy experiences as possible. The goal is that we begin to associate our new, good behavior with these positive experiences. If we succeed at this, then our natural urge will be to do what is moral and correct, because it makes us happy. Even if our discipline level slips during the remainder of the year, we will still manage to avoid sin, because we no longer desire it.
This change can be illustrated with a metaphor. Behavioral decisions are like paths through high grass. If one path is commonly taken, it becomes worn down and more convenient to take in the future. To start on a new path, you must be willing to leave the old path and fight your way through the bushes. But each time you take the new path it becomes easier, and as you neglect the old path it becomes overgrown again. After Yom Kippur, having chosen a new path, we take these first few difficult trips through the bushes. The encouraging atmosphere of Sukkot gives us strength to continue with this, until the new path becomes more worn-down and convenient than the old one.
This “repentance through love”, through positive reinforcement, can only be performed after Yom Kippur. If we began the special repentance period with the happiness of Sukkot, then we would never get around to fully repenting. Certain necessary parts of the repentance process – for example, confession – are just not fun to do. Once we have gone through a traumatic period in which we take these steps and make these changes, we can take more pleasant steps which ensure that the changes become permanent.
3. The above analysis suggests that Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are days of “repentance from love”, days of happiness, “zman simchatenu”. But this is not incompatible with their being days of judgment.
We normally associate judgment with beating one's chest, crying, and other unpleasant experiences. This is because judgment implies a deadline, before which we must make ourselves worthy of a positive judgment. Thus there is urgency and crisis. Unhappiness is a great stimulator of change, and with judgment approaching, we need change immediately.
But on Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret, we take a different approach to judgment. Yom Kippur is so recent that we (hopefully) are still on a spiritual high. In the short term, we cannot realistically hope to improve ourselves much more than we did in Yom Kippur. So the best strategy is not to begin an ambitious new repentance program, but to continue the path we decided for ourselves on Yom Kippur. And the most effective way to do this is to be happy, not sad.
Of course, judgment is still a time for seriousness, not frivolity. But a thoughtful person with self-control is capable of being both serious and happy simultaneously. (See
here for an argument that the difference between desirable happiness [“simcha”] and undesirable frivolity [“schok”] is the presence of composure and self-control.) By the end of Yom Kippur we have hopefully developed the qualities of thoughtfulness and self-control. In these circumstances, happiness on Sukkot contributes to our worthiness in judgment, rather than detracting from it.
At first glance the Shemini Atzeret prayer for rain, with its Yamim Noraim tune, appears not just serious but mournful. This fits so badly with the happiness of Sukkot that I suspect most of us either tune the prayer out, or pretend for a minute that it's Yom Kippur again. But if we see the prayers as both serious and happy simultaneously, there is no need for this cognitive dissonance. The prayer for rain is the moment at which we most directly confront the purpose of Sukkot (see Zechariah 14:16-17). If we are truly happy on Sukkot and not just frivolous, we should not see the prayer's serious tune (or content) as inappropriate for the emotions of the day.
3. One more implication
At the end of Musaf on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, in the middle of the Sim Shalom blessing, we sing an alphabetical song which goes "Hayom ta'amtzenu, Hayom tevarchenu..." and so on, with an "amen" said after each phrase.
The first line of this song seems out of place to me. Translated, it means something like "May You give us courage/strength today". Why are we asking for this at the END of Musaf? The climax of the prayer service has passed and we are about to either eat lunch or take a two-hour snooze, depending on the day. Is this the moment at which we need courage and strength? Wouldn't this request be more intelligible at the beginning of Musaf, say, along with the chazzan's prayer before Kaddish?
This question arises from the assumption that when we finish RH and YK, we are finished with repentance. My suggestion is that at this point, we are only finished with ONE TYPE of repentance. As we finish this type, we begin another type. Along with a sense of accomplishment at having committed ourselves to a better way of life, we must understand the challenge of implementing our decision and making sure we live up to it. As we begin this equally large task, we ask God for help. The decisions we make ourselves; the implementation is mostly likely to succeed if God creates the correct circumstances for it.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Selichot and Shabbat
On the Saturday night before Rosh Hashana (or the previous Saturday night), we begin saying selichot. But on that night, we wait until after midnight to say selichot, "due to the holiness of Shabbat" (Shaarei Teshuva 581:1).
The question arises: After saying havdalah, we are permitted to do all melacha. But at the same time, we are not supposed to say selichot. Melacha is apparently a much more serious violation of Shabbat than saying selichot, so why should its prohibition after Shabbat end sooner?
The answer may be that selichot do not interfere with the holiness of Shabbat. Rather, Shabbat interferes with the atmosphere of selichot.
On Shabbat we reach, and accurately feel, a higher level of spiritual inspiration than during the week. In contrast, the starting point of selichot is "kedalim ukerashim dafaknu delatecha" - that we are worthless and without spiritual accomplishments. We must feel that we are at a low point in order to motivate ourselves to strive for a higher point. Only after the special atmosphere of Shabbat has dissipated is it possible to feel this.
(Inspired by R' Amital zt"l, Alon Shevut Bogrim 4:55-59.)
The question arises: After saying havdalah, we are permitted to do all melacha. But at the same time, we are not supposed to say selichot. Melacha is apparently a much more serious violation of Shabbat than saying selichot, so why should its prohibition after Shabbat end sooner?
The answer may be that selichot do not interfere with the holiness of Shabbat. Rather, Shabbat interferes with the atmosphere of selichot.
On Shabbat we reach, and accurately feel, a higher level of spiritual inspiration than during the week. In contrast, the starting point of selichot is "kedalim ukerashim dafaknu delatecha" - that we are worthless and without spiritual accomplishments. We must feel that we are at a low point in order to motivate ourselves to strive for a higher point. Only after the special atmosphere of Shabbat has dissipated is it possible to feel this.
(Inspired by R' Amital zt"l, Alon Shevut Bogrim 4:55-59.)
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Vidui Maaser
When you have finished tithing every tithe of your produce in the third year, the year of the tithe, you shall give to the Levite, to the proselyte, to the orphan, and to the widow, and they shall eat in your cities and be satisfied. Then you shall say before Hashem your God, "I have removed the holy things from the house, and I also have given it to the Levite, to the stranger, to the orphan, and to the widow, according to all the commandment you commanded me; I have not transgressed any of Your commandments, and I have not forgotten. I have not eaten of it in my mourning, I did not consume it in a state of contamination, and I did not give of it for the needs of the dead; I have listened to the voice of Hashem my God; I have acted accordingly to everything You commanded me. May you look down from Your holy abode, from the heavens, and bless your people Israel, and the land you gave us as you swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey". (Devarim 26:12-15)
This passage is known by Chazal as "Vidui Maaser", the maaser "confession". Normally a "confession" means to admit something you've done wrong. But in this passage, you mentions the various things you've done RIGHT! So why is it called a "confession"?
I think the answer is as follows. There is a principle in the Torah of "lo yerau panai reikam" (Shemot 23:15) - you are not allowed to visit the Temple empty-handed. The direct application of this principle is that when you visit Jerusalem on holidays you must bring a sacrifice (see Hagigah 7a). But it could work as a general principle: your visit cannot be selfish, you must perform some act of recognition and gratitude to God when you come.
In general, one must take two tithes from one's agricultural produce, the first going to Levites. In normal years (1,2,4,5 of the shemita cycle), the second tithe is called "maaser sheni", and must be eaten in Jerusalem while one is pure, almost like a sacrifice. Every third year (3 and 6 in the cycle), "maaser ani" takes the place of "maaser sheni". This tithe must be given to the poor rather than eaten by you, and the poor may eat it outside Jerusalem ("in your cities").
When you visit the Temple in a "maaser ani" year, you come WITHOUT the "maaser sheni" you normally bring. You breach the expected protocol for a Temple visit, and for this you must apologize. Of course, it seems strange to apologize to God for doing what God commanded you to do. But presumably the point of "lo yerau panai reikam" is give to you the right attitude on your Temple visits. If you cannot get that attitude by bringing a gift, you must get that attitude by noting and explaining the absence of a gift.
As a parallel, imagine that upon visiting someone for Shabbat you were expected to bring some kind of gift, like flowers or a bottle of wine. (Well, you are, but imagine that it was extremely rather than moderately impolite to not do so.) Imagine that you visited someone several times, but once you showed up without the expected gift. You explained this as follows: "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything. I was actually planning on bringing a bottle of this delicious wine I just learned about, but on the way here I ran into a poor person who couldn't afford to purchase wine for this Shabbat, so I gave it to him instead. Hopefully you'll understand."
If the hosts were good people, they'd understand. So does God, if you shown up at the Temple without the wine and other food you'd normally bring as "maaser sheni". But in both cases, while you have a good excuse for not fulfilling your normal obligation, you still need to ask forgiveness for it.
-------------
Most of the passage is written using the word "I": I have done this, I have not done that. One would expect that since "I" performed all the good deeds mentioned in the passage, now "I" have the right to ask for a reward for "myself".
But the passage does not say that. It asks God to "bless YOUR PEOPLE ISRAEL, and the land you gave US". The person making the declaration is asking not only for himself, but for the entire people, even though he may be the only person who performed mitzvot and deserves a reward.
Not only is this a generally good model for prayer, but it is especially fitting for this particular mitzvah. The whole significance of "maaser ani" is that your wealth is shared with other people who need it. In your declaration, you ask that God's blessing similarly be shared with other people who need it.
In effect, you are pointing out that YOU were willing to share your wealth, so GOD should be willing to share HIS wealth as well. Surely, you say, God cannot be any less generous than you have been. How could such a request possibly be turned down?
This passage is known by Chazal as "Vidui Maaser", the maaser "confession". Normally a "confession" means to admit something you've done wrong. But in this passage, you mentions the various things you've done RIGHT! So why is it called a "confession"?
I think the answer is as follows. There is a principle in the Torah of "lo yerau panai reikam" (Shemot 23:15) - you are not allowed to visit the Temple empty-handed. The direct application of this principle is that when you visit Jerusalem on holidays you must bring a sacrifice (see Hagigah 7a). But it could work as a general principle: your visit cannot be selfish, you must perform some act of recognition and gratitude to God when you come.
In general, one must take two tithes from one's agricultural produce, the first going to Levites. In normal years (1,2,4,5 of the shemita cycle), the second tithe is called "maaser sheni", and must be eaten in Jerusalem while one is pure, almost like a sacrifice. Every third year (3 and 6 in the cycle), "maaser ani" takes the place of "maaser sheni". This tithe must be given to the poor rather than eaten by you, and the poor may eat it outside Jerusalem ("in your cities").
When you visit the Temple in a "maaser ani" year, you come WITHOUT the "maaser sheni" you normally bring. You breach the expected protocol for a Temple visit, and for this you must apologize. Of course, it seems strange to apologize to God for doing what God commanded you to do. But presumably the point of "lo yerau panai reikam" is give to you the right attitude on your Temple visits. If you cannot get that attitude by bringing a gift, you must get that attitude by noting and explaining the absence of a gift.
As a parallel, imagine that upon visiting someone for Shabbat you were expected to bring some kind of gift, like flowers or a bottle of wine. (Well, you are, but imagine that it was extremely rather than moderately impolite to not do so.) Imagine that you visited someone several times, but once you showed up without the expected gift. You explained this as follows: "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything. I was actually planning on bringing a bottle of this delicious wine I just learned about, but on the way here I ran into a poor person who couldn't afford to purchase wine for this Shabbat, so I gave it to him instead. Hopefully you'll understand."
If the hosts were good people, they'd understand. So does God, if you shown up at the Temple without the wine and other food you'd normally bring as "maaser sheni". But in both cases, while you have a good excuse for not fulfilling your normal obligation, you still need to ask forgiveness for it.
-------------
Most of the passage is written using the word "I": I have done this, I have not done that. One would expect that since "I" performed all the good deeds mentioned in the passage, now "I" have the right to ask for a reward for "myself".
But the passage does not say that. It asks God to "bless YOUR PEOPLE ISRAEL, and the land you gave US". The person making the declaration is asking not only for himself, but for the entire people, even though he may be the only person who performed mitzvot and deserves a reward.
Not only is this a generally good model for prayer, but it is especially fitting for this particular mitzvah. The whole significance of "maaser ani" is that your wealth is shared with other people who need it. In your declaration, you ask that God's blessing similarly be shared with other people who need it.
In effect, you are pointing out that YOU were willing to share your wealth, so GOD should be willing to share HIS wealth as well. Surely, you say, God cannot be any less generous than you have been. How could such a request possibly be turned down?
Monday, August 09, 2010
A nice aggadta in Taanit
...Rav Berachya said: The Jewish people, also, made an inappropriate request, and God answered them appropriately. The verse says, "Let us know, let us strive to know God; His going forth is as sure as dawn, and He will come to us like rain." God said to them: "My daughter, you ask for something [rain] which is sometimes desirable and sometimes undesirable. But I will be for you something which is always desirable." As the verse says: "I will be like dew to Israel."
[The Jewish people] made another inappropriate request. They said before him: "Master of the world, 'Place me like a seal on your heart, like a seal on your arm.' " He said to them: "My daughter, you ask for something which is sometimes seen and sometimes not seen. But I will make you into something which is always seen, as the verse says, 'Behold, I have engraved you on [my] hands.' "
(Taanit 4a)
I think there are two deep metaphors in this passage, well beyond the word game (building a story around minor differences between Biblical verses) which superficially looks like its basis.
About the first half of the passage:
One cannot help noting that while dew is always a good thing, unlike rain, dew is much LESS of a good thing than rain can be. Rain is the usual means of growing crops, and it is hard to impossible for crops to survive based on dew alone. I think the metaphor is that we asked for God's presence to be obvious, but God preferred that it be subtle. We wanted continous large-scale miracles through which God would provide for our material needs, like rain does. But as the Torah and Neviim Rishonim show, this method does not always produce good results. Instead, God preferred to reveal Himself to us in a manner more like dew. God is always present, but in a subtle manner, easy to miss, and not providing miracles to guarantee that our food and material needs are always met.
About the second half of the passage:
Many people, especially in recent decades, take a "buffet" style approach to religion. They are happy to perform the rituals they enjoy or find meaning in. But when it comes to something uncomfortable, or which they don't understand, they ignore the religious requirement and revert to a secular lifestyle. Their religiousness is sometimes seen, sometimes not, like a seal on one's arm. This approach is clearly enticing, and it's no wonder the Jewish people requested it. But God did not allow this. If there is to be a connection between man and God, it must be permanent. We cannot take off our kippot and become secular whenever we get the temptation to momentarily break halacha. Our religiousness must be "on God's hands", always visible, with no conditionality or opportunity for abandonment.
Rav Berachya, I just have to say, you are brilliant.
[The Jewish people] made another inappropriate request. They said before him: "Master of the world, 'Place me like a seal on your heart, like a seal on your arm.' " He said to them: "My daughter, you ask for something which is sometimes seen and sometimes not seen. But I will make you into something which is always seen, as the verse says, 'Behold, I have engraved you on [my] hands.' "
(Taanit 4a)
I think there are two deep metaphors in this passage, well beyond the word game (building a story around minor differences between Biblical verses) which superficially looks like its basis.
About the first half of the passage:
One cannot help noting that while dew is always a good thing, unlike rain, dew is much LESS of a good thing than rain can be. Rain is the usual means of growing crops, and it is hard to impossible for crops to survive based on dew alone. I think the metaphor is that we asked for God's presence to be obvious, but God preferred that it be subtle. We wanted continous large-scale miracles through which God would provide for our material needs, like rain does. But as the Torah and Neviim Rishonim show, this method does not always produce good results. Instead, God preferred to reveal Himself to us in a manner more like dew. God is always present, but in a subtle manner, easy to miss, and not providing miracles to guarantee that our food and material needs are always met.
About the second half of the passage:
Many people, especially in recent decades, take a "buffet" style approach to religion. They are happy to perform the rituals they enjoy or find meaning in. But when it comes to something uncomfortable, or which they don't understand, they ignore the religious requirement and revert to a secular lifestyle. Their religiousness is sometimes seen, sometimes not, like a seal on one's arm. This approach is clearly enticing, and it's no wonder the Jewish people requested it. But God did not allow this. If there is to be a connection between man and God, it must be permanent. We cannot take off our kippot and become secular whenever we get the temptation to momentarily break halacha. Our religiousness must be "on God's hands", always visible, with no conditionality or opportunity for abandonment.
Rav Berachya, I just have to say, you are brilliant.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Pesukei DeZimra
Why do we say Pesukei DeZimra ("PDZ") each morning before shacharit?
To answer this, let us look at the psalms we say in PDZ. We will examine them by order of importance as given in Shulchan Aruch OC 52:1. (The practical implication of this importance: If you are behind schedule, and have to skip part of PDZ to say Shema and Shemone Esreh with everyone else, the “least important” psalms are the first to be skipped.)
The most important paragraph of PDZ is Ashrei (Psalm 145). According to Brachot 4b, we recite every day because it contains the entire alphabet as well as the verse "Poteach et yadecha". The point of covering the entire alphabet is apparently to indicate that every possible praise is appropriate for God. "Poteach et yadecha" teaches that God's oversight extends to every single creature - implying that nobody is exempt from giving praise.
The second most important paragraph is Psalm 150, הללויה, הללו אל בקדשו. It calls on us to praise God with shofar, harp, drum, and a bunch of other musical instruments. The purpose of this appears to be similar to that of Ashrei: we are supposed to praise God in every possible way.
The third most important paragraph is Psalm 148, הללויה, הללו את השם מן השמים. It gives a list of the things we should praise God for creating: sun, moon, stars, sky, animals, weather, topography, trees, and all human beings. In short: everything in the world.
On the fourth most important level are Psalms 146, 147, and 149, which I'm guessing we say just in order to have read all of Psalms 145-150 without skipping. Vayvarech David, Hodu, Mizmor Letodah, and so on are on even lower levels.
It seems that the focus of PDZ is on Psalms 145, 148, and 150. The common element of these paragraphs is comprehensiveness - in who should praise God (everyone), what they should give praise for (everything), and how (in every way). Mentioning "who" impresses on us that we must praise God (not someone else), and "how" teaches that we must do it now (not wait for a "better" opportunity). The point of "what" is apparently to supply the content of our praise.
Alternatively, a different motivation for mention "what" comes from the Rambam (Hilchot Yesodei Hatorah 2:1-2):
The idea here is that upon realizing the wondrousness of God's creation, a person will be filled with awe and impelled to praise God for the creation. The point of mentioning "what", then, is to inspire us to give praise.
The upshot of all this is that PDZ consists not so much of actual praise, but of verses discussing praise. (Hence the name - PDZ, not just "zimra".) PDZ is not directed at God - it's directed at you. Its point is to motivate you to give the actual praise that which is the main content of the Shema blessings.
One practical implication of this is the assumption in many halachic texts that PDZ is said at home, not in synagogue. Since it is not actually part of the prayer, you can technically say it anywhere. But it must be said as close as possible to the prayer, so that the prayer is inspired by it.
(Mostly based on this.)
To answer this, let us look at the psalms we say in PDZ. We will examine them by order of importance as given in Shulchan Aruch OC 52:1. (The practical implication of this importance: If you are behind schedule, and have to skip part of PDZ to say Shema and Shemone Esreh with everyone else, the “least important” psalms are the first to be skipped.)
The most important paragraph of PDZ is Ashrei (Psalm 145). According to Brachot 4b, we recite every day because it contains the entire alphabet as well as the verse "Poteach et yadecha". The point of covering the entire alphabet is apparently to indicate that every possible praise is appropriate for God. "Poteach et yadecha" teaches that God's oversight extends to every single creature - implying that nobody is exempt from giving praise.
The second most important paragraph is Psalm 150, הללויה, הללו אל בקדשו. It calls on us to praise God with shofar, harp, drum, and a bunch of other musical instruments. The purpose of this appears to be similar to that of Ashrei: we are supposed to praise God in every possible way.
The third most important paragraph is Psalm 148, הללויה, הללו את השם מן השמים. It gives a list of the things we should praise God for creating: sun, moon, stars, sky, animals, weather, topography, trees, and all human beings. In short: everything in the world.
On the fourth most important level are Psalms 146, 147, and 149, which I'm guessing we say just in order to have read all of Psalms 145-150 without skipping. Vayvarech David, Hodu, Mizmor Letodah, and so on are on even lower levels.
It seems that the focus of PDZ is on Psalms 145, 148, and 150. The common element of these paragraphs is comprehensiveness - in who should praise God (everyone), what they should give praise for (everything), and how (in every way). Mentioning "who" impresses on us that we must praise God (not someone else), and "how" teaches that we must do it now (not wait for a "better" opportunity). The point of "what" is apparently to supply the content of our praise.
Alternatively, a different motivation for mention "what" comes from the Rambam (Hilchot Yesodei Hatorah 2:1-2):
What is the way to loving and fearing Him? When a person contemplates his actions, and sees the great wonders and perceives in his wisdom that they have no set value or limit, he immediately loves and praises and glorifies, and develops a great desire to know [God's] great name, as David said "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God". And when he thinks of these things, he immediately recoils and fears, and knows that he is a small lowly dark creation, standing with [his] small and limited mind before the Perfect Mind. As David said: "When I see your heavens... what is man, that You should take account of him?" Accordingly, I [will now] explain the main principles of [God's] creation...
The idea here is that upon realizing the wondrousness of God's creation, a person will be filled with awe and impelled to praise God for the creation. The point of mentioning "what", then, is to inspire us to give praise.
The upshot of all this is that PDZ consists not so much of actual praise, but of verses discussing praise. (Hence the name - PDZ, not just "zimra".) PDZ is not directed at God - it's directed at you. Its point is to motivate you to give the actual praise that which is the main content of the Shema blessings.
One practical implication of this is the assumption in many halachic texts that PDZ is said at home, not in synagogue. Since it is not actually part of the prayer, you can technically say it anywhere. But it must be said as close as possible to the prayer, so that the prayer is inspired by it.
(Mostly based on this.)
Hok and Hukah
The word "hok" or "hukah" appears regularly in Tanach and later writings. Often, the word clearly means regularity/constancy/periodicity, as in birkat halevana: חק וזמן נתן להם, שלא ישנו את תפקידם.
Chazal, discussing Parah Adumah, have a very different understanding of the word. According to them, a "hok" is a commandment whose rationale we do not understand, unlike many other commandments (i.e. murder, theft) for which the justification is clear.
How can we reconcile the idea that "hok" means regularity with Chazal's idea that "hok" means arbitrariness?
This question occurred to me upon reading Onkelus on Bamidbar 27:11. Onkelus translates "hukat mishpat" there as "gzerat din". Is this a literal translation? It's clear that "mishpat" and "din" mean pretty much the same thing. But "hukah" and "gzerah" sound like different things. "Gzerah" sounds like a royal DECREE, a perhaps arbitrary new requirement instituted by the king. In contrast, "hukah" sounds like a normal LAW, a timeless and socially necessary feature of the legal system. But Onkelus equates the two. In this, Onkelus is following Chazal's position that "hok" means arbitrariness – similar to the word "gzerah". But what about the sources in which "hok" clearly means regularity, not arbitrariness?
After pondering this a little, I came up with a linguistic theory which justifies Onkelus' translation and reconciles the two understandings of the word "hok". The words "hok" and "gzerah" may be based on roots with the same meaning. "Gzerah" comes from the root g.z.r, meaning "to cut". Similarly, "hok" and "hukah" may come from the root h.k.k, meaning "to inscribe". Both words testify to how ancient kings instituted new laws: they would inscribe them on large stone tablets and place them in public areas. Eventually, it seems, the verb "to cut/inscribe" was extended to mean "to institute a law" in both Hebrew and Aramaic. The law being instituted could be quite arbitrary, like in Chazal's understanding of a "hok".
In the end, it seems there are two different meanings to the work "hok" or "hukah". One meaning, usually represented by "hukah", means the same thing as "gzerah", like in Onkelus and Chazal. Linguistically, this derives from the fact that historically royal decrees were inscribed on stone tablets. The other meaning, usually represented by "hok", means something periodic and regular. This meaning derives from the fact that things "inscribed in stone" are predictable and not susceptible to change. Those qualities apply to planetary movement (birkat halevana), and to certain periodic customs and rituals.
In summary, the action of inscription in stone is an appropriate metaphor for two very different kinds of situations. Confusion occurs if we assume that the word "hok" in a verse is a metaphor for one of the two situations, when it's actually a metaphor for the other situation.
Chazal, discussing Parah Adumah, have a very different understanding of the word. According to them, a "hok" is a commandment whose rationale we do not understand, unlike many other commandments (i.e. murder, theft) for which the justification is clear.
How can we reconcile the idea that "hok" means regularity with Chazal's idea that "hok" means arbitrariness?
This question occurred to me upon reading Onkelus on Bamidbar 27:11. Onkelus translates "hukat mishpat" there as "gzerat din". Is this a literal translation? It's clear that "mishpat" and "din" mean pretty much the same thing. But "hukah" and "gzerah" sound like different things. "Gzerah" sounds like a royal DECREE, a perhaps arbitrary new requirement instituted by the king. In contrast, "hukah" sounds like a normal LAW, a timeless and socially necessary feature of the legal system. But Onkelus equates the two. In this, Onkelus is following Chazal's position that "hok" means arbitrariness – similar to the word "gzerah". But what about the sources in which "hok" clearly means regularity, not arbitrariness?
After pondering this a little, I came up with a linguistic theory which justifies Onkelus' translation and reconciles the two understandings of the word "hok". The words "hok" and "gzerah" may be based on roots with the same meaning. "Gzerah" comes from the root g.z.r, meaning "to cut". Similarly, "hok" and "hukah" may come from the root h.k.k, meaning "to inscribe". Both words testify to how ancient kings instituted new laws: they would inscribe them on large stone tablets and place them in public areas. Eventually, it seems, the verb "to cut/inscribe" was extended to mean "to institute a law" in both Hebrew and Aramaic. The law being instituted could be quite arbitrary, like in Chazal's understanding of a "hok".
In the end, it seems there are two different meanings to the work "hok" or "hukah". One meaning, usually represented by "hukah", means the same thing as "gzerah", like in Onkelus and Chazal. Linguistically, this derives from the fact that historically royal decrees were inscribed on stone tablets. The other meaning, usually represented by "hok", means something periodic and regular. This meaning derives from the fact that things "inscribed in stone" are predictable and not susceptible to change. Those qualities apply to planetary movement (birkat halevana), and to certain periodic customs and rituals.
In summary, the action of inscription in stone is an appropriate metaphor for two very different kinds of situations. Confusion occurs if we assume that the word "hok" in a verse is a metaphor for one of the two situations, when it's actually a metaphor for the other situation.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tribal ordering and Eretz Yisrael
1. Bamidbar 34
In parshat Matot/Masei, Israel makes some of its final preparations for the entry to the land of Israel. Bamidbar 34:16-29 lists the princes who will represent each tribe in apportioning the land to be conquered. The list goes as follows:
Yehudah
Shimon
Binyamin
Dan
Menashe
Efraim
Zevulun
Yisachar
Asher
Naftali
The ordering of this list is unexpected. It does not follow either of the two normal ways by which the tribes are ordered – by the order of birth of Yaakov's sons, or the order of marching in the desert. Why did the Torah choose to order the tribes this way?
Looking at a rough map of tribal territories, the answer becomes clear. The order of tribes here is the same as the geographic order of tribal inheritance, from south to north.
Yehudah inherited everything south of Jerusalem.
Shimon's territory was considered to be part of Yehudah's territory (Yehoshua 19:9). As such it is mentioned after Yehudah, even though it was in the more southern part of Yehudah.
Binyamin's territory was just north of Jerusalem.
Dan's territory was roughly the Tel Aviv area.
Efraim and Menashe inherited the northern West Bank. (Efraim's territory was south of Menashe - this seems to be the only real deviation in the list from geographic order. Perhaps it can be explained by saying that Efraim and Menashe, being brothers, were listed together, and Menashe as the elder came first. This explanation gains credence because both are listed here as being a subset of Yosef, and only secondarily as independent tribes.)
Yissachar and Zevulun's territories bordered Menashe, in the southern Galil. The territories were roughly adjacent to one another - Zevulun to the west, Yissachar to the east. (On the map above they forgot to label Yissachar! It was surprisingly hard to find a suitable map online!)
Asher and Naftali were the northernmost tribes, Asher to the west, Naftali to the east.
2. Similar lists
The Torah records two other lists of the tribes dating to the 40th year in the desert. These too seem to be ordered by future territory from south to north.
One list is in parshat Vezot Habracha (Devarim 33:6-24). The setting (the conquest of Canaan is about to begin) and the many references to the land make it clear that that's a main theme in Moshe's blessings. The order of blessings is:
Reuven, Yehudah, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Zevulun, Yissachar, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher
This is the same order as Bamidbar 34, except for the following deviations.
1) Reuven, Gad, and Levi appear. Reuven and Gad are omitted from Bamidbar 34 because they already received land on the east bank, Levi because they would not receive land at all. Nevertheless, they all deserve to be blessed here. Reuven and Gad are included in roughly geographic order. So is Levi, if you take Jerusalem as their eventual inheritance.
2) Shimon disappears. Presumably their blessing is shared with Yehudah, the tribe they eventually assimilated into.
3) Yissachar switches with Zevulun, and Asher with Naftali. Yissachar was east of Zevulun, not north or south, and Naftali was east of Asher. So it is equally logical to have either one before the other. The fact that these particular tribes switch places, while other tribes stay in the same order, strengthens the thesis that the ordering is geographical, south-to-north.
4) Dan moves towards the end of the list. In the end, Dan was unable to conquer its land in the south and went to conquer land in the north. Bamidbar 34 reflects the planned southern inheritance; the order of Devarim 33 is presumably a prophetic reference to the eventual northern inheritance.
The final list is Devarim 27:11-13, which explains the ceremony that will take place in Shechem, with 6 tribes standing on one mountain and 6 on the other. These are:
Yehudah, Shimon, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Yisachar stand on Mt. Gerizim (towards the south), while
Reuven, Zevulun, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher stand on Mt. Eval (towards the north).
Here, except for Reuven and Gad, it once again appears that southern tribes are listed before northern tribes. The explanation of Reuven and Gad may be that Mt. Gerizim was somewhat to the southwest rather than due south, and Mt. Eval northeast rather than due north. So the "north" mountain is really "northeast", and the eastern tribes Reuven and Gad fit there just as well as in the south.
(Note: I have changed the order of the tribes on each mountain from the list in Devarim 27, to make the similarity to the other lists clearer. I think the ordering in Devarim 27 is for literary reasons: each list of 6 tribes splits into two lists of 3 tribes, and each list of 3 tribes has the tribe with the shortest name in the middle. Presumably it sounds nicest that way.)
3. An implication
One implication of this list is that the tribal locations were decided upon before the conquest took place. This helps us explain many different verses in the Torah. For example:
1) In Breishit 38 Yehudah apparently settles in Adulam (a city near Beit Shemesh, in the tribe of Yehudah's future territory.) Perhaps this was no coincidence, and Yehudah intended to colonize land which he expected would eventually belong to him. (Similarly, Shimon and Levi may have expected to receive Shechem, hence their zealotry there. But as punishment, they lost their right to inherit as independent tribes. If so then Yehudah, Shimon, and Levi – three of the four oldest sons – would have received the most central inheritances, later given to Yehudah, Efraim, and Menashe. Perhaps the oldest son Reuven also would have received a valuable inheritance, but he too was disinherited.)
2) Yaakov promised Yosef “Shechem echad al achecha” (Breishit 48:22). This refers to the double inheritance of Menashe and Efraim. But it may also allude to the city Shechem itself – which was in Yosef's future territory.
3) The names of some Israelites are also the names of cities in the tribal territory each individual would later live in. For example: Shechem, Hefer, and Tirtzah from the tribe of Menashe, and Hetzron from Yehudah. Perhaps, these Israelites' parents gave them the names with the expectation that the kid or his descendants would later control that city. (However, the fact that the best examples of this are from Menashe suggests a different explanation: that these individuals lived in the territory of Menashe rather than leaving Egypt with Moshe, a thesis discussed here.)
4) Moshe's viewing of the land from Mt. Nevo (Devarim 34:1-2) mentions the names of five tribal territories in their correct locations, even though the tribes had not inherited yet. Similarly, Breishit 14:14 mentions the city of Dan, which had a different name (Laish) until long after the inheritance – a seeming anachronism.
Each of these verses can be understood clearly through the idea that the tribal locations were known before the conquest.
If so, then the “casting of lots” used to apportion territory (see Yehoshua 14:2,15:1,etc., and Bamidbar 26:55) must have served either to define the exact boundaries between tribes (which had never been precisely specified), or else simply to give a Divine stamp of approval to the previously agreed-upon division.
4. Why south before north?
Why does the ordering of tribes go from south to north, and not in some other direction? An east-to-west ordering makes little sense, since the land of Israel is longest in the north-south direction. But why south to north, not north to south?
I think this is easy to explain. Nowadays we have north at the top of our maps, but in the ancient Middle East, east was at the top. (As a result, the country Yemen was on the right side of the map. This is reflected in its name, which comes from the Hebrew word "yamin", meaning "right". Similarly the word "kedem", meaning "forward", also means "east" in Tanach.) A Hebrew speaker, who read writing from right to left, would naturally read the map from right to left - that is to say, from south to north, the same order we see here.
The same logic explains why the "blessing" of Gerizim and Eval was on the southern mountain, Gerizim. (You might expect the opposite, since the south is drier and less fertile in Israel). A person's right hand is stronger and has higher status than their left hand. In this symbolic ceremony, the mountain on the right is privileged as well.
In parshat Matot/Masei, Israel makes some of its final preparations for the entry to the land of Israel. Bamidbar 34:16-29 lists the princes who will represent each tribe in apportioning the land to be conquered. The list goes as follows:
Yehudah
Shimon
Binyamin
Dan
Menashe
Efraim
Zevulun
Yisachar
Asher
Naftali
The ordering of this list is unexpected. It does not follow either of the two normal ways by which the tribes are ordered – by the order of birth of Yaakov's sons, or the order of marching in the desert. Why did the Torah choose to order the tribes this way?
Looking at a rough map of tribal territories, the answer becomes clear. The order of tribes here is the same as the geographic order of tribal inheritance, from south to north.
Yehudah inherited everything south of Jerusalem.
Shimon's territory was considered to be part of Yehudah's territory (Yehoshua 19:9). As such it is mentioned after Yehudah, even though it was in the more southern part of Yehudah.
Binyamin's territory was just north of Jerusalem.
Dan's territory was roughly the Tel Aviv area.
Efraim and Menashe inherited the northern West Bank. (Efraim's territory was south of Menashe - this seems to be the only real deviation in the list from geographic order. Perhaps it can be explained by saying that Efraim and Menashe, being brothers, were listed together, and Menashe as the elder came first. This explanation gains credence because both are listed here as being a subset of Yosef, and only secondarily as independent tribes.)
Yissachar and Zevulun's territories bordered Menashe, in the southern Galil. The territories were roughly adjacent to one another - Zevulun to the west, Yissachar to the east. (On the map above they forgot to label Yissachar! It was surprisingly hard to find a suitable map online!)
Asher and Naftali were the northernmost tribes, Asher to the west, Naftali to the east.
2. Similar lists
The Torah records two other lists of the tribes dating to the 40th year in the desert. These too seem to be ordered by future territory from south to north.
One list is in parshat Vezot Habracha (Devarim 33:6-24). The setting (the conquest of Canaan is about to begin) and the many references to the land make it clear that that's a main theme in Moshe's blessings. The order of blessings is:
Reuven, Yehudah, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Zevulun, Yissachar, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher
This is the same order as Bamidbar 34, except for the following deviations.
1) Reuven, Gad, and Levi appear. Reuven and Gad are omitted from Bamidbar 34 because they already received land on the east bank, Levi because they would not receive land at all. Nevertheless, they all deserve to be blessed here. Reuven and Gad are included in roughly geographic order. So is Levi, if you take Jerusalem as their eventual inheritance.
2) Shimon disappears. Presumably their blessing is shared with Yehudah, the tribe they eventually assimilated into.
3) Yissachar switches with Zevulun, and Asher with Naftali. Yissachar was east of Zevulun, not north or south, and Naftali was east of Asher. So it is equally logical to have either one before the other. The fact that these particular tribes switch places, while other tribes stay in the same order, strengthens the thesis that the ordering is geographical, south-to-north.
4) Dan moves towards the end of the list. In the end, Dan was unable to conquer its land in the south and went to conquer land in the north. Bamidbar 34 reflects the planned southern inheritance; the order of Devarim 33 is presumably a prophetic reference to the eventual northern inheritance.
The final list is Devarim 27:11-13, which explains the ceremony that will take place in Shechem, with 6 tribes standing on one mountain and 6 on the other. These are:
Yehudah, Shimon, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Yisachar stand on Mt. Gerizim (towards the south), while
Reuven, Zevulun, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher stand on Mt. Eval (towards the north).
Here, except for Reuven and Gad, it once again appears that southern tribes are listed before northern tribes. The explanation of Reuven and Gad may be that Mt. Gerizim was somewhat to the southwest rather than due south, and Mt. Eval northeast rather than due north. So the "north" mountain is really "northeast", and the eastern tribes Reuven and Gad fit there just as well as in the south.
(Note: I have changed the order of the tribes on each mountain from the list in Devarim 27, to make the similarity to the other lists clearer. I think the ordering in Devarim 27 is for literary reasons: each list of 6 tribes splits into two lists of 3 tribes, and each list of 3 tribes has the tribe with the shortest name in the middle. Presumably it sounds nicest that way.)
3. An implication
One implication of this list is that the tribal locations were decided upon before the conquest took place. This helps us explain many different verses in the Torah. For example:
1) In Breishit 38 Yehudah apparently settles in Adulam (a city near Beit Shemesh, in the tribe of Yehudah's future territory.) Perhaps this was no coincidence, and Yehudah intended to colonize land which he expected would eventually belong to him. (Similarly, Shimon and Levi may have expected to receive Shechem, hence their zealotry there. But as punishment, they lost their right to inherit as independent tribes. If so then Yehudah, Shimon, and Levi – three of the four oldest sons – would have received the most central inheritances, later given to Yehudah, Efraim, and Menashe. Perhaps the oldest son Reuven also would have received a valuable inheritance, but he too was disinherited.)
2) Yaakov promised Yosef “Shechem echad al achecha” (Breishit 48:22). This refers to the double inheritance of Menashe and Efraim. But it may also allude to the city Shechem itself – which was in Yosef's future territory.
3) The names of some Israelites are also the names of cities in the tribal territory each individual would later live in. For example: Shechem, Hefer, and Tirtzah from the tribe of Menashe, and Hetzron from Yehudah. Perhaps, these Israelites' parents gave them the names with the expectation that the kid or his descendants would later control that city. (However, the fact that the best examples of this are from Menashe suggests a different explanation: that these individuals lived in the territory of Menashe rather than leaving Egypt with Moshe, a thesis discussed here.)
4) Moshe's viewing of the land from Mt. Nevo (Devarim 34:1-2) mentions the names of five tribal territories in their correct locations, even though the tribes had not inherited yet. Similarly, Breishit 14:14 mentions the city of Dan, which had a different name (Laish) until long after the inheritance – a seeming anachronism.
Each of these verses can be understood clearly through the idea that the tribal locations were known before the conquest.
If so, then the “casting of lots” used to apportion territory (see Yehoshua 14:2,15:1,etc., and Bamidbar 26:55) must have served either to define the exact boundaries between tribes (which had never been precisely specified), or else simply to give a Divine stamp of approval to the previously agreed-upon division.
4. Why south before north?
Why does the ordering of tribes go from south to north, and not in some other direction? An east-to-west ordering makes little sense, since the land of Israel is longest in the north-south direction. But why south to north, not north to south?
I think this is easy to explain. Nowadays we have north at the top of our maps, but in the ancient Middle East, east was at the top. (As a result, the country Yemen was on the right side of the map. This is reflected in its name, which comes from the Hebrew word "yamin", meaning "right". Similarly the word "kedem", meaning "forward", also means "east" in Tanach.) A Hebrew speaker, who read writing from right to left, would naturally read the map from right to left - that is to say, from south to north, the same order we see here.
The same logic explains why the "blessing" of Gerizim and Eval was on the southern mountain, Gerizim. (You might expect the opposite, since the south is drier and less fertile in Israel). A person's right hand is stronger and has higher status than their left hand. In this symbolic ceremony, the mountain on the right is privileged as well.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Torah and science
"Our restricted minds see two realms, natural laws and man-made laws, the universe of physics and the universe of morals. But to God there is no distinction and both universes are one, because creation is an expression of divine chessed, an ethical performance. Since the world was created to share His existence with others, in essence a moral activity, the laws governing the cosmic processes are not just neutral laws; they rather express the absolute moral law. To deny this, and postulate two realms, would cause the whole monotheistic structure to crumble." -R' Soloveitchik, "The Rav Thinking Aloud", 87-88.
If asked, I would have said almost the opposite of this quote. But it makes a certain sense. It looks like I need to think more deeply about the subject.
Another interesting quote from the book:
"If you want to know what lashon hara is, whatever you enjoy when you talk about someone: that is lashon hara."
If asked, I would have said almost the opposite of this quote. But it makes a certain sense. It looks like I need to think more deeply about the subject.
Another interesting quote from the book:
"If you want to know what lashon hara is, whatever you enjoy when you talk about someone: that is lashon hara."
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The incense column
"These are remembered negatively... the house of Avtinas, who did not want to teach about the incense. The Rabbis taught: The house of Avtinas was skilled in the preparing of incense, but its members were unwilling to teach [their method]. The Sages sent for workers from Alexandria [to replace them]. These [workers] could prepare the incense, but could not make it so that the smoke would not bend [as it rose]. The smoke of the incense prepared by the house of Avtinas rose straight, like a rod, and the smoke of the others' incense bent this way and that." (Yoma 38a)
"The ‘ma’aleh ashan’ [herb?] would [cause the smoke from the burning incense] to rise straight up like a staff…" (Yoma 53a).
These sources discuss the smoke issuing from incense burning in the Temple. We see from both sources that the smoke was supposed to rise in a perfectly straight column.
This incense column is NOT the same smoke that Pirkei Avot 5:5 says was miraculously never dispersed by the wind. That smoke was from animal sacrifices burning on the large outdoor altar. We are talking about smoke from incense burned inside the Temple, where there was no wind. There is no need to assume that the vertical rising of incense smoke is miraculous. In fact, I will now provide a purely natural explanation for it.
Examine the following photograph of burning incense. At first, the smoke rises in a smooth vertical column. Then, past a certain point, the column collapses into a bunch of turbulent swirls. This is a common phenomenon, which I have seen with incense sticks and cigarettes, as well as in this picture.
It seems to me that the gemara is talking about this kind of smoke column and swirls. Smoke naturally begins as a straight column, and past a certain point becomes turbulent. Depending on the type of incense, the turbulence could begin sooner or later. The rabbis desired incense whose turbulence was delayed, so that the smoke column remained vertical for as long as possible.
I asked my father, a physics professor, to explain why this phenomenon occurs. Here is his response, (with the "bottom line" highlighted, in case you don't have patience for the technical details).
So there you go. Now you, too, know how to make perfectly rising incense, like the house of Avtinas did. Well, at least you know which factors to experiment with until by luck or skill you get it right. As I learned when my roommate did a class project on gas engine combustion chamber designs, the precise analysis of burning is very complicated and sometimes not fully predictable even by modern science.
Why was it desired that the smoke column rise straight upward? Possible reasons include: 1) It was simply more aesthetically pleasing. 2) It was cleaner – smoke concentrated at the ceiling rather than filling the entire room. 3) It was symbolic of the incense going directly to God and not getting "stuck" on the way there. 4) The rabbis noticed the link between vertical rising and slow burning; wanting the incense to last longer, they wanted to see vertical rising as an indication of this.
Whatever the reason, it seems this goal was not trivial to achieve. According to the gemara, a particular substance ("ma'aleh ashan") had to be mixed into the incense. But just the presence of that substance was not sufficient, and expert preparation was needed as well. The House of Avtinas were the experts, and the rabbis tried unsuccessfully to break their monopoly on the correct method.
One final word on the column of smoke from the outdoor altar. Pirkei Avot says that this smoke rose vertically as well, miraculously, despite the wind. What was the point of this vertical rising? Explanations 1), 2) and 3) from the incense column would also seem to apply here, with minor changes. 1) A vertical column of smoke would be more attractive, and like a skyscraper more visible to people far from the Temple. (Compare this to Akedat Yitzchak, where in the midrash Avraham saw a cloud over Mt. Moriah before arriving. Maybe he was prophetically envisioning smoke from sacrifices there?) 2) Anyone who has made a bonfire knows how annoying it is to stand downwind from the fire and get smoke blown in your face. With a vertical column that would not happen. 3) The burning sacrifices are supposed to provide a pleasing odor" to God (Bamidbar 28:1 and other verses). If the smoke is blown horizontally, then it never goes up to the heavens, giving the impression that God is literally pushing the sacrifice to the side and rejecting it.
"The ‘ma’aleh ashan’ [herb?] would [cause the smoke from the burning incense] to rise straight up like a staff…" (Yoma 53a).
These sources discuss the smoke issuing from incense burning in the Temple. We see from both sources that the smoke was supposed to rise in a perfectly straight column.
This incense column is NOT the same smoke that Pirkei Avot 5:5 says was miraculously never dispersed by the wind. That smoke was from animal sacrifices burning on the large outdoor altar. We are talking about smoke from incense burned inside the Temple, where there was no wind. There is no need to assume that the vertical rising of incense smoke is miraculous. In fact, I will now provide a purely natural explanation for it.
Examine the following photograph of burning incense. At first, the smoke rises in a smooth vertical column. Then, past a certain point, the column collapses into a bunch of turbulent swirls. This is a common phenomenon, which I have seen with incense sticks and cigarettes, as well as in this picture.
It seems to me that the gemara is talking about this kind of smoke column and swirls. Smoke naturally begins as a straight column, and past a certain point becomes turbulent. Depending on the type of incense, the turbulence could begin sooner or later. The rabbis desired incense whose turbulence was delayed, so that the smoke column remained vertical for as long as possible.
I asked my father, a physics professor, to explain why this phenomenon occurs. Here is his response, (with the "bottom line" highlighted, in case you don't have patience for the technical details).
The rising column of hot air is unstable to shear instability (the simplest shear instability is Kelvin-Helmholtz instability that occurs between two half-spaces with relative velocity parallel to their boundary) that develops into turbulence. This can be stabilized by viscosity or density stratification (the latter is relevant to Kelvin-Helmholtz in the atmosphere, ocean, etc., but not to a rising column of hot air).
If the rise is slow and the column thin, viscosity will be more effective in stabilizing the flow. Very slow burning will then tend to produce a steady column. The burning rate will depend on how finely the incense is ground, what it is made of, moisture content, degree of packing, etc. The trick is to slow the burning without making it extinguish itself.
So there you go. Now you, too, know how to make perfectly rising incense, like the house of Avtinas did. Well, at least you know which factors to experiment with until by luck or skill you get it right. As I learned when my roommate did a class project on gas engine combustion chamber designs, the precise analysis of burning is very complicated and sometimes not fully predictable even by modern science.
Why was it desired that the smoke column rise straight upward? Possible reasons include: 1) It was simply more aesthetically pleasing. 2) It was cleaner – smoke concentrated at the ceiling rather than filling the entire room. 3) It was symbolic of the incense going directly to God and not getting "stuck" on the way there. 4) The rabbis noticed the link between vertical rising and slow burning; wanting the incense to last longer, they wanted to see vertical rising as an indication of this.
Whatever the reason, it seems this goal was not trivial to achieve. According to the gemara, a particular substance ("ma'aleh ashan") had to be mixed into the incense. But just the presence of that substance was not sufficient, and expert preparation was needed as well. The House of Avtinas were the experts, and the rabbis tried unsuccessfully to break their monopoly on the correct method.
One final word on the column of smoke from the outdoor altar. Pirkei Avot says that this smoke rose vertically as well, miraculously, despite the wind. What was the point of this vertical rising? Explanations 1), 2) and 3) from the incense column would also seem to apply here, with minor changes. 1) A vertical column of smoke would be more attractive, and like a skyscraper more visible to people far from the Temple. (Compare this to Akedat Yitzchak, where in the midrash Avraham saw a cloud over Mt. Moriah before arriving. Maybe he was prophetically envisioning smoke from sacrifices there?) 2) Anyone who has made a bonfire knows how annoying it is to stand downwind from the fire and get smoke blown in your face. With a vertical column that would not happen. 3) The burning sacrifices are supposed to provide a pleasing odor" to God (Bamidbar 28:1 and other verses). If the smoke is blown horizontally, then it never goes up to the heavens, giving the impression that God is literally pushing the sacrifice to the side and rejecting it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Hilchot Mundial
הלכות מונדיאל
גיל סלוביק
1. נהגו אומות העולם להיאבק זו בזו מדי ד' שנים בכיבוש שערים עד אשר יימצא זה אשר הגביע בידו, כדכתיב: ובשנה הרביעית יהיה לכדור קודש הילולים למונדיאל. וכיוון שהכיבוש משחית הוא, נוהגים ישראל להחמיר ולא לכבוש שערים כלל, ותחת להתחרות במונדיאל, מסתפקים בצפייה בו, בבחינת אותו תראה ושמה לא תשחק.
2. מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל מצוות עשה שהזמן גרמא היא, ועל כן נוהגת בגברים בלבד, וטוב שיתכוון הגבר להוציא אשתו מהבית בזמן המשחק.
3. יש לצאת בכל תוקף כנגד אותן נשים שעושות עצמן כמתעניינות בכדורגל, ותחת להניח לנפשם של הגברים, מציקות הן בקושיות סבוכות על חוקי המשחק בדיוק כשמסי פורץ לרחבה, וידוע מאמר חז"ל כי המלמד את אשתו כדורגל כאילו מלמדה תיפלות, שהוא מלמדה פרק בהלכות נבדל והיא שואלתו על שום מה נבדלים צבעי מדי הנבחרות אלה מאלה, ואינה מכירה בין תכלת של ארגנטינה ללבן של אנגליה.
4. נתייחדה מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל, שעל אף שמצוות עשה היא, יש בה משום שב ואל תעשה, שדי לו לאדם שירבץ בכורסתו אל מול המסך כדי לקיים המצווה. וכיוון שחביבות מצוות על ישראל נהגו להוסיף למצוות הרביצה גם פיצוח גרעינים קליות ואגוזים, לגימת בירה ומתן הוראות לשחקנים, ומתפללים שייעשה להם נס וישמעו השחקנים את הוראותיהם דרך המסך.
5. אין צופין במונדיאל אלא בחבורה, וממנים את הקטן שביניהם לסינג'ור והוא המוציא והמביא להם בירות מן המקרר, ומי שצופה לבדו אין לו חלק לעולם הבא וסופו שמפספס כל הגולים כשמביא בעצמו הבירה. בשעת הדחק יש להתיר לצפות ביחיד, אולם העושה כן יקפיד להתקשר מדי ח"י רגעים לחבריו כדי לשאול: "ראית את זה???".
6. מאימתי צופין? משלב הבתים ועד לגמר. ויש אומרים: משלב הבתים ועד שלב הרס הבתים, כשנוטשת אשתו את הבית ועוברת לגור אצל אמה. במקצת קהילות נהגו לצפות במשחקי הנוקאאוט בלבד, ולא טוב הם עושים, שככל שמתקדם המונדיאל הולכים ומשתעממים משחקיו, שרעדה אוחזת ברגלי השחקנים ותחת להיות כגיבורים הכובשים את גוליהם, עומדים הם כחומה בצורה ואין מבקיעין כלל (בונקער בלע"ז).
7. אין צופין במונדיאל לא מתוך שחוק ולא מתוך קלות ראש אלא מתוך כורסה של מצווה, וטוב שיכוון ליבו למשחק, יבטל עצמו כליל, ולא יתיק עיניו מהמסך לא ימין ולא שמאל, שאם לא כן עובר ב"לא תתורו". הנצרך לנקביו באמצע משחק טוב שיתאפק וימתין למחצית עת מלהגגים הפרשנים במילתא דבדיחותא וזורקים זה לזה קלישאות קלישאות חבוטות חבוטות.
8. משנתרתקו הגברים לכורסאותיהם ואינם נעים ואינם זעים מהן, יוצאות הנשים לפזז ולכרכר בקעניונים, בלא גברים שידחקו בהן לסיים השופינג, ומנהג זה הוא בבחינת זה נהנה שאשתו לא בבית וזה חסר בחשבון הבנק. ומכל מקום טוב שתקפיד האשה על קיום הלכות שופינג בכל דקדוקיהן ופרטיהן ותרי"ג שקיות התלויות בהן.
9. תחילה נהגו ישראל להתחלק בין אוהדי ברזיל, אנגליה והולנד (אחינו הכתומים). משנתמרמרו כל צבועי העולם על המרמריס, ונמצאו כל אומות העולם שונאות לישראל, אין זה חשוב את מי יאהד, ובלבד שינקוט צד מבעוד מועד וידבק בו, שלא יהיה כפוסח על שתי הסעיפים מדי משחק.
10. ר' כילי אומר: כל המסכים כשרים לצפייה, אפילו מסך שפופרת יד' אינץ' מתקופת האנטימחיקון התחתון. ר' סקאל אומר: לא יפחת ממסך מהודר עשוי פלעזמה בגודל לב' אינץ', שאותיות HD כסופות חקוקות בחזיתו. מנהג המפרסמים ליפות סחורתם ולהכתירה בשלל תכונות הכתובות בצופן עשויה צירופי אותיות משונים, ובמיוחד נהגו להרבות במספר היציאות שבגב המסך, כדכתיב: יציאות המסך שתיים שהן ארבע. ועוד נהגו לפרסם את ניגודיות המסך, ולא ידעתי עניין הניגודיות מהו עד שהתנגדה אשתי שאקנה המסך.
11. שלושים יום לפני המונדיאל מעלין את מחירי כורסאות הטלוויזיה, המסכים, ושאר תשמישי הקדושה של המונדיאל, ברמ"ח אחוזים, כדי להורידם לאחר מכן במבצע של "עד 50%". מנהג נאה נהגו לכתוב את ה "50%" באותיות קידוש לבנה בגודל 42 אינץ', ואת ה"עד" באותיות טל ומטר בגודל מחצית האינץ' בלבד. ייזהר הציבור מאוד מרכישת אותם מסכים המפארים עצמם כ"מותג מוכר" ונמכרים במחצית מדמיהם של מסכים בעלי יחוס, שחזקה היא שאם היה המותג מוכר למישהו מלבד לזה המוכרו, הרי שהיו מפרסמים את שמו.
12. שבת הקודמת לפרוץ המונדיאל היא שבת הגדול, ונהגו לפרסם בה מוספי ספורט מגודלים הסוקרים כל אחד ואחד מאחד-עשר כוכביא של נבחרות העולם, ועושין מי שברך לפצועים. גדולי פרשני הדור עוסקים במלאכת הניחוש, וכל נבחרות העולם עוברות לפניהם כבני מרון, וכותבים את גזר דינן: מי תעלה ומי תודח, מי בנגיחה ומי בבעיטה, מי בפנדלים ומי בשער זהב, וסופם שנמצאים ניחושיהם כחרס הנשבר וכצל עובר וכחלום בלהות יעוף.
13. מצווה מן המובחר שלא לשחק במונדיאל בכדור שרגילין לשחק בו בשאר ימות השנה, אלא לייחד מבעוד מועד
כדור חדש שלא עלה עליו עול, ורגל אדם לא בעטה בו, בבחינת וישן מפני חדש תוציאו. על כן נהגו גדולי ישיבת ההנהלה של אדידעס לברוא מדי מונדיאל, יש מאין, כדור חדש בתכלית החידוש (ג'אבולעני בלע"ז), ובכל מקום שדבר הכדור החדש מגיע אבל גדול לכדורגלנים ומתבכיינים בקול גדול, וטוענים שגדולי אדידעס שמים עליהם שלושה פסים.
14. מודים אנו לקב"ה ששם חלקנו מהבועטים נעלי הבית כשיושבין על הכורסא ולא שם חלקנו מבועטי קרנות. שאנו משכימים לצפות במשחק של צפון הונדורס נגד דרום ניגריה, והם משכימים לעוד אימון כושר, אנו רצים למקרר להביא עוד בירה, והם רצים כמשוגעים אחר הכדור, אנו עמלים לפצח הפיסטוקים והם עמלים לפצח ההגנה של היריב.
15. מייד כשיסתיים משחק הגמר, יכבה את הפלעזמה, יקום מכורסתו, ינער היטב קליפות הפיסטוקים, ויאמר: יהי רצון שכשם שזכינו לצפות במונדיאל זה, כן נזכה לשחק במונדיאל הבא בכדור מעורו של לוייתן.
גיל סלוביק
1. נהגו אומות העולם להיאבק זו בזו מדי ד' שנים בכיבוש שערים עד אשר יימצא זה אשר הגביע בידו, כדכתיב: ובשנה הרביעית יהיה לכדור קודש הילולים למונדיאל. וכיוון שהכיבוש משחית הוא, נוהגים ישראל להחמיר ולא לכבוש שערים כלל, ותחת להתחרות במונדיאל, מסתפקים בצפייה בו, בבחינת אותו תראה ושמה לא תשחק.
2. מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל מצוות עשה שהזמן גרמא היא, ועל כן נוהגת בגברים בלבד, וטוב שיתכוון הגבר להוציא אשתו מהבית בזמן המשחק.
3. יש לצאת בכל תוקף כנגד אותן נשים שעושות עצמן כמתעניינות בכדורגל, ותחת להניח לנפשם של הגברים, מציקות הן בקושיות סבוכות על חוקי המשחק בדיוק כשמסי פורץ לרחבה, וידוע מאמר חז"ל כי המלמד את אשתו כדורגל כאילו מלמדה תיפלות, שהוא מלמדה פרק בהלכות נבדל והיא שואלתו על שום מה נבדלים צבעי מדי הנבחרות אלה מאלה, ואינה מכירה בין תכלת של ארגנטינה ללבן של אנגליה.
4. נתייחדה מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל, שעל אף שמצוות עשה היא, יש בה משום שב ואל תעשה, שדי לו לאדם שירבץ בכורסתו אל מול המסך כדי לקיים המצווה. וכיוון שחביבות מצוות על ישראל נהגו להוסיף למצוות הרביצה גם פיצוח גרעינים קליות ואגוזים, לגימת בירה ומתן הוראות לשחקנים, ומתפללים שייעשה להם נס וישמעו השחקנים את הוראותיהם דרך המסך.
5. אין צופין במונדיאל אלא בחבורה, וממנים את הקטן שביניהם לסינג'ור והוא המוציא והמביא להם בירות מן המקרר, ומי שצופה לבדו אין לו חלק לעולם הבא וסופו שמפספס כל הגולים כשמביא בעצמו הבירה. בשעת הדחק יש להתיר לצפות ביחיד, אולם העושה כן יקפיד להתקשר מדי ח"י רגעים לחבריו כדי לשאול: "ראית את זה???".
6. מאימתי צופין? משלב הבתים ועד לגמר. ויש אומרים: משלב הבתים ועד שלב הרס הבתים, כשנוטשת אשתו את הבית ועוברת לגור אצל אמה. במקצת קהילות נהגו לצפות במשחקי הנוקאאוט בלבד, ולא טוב הם עושים, שככל שמתקדם המונדיאל הולכים ומשתעממים משחקיו, שרעדה אוחזת ברגלי השחקנים ותחת להיות כגיבורים הכובשים את גוליהם, עומדים הם כחומה בצורה ואין מבקיעין כלל (בונקער בלע"ז).
7. אין צופין במונדיאל לא מתוך שחוק ולא מתוך קלות ראש אלא מתוך כורסה של מצווה, וטוב שיכוון ליבו למשחק, יבטל עצמו כליל, ולא יתיק עיניו מהמסך לא ימין ולא שמאל, שאם לא כן עובר ב"לא תתורו". הנצרך לנקביו באמצע משחק טוב שיתאפק וימתין למחצית עת מלהגגים הפרשנים במילתא דבדיחותא וזורקים זה לזה קלישאות קלישאות חבוטות חבוטות.
8. משנתרתקו הגברים לכורסאותיהם ואינם נעים ואינם זעים מהן, יוצאות הנשים לפזז ולכרכר בקעניונים, בלא גברים שידחקו בהן לסיים השופינג, ומנהג זה הוא בבחינת זה נהנה שאשתו לא בבית וזה חסר בחשבון הבנק. ומכל מקום טוב שתקפיד האשה על קיום הלכות שופינג בכל דקדוקיהן ופרטיהן ותרי"ג שקיות התלויות בהן.
9. תחילה נהגו ישראל להתחלק בין אוהדי ברזיל, אנגליה והולנד (אחינו הכתומים). משנתמרמרו כל צבועי העולם על המרמריס, ונמצאו כל אומות העולם שונאות לישראל, אין זה חשוב את מי יאהד, ובלבד שינקוט צד מבעוד מועד וידבק בו, שלא יהיה כפוסח על שתי הסעיפים מדי משחק.
10. ר' כילי אומר: כל המסכים כשרים לצפייה, אפילו מסך שפופרת יד' אינץ' מתקופת האנטימחיקון התחתון. ר' סקאל אומר: לא יפחת ממסך מהודר עשוי פלעזמה בגודל לב' אינץ', שאותיות HD כסופות חקוקות בחזיתו. מנהג המפרסמים ליפות סחורתם ולהכתירה בשלל תכונות הכתובות בצופן עשויה צירופי אותיות משונים, ובמיוחד נהגו להרבות במספר היציאות שבגב המסך, כדכתיב: יציאות המסך שתיים שהן ארבע. ועוד נהגו לפרסם את ניגודיות המסך, ולא ידעתי עניין הניגודיות מהו עד שהתנגדה אשתי שאקנה המסך.
11. שלושים יום לפני המונדיאל מעלין את מחירי כורסאות הטלוויזיה, המסכים, ושאר תשמישי הקדושה של המונדיאל, ברמ"ח אחוזים, כדי להורידם לאחר מכן במבצע של "עד 50%". מנהג נאה נהגו לכתוב את ה "50%" באותיות קידוש לבנה בגודל 42 אינץ', ואת ה"עד" באותיות טל ומטר בגודל מחצית האינץ' בלבד. ייזהר הציבור מאוד מרכישת אותם מסכים המפארים עצמם כ"מותג מוכר" ונמכרים במחצית מדמיהם של מסכים בעלי יחוס, שחזקה היא שאם היה המותג מוכר למישהו מלבד לזה המוכרו, הרי שהיו מפרסמים את שמו.
12. שבת הקודמת לפרוץ המונדיאל היא שבת הגדול, ונהגו לפרסם בה מוספי ספורט מגודלים הסוקרים כל אחד ואחד מאחד-עשר כוכביא של נבחרות העולם, ועושין מי שברך לפצועים. גדולי פרשני הדור עוסקים במלאכת הניחוש, וכל נבחרות העולם עוברות לפניהם כבני מרון, וכותבים את גזר דינן: מי תעלה ומי תודח, מי בנגיחה ומי בבעיטה, מי בפנדלים ומי בשער זהב, וסופם שנמצאים ניחושיהם כחרס הנשבר וכצל עובר וכחלום בלהות יעוף.
13. מצווה מן המובחר שלא לשחק במונדיאל בכדור שרגילין לשחק בו בשאר ימות השנה, אלא לייחד מבעוד מועד
כדור חדש שלא עלה עליו עול, ורגל אדם לא בעטה בו, בבחינת וישן מפני חדש תוציאו. על כן נהגו גדולי ישיבת ההנהלה של אדידעס לברוא מדי מונדיאל, יש מאין, כדור חדש בתכלית החידוש (ג'אבולעני בלע"ז), ובכל מקום שדבר הכדור החדש מגיע אבל גדול לכדורגלנים ומתבכיינים בקול גדול, וטוענים שגדולי אדידעס שמים עליהם שלושה פסים.
14. מודים אנו לקב"ה ששם חלקנו מהבועטים נעלי הבית כשיושבין על הכורסא ולא שם חלקנו מבועטי קרנות. שאנו משכימים לצפות במשחק של צפון הונדורס נגד דרום ניגריה, והם משכימים לעוד אימון כושר, אנו רצים למקרר להביא עוד בירה, והם רצים כמשוגעים אחר הכדור, אנו עמלים לפצח הפיסטוקים והם עמלים לפצח ההגנה של היריב.
15. מייד כשיסתיים משחק הגמר, יכבה את הפלעזמה, יקום מכורסתו, ינער היטב קליפות הפיסטוקים, ויאמר: יהי רצון שכשם שזכינו לצפות במונדיאל זה, כן נזכה לשחק במונדיאל הבא בכדור מעורו של לוייתן.
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Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Soccer
I once went to a Maccabi Haifa soccer game with a couple friends. (It was the infamous one where the Beitar fans cheered Yitzchak Rabin's assassination.) I expected the game to be boring - in 90 minutes of kicking the ball back and forth, a soccer game contains only a handful of scoring chances. But it was actually quite interesting to see the struggles for control of the ball, and the strategies for advancing it.
That said, I saw one big problem with that game - and with soccer in general. It often happens that one team clearly dominates the game from start to finish. But due to the extremely low scoring of soccer, chances are good that they don't actually score. And if the other team gets one lucky shot, or else a penalty shot, then the better team can easily end up losing 1-0.
A variation of that possibility has caused much controversy in the ongoing World Cup. A single momentary mistake by a "keeper" (apparently that's what they call goaltenders) results in a goal, dramatically changing the game and the team's entire fortunes in the World Cup. In the recent England-USA game, for example, from what I hear England clearly played better overall. But on one weak USA shot, the ball took an unusual bounce off the English keeper's hands and into the goal. (Some blame the bounce on problems with the ball.) Just like that, USA turned a predictable loss into a "stunning" tie against a much stronger team. A similar sequence occurred in the Slovenia-Algeria game. What is the value of 90 minutes of intense play when the game is really decided by half a second of random luck?
In other sports, it is certainly possible for luck to affect the outcome. Indeed, the two worst referee decisions in history went against teams from my home state. Each resulted in a win for the opposing team, which went on to win the national championship that year.
But as outrageous as these incidents were, they do not compare in impact to similar incidents occurring at soccer games. In both baseball and American football, it is normal for each team to score 5 or 6 times in a game. A bad call is unlikely to result in more than one undeserved score. If that score was enough to change the outcome, then the game was already quite close. If your team was clearly deserving of victory, it would not have failed in its previous chances to create a large lead that no single error could eliminate.
In soccer, that is not the case. One goal is all a team normally scores, and it is also the margin of error caused by unluckly circumstances such as referee mistakes. Thus, it is much more likely that undeserved circumstances will decide the outcome of the game. That cheapens the effort put forth by the players throughout the game. In my mind, this characteristic makes soccer a less compelling sport than many of its competitors.
That said, I saw one big problem with that game - and with soccer in general. It often happens that one team clearly dominates the game from start to finish. But due to the extremely low scoring of soccer, chances are good that they don't actually score. And if the other team gets one lucky shot, or else a penalty shot, then the better team can easily end up losing 1-0.
A variation of that possibility has caused much controversy in the ongoing World Cup. A single momentary mistake by a "keeper" (apparently that's what they call goaltenders) results in a goal, dramatically changing the game and the team's entire fortunes in the World Cup. In the recent England-USA game, for example, from what I hear England clearly played better overall. But on one weak USA shot, the ball took an unusual bounce off the English keeper's hands and into the goal. (Some blame the bounce on problems with the ball.) Just like that, USA turned a predictable loss into a "stunning" tie against a much stronger team. A similar sequence occurred in the Slovenia-Algeria game. What is the value of 90 minutes of intense play when the game is really decided by half a second of random luck?
In other sports, it is certainly possible for luck to affect the outcome. Indeed, the two worst referee decisions in history went against teams from my home state. Each resulted in a win for the opposing team, which went on to win the national championship that year.
But as outrageous as these incidents were, they do not compare in impact to similar incidents occurring at soccer games. In both baseball and American football, it is normal for each team to score 5 or 6 times in a game. A bad call is unlikely to result in more than one undeserved score. If that score was enough to change the outcome, then the game was already quite close. If your team was clearly deserving of victory, it would not have failed in its previous chances to create a large lead that no single error could eliminate.
In soccer, that is not the case. One goal is all a team normally scores, and it is also the margin of error caused by unluckly circumstances such as referee mistakes. Thus, it is much more likely that undeserved circumstances will decide the outcome of the game. That cheapens the effort put forth by the players throughout the game. In my mind, this characteristic makes soccer a less compelling sport than many of its competitors.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Husband, wife, and shechina
"Husband and wife – if they merit, God's presence is found between them." (Sota 17a)
I can recall my parents occasionally having arguments, sometimes bitter, with each other when I was growing up. But personally, I almost never get into arguments with anyone. How is this? Am I really a better person than they are?
The more I learn about life, the clearer it is that the answer is not a quick and satisfying “yes”. The reason I do not argue is simple, and reflects my circumstances more than my character.
It is often hard to know what a single person is thinking. People have many reasons to keep their thoughts private. But in a marriage, much more so than any other relationship between individuals, thoughts do not remain private. They are shared verbally with one's partner.
The arguments which I occasionally witnessed in my family, and which are probably present in every family, are the result of frustration and anger. I certainly do experience these emotions sometimes. But I generally keep them to myself. If I were married, things would be different. I would much more readily express negative emotions to my wife than to other people. She might respond negatively, again more readily, and I might reciprocate. And just like that, we would get into a fight. The negative character traits which caused this fight were always part of each of us. But only when we were together would they express themselves in words and actions, immediately visible to anyone around us. Right now, I do easily not get into arguments and fights. But once I'm married (or in a sufficiently serious relationship), I can expect to do so more often.
What is true for negative character traits, like selfishness and cruelty, is also true for positive ones. With one's spouse, these positive traits too will be expressed more openly, and visibly to people other than the married couple.
In my opinion, this is the basis of the gemara saying that God's presence dwells between the husband and wife.
Apparently there is some set of Godly actions and attitudes – love, generosity, kindness, and so on – that wherever they are present, we say that the Divine presence is there as well. Each person, living by themselves, may possess these character traits, and thus we call them a holy or Godly person. But this Divine presence is private, as the character traits generally are. When husband and wife with these character traits are together, the traits are most strongly and visibly expressed, and the holiness become shared and evident between them.
There is a famous Romantic poem entitled “She walks in beauty”. It is not obvious whether a woman's beauty is part of her, or part of the mind of the man gazing at her. Either way, surely the beauty is present whenever he sees her. Therefore, he may speak of her walking “in” the beauty, it being part of the fabric of the situation in which they meet. We may speak the same way of God's presence dwelling between a married couple. When they interact with each other, treating each other with kindness and respect, the situation is one of Divine attributes and Divine presence. We cannot say that God is physically located anywhere, but when husband and wife treat each other this way, Godliness is surely an element of their interaction.
I can recall my parents occasionally having arguments, sometimes bitter, with each other when I was growing up. But personally, I almost never get into arguments with anyone. How is this? Am I really a better person than they are?
The more I learn about life, the clearer it is that the answer is not a quick and satisfying “yes”. The reason I do not argue is simple, and reflects my circumstances more than my character.
It is often hard to know what a single person is thinking. People have many reasons to keep their thoughts private. But in a marriage, much more so than any other relationship between individuals, thoughts do not remain private. They are shared verbally with one's partner.
The arguments which I occasionally witnessed in my family, and which are probably present in every family, are the result of frustration and anger. I certainly do experience these emotions sometimes. But I generally keep them to myself. If I were married, things would be different. I would much more readily express negative emotions to my wife than to other people. She might respond negatively, again more readily, and I might reciprocate. And just like that, we would get into a fight. The negative character traits which caused this fight were always part of each of us. But only when we were together would they express themselves in words and actions, immediately visible to anyone around us. Right now, I do easily not get into arguments and fights. But once I'm married (or in a sufficiently serious relationship), I can expect to do so more often.
What is true for negative character traits, like selfishness and cruelty, is also true for positive ones. With one's spouse, these positive traits too will be expressed more openly, and visibly to people other than the married couple.
In my opinion, this is the basis of the gemara saying that God's presence dwells between the husband and wife.
Apparently there is some set of Godly actions and attitudes – love, generosity, kindness, and so on – that wherever they are present, we say that the Divine presence is there as well. Each person, living by themselves, may possess these character traits, and thus we call them a holy or Godly person. But this Divine presence is private, as the character traits generally are. When husband and wife with these character traits are together, the traits are most strongly and visibly expressed, and the holiness become shared and evident between them.
There is a famous Romantic poem entitled “She walks in beauty”. It is not obvious whether a woman's beauty is part of her, or part of the mind of the man gazing at her. Either way, surely the beauty is present whenever he sees her. Therefore, he may speak of her walking “in” the beauty, it being part of the fabric of the situation in which they meet. We may speak the same way of God's presence dwelling between a married couple. When they interact with each other, treating each other with kindness and respect, the situation is one of Divine attributes and Divine presence. We cannot say that God is physically located anywhere, but when husband and wife treat each other this way, Godliness is surely an element of their interaction.
How much is a pruta?
The halachic pruta is equivalent to the value of 0.022 grams of silver. (0.025 grams according to a different opinion). (Source)
0.022 grams = 0.000776 ounces (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 5.5 agorot (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 1.4 cents (Source)
The price of silver, and thus the value of a pruta, may change with time. You should always be able to re-click the last two links to get an updated figure.
This was on my mind because of its relevance for maaser sheni.
0.022 grams = 0.000776 ounces (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 5.5 agorot (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 1.4 cents (Source)
The price of silver, and thus the value of a pruta, may change with time. You should always be able to re-click the last two links to get an updated figure.
This was on my mind because of its relevance for maaser sheni.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
The Gaza boat incident
Some thoughts:
1) Every IDF soldier should have a video camera mounted on their helmet. EVERY scene of conflict must be recorded, and immediately prepared and (if useful) released for publication by a PR crew on duty 24/7. (UPDATE: Apparently this kind of mechanism exists and just wasn't used.)
2) Right now Israel has "peace" (i.e. diplomatic relations) with several Muslim countries, including Egypt and Turkey. At the same time, both Egypt and Turkey are knowingly aiding military action against Israel. Egypt chooses not to stop arms smuggling into Gaza, and Turkey allowed boats containing weapons and hostile personnel to set out for Gaza. Once upon a time, before all the "peace" agreements, we could prevent this kind of action by threatening or using military force, both retaliatory and preventive. Now we can't. "Peace" means that we cannot do anything to prevent actual war which is being conducted against us. Perhaps we would be better off ending these "peace" agreements.
3) As isolated as Israel is now, historically it was much more isolated. The UN "Zionism is racism" resolution, for example, was only repealed in 1991. Israel has always been a pariah state, except from about 1991-2008. One important reason for this is obvious. The US, the only country ever willing to admit to being an Israeli ally, was the unchallenged single superpower during this period. Before 1991 it was balanced by the Soviet Union; now it is increasingly balanced by China and the rest of "BRIC". Israeli isolation is natural, since its existence is opposed by 60+ Muslim states who control the world's oil. So regardless of its policy choices, Israel will have to get used to being isolated. It survived isolation beforehand, and will again.
4) As usual, the IDF operation was labeled "disproportionate". That term is actually not a bad first reaction to the events. After all, when we killed 10 of them and they killed zero of us, isn't it obvious we were more aggressive? Shouldn't we have stopped and claimed victory once the body count was 8-0 or 9-0? We reply that the 10th casualty (like the 9th and 8th) was still a lethal threat to IDF soldiers, and could not be stopped in any other way. But that argument relies on facts, many of them unverifiable, which our enemies simply deny.
Another necessary approach may be to question the whole idea of disproportionality. Perhaps such an argument goes as follows. Supposedly a 10-0 body count is wrong because it is "disproportionate". If so, then if the body count were 10-10, the IDF would be morally justified. Effectively, the only way for IDF soldiers to be morally justified in their actions is to die. The only moral Israeli is a dead Israeli. The doctrine of disproportionality inherently leads to that conclusion, and a doctrine that implies obviously wrong conclusions cannot in itself be correct. This argument is emotional as well as logical, and must be presented as such. Hearing the rhetorical question "Must Israelis die in order for Israel to be considered moral?" from an Israeli leader could do a lot to reframe the debate in a more sensible direction.
5) As for general Israeli policy, this article presents my exact position, more elegantly than I could have.
1) Every IDF soldier should have a video camera mounted on their helmet. EVERY scene of conflict must be recorded, and immediately prepared and (if useful) released for publication by a PR crew on duty 24/7. (UPDATE: Apparently this kind of mechanism exists and just wasn't used.)
2) Right now Israel has "peace" (i.e. diplomatic relations) with several Muslim countries, including Egypt and Turkey. At the same time, both Egypt and Turkey are knowingly aiding military action against Israel. Egypt chooses not to stop arms smuggling into Gaza, and Turkey allowed boats containing weapons and hostile personnel to set out for Gaza. Once upon a time, before all the "peace" agreements, we could prevent this kind of action by threatening or using military force, both retaliatory and preventive. Now we can't. "Peace" means that we cannot do anything to prevent actual war which is being conducted against us. Perhaps we would be better off ending these "peace" agreements.
3) As isolated as Israel is now, historically it was much more isolated. The UN "Zionism is racism" resolution, for example, was only repealed in 1991. Israel has always been a pariah state, except from about 1991-2008. One important reason for this is obvious. The US, the only country ever willing to admit to being an Israeli ally, was the unchallenged single superpower during this period. Before 1991 it was balanced by the Soviet Union; now it is increasingly balanced by China and the rest of "BRIC". Israeli isolation is natural, since its existence is opposed by 60+ Muslim states who control the world's oil. So regardless of its policy choices, Israel will have to get used to being isolated. It survived isolation beforehand, and will again.
4) As usual, the IDF operation was labeled "disproportionate". That term is actually not a bad first reaction to the events. After all, when we killed 10 of them and they killed zero of us, isn't it obvious we were more aggressive? Shouldn't we have stopped and claimed victory once the body count was 8-0 or 9-0? We reply that the 10th casualty (like the 9th and 8th) was still a lethal threat to IDF soldiers, and could not be stopped in any other way. But that argument relies on facts, many of them unverifiable, which our enemies simply deny.
Another necessary approach may be to question the whole idea of disproportionality. Perhaps such an argument goes as follows. Supposedly a 10-0 body count is wrong because it is "disproportionate". If so, then if the body count were 10-10, the IDF would be morally justified. Effectively, the only way for IDF soldiers to be morally justified in their actions is to die. The only moral Israeli is a dead Israeli. The doctrine of disproportionality inherently leads to that conclusion, and a doctrine that implies obviously wrong conclusions cannot in itself be correct. This argument is emotional as well as logical, and must be presented as such. Hearing the rhetorical question "Must Israelis die in order for Israel to be considered moral?" from an Israeli leader could do a lot to reframe the debate in a more sensible direction.
5) As for general Israeli policy, this article presents my exact position, more elegantly than I could have.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Communication
To send a message to someone, you must often speak twice.
The first time, you open their heart, making them receptive to what you are saying. Only after can you successfully communicate to them the content of your message.
-R' Amital
The first time, you open their heart, making them receptive to what you are saying. Only after can you successfully communicate to them the content of your message.
-R' Amital
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Timtum halev
Do not make yourselves disgusting through all the swarming creatures, and do not make yourself impure through them, venitmetem (ונטמתם) through them. (Vayikra 11:43)
What does “venitmetem” mean? The most obvious explanation is that it means “and you shall become impure”, being derived from the word “tamei”. That fits well with the theme of impurity which is a central aspect of the kosher-animal chapter, though it does seem redundant, since impurity was already mentioned in the previous phrase. (The problem with this explanation is that “tamei” has the letter alef in it, and “venitmetem” does not. However, there are cases in Tanach where an alef disappears from the spelling of a word, since it is not pronounced. This could be another such case.)
Ibn Ezra on the verse cites the above explanation, but then brings an alternative. “Some say they [tamei, venitmetem] are two different roots, as in [נטמינו בעיניכם], its meaning being, like a person who does not have wisdom.” If so, then the verse should be translated: “...and do not make yourself impure through them, and become foolish through them.”
This grammatical understanding may be the “pshat” basis for the idea of “timtum halev”. As for what the idea actually means, well, that's beyond the scope of this post. But you can find an interesting discussion here.
What does “venitmetem” mean? The most obvious explanation is that it means “and you shall become impure”, being derived from the word “tamei”. That fits well with the theme of impurity which is a central aspect of the kosher-animal chapter, though it does seem redundant, since impurity was already mentioned in the previous phrase. (The problem with this explanation is that “tamei” has the letter alef in it, and “venitmetem” does not. However, there are cases in Tanach where an alef disappears from the spelling of a word, since it is not pronounced. This could be another such case.)
Ibn Ezra on the verse cites the above explanation, but then brings an alternative. “Some say they [tamei, venitmetem] are two different roots, as in [נטמינו בעיניכם], its meaning being, like a person who does not have wisdom.” If so, then the verse should be translated: “...and do not make yourself impure through them, and become foolish through them.”
This grammatical understanding may be the “pshat” basis for the idea of “timtum halev”. As for what the idea actually means, well, that's beyond the scope of this post. But you can find an interesting discussion here.
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