Looking for a Rosh Chodesh text? (San 45a)

There's so much great stuff going on here, I don't even know where to begin.

Yesterday's daf starts with a fascinating machloket about whether the rule that a man should be stoned naked also applies to a woman. Yehudah holds that it does and the sages hold that it does not.

One of the reasons the sages give is in case people who are present at the execution become aroused at seeing her body naked.

So what's up with Yehudah? Why isn't he concerned about this? Actually he is, just not when it comes to execution. When it comes to a sotah (a woman suspected of adultery), he supposedly agrees that she should not be exposed. In dealing with a sotah, we learn that a kohen should take hold of her, which might result in ripping her garments and undoing her braids. If this occurs, Yehudah says:

היה לבה נאה, לא היה מגלהו ואם היה שערה נאה, לא היה סותרו

haya liba na'eh, lo haya m'galehu v'im hayah s'ara na'eh, lo hayah sotro. (45a1)

I think this needs a couple translations:

Schottenstein: "If her bosom was comely he does not uncover it; and if her hair was comely he does not unbraid it."

Jill 1: "If she has nice boobs, don't expose them; if her hair is attractive, don't let it down."

Jill 2: "If her heart is pure, don't banish her, if her head is sound, don't destroy her."

My first translation upholds Schottenstein's message, I just felt like the language needed a bit of an update to modern times. The second one is what one might call "modern/feminist midrash." Let's examine Schottenstein/Jill 1 first:

Yehudah is concerned about men having lewd thoughts, so why is the case of a sotah different than an execution? If the sotah is innocent, and everyone just saw her naked, there is a chance that the younger kohanim might pursue her afterwards. If a woman is being executed, you don't have to worry about anyone pursuing and committing a transgression (45a2). Yes, this is really the argument given. It gets better. Some object saying that even though men can't pursue the hot chic who just got executed, they might become aroused by her and pursue other women. Rabbah disagrees, saying that the evil inclination only prevails over something a person sees with their own eyes! Wow. Good stuff. It has nothing to do with degrading the woman accused of adultery or being sent to her death, but rather whether or not the aroused men will transgress.

We also get a special bonus: a talmudic definition of what turns men on -- boobs and hair. Great. Presumably, according to Yehudah, if the sotah does not have nice hair or boobs there is nothing wrong with stripping her down. On this note, lets examine my alternative translation:

היה לבה נאה, לא היה מגלהו ואם היה שערה נאה, לא היה סותרו

haya liba na'eh, lo haya m'galehu v'im hayah s'ara na'eh, lo hayah sotro.

Jill 2: If her heart is pure, don't banish her, if her head is sound, don't destroy her.

Let me start by saying I know this translation is in many ways a misreading of the text. But, I'm giving it to you anyway.

• Libah can mean "bosom" but it is more often used to mean her heart, or innermost thoughts or inclination.
• m'galehu comes from the word galah, which can mean to banish or exile a person in the hifiel.
• s'arah means hair. So it is a bit of a stretch to define it as head, but I think hair could represent a person's head, or their mind or intellect. This would be a nice parallel to liba, suggesting that first we are talking about the woman's heart, and next her mind.
• sotro, from the root sater, can also mean to tear down or destroy.

This translation totally changes everything about the text. Remember, we are talking about a sotah, who is about to be tested and banished as a ritual that is intended to determine whether or not she committed adultery. Maybe, instead of Yehudah talking about what to do if the kohen rips her clothes before sending her off, he is suggesting not to banish an innocent women at all and destroy her reputation! I know it is a bit of an idealistic reading, but I think it works. Why are we banishing a woman at all and making her drink some weird liquid, especially if we think she might be of a pure heart and a sound mind? (Wouldn't it also be nice to think that men are attracted to a woman's heart and mind, not her chest and hair?)

If translated this way, our own Sanhedrin text wouldn't have found it useful to digress with this prooftext. Instead, it could have just moved on with the other, in my opinion, more compelling arguments for why a woman might be executed with her clothes while a man is not.

Chag Sameach!

God is With Us – Haftarah First Day of Pesach

Isaiah 43:1-15 (Reform)
(Traditional Reading: Joshua 5:2-6:1, 6:27)

“Have no fear, for I am with you. אַל-תִּירָא כִּי-אִתְּךָ-אָנִי God speaks these words to the people as a whole in this morning’s passage from Isaiah. God promises to ingather the exiles from the east, the west, the north and the south. In a time of Exile in Bavel, the people need to hear that there is hope that they will return to their homeland. In a fitting connection to our celebration this week, Isaiah reminds the people that God is with them to protect them when they walk through fire and when they pass through rivers. God is with Israel. כִּי-אִתְּךָ-אָנִי.

This phrase however is meant to evoke more than just a connection to the Israelites that are dispersed throughout the ancient world. There is a connection to history here that is not to be forgotten. There is a connection to the past. Each of the three patriarchs received this same blessing. Each was told not to fear, for God is with them. In a stunning example of Zechut Avot, the merit of the ancestors, God takes this phrase, which has had specific individual meaning for Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and makes it communal. God mimics the promises to the ancestors in the language.

Abraham is told not to fear in Genesis 15. God tells Avram, as he is known at that point, not to fear because God will be his shield. Abram demands to know why he has no children, no one to carry on the name and the faith. All he has is his servant, Eliezer. God takes Avram out to look at the stars and tells him to count the stars, for his offspring shall be that numerous. God’s promise of not to fear in this case has to do with a connection to the future of the people. You will have a progeny. You will have a family. You will have someone to teach your traditions to.

Isaac is told not to fear in Genesis 26. Do not fear, for I am with you is followed by Avimelech the king of the Philistines coming to Isaac to make a treaty with him. Avimelech had seen that God was with Isaac and wanted to extend a hand in friendship based on the fact that so far, neither had done anything bad to the other. Isaac accepts this treaty and together they swear an oath of peace and have a feast. This scene ends with an immediate discovery of water in a well. God’s promise based on the phrase not to fear in this case has to do with peace and sustenance.

Jacob is told not to fear in chapter 46. God tells Jacob not to fear going down to Egypt, for Jacob will become a great nation there. God will be with Jacob and his family when they go down and when they come back up. This phrase of not to fear is a promise that God will be with the people in good times and in bad and that God is looking out for the people Israel even as they leave the land that has been promised to them. This scene is followed by a list of the families that went down to Egypt with Jacob.

And then we get back to Isaiah. Our phrase, fear not for I am with you, is found in our Haftarah this morning as well as two chapters earlier. Other than that, it is only found in conjunction with Abraham Isaac and Jacob. God’s words through Isaiah are meant to remind us of what God did for our ancestors. They are meant to remind the people, exiled in Bavel, that God will provide a future for our people. God will provide protection, peace and sustenance for our people. God will be with us in the good times and the bad.

No where is this more exemplified than in the story of the Exodus that we recall this week. God remembers the promise of a future and redeems the people from slavery. That would have been enough. But God also gives manna from heaven and provides us safe passage through the wilderness. That would have been enough. But ultimately, God is with us in the wilderness, as well as when we get to the Promised Land. God is a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. That would have been enough, too. But do not fear, because the work of the Lord is not yet done. God will return us from our exile in triumph. God will bring us back together as a people to Jerusalem.

Though we may find ourselves in the wilderness from time to time, God is with us. Though we may be wading through mud, God is with us. Though we may be singed by fires, God is with us. God’s promises to our ancestors are also promises to us. And, just like them, we may not fully live to see their fruits in this world, but that does not make them any less of a promise. Our Haftarah ends with God’s words to us. “אֲנִי יְהֹוָה קְדוֹשְׁכֶם. I am Adonai, your holy one. בּוֹרֵא יִשְֹרָאֵל מַלְכְּכֶם, the creator of Israel, your king.” By saying your holy one and your king, God reminds us of the covenant that started with Abram, that worked its way through Isaac and Jacob, through the slavery in Egypt and the exile in Bavel and through the diaspora to today. Isaiah’s message from God to us is that God is still with us.

God recognizes imperfection – Haftarah HaGadol

Malachi 3:4-24

This week, Shabbat HaGadol, the Shabbat before Passover, we read from Malachi about redemption of all kinds. Embedded in this message is an interesting line about God’s view of the world and God’s compassion for the human condition.

Let’s expound on verses 13-18: (original in Italics)

You have spoken hard words against Me — said the Lord.

Often, we think God is not listening to us, and doesn’t hear our questions about the unfairness in the world. Malachi is telling us this is not the case.

But you ask, "What have we been saying among ourselves against You?"

God hears us. What is interesting about this verse is that the people think that it might be better to play dumb, to play tam, if you will in this season of Passover, and pretend that they had not spoken out against God. This is empowering because God is about to tell us that we are heard. God is telling us that we are in a relationship where we can be honest. God is also telling us that we sometimes act like a kid that spilled something and pretends not to have done it.

You have said, "It is useless to serve God. What have we gained by keeping His charge and walking in abject awe of the Lord of Hosts? And so, we account the arrogant happy: they have indeed done evil and endured; they have indeed dared God and escaped."

This is a valid complaint. We see all around us people who win despite being unethical and people who prosper from corruption. It’s not fair and we demand from God some explanation. The world around us is filled with injustice. It’s sometimes enough to cause a crisis of faith. It’s sometimes enough to question either God’s existence or the efficacy of worship. This seems to be a very modern concern. We assume that ancient peoples believed with complete faith in God. Here, Malachi is telling us that there was questioning. Moreover, God seems to be ok with the question and recognizes where the question is coming from.

In this vein have those who revere the Lord been talking to one another. The Lord has heard and noted it, and a scroll of remembrance has been written at His behest concerning those who revere the Lord and esteem His name.

Similarly to the story of Passover, God hears the cries of the people of Israel and responds. Also similar, God sends a deliverer. In this case, Malachi prophesies the return of Elijah as the harbinger of better times.

And on the day that I am preparing, said the Lord of Hosts, they shall be My treasured possession; I will be tender toward them as a man is tender toward a son who ministers to him. And you shall come to see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between him who has served the Lord and him who has not served Him.

God has taken stock of his people. God knows who the good ones are and who the bad.

What might speak to us in the modern condition, when we so often feel the absence of God, is the fact that this passage doesn’t make it sound like God will come and punish the wicked tomorrow. There is a recognition that God is not always acting in the way that we want.

I imagine the Israelites in Egypt, enslaved and wondering where their God was. I imagine them asking these questions as well. The Egyptians don’t pray the right way, and look what they get. They get all the riches and a kingdom and a king and we’re slaves. Where is our God?

Without going too far to the “God is always with you” line, I think it is important to say that the question where is God is not something that we should be afraid of asking, particularly when we read about all the wonderful and awesome acts that God did for us as we were leaving Egypt.

The Seder, after all, is a time to ask questions.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach!

Idolatry????? (San 40b)

In response to John's great post yesterday, I was inspired to take my daf yomi study to a new level: I actually opened Jastrow!

So far my problem with daf yomi is that if I want to make it through a full page of Talmud a day, I barely have time to read the footnotes, let alone look up interesting passages or words. But, given my inspiration from John's post (and with spring break in sight) I went for it.

Basically, John asks why the rabbis make a distinction between killing a Jew and killing an idolater? Isn't murder still murder regardless of the victim's status?

So, I looked at the passage in the Hebrew on 40b4 where the rabbis describe one of the questions they ask witnesses in order to determine whether or not they will try the case:

Makirim atem oto? Nochri harag? Yisrael harag?

Did you recognize [the victim]? That is, Did [the accused] kill an idolater or did he kill a Jew?

The term used for idolater is not ha'oveid avodah zara, the term used in the Mishnah passage on 40a1. Instead, the term is nochri. When I first read the text I thought it said notzri, which would have totally changed the meaning of the passage, suggesting that the rabbis were sanctioning murders of Christians! Nochri clearly is not the same word as notzri, but I still wondered what this term means and if it really referred to idolaters.

Jastrow defines nochri as a stranger or gentile which in some editions could be changed into: ovdei cochavim u'mazelot, goy, kushi, or kuti.

THEN, I arrive at the best reference you could possibly imagine. Jastrow sends me to... wait for it... CHULLIN 13b!

If you don't immediately understand my excitement that is because this is literally one of the three or maybe four talmudic references I know (thank you agray!).

Chullin 13b teaches us that nochrim are not idol worshippers because they are simply following the customs of their ancestors. This is an important distinction because it asks the question, what is idolatry and why is it so horrible? The use of this term suggests that idolatry has to do with intention, not just action. This is even more interesting considering the context of our baraita.

Is a witness really expected to tell the difference between an idolater and one who is simply going through the motions because it is what his father did?

Perhaps the text is moving toward a teaching that would suggest all non-Jews (not just intentional idolaters) fall under the category of victims that a Jew can murder and not be tried for it in court.

My sense (though I'm not sure) is that the translation of "idolater" is maintained in order to guide one away from this kind of reading. It doesn't seem so bad that the Jews could get away with murdering idolaters, but when you expand that notion to include all non-Jews, it doesn't make the courts look very good.

Just in Case (San 39a)

So lucky for us, all the talk about the death penalty in the Talmud is just in case we start ordaining judges/Rabbis to the Great Sanhedrin again. Turns out these Rabbis had a special power that Rabbis today don't have; they had the power to decide who would live and who wouldn't. Nevertheless, the Rabbis felt so odd about the idea of death penalty that they put a number of provisions on it that would make it nearly impossible.

Let's say tomorrow that the Sanhedrin appears and that judges can start condemning people to death. In order to put someone to death we need to examine them. Not only that, but we must convict them with more than a simple majority (13 out of 23 people). Additionally, the person who is subjected to death penalty must have been warned about the particular form of executions that they will be liable for if they follow through with their intended action (whether committing murder, adultery, or any number of other crimes). And here's the kicker--in the time that it would take them to say "hello my friend" (b'toch k'dei dibur) the criminal must both acknowledge to the person that warned them that they understand the implications of their action AND they must actually do them. This means it must be with no hesitation. Furthermore, there must be a second bystander who happens to be around to serve as the second witness (because as we know, we can’t condemn someone to death on the testimony of just one witness).

If you combine all of these stipulations, you find that it is nearly impossible to ever put someone to death for a crime they commit. The Temple was not standing, there was no Sanhedrin, and the Rabbis took the opportunity and freedom to create a series of laws that essentially did away with a procedure with which they disagreed and that would have been reinstituted if the Great Sanhedrin came back. It was a great move, just in case.

On a personal note, I wonder what the Rabbis would think about debates going on in the USA about the death penalty. Are we taking the right steps to make sure that we never execute an innocent person? To learn more about this visit the Religious Action Center.

The Dangers of Drinking (San 38a)

Today's Daf is one of the best I've studied in a long time. I want to share one of its many stories that I think speaks for itself. However, i'll provide commentary in italics.

Judah and Hezekiah, the sons of R. Hiyya, once sat at table with Rabbi and uttered not a word. 
I imagine they were shy in the presence of such a great scholar

Whereupon he said: Give the young men plenty of strong wine, so that they may say something. When the wine took effect, they began by saying: The son of David (the Messiah) cannot appear until the two ruling houses in Israel shall have come to an end, viz., the Exilarchate, in Babylon and the Patriarchate in Palestine, for it is written, And he shall be for a Sanctuary, for a stone of stumbling and for a rock of offence to both houses of Israel.
The boys essentially told them that the Messiah would come only when major leaders of Israel and Babylonia were destroyed. They prove this from a quote from Isaiah 8:14. He (the Messiah) will serve as a sanctuary for the Jewish people but only when he gets in the way and pushes out "both houses of Israel" will he have the space to come.

Thereupon he [Rabbi] exclaimed: You throw thorns in my eyes, my children!
Rabbi was the Nasi, the head of the Israel community. This prophesy meant that he and his family would lose power. In essence, the two brothers got so drunk they forgot who they were talking to and insulted the host of their party. 

At this, R. Hiyya [his disciple] remarked: Master, be not angered, for the numerical value of the letters of wine (yayin) is seventy, and likewise the letters of sod: When yayin [wine] goes in, sod [secrets] comes out.
R. Hiyyah defends his idiot sons by telling Rabbi that it wasn't their fault but was rather the wine. He proves this by using gematria. 


He explains that the Hebrew word for wine is Yayin which has a total value of 70:
י = 10
י = 10
ן = 50


Sod (secret) has the same total:
ס = 60
ו = 6
ד = 4
Total = 70


Thus because wine and secrets have the same numerical value they must be connected. This allows the Rabbis to say the most important lesson in this story: when you drink wine, secrets come out. 


And what was the secret in this story? Perhaps it was that the brothers didn't respect the power of Rabbi and would rather have seen the Messiah come. However, it took getting drunk to get the chutzpah to say this. This story is an important lesson to all of us (like me) who struggle with saying inappropriate things at the wrong time. Alcohol and tact do not mix.

Driving Slow, Judging Slow (San 36b)

I've heard that when I have kids, I'll stop speeding. I've heard that having kids makes you slow down and think about your actions: maybe being five minutes late to that meeting, isn't actually worth the heart ache of an automobile accident?

Oddly, this sentintiment comes up in today's daf. In it we learn that  judges of a capital case cannot fall into three categories: they cannot be old, they cannot be a saris (an adult who never reached puberty) and they cannot be childless. According to Rashi this is because a judge in these cases must either have children at home or have the recent memory of having children. Rashi goes on to explain that this is because children make a person more compassionate. However, I would add to this statement. I think children can also make a person more mature. In many cases a child can make a person realize that the little things that used to bug them (like being a little late), don't mean so much.

While I have problems with judging those who choose not to have children, I like the underlying message in this post. We need to have judges that consider cases carefully, who not only drive slower, but judge slower, throwing out rashness and petty concerns and ruling with a clear and mature head.

God’s Do-over - Haftarah Vayikra

Isaiah 43:21-44:23

Deutero-Isaiah is the Isaiah of comfort and compassion while the Israelites are exiled in Bavel. Contrasting to First Isaiah, the prophet of destruction and woe, this guy is a little nicer to listen to.

Since the people are in Bavel, they cannot fulfill their duty to sacrifice. Unlike the Elephantine Jews, they did not build their own temple. God seems to be ok with this reality, however. Though there is not sacrifice for expiation, and though the sins of the people weigh heavily on God, God still wipes their transgressions away and remembers their sins no more, for God’s own sake. (43:25)

What caught my attention, however, is the following verse:

אָבִיךָ הָרִאשׁוֹן, חָטָא; וּמְלִיצֶיךָ, פָּשְׁעוּ בִי.
Your first ancestor sinned, and your spokesman transgressed (rebelled) against me!
44:20

This is theologically difficult. What is God saying here? Is God telling the people through Isaiah that they have no choice but to be sinners, as if they are predestined to sin? Do Jews have an original sin?

Hertz comments: “If even the patriarch and prophet have sinned, how much more the mass of the people. From first to last, Israel had fully deserved the punishment that finally overwhelmed it”

Fishbane comments: “The reference to an ancient sin evokes the sin of Adam (Kimhi).”

Fishbane goes on to say that Ibn Ezra tells us that it might be referring to a sinful ruler of the people.

What is the sin that we are talking about here, though? Plaut translates פשע in our verse as rebelled. This would mean some kind of idol worship, probably. From the first ancestor, the Israelites have worshipped idols. They have not been faithful to God.

Do the Israelites, according to God through Deutero-Isaiah, have an ingrained propensity for idolatry? This appears to be exactly what God is saying, since Isaiah spends a good chunk of this speech proclaiming the ridiculousness of praying to wood.

If the people are predisposed to idolatry, why even bother with them? Tough we are now into the book of Leviticus, we are not so far removed from the Golden Calf episode. The people turn to idols every chance they get, and still God is with them.

The first line of our passage seems to be God teaching the people. God tells them: “This people I have formed so that they would sing my praises.” God creates a living, breathing, praising being. When people create idols, there is nothing of action, nor anything of substance. By juxtaposing the two creation modes, God’s position as creator is reinforced. We may be made in the divine image, but we cannot create like God. We can procreate, but we cannot make a living, breathing sentient being with only the dust of the earth.

In short – I am not God. You are not God. We are not gods. We have limitations to our abilities. Though we tell ourselves we can do anything and be anything we want, there is a limit. God has no limits. God tried to teach us this at the Tower of Babel, but we got so confused, we didn’t know what we were listening to. Also, God didn’t teach us the reason. There was only punishment.

God has a second opportunity here, back in Bavel to teach the people, not just punish.

Chapter 44 verses 9-20 is a brilliant exposé of the emptiness of idolatry. The irony of the image is not lost on the listener. An idol made out of the same wood that is used for fuel. Though the message is one of rebuke in a way, God seems to be willing to help the people change. Like a well structured essay, God gives a thesis and supports it with a relevant example.

God, seemingly different from the God of Sinai ready to destroy the people, has accepted their fault and is trying to work with it for their sake. God knows their mode of thinking and living. God understands where their mind will go. Rather than forcing them to drink a golden calf cocktail, for example, God teaches them the ridiculousness of idol worship.

As we approach our Passover Seder tables, a night where teaching is the first order of business, let us remember the God of this passage who taught us with compassion, remembering our difficulties and learning differences. The God who stopped to show us what it means to be Jews rather than merely telling us. The God who created us in his image.

Though we cannot create beings like God, perhaps we can aim to mold minds in a divine way.

Spay Your Pets! (San. 33a)

A few months ago a congregant asked me whether or not one is allowed by Jewish law to spay a cat. If we go strictly by legal precedent it seems the answer is no.

According to Rabbi Howard Jachter "Halacha forbids removal of reproductive organs from humans or animal, whether male or female" (Even Haezer 5:11). Therefore, we must ask the question, can a non-Jew (who doesn't care about Jewish law) do it for us. As it turns out there is a debate about this in Sanhedrin 56b. Different commentators throughout history have given their own opinions. Most agree that if it's to relieve pain in an animal then it's ok to ask a non-Jew, but to do it in order to control the number of pets in your house is not ok.

For this reason, many Rabbis have jumped through hoops to figure out how to permit the practice of spaying. Jachter explains that if we ask a non-Jew who in turn asks another non-Jew to do it for us then maybe we're removed ourselves enough from the request that it's ok.  Sound like a stretch to you too?
But in today's Daf it appears we have precedence. It turns out that in Mishnah Bechorot (28b) we have an example of removing a cow's reproductive organs for a very odd reason!

IT HAPPENED ONCE THAT A COW'S WOMB WAS TAKEN AWAY AND R. TARFON GAVE IT TO THE DOGS TO EAT. THE MATTER CAME BEFORE THE SAGES AT JABNEH AND THEY PERMITTED THE ANIMAL [FOR] THEODOS THE PHYSICIAN HAD SAID: NO COW NOR SOW LEAVES ALEXANDRIA OF EGYPT BEFORE ITS WOMB IS CUT OUT IN ORDER THAT IT MAY NOT BREED (Soncino Translation)

According to Rashi the reason why we cut out the womb is because Alexandria had a monopoly on on the good breads of cows and sows. In order to preserve this monopoly they made sure that all their animals were sterile upon leaving the city.

It seems to me that this "economic" reason has just as much (or little) standing as simply wanting to limit an animal's reproduction, maybe even less when one considers the cats roaming around Jerusalem in need of a home.

A simple search in the CCAR archive shows that they have indeed tackled this important issue. However, some of their resolutions are paltry at best. Perhaps the best responsa is a related one about caring for pets, however they do not speak about spaying or neutering.

Maybe it's high time we revisit this issue and add a few more strong halachic arguments (or aggadic precidents) in favor of the practice.

Rashi hits a bulls-eye (San 32a)

Chapter four of Sanhedrin begins with a discussion about whether or not a document is valid if it is produced after the fact. One would think that a witness must sign and produce a document at the time an event occurs, in order to avoid questions about whether the witnesses were actually present or whether they fabricated the story after the fact. This seems obvious, and I was surprised to learn that in fact, a post-dated document can be valid.

Rashi says that a post-dated document is valid as long as the witnesses acknowledge that the event took place prior to the time in which they produce the document. For this reason, and to avoid any speculation down the road, Rashi recommends that the witnesses actually date their document with their current date and location, acknowledging that the event occurred earlier. Even if the witness writes the date and location where the transaction took place, the document is still valid! (32a2 footnote 19)

This is a particularly interesting opinion that I think many modern day organizations should consider adopting. I am especially thinking of the NYDO, the New York Dart Organization, a fascinating organization I recently joined. Yes, I joined a dart league. The league is surprisingly serious and institutional. You have to fill out a carbon copy form (see above) documenting who played, everyone's score, signatures, dates, location, etc.

We had our first match last night and for the sake of the dignity of my fellow teammates I will choose not to report the results of the match on this forum. Our opponents, who have been in the league for eight years and entered the bar with their plaques from last season, were not too thrilled about our lax attitude and knowledge of the rules. They informed us that even spelling a player's name wrong on the form can result in a deduction of points. Anyway, we foolishly left these important carbon-copy documents at home on the first night of play! We realized this about an hour before game time and instead of traveling back to Brooklyn to get them, we just printed a copy of the online form. We figured we would later transfer the results to the official form and mail it in the next day. HUGE no-no! Turns out, we absolutely cannot fill out the official carbon copy document after the fact, even if we have a substitute/unofficial form recording the results of the match.

Luckily, the bartender had extra copies of the official form from last year's league, but boy did we get a scolding! If only I had read today's daf a day earlier, I could have suggested Rashi's opinion and leniency on this issue. Sometimes the Rabbis really hit the bulls-eye!

Kitzur Chapter 38 - Laws concerning food cooked by a non-Jew

I must admit that I have gone back and forth as to whether or not I should even write on this chapter concerning food cooked by a non-Jew. Clearly as Reform Jews we welcome non-Jews into our synagogues and would view Jewish law that forbids us to eat food cooked by non-Jews as antiquated and irrelevant. Yet as I read through it a second time I felt that we have a duty to read these texts and talk about them. And maybe even deep down there's a decent message and valuable piece of learning here about our relations with non-Jews and an awareness of the food that we eat.

The basic law is that we are forbidden to eat bread and certain food baked by non-Jews.

Initial reaction: I cannot make sense of this piece of Jewish tradition.

Second reaction: One line caught my eye that brings me to slightly rethink my first reaction. Verse 38:2 reads, "If a Jew throws even one piece of wood into the oven when it is being heated, the bread is permitted." This means that in order to eat the bread, a Jew had to enter the shop or home of a non-Jew, possibly strike up a conversation, and get involved in the cooking of his or her own food. The Jewish person had an opportunity to engage the non-Jew in a way that he may not have had the non-Jew cooked the bread on his own. I find a message of partnership here between the Jew and non-Jew in cooking and preparing the food.

Secondly, by throwing his or her own wood into the fire, this also compels the Jewish person to be more involved in the cooking of his or her own food. In our world of pre-packaged food, the idea of being a part of the baking process is a message that really resonates with me in 2010. In this week's New York Times Magazine, I read an article about "femivores" who find great meaning in growing their own vegetables and even maintaining chicken coops in their backyards. In a sense, this encourages us to do the same, even if only throwing one log onto the fire.

While certainly Chapter 38 is problematic for us Reform Jews, (and Rabbi Shlomo Ganzfried z''l, the author of the Kitzur, would probably roll over in his grave reading this interpretation), I think there are ways to draw meaning from this section. Perhaps we should all be inspired to "throw a log on the fire" in order to create partnerships with non-Jews and be more involved in the creation of our food.

A fail-safe in the court

There's been something that I've been thinking about from a few days ago. We've established in previous posts that a court must be made of three judges. That way there will always be an odd number of judges in cases where the decision is not unanimous.

However, we learned a few days ago that if two judges render a decision and the third judge says "I don't know" then we bring in 2 more judges and we vote again. Here is the fascinating part of this ruling--it doesn't matter whether the two judges who render decision agree or disagree. In cases where one judge votes guilty and the other innocent, it makes sense why one should bring in more judges if the third abstains; without the third we have a split vote. But what about the latter case. Why do we need more judges when the first two agree on the verdict. Why, when the single judge votes yes while the other two vote no is he overruled, but when he abstains while the others vote no, we do not count this verdict.

A simple answer is that the Rabbis were militant about the need for 3 judges to "vote" because this is what tradition calls for. Therefore, this scenario looks at the judge who abstains as if we wasn't there and thus we have only 2 judges.

However, I would like to think it more complicated than this. I wonder if the act of abstaining is a fail-safe for the judges.  If we think that sometimes two judges might collude to bring down or vote for a defendant and then their votes would make a majority. I wonder if this is a way for a judge who knows that justice isn't being served to salvage the case. If we think that two judges are colluding to vote no on a case, where the third judge believes in his heart that any judge who is not scheming would vote yes, he can abstain from the vote and thus bring two more judges in who are not in cahoots with first two judges and will probably vote yes. This will ensuring a fairer trial.

I haven't seen any commentators speak about this idea but I wonder if the Rabbis thought about this idea of a fail-safe. Even if they didn't envision the law because of it, I bet it's come in handy before.

Songs for the New Month - Haftarah HaChodesh

Ezek: 45:16-46:18
(Reform ends at 45:25)

“This month shall be for you the beginning of months.” Exodus 12:2

This is one of those Haftarot where I just have no choice but to ask myself: “why?” I don’t really get all this sacrifice stuff, and there is a lot of it in this parasha. It’s the same reason I don’t get Leviticus and struggle every year to make a leap toward some semblance of meaning.

I mean, I get why we read this reading on the day that we mark the beginning of the month of our redemption ראשית חודשת גאולתינו as it were. Fishbane points out to us that the additional passage for Shabbat HaChodesh is all about the paschal offering and the fact that this excerpt is about Ezekiel’s vision from Bavel of a restored Temple in a restored nation with a restored people offering sacrifice.

It is interesting that the decision for the explicit connection was one of the worship and the sacrifice; whereas the underlying connection is one of redemption and restoration. First we are redeemed from Egypt. This becomes the archetype of redemption. Then we long for redemption from Bavel, where we wept by the rivers. The words of that psalm: “how can we sing a song for Adonai on foreign soil” seem apt here as well. Ezekiel is not recommending that the Israelites worship this way in Bavel, but wait to be redeemed from their captivity and do it the right way in Jerusalem, which we must not forget.

But apart from all these connections, a comment in the Revised Plaut caught my eye. Plaut comments that this vision is a continuation of the vision that begins in chapter 40. Ezekiel has a vision on the 10th day of the first month, namely Yom Kippur. Interestingly, though, if we consider that Nissan is the first month, as the additional Torah reading tells us, perhaps he is only five days away from Passover, and the promise of redemption.

verse 3 tells us:

וַיָּבֵיא אוֹתִי שָׁמָּה, וְהִנֵּה-אִישׁ מַרְאֵהוּ כְּמַרְאֵה נְחֹשֶׁת, וּפְתִיל-פִּשְׁתִּים בְּיָדוֹ, וּקְנֵה הַמִּדָּה; וְהוּא עֹמֵד, בַּשָּׁעַר

He brought me there, and behold there was a man whose likeness was like that of copper. He had a thread of linen in his hand and a measuring stick, and he stood in the gate.

Who is this man made of copper? A little concordance work brought me to one conclusion: there is a lot of copper in the Tanakh. But there are a couple places we see it more than others, for example, in the construction of the Mishkan and its accoutrements in Exodus. We also see a lot of copper in another place, First Kings chapter 7, which recounts the building and adorning of Solomon’s Temple. Solomon sends for Hiram the חורש נחשת the bronze-caster. Hiram, mimicking Bezalel, casts the adornments out of the copper alloy bronze, a special skill. One can imagine seeing the gleaming temple from afar, its reddish hue of bronze shining and glowing, almost mimicking the fire above Sinai.

But what does it mean that this image of a Temple rebuilt is presented to Ezekiel from a copper man? Is the man Hiram? Is the man supposed to represent the Temple itself, or the glowing city of Jerusalem? Or is the man simply holy and made out of a holy material?

This man who speaks to Ezekiel is the guide back to the Promised Land. He has in his hands articles for measurement, ready to rebuild the Temple. He is the temple personified. He represents the receptacle for the hopes, dreams and prayers of the people. He gleams in the sun and reflects the majesty of Adonai to Ezekiel in his very essence.

In every generation, we must look upon ourselves as if from Egypt we were freed. In Egypt, the Israelites had Moses, whose face shown with the radiance of God. In Bavel, this gleaming copper figure arrives to inform the people of their eventual redemption.

Where is our person of radiance?

Last week, I thought about how the radiance on Moses’ face may be the radiance from doing the right thing and trying to stop God for exacting severe punishment for the Golden Calf. I thought about how we might be able to discover a little bit of that radiance in each of us. The question is still fitting, but I am not sure what we’re looking to the radiance to do.

I suppose, as we come nearer and nearer to our communal redemption, we might look for some personal redemption from those things in us from which we need freedom. What will make us each free? What will allow our faces to shine like copper?

We may not need to hear the specifics of a renewed Temple cult, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a man of copper * to help lead us on the path of righteousness?


*sorry, it's the best i could do...

Your Friends Are Your Family (San 27)

Our Mishnah on Daf 27 quotes a statement by Rabbi Yehudah who states that that one's close friend and one's enemy are disqualified to judge or testify about a person. Alone this statement wouldn't mean very much. However, when we look at the context of this statement, it becomes much more meaningful.

The bulk of the Mishnah deals with relatives (father, brother, uncle) who are disqualified from serving as judges and witnesses because of their proximity and bias toward the accused. Therefore, when Rabbi Yehudah defines a "close friend" as someone who serves as a shushvin, a groomsman (defined by tradition as a close friend who brings gifts of food and drink to one's wedding feasts) we can begin to get a picture of how Yehudah saw his friendships.

According to R. Yehudah, those "groomsmen" weren't just buddies, but were like family. They had a special connection, a filial and familial obligation well beyond the scope of basic "friendships." 

As someone planning a wedding, I think a lot about the balance between family and friends. It's good to know that for R. Yehudah, they aren't so far away from one another.

A True Teshuvah (San 25)

I've always loved Rambam's idea of Teshuvah:

[Who has reached] complete Teshuvah? A person who confronts the same situation in which he sinned when he has the potential to commit [the sin again], and, nevertheless, abstains and does not commit it because of his Teshuvah alone and not because of fear or a lack of strength.
For example, a person engaged in illicit sexual relations with a woman. Afterwards, they met in privacy, in the same country, while his love for her and physical power still persisted, and nevertheless, he abstained and did not transgress. This is a complete Baal-Teshuvah. This was implied by King Solomon in his statement [Ecclesiastes 12:1] "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, [before the bad days come and the years draw near when you will say: `I have no desire for them.'"] (Hilchot Teshvah 2:1)

The reason I love this idea so much is that one doesn't fulfill their obligation to repent and turn from their ways through empty promises but rather one must prove that they have turned when they have the ability to sin again but turn away simply because they wish to avoid sin.

Today's Daf takes builds on this idea. The Rabbis cite a number of examples where one is not believed to have repented until they are in a certain situation that proves their repentance. And in all of these situations one must take a considerable loss to prove they have changed.

For a butcher who is caught selling unkosher meat and claiming that it it kosher his repentance is not believed until he moves to a new locale (where no one suspects him of thievery). In addition to selling Kosher meat he must also take a business loss, either returning a lost item of significant value or throwing out a large amount of unkosher meat at his own expense. A gambler too must take a loss. He must prove that has changed by breaking up dice and chips and throwing them out.A similar situation occurs for two other sinners: people who lend to Jews on interest and pigeon-fliers (another form of gambling).

In a way I see a bit of the modern day AA methodology in this. These individuals had problems (even addictions) with lying, gambling, and cheating. In order to break this cycle they had to admit they had a problem and then take an inventory of their lives, destroying those items that tempted them (like dice or pigeon clackers). Only then could they face the world anew, and learn how to navigate it without them.

When I attended an AA meeting this past summer as an observer I remember one of the speakers saying that even though they have been dry for 10 years sometimes when they pass up a drink it feels like their first time doing so. In a way then, Teshuvah is not a one time thing, but rather it is ongoing and continuous as addicts, gamblers, and others learn each day what it means to go without their addiction.

Your Mamma's So... (San 22)

...bitter that her heart is snares and nets (San 22b1).

Good one Rav Yehudah!

Turns out "your mamma" jokes have been around forever, and by forever I mean since the days of Rabbi Yehudah and Rabbi Yitzchak.

The great thing is that R' Yehudah is R' Yitzchak's father, meaning he is telling his own son jokes about his wife...

Since baseball wasn't invented yet, Yehudah had to think of more creative ways to fit in quality father-son bonding time... so he decided to teach his son about Rav's idea that matches between a man and woman are destined in heaven 40 days before the formation of an embryo [22a5]. He tells Yitzchak that it is for this reason that a man is most content with his first wife.

This is where it gets good. Yitzchak, aware of the seemingly shaky relationship between his parents, asks his dad if this is really true. Yehudah, at a loss for words, throws it back with the first recorded "your mamma" joke in history.

The Gemara has to clarify what just happened... telling us that Yehudah's wife is strong natured but also forgiving.... it then goes on to talk about a virgin woman being an unfinished vessel. Maharsha, in one of his not so feminist moments, clarifies:

"the term vessel is applied to anything that can perform a specific function. In a sense, then a woman becomes a vessel after she first has intimate relations, for at this point, she has become capable of fulfilling a given function: she can now bear children." (22b1 footnote 3)

You see, from all of this, that it must be a joke. There is just no other way to explain it. Everyone loves a good "your mamma" joke. It lightens the mood, allowing us to look past the misogyny. Or maybe not.

Kaparah Aleicha! – Haftarah Parah

Ezekiel 36:16-38 (Reform begins at 22)

Continuing our tour of the Pre-Pessach Haftarot, we come to Shabbat Parah. This week we recall the ceremony of the Red Heifer, whose ashes are used to make impure pure. After coming into contact with the dead, a person is tamei, or ritually unclean for seven days. On the third day and seventh day, they are sprinkled with water in which have been placed the ashes of the Red Heifer and only then are they Tahor, or ritually pure, and allowed to enter the camp.

Now, that’s a ritual!

The haftarah, likewise goes back and forth between clean and unclean, good and bad. It begins with Ezekiel listening to God rant about the unclean ways of the people. God tells Ezekiel that the people have been scattered as punishment. Their unclean ways, read idolatry, have angered God and caused God to send them away.

But that’s not the end of it. The people, having been banished, don’t seem to get the point that this is a punishment. In their new lands, they continue to profane God’s name, so that the locals see God as weak.

God continues with the following declaration in verse 22:

לָכֵן אֱמֹר לְבֵית-יִשְׂרָאֵל, כֹּה אָמַר אֲדֹנָי יְהוִה, לֹא לְמַעַנְכֶם אֲנִי עֹשֶׂה, בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל: כִּי אִם-לְשֵׁם-קָדְשִׁי אֲשֶׁר חִלַּלְתֶּם, בַּגּוֹיִם אֲשֶׁר-בָּאתֶם שָׁם.
Say to the House of Israel: Thus says Adonai the Lord, it was not for your sake that I will act, O House of Israel, but for My holy Name, which you have caused to be profaned among the nations!

Fishbane tells us of God’s concern that other nations will see God as powerless, in that God cannot even keep God’s people in their land. In response to that, God promises an ingathering of exiles. Where God will cleanse the people and, as verse 26 tells us, sprinkle clean water upon them, give them a new heart and put into them a new spirit. (here’s our connection to the Red Heifer, btw) All this for the sake of God’s holy name.

So, God does not do it for the people because they need it, but because of ego? God is concerned with self-image? Can we ascribe to God an ego like that? I mean we already know that God has an entourage of angels and the great PR firm of the Prophets, but this seems to be taking things too far.

Why is it God’s concern that the other nations see God’s power? Why is God so concerned with what others think? And, if God is so concerned, why banish the people in the first place?

I try hard not to make too much sense out of the contradictory nature of God in the Bible. A colleague recently described God as bipolar in a sermon. But, what can be learned here, in the midst of contradictions between clean and unclean, pure and impure, powerful and weak, exiled and ingathered?
I believe that we can learn that God’s contradictory nature is reflected in the nature of the world around us. The priests attempted to put everything into neat categories of clean/unclean, etc. But in reality, the world is much more than a dichotomy. God can have an ego, because we also know that part of God’s nature is to be selfless for the people, giving and kind even when seemingly undeserved. God’s infinite facets reflect the complexities we see all around us. When we see an extreme in one place or another, we are jarred because we know that there has to be more than just the one way.

God has to be more than ego. God is more than ego.

When we allow the ego, or any other aspect of ourselves to completely take over our lives, we throw things out of alignment. We may not have sacred waters imbued with the spirit of a dead red cow on our hands, but we can always attempt to cleanse ourselves of excess ego, selfishness, greed, envy, indifference, intolerance, etc., etc. As we approach Passover, the idea that we can become purified from an overabundance of a character trait can bring a new meaning and importance to the word redemption, for all of us.

Kitzur Chapter 37- The Ritual Immersion of Utensils

Chapter 37 of the Kitzur focuses on the ritual immersion of utensils. All new metal and glass utensils require a dip in the mikveh, the Jewish ritual bath. One walking the streets of Meah Shearim in Jerusalem will notice these little ritual baths scattered about the neighborhood, as Jews arrive with their new spatulas and salad tongs to dunk them in water and raise them to a level of holiness. Personally I never quite understood the reason for this practice, asking why our utensils need to reach a certain state of purity. Humans I understand, but utensils?

The law states that metal and glass utensils require the mikveh, however wooden utensils do not. I thought to myself - "why metal and glass but not wood?" Perhaps it has something to do with the natural state of being of the wooden object. A utensil made of wood does not require chemical reactions or engineering in a blacksmith's workshop or glassblower's studio. The wood comes straight from the earth, and is thus already in a state of purity and holiness. It is in it's original state of God's creation. The metal and glass however require further steps - some type of chemical reaction must take place to create metal and glass objects. The materials lose their natural state - they are melded and fused together. They become distanced from their original state of creation, from God, and thus lose their level of holiness and purity.

As I read this chapter, I was reminded of a hiking trip I went on several years ago in Thailand with my wife Jenny. Our tour guide, Simsak, had prepared a wonderful lunch for us. As we sat down alongside a river for lunch, he ran off for a moment with his machete, and returned with three large leaves. We asked what they were for, and he replied that the leaves were our plates. There was something wonderful about eating our meal on a leaf, rather than a plate. There was a connection to nature and food that I had never experienced before.

Perhaps the reason we need a mikvah for our metal and glass utensils is to symbolically return them to nature; to immerse them in fresh water is to bring them back into God's realm, to return them in a symbolic sense back to a natural state, just like wood or leaves. We think so much now about the food we eat and intentionality about eating foods that are natural and organic. Chapter 37 teaches us to also be aware of the utensils we use, and how eating off of natural surfaces can elevate holiness and bring us to a higher awareness of creation and God.

Shabbat Shalom.

Speaking of Solomon...(San 20)

Today's daf speaks to Dr. Gray's comment a while back about the duel characterization of Solomon. There she points out that the "wise Solomon" turns into the "oppressive Solomon" later in his life.  In today's daf we also learn that Solomon changed throughout this life. But instead of growing wicked with each passing day, the Talmud explains that Solomon grows powerless.

We read that initially Solomon reigned over the upper beings (the commentators debate whether this includes the angels or just other heavenly beings). Then he reigned over only humans. As time went on he only reigned over only Jews, then only over Jews living in Jerusalem. Finally he reigned over only himself and his own life. Ultimately he lost even this and reigned over his poverty (as symbolized in the Midrash by his walking stick).

I wonder in light of Dr. Gray's comment if this is a symbol for Solomon's decent. Maybe this Midrash is symbolizing the movement toward his spiritual and moral poverty that we see in 1 Kings 12-13. However, even if an interesting characterization of Solomon this explanation doesn't do it for me. What lesson can I really take from this that will be helpful in my life?

Maybe this Midrash is a symbol for something else.  We read in Ecclesiastes Rabbah 5:14, "It has been taught in the name of Rabbi Meir: When a person enters the world, his hands are clenched as though to say, 'The whole world is mine. I shall inherit it.' But when he leaves, his hands are spread open as though to say, 'I have taken nothing from the world.'"

Solomon's story is like this. When he was young the world was open to him. The angels and all of humanity were open to him because of his wisdom. He was destined for greatness. As he aged, he (and the world) learned slowly that he would not live forever and eventually he could not touch heaven or humanity, or the Jews. Ultimately was only left in control of himself. And as often happens with aging, even his own health dropped off at the end.

Solomon is a great example of the struggle we all face; when we are young we seek to change the world only to find that while we can make little differences, even the "Solomons" among us never can make the kind of differences about which we dream.

Who's Your Daddy (San 19b)

There's a great discussion in todays daf about who is considered the real father (or mother) of a child. As it turns out it's not always the sole place of a biological parent to claim parenthood. Rather, the Talmud brings three cases where a third party gets the right to call a child their own:

1. One who raises a child whether an orphan or a child whose parents are in the picture can call themselves the child's parents. It is as if they bore the child!
2. On who sustains another (through food or money) gains the right to be called a parent.
3. One who teaches another Torah gains the title of parent

I am most interested by number two because it seems the most out the ordinary. The Talmud arrives at this example through a text from Psalms "With a powerful arm You redeemed Your people, the progeny of Jacob and Joseph, selah" (Ps. 77:15). Looking at this text the Talmud asks "now did Joseph father the twelves sons from whom the people of Israel descended? Rather it was Jacob who fathered them." The Talmud answers that because it was Joseph who gave them food and sustenance during the famine, he deserved to also be identified as his brother's father!

What I like about this text is that we all have the right and obligation to act as parents to others. We read in Tractate Kiddushin about the special job of parents (or at least fathers):

Our Rabbis taught: The father is bound in respect of his son, to circumcise, redeem, teach him Torah, take a wife for him, and teach him a craft. Some say, to teach him to swim too, R. Judah said: He who does not teach his son a craft, teaches him brigandage. (29a)

I wonder if the Rabbis would agree that any of these things help us to be parents to others. If that is the case our children have many parents: teachers, swim instructors, camp counselors (even j date?). This gives a whole new meaning to the idea that it takes a village to raise a child!

With that said, I wonder when we cross the line from acting like parents to actually being parents for a child?

Spirituality in the Talmud? (San 17)

Today the Talmud blew me away. I seriously felt for a few seconds like I had just finished reading Mishkan Tefilah or the Women's Torah Commentary. W0w.

So far, The arguments have remained in the realm of legal constructs...The rabbis are trying to figure out the proper way to act and judge actions, as opposed to figuring out the proper way to be and judge states of being. Today the daf starts out in this realm of legality and then suddenly out of nowhere seems to take a turn into the modern realm of dare I say it, spirituality...

So, we're talking about how Moses went about putting together the first great Sanhedrin of 70 members. There are twelve tribes, so if Moses picked 5 from each tribe he would only have 60 members.... but if he picked 6 from each tribe he would have 72....What to do??

Cast lots, of course.

Moses brings 6 from each tribe and everyone chooses a lot. Seventy lots say zakein (elder) and two are blank... As the story goes, two of the chosen men, Eldad and Meidad, decide not to pick lots at all...Why?

The Tanna Kamma says they didn't pick because they were afraid of being rejected... R' Shimon says that they didn't pick because of their humility. The Tanna Kamma holds that since they didn't pick, there were two lots left "in the hat" with the word zakein written on it, which were intended for Eldad and Meidad...R Shimon, however, holds that the lots intended for Eldad and Meidad were blank (17a2 footnote 11).

This, to me, is a perfect example of how the Talmud is caught up in this world of legal constructs---When you try to impose reason and values the whole thing doesn't make sense.

In my opinion, fear of rejection is not a valid state of being, whereas humility is. Therefore, humility could have altered Eldad and Meidad's fate so that even if they originally had blank lots, their humility should elevate their status and enable them to become members of the Great Sanhedrin. On the other hand, fear of being rejected could have altered their fate so that if they originally had zakein lots, their fear altered their fate so that they are no longer worthy of serving in the Great Sanhedrin.

Why then does the Talmud present the exact opposite argument? Simple. It is based on the legal construct that everything is presupposed in heaven. Fate is fate. God had already chosen who would receive each lot so it didn't matter if they opted out of the lottery or not.

SO, given all of this - I was shocked to read this footnote on the following page which explains how Joshua intended to destroy Eldad and Meidad...

Joshua did not seek Eldad and Meidad's demise, but the cessation of their powers of prophecy. He suggested that they be encumbered with the responsibilities of the community. Since that would certainly cause them distress, they would no longer be receptive to the Divine Presence (a prerequisite for prophecy), for the Divine Presence rests upon someone only when he is happy (Tosafot) (17a3 footnote 25).

What? WHY? What? Responsibility is bad? The simple life is good? Also, umm...since when is happiness a prerequisite for prophecy? Every moment of prophesy in the Bible that I can think of comes precisely from a moment of distress... So, what does this teach us?

Really, I don't know.

But I can tell you what it feels like... A sneak peak of a moment of modern spirituality in the Talmud. The passage seems to be screaming that we must turn inward in order to experience God. We must relieve ourselves of the burdens of this world and invite the Divine Presence into our lives. I think more than anything else, this passage reminds me to look beyond the legality of the text and be more open to the possibility that the rabbis of the Talmud had what we think of as personal relationships with God.