The Proper Focus

One of the most important questions a Jew must ask himself when performing a mitzvah is "Am I doing this for the right reason?"
Many times we don't do what we're supposed to for the right reason.  Sometimes it's for personal glory.  Sometimes it's because we're worried what the neighbours will think.  Only once in a while do we honestly put aside any personal considerations and keep God in focus the entire time.
As Rav Nathan Lopes Cardozo notes in this article, improper motivations can have horrible consequences:

Religious people seem increasingly to treat the Almighty as an idol, though totally unaware that they are doing so. They violate the most severe prohibition — You shall not worship any other gods — with full confidence that they are genuinely serving G0d.
And these people are none other than you and me.
Many of us are religious because we believe it is the best insurance policy and will guarantee a relatively easy life with not too many bumps along the way. To achieve this goal we make a deal with the Almighty: I will observe Your commandments, and You will do what I want You to do for me. We assume this is the way to avoid calamities and ensure a content and beautiful life. Instead of serving the Lord because He is G0d, we are attempting to manipulate G0d to serve us, making Him our servant. It is nothing less than idol worship.
This tragic development is the result of a major misconception about the nature of religion. Religious observance has nothing to do with receiving rewards or with G0d granting us anything. The purpose of religion is to make us aware that we live in the presence of G0d, to help us become better people, to increase our sensitivity, and to amaze us through the miracles that surround us every moment. These are the real rewards. The goal is not that G0d change His behavior towards us, but that we change our behavior towards Him and our fellow human beings.

Here's the amazing irony of the situation: this criticism is one we often level at the Reformatives.  They pick and choose, they do those things that make them feel good and then call them mitzvos.  Yet a cheshbon hafesh of our own community would reveal that we do the very same thing.
We dehumanize women and call it tznius.  We throw rocks at people who drive on Shabbos and say we're defending Shabbos!  We push someone aside in line and say that we're running to perform a mitzvah. 
We pick and choose.  We worry more about what our neighbours will say than God, assuming that He will approve because we're doing the socially acceptable thing, at least in our minds.
With Elul coming it is a good time for each of us to take a step back and analyze our religious behaviours.  Are we really putting God's will first in our actions or are we going through routines in order to fulfill our "obligations" and force Him to consider us Jews in good standing?  Do we tremble when the shofar blows on Rosh HaShanah because we feel its echo in our soul or because that's what you're supposed to do and if you don't the guy next to you will look over and mutter "frei"?  Do we shake and cry at Neilah because we sense an opportunity to connect to God in a way unparalled over the rest of the year coming to an end or because we don't want to look out of place?
If we are to merit anything it's by giving of ourselves to the Ribono shel Olam, not by manipulating Him through superficial actions.  Rav Cardozo's article is an excellent reminder of this.

Authors or Voices

There is a famous agaddah that tells us that our ancestors saw God both at the splitting of the Red Sea and the Giving of the Torah at Sinai.  At the sea, we are told, they saw Him as a mighty man of war.  At matan Torah they saw him as a wise elder.
Recent news of an Israeli computer program that identified multiple styles in the Bible that might have been written by a number of authors has been seized upon by the usual crowd of atheoskeptics as "proof" yet again that the Torah was not given to us by God but rather was composed over time by a number of people or groups and that these various proto-books were later merged into a single entity, the Torah we have now, by someone who was either the laziest or most incompetent editor in recorded history.
Unfortunately that's not what the program shows.  As one article on the subject notes:

For academic scholars, the existence of different stylistic threads in the Bible indicates human authorship.

But the research team says in their paper they aren't addressing "how or why such distinct threads exist."

"Those for whom it is a matter of faith that the Pentateuch is not a composition of multiple writers can view the distinction investigated here as that of multiple styles," they said.

In other words, there's no reason why God could not write a book in different voices.

"No amount of research is going to resolve that issue," said Koppel.

Now it is well-known that every one of the so-called difficulties that proponents of the Documentary Hypothesis love to quote was addressed and dealt with by Chazal 1800 years before the field of Biblical Criticism was invented.
Multiple names for God?  Dealt with.  Repetitive narratives?  Dealt with.  Contradictions and different versions of the same events?  Dealt with.  For Biblical critics these are evidence for human authorship.  For believers they are evidence that the Torah was composed by God for the purpose of moral education, not just a good Saturday afternoon read.
What this computer algorithm does then is support Chazal's statement at the start of this post.  God, in and of Himself, is incomprehensible to us.  We cannot understand the idea of a being that exists outside of time so that not only every place but every time is simultaneously visible before Him.  We are therefore limited to understanding the way He interacts with us and as the Torah teaches, He does so in many different facets, just like the verse says: "And I appeared unto Avraham, Yitzchak and Yakov as God Almighty but by My name HaShem I made Myself not known to them" (Shemos).   A quick perusal of the relevant parts of Bereishis quickly shows that in fact the name HaShem does appear in the narrative so how to explain the verse?  The "voice" God used to speak to our Avos was through his K'el Shad-i aspect even though He might have been acting as HaShem.
It is not far-fetched to understand God speaking in one way to Moshe Rabeinu, a"h, when detailing the various sacrifices and their procedures, another when giving civil laws, another when detailing historical events.  All this algorithm proves is that God has interacted with us in many ways and because of our limited perceptions these appear in the Torah as different "voices".  This program, if anything, might enhance our understanding of the various moral lessons each section is meant to transmit to us.
If that's not clear enough, perhaps this message from someone involved in the whole process would help:

So does all this mean that we have proved that the Torah was written by at least two human authors, as the breathless reports claim? No.

First of all, as I noted above, our method does not determine the optimal number of families. That is, it does not make a claim regarding the number of authors. Rather, you decide in advance how many families you want and the method finds the optimal (or a near-optimal) split of the text into that number. If you ask it to split Moby Dick into two (or four or thirteen) parts, it will do so. Thus the fact that we split the Torah into two tells us exactly nothing about the actual number of authors.

Having said that, I want to temper any religious enthusiasm such a disclaimer might engender. First of all, with a few improvements to the method we could probably identify some optimal number of families for a given text. We simply haven’t done so. Second, the fact that – for the case of two families – the results of our method coincide (to some extent) with those of the critics would seem to suggest that the split the method suggests is not merely coincidental.

But, the deeper reason that our work is irrelevant to the question of divine authorship is simply that it does not – indeed, it could not – have a thing to say on that question. If you were to have some theory about what properties divine writing ought to have and close analysis revealed that a certain text probably did not have those properties, then you might have to change your prior belief about the divine provenance of that text. But does anyone really have some theory about what divine texts are supposed to look like? Several press reports about this work referenced the idea that “God could write in multiple voices”. I find that formulation a bit simplistic, but it captures the fact that any attempt to map from multiple writing styles to multiple authorship must be rooted in assumptions about human cognition and human performance that are simply not relevant to the question of divine action[8].

In short, our results seem to support some findings of higher Bible criticism regarding possible boundaries between distinct stylistic threads in the Torah. These results might have some relevance regarding literary analysis of the Torah. Taken on their own, however, they are not proof of multiple authorship. Furthermore, there is nothing in these results that should cause those of us committed to the traditional belief in divine authorship of the Torah to doubt that belief.

Getting Closer to a Sensible Solution

A few years ago, after a mohel in the New York area allegedly gave two neonates herpes as a result of his use of metzitzah b'peh during the ceremony, there were calls for banning the direct sucking of blood from the penis by the mohel. Interestingly halacha provides support for both the indispensibility and dispensibility of direct metzitzah b'peh so the call to protect the health of neonates was certainly not an attack on Judaism or halachic observance. Of course, the Chareidi community predictably announced that it was and got its leadership to declare that metzizah b'peh is the only way. (Kinda catchy when you rhyme peh with way)
As passions over the issue have cooled, it's nice to see an experienced mohel weigh in with what sounds like a practical solution. As opposed to those who would dismiss the concerns of one side or another, he acknowledges the concerns of both and comes up with an interesting compromise solution:
Relative to other surgeries, bris milah is a simple procedure, with a surprisingly low risk rate. At the same time, an incision, an open wound and the removal of skin tissue necessitate precautions which will minimize danger to the child. The parents and the mohel must be on the same page on this latter point.
In an operating room, a surgeon takes many precautions to minimize the chance of bacterial infection reaching the patient. Mohels should be held to these same standards when operating on infant boys. It is understood, of course, that the public nature of the ceremony makes complete sterility an impossibility. Nonetheless, we are a far cry from where standards should be...
A mohel who washes his hands and is careful not to shake others’ hands should be commended. But when he adjusts his pants, head-covering, lab coat or tallis, not to mention his instrument bag or a bottle of wine while laying out instruments, he has negated any previous hand washing.
Some mohels will operate with bare hands “sterilized” by alcohol or Purell. Nice as this is, touching the pillow, baby, sandak, and baby’s diaper make previous efforts meaningless. Additionally, it is virtually impossible to completely clean under the fingernails, unless (with a big ‘perhaps’) the mohel soaks in a chlorinated pool for 20 minutes immediately before the bris. This is an uncommon practice.
Mohels should be required to wear sterile gloves, donned immediately before touching sterile instruments and the sterile field of the bris. If it is time consuming, he can wear two pairs, removing the outer pair immediately prior to beginning. Non-sterile gloves are a step up from “no gloves,” but they are still less than ideal.
“Metzitzah” is defined as drawing “deeper” blood from the circumcision spot, which some view as a medical necessity while others view it, based on modern medical knowledge, as a ritualistic remnant of what may have once been deemed a medical requirement (Shabbat 133a-b).
Over time the idea of doing metzitzah with the power of the mouth was introduced, which is defined in two ways: either put a mouth directly on the wound, or use the power of the mouth through a sterile pipette. The latter avoids direct contact and the sharing of body fluids between mohel and baby.
Both are halachically sanctioned, while only one meets the approval of any unbiased modern medical sensibility. Arguments such as “saliva heals” and “one’s first instinct is to suck a cut on your finger” are irrelevant to the case of a mohel’s mouth touching a fresh wound in a newborn.
Any parent who insists that metzitzah be done with direct oral contact should do the metzitzah himself.
Maimonides writes, “It is impossible to restore the lost life of a Jewish child” (Milah 1:18). While he says this to allow delaying a bris on a child who is not physically ready, certainly the same dictum should be followed when circumcising a child: no step in the bris procedure should allow the slightest possibility that its inclusion can open the door to giving the baby an infection.
It is our responsibility and right to demand the best for our children. For the sake of the health of our children, let us begin with insistence that the bris maintains the highest standards of sterility.
I don't doub there will be those who attack his position as kefirah. I think it's a wonderful compromise that can accomodate anyone's halachic sensibilities.

Responding to Outside Pressure

When looking at the progression of the halachic world of the last 1400 years since the closing of the Talmud, one can see roughly fourth eras. The first is the post-Talmud period where the Geonim and the Rishonim developed, expanded and organized the law in resopnse to changing and developing circumstances as well as the need to clarify rulings from the Talmud that might not have fully accounted for new situations. The second era is the rise of the formal Codes, start with the Rambam and the Rosh and culminating in the publication of the Shulchan Aruch. The third is the early Acharonim period where commentators fleshed out the Shulchan Aruch, again in response to new and changing circumstances.
The fourth, however, is a period of near-ossification of the halachic process. As opposed to previous eras, this one developed in response to a threat to the authority of the Torah from within the Jewish community, specifically the rise of Reform and other Jewish movements that claimed that one could be a good Jew without abiding by the observance of Jewish law. The defining statement of this era was, and remains, the Chasam Sofer's strident declaration: anything new is forbidden by the Torah.
Reviewing the previous eras of halachic development shows just how concerning this attitude has become. Before the Chasam Sofer's declaration, halacha was a living entity, growing and adapting over time, doing its best to fit the needs of the Jewish people while keep that people faithful to the Torah and service of God. After the declaration, change becomes suspect and, in most cases, forbidden. Any new situation becomes an issur, with the reason why the only thing to be determined.
now, this is a blanket stataement and not completely applicable nowadays. After all, in contrast to the far more consistent Amish and Mennonites, Satmar chasidim drive in cars, have electricity and running water in their homes and use toilet paper just like the rest of us despite their opposition to "innovation". Even in deepest, darket Mesach Shearim, time has not been frozen. There's just a refusal to admit they can't freeze it.
But the root cause seems to always come back to the same thing - the rise of Reform. The reaction to a movement which championed innovation pretty much for the sake of innovation lead to a strident reaction that all change was forbidden. This results in a hobbling of the halachic process that continues to this day.
And that's a teerrible shame. For one thing, it turns a complex subject that God meant for us to study, understand and develop into a simplified tool for forbidding everything it can. And for another, it hampers Torah Judaism's ability to encounter and thrive within the modern world. Consider a fascinating historical note from this article:

The second and more recent cause of extremism, says Sperber, is the central role that the large yeshivas and their heads began to assume in the Ashkenazi (European) halakhic world: "In the past it was common for the pesika to be issued in each community by the local rabbi. The rabbi was familiar with the nature of the community, its ability to observe various stringencies and the needs of the people, and therefore the decisions suited the community. The moment that the yeshiva heads became the main poskim the rulings became 'academic,' issued from an ivory tower, unconnected to the actual situation of the public, and in any case also tending to be stringent." Incidentally, he points out, because the two phenomena - Reform Judaism and the large yeshivas - were not found in Sephardic Judaism (in southern Europe, North Africa and the Middle East), the phenomenon of halakhic extremism was avoided there.

The Sephardic approach to Torah and halachic development has remained far more normative because of the lack of reaction to outside, heretical approaches. Yet because of the deeply-ingraned reactionism within the Ashkenazic world, this far more genuine and practical approach reamins disdained by those outside it.

Consider further the idea of accessing halachic works which might not have been known to the authorities of the major Codes:

As a basic example of that he mentions that Rabbi Yosef Caro, the compiler of the Shulkhan Arukh, which from the time it was written in the 16th century up to the present, has been considered the central book of halakha in the Jewish world, made his halakhic decisions by following the majority opinion in three previous books of halakha with which he was familiar: those of Maimonides, the Rif (Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi) and the Rosh (Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel). "But in recent generations," says Sperber, "many halakhic sources that were totally unfamiliar to the author of the Shulkhan Arukh have been discovered, for example extensive halakhic literature from Provence. This literature could change the entire balance of majority and minority opinion in halakha, but the poskim will not allow any expression of that. The Hazon Ish [a central posek who lived in Israel in the 20th century -Y.S.] even said there is no need to take this literature into consideration, because apparently it was determined from above that this literature would not be discovered before the halakhic tradition was consolidated. Incidentally, Shas spiritual leader Rabbi Ovadia Yosef is actually willing to rely on the new literature, and in several places he rules contrary to the Shulkhan Arukh, in accordance with new sources that have been discovered."

If the study of Torah is a study for truth, and the practice of Jewish law the quest for a true spiritual connection with the Ribono Shel Olam, why would it make sense to ignore any geniune Torah knowledge simply because it didn't make it into the "official books"? Does one believe that if the Rav Yosef Karo had discovered these texts while writing the Shulchan Aruch that he would not have taken those opinions into account?

May God show us a true way towards His service and may we learn within and develop the halacha without insecurity and worry that our desire to treasure and build on His Torah will be seen by others as an admission of the rightness of their wrongess. We owe God our best effort to determine His Truth. Nothing should dissuade us from that.

Fighting Intolerance One Matzah At A Time

During my year living in Israel, I spent the first part of the Pesach break in Tel Aviv. I was amazed at how the entire city, as secular as it was, managed to switch over for the holiday. Now I wasn't kidding myself. I doubt any of these places kashered their dishes or sold their chometz in any thing more than a token fashion but the changes were there nonetheless. At Miss Lucy's, a hot dog place off of Kikar Dizengoff the hot dogs were served on thin pieces of matzah. Pizza was served at Rimini's on matzah as well and anyone asking for a beer at most of the cafes was laughed at. It was Pesach, didn't they know?

True, the chometz was still there, hiding in the shadows. I recall a classmate of mine sauntering up as we enjoyed our hot dogs. He was smirking and then proudly displayed the ham and cheese sandwich he'd managed to procure. Yes, no King of the Universe was going to interfere with his personal freedom, that was for sure.

(For the record, the last time I was in contact with him, he had intermarried and was vociferously anti-Israel, openly advocating the replacement of our State by an Arab one. Amazing what ham and cheese can do to the neshama).

During the latter part of Pesach, I returned to the kibbutz where I lived and was shocked when I entered the dining hall and saw a bin full of bread next to the bin where the matzah was being served. When I asked why bread was being put out, I was clearly told that no religious coercion was allowed on the kibbutz. Those who chose not to eat matzah would not be forced to.

Yet to this day I still don't understand why withholding bread and substituting matzah for one week of the year is considered such unbearable coercion. Especially after reading this article in which the High Court, that great force for secularism, has gone and made official what was sadly present for all these years anyway. As I found out, bread isn't hard to find in Israel during Pesach but the official lack of acceptance seemed to offer some minor consolation. For the State to be officially forbidden to ban chometz is unacceptable, yet it has happened.

After all, what's the big deal? One week, that's all it is. Serve matzah instead of bread, wine instead of beer and whisky. How many billions of people in the world live in daily fear of being killed, imprisoned, or starved to death? How many lack access to clean water, healthy food and medications? How many are denied a say in how their lives are run and afraid to share their opinions in public for fear of terrifying reprecussions? And in Israel we are told that one whole week without bread is intolerable religion coercion. Please, get a grip!

But even beyond that, the rejection of matzah speaks to something far deeper. The matzah represents the simplest of foods, a synthesis of bread and water. Lacking any leavening, it represents the simplest way a person can be, lacking any materialistic pretensions or arrogance. More than that, Torah is compared to both bread and water. Thus matzah is the person who is emblematic of complete acceptance of God's will and His Torah. For this reason we remember it as the food with which we left Egypt. Despite being forced out and with clearly minimal provisions, we left with a high hand because of God's love and presence. By insisting on continuing to eat chometz throughout Pesach, a Jew rejects what the Allmight did for us. He shows that he does not understand that Pesach was not a transfer from slavery to freedom but one from slavery under human and materialistic authorities to servitude to the King of Kings. He chooses to spiritually remain in Egypt and deny himself the great elevation that accepting the yoke of Heaven brings one. No wonder the punishment prescribed for eating chometz is spiritual excision. Someone selfish enough to reject the lessons of Pesach and the Kingship of God in favour of shallow self-worship cannot count himself as part of the Jewish people's heritage.

And in the end, their behaviour proves their limitations. After all, if someone who otherwise lacks little cannot change their diet for just seven days in the year, what does that say of their ability to sacrifice their needs when some other duty comes along?

Let us pray that this new law is universally ignored and that, during this upcoming Pesach, the people of Israel remind themselves of their tie to our God and the glorious heritage He has granted us.

We Should Have Taken Out A Patent on the Term

One of the interesting problems with free speech and thought is that people can take and misuse titles pretty in much any way to want to. For example, a couple of years ago a group called the Toronto Environmental Coalition was going around touting the benefits of insecticides on suburban lawns, not exactly the propaganda you'd expect from a group with a name like that.

Rabbi David Hartman joins the group with this article from The Jerusalem Post. Now I am not drawing any conclusions about Hartman's level of scholarship, his personal piety or the amount of observance he commits to. However, I am questioning whether or not he's truly Orthodox if he goes ahead with the plans in the article which, basically, are to start ordaining women as rabbis.

This is where the problem mentioned in the first paragraph comes in. Consider the secular example of the title "doctor". Far from being restricted to PhD's and physicians, many para-medical professions can claim the title as well, such as chiropractors, naturopaths and chiropodist. "Doctor" has even made into the popular culture with such forgettable terms as "spin doctor" and "doctor of love". Far from improving the image of the term, this trend has devalued the title. As the villian in The Incredibles aptly noted, "when everyone's super, no one will be super."

The term "rabbi" has undergone a similar devaluation over the last few decades. Time was that to earn the title one had to know the Talmud almost completely by heart as well as be fluent in the major legal codes like the Shulchan Aruch and the Mishneh Torah. With the advent of the Hebrew Union College and the Jewish Theological Seminary, one can now enter and complete educational programs that result in the title "rabbi" without having to live an observant lifestyle, learn much of the Talmud or even crack open one of the Codes. Heck, one can live a lifestyle that the Torah explicitly prohibits and still earn the title.

As such, calling oneself a rabbi in this day and age is not very meaningful. Like "doctor", it's just another title earned after a specific educational program.

So what's the problem with women rabbis in the first place? If you're not Torah observant and therefore have no real standards that are unchangeable, then there is no problem. The difficulties with Hartman's approach are
(a) he is accepting women into the program that don't even pretend to be Torah obsevant. It's one thing to take women who claim to be Torah-observant and say they want to go one step further and become rabbis. But to enrol women who, ab initio reject much of what the Torah defines as Judaism shows that this program has nothing to do with increasing holiness in the world but rather is about soothing bruised feminist egos.
(b) he justifies his radical idea by using classic Reform/Conservative thinking:

"The classic distinctions between men and women are no longer relevant. People who come to the Hartman Institute to study are committed to making gender equality in Judaism a reality."

Real Judaism embraces and glorifies the classic distinctions between men and women because in Torah law these differences are the strengths and special virtues of each gender. Hence the modesty and nurturing abilities of women, far from designating them as "the weaker sex" elevate them to a special place of importance in the Jewish home.

Rather, it is modern day feminism which denigrates anything traditionally associated with the role of women as being lowly and enslaving while envying all the jobs men have typically performed in society. A woman who rejects all that makes her holy and special as a woman would, without doubt, seek out those things that are usual for men to do. After all, what else other than a non-identity is left to her?

And this, in the end, is why women in Torah Judaism don't need to become rabbis. Rabbis must deal with public appearances, large scale audiences, and political fighting that the Torah says is out of character for women who are far too civilized for such things. For a woman to desire to be a rabbi means she rejects that which makes her special as a woman. And so on this count the Hartman Institute is completely wrong.

Let's Bring Back the Ess Tog Too!

I've never been a big fan of people who wax poetically about "the good old days." I'm not alone either. Koheles notes that people who say "boy, things used to be so great back then" doesn't say such things from a perspective of wisdom. People who praise home births with midwives because that's how they did it in the old days often forget that in those same old days half the children died in infancy from polio and meningitis for lack of vaccines and antibiotics. Nostalgia is a double-edged sword.

Thus Rav Avi Shafran's recent column caught my eye and made me feel a need to comment. He starts offf by identifying a very legitimate point. In our hustle-bustle society, there are constant demands for attention:

We don’t generally think of our well-lighted spaces as impairing concentration, but the logic is unquestionably there. The more informational input to the senses, the less mental focus. That is, after all, the point behind darkened arenas and spotlights. Our brains are wonderfully able to filter out much that might distract us from tasks at hand, but the extraneous information is still there even if we don’t consciously notice it, background static to our contemplations. Every time I turn on my little light on my winter commute home, I appreciate Rabbi Lopian’s prescience anew.
Rabbi Salomon went on to add the telephone to the list of erosions to deep thought. How often are not only our dinners but our reflections rudely interrupted by ringing or warbling, or trilling? And the more mobile the technology, he noted further, the more opportunities for our concentration to be broken. Anyone who has silently cursed his cellphone knows just what the rabbi meant.

This is absolutely correct. Working as I do in an office with three phone lines and a fax machine, I have come to hate the sound of ringing. I often fantasize about getting rid of my home phone except that I would still have a cell phone which needs to be on at all times so it wouldn't do me much good. And yes, there is little that bothers me more than sitting down to learn, only to be interrupted by the phone not thirty seconds later.

This observation, however, goes a little further and this is where I disagree:

How sadly true. In pre-automobile times, people were rarely if ever expected to travel beyond the confines of their immediate towns or neighborhoods. With options so limited (and towns so small), there was more time to stay put, sit still, stay focused. Many of the things that pull us, unresisting, into our cars and onto our highways, around the corner and around the world, may be worthy ones, but that cannot change the fact that they take us away – from our homes, from our families, and from study and introspection, the pillars of Jewish existence.
Rabbi Salomon was not asking his listeners to return to horses and buggies or oil lamps. He is no Luddite and has no disdain for technology. No, he is simply an exquisitely sensitive observer, someone who sees a broader picture than most of us do. He challenges us to open our eyes to what we have lost even as we have gained. The losses are tragic, even if so subtle that most of us don’t even realize what we are missing.

In pre-automobile times people had to walk carefully along the street or risk stepping in horse excremement. With options so limited, people had no choice other than the stay put, sit still and stay focused. There was no great world to visit, no chance to broaden one's horizons. A peddler's son you were born, and a peddler's son you were likely to die.

But what's more, the long-losted glorified environment did not come without its drawbacks. The ess tog, or "eating day" for example. Back in the "good ol' days" there was no government funding for yeshivos, no major donors with an interest in splaying their names over the fronts of buildings. Instead, people who wished to learn full-time survived on the most meagre amounts of charity (that was real mesirus hanefesh when you compare their lives to the ones of many full-time kollel'niks today). An ess tog was an arrangement a younger boy would make to get fed. On Mondays he would eat by Mr. Fishbeim, on Tuesdays by Mr. Gross. On Wednesday he didn't have anyone so he would make it a personal fast day for his sins.

That's what we should remember when we think of how great it was back when people learned by candlelight. And then we should look around and think that despite what we may have lost, what we have gained is infinitely greater.

A Shabbos to Remember

This Shabbos our community had the pleasure of hosting Rav Nosson Sliffkin who spoke to our congregation about a variety of topics such as animals in Judaism, mythical monsters mentioned in our rabbinic literature and the nature of dinosaurs and the true age of the Earth. Other than one close-minded individual who walked out, all were well entertained by his dynamic approach and depth of knowledge. It's sometimes hard to remember that before the difficulties with his book, The Challenge of Creation, he was on a fast strack to being a very big personality in the Torah world due to his genius.

Having said that, there were some things that he spoke about that troubled me. On one hand, I have no problem accepting that the world we live in is far older than 5768 years old. I've stated as much in previous posts. My position has been that the Torah is true and that if science seems to contradict a literal understanding of Torah, then we don't understand the text properly and have to look at it with an open mind and new light in order to realize what God is trying to tell us.

Having said that, there are limits to this concept. It's one thing to say that the six days of Creation were actually six eras that lasted billions of years. It's another to say that the whole thing is an allegory whose only purpose is to teach us a lesson. If that were so, then why six days? Why such detail spread out like it was? Yes, the Torah is not a history or science textbook and reading it with such intent is a fast track to disappointment but on the other hand, its details are there to mean something in addition to the lessons it provides.

The difficulty with establishing a specific train of thought is that finding the train station to get off at can often be difficult. Having decided that the entire story of Creation is nought but an allegory, it's not a stretch of logic to declare that pretty much the rest of the book of Bereshis is similarly only a story meant to give us lessons but not reflective of any real history. Again, declaring that our forefathers never existed is a bit of a stretch and a huge kick at the fundamental basis of our faith. Finally, if Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov are not real personalities, what's to stop one from deciding the same thing about Moshe Rabeinu? Why must one believe that Matan Torah at Har Sinai ever happened? And now one reaches the stage where the most important basis of our faith is challenged.

It is this regard that I humbly think Rav Sliffkin has possibly gone too far in his reasoning. I can understand why. Geniuses often become enamored with their logic and carry it past reasonable points. Given his bitter experience over the last few years, is it possible his lack of anchor within the traditional community has contributed to this?

It is important to understand that, in all things, there is a balance. One cannot interpret the story of Creation literally without ignoring science and much of the real world. To dismiss the whole thing as an allegorical lesson is similarly extreme. Somewhere in the middle the Torah is telling us how the world was born and not just why, although both reasons are imporant.

May we merit to keep to the golden mean and see both sides with equal validity so that we may reach the truth of Torah and God's will.

How to become a Ba'al Teshuvah the Right Way

My goodness, but aren't there a lot of blogs out there that are being run by people who were very interested in Torah Judaism at one point in their lives but were subsequently turned off by bad encounters with Jews who didn't walk their talk in the kiruv process.

So here, on my own, I'd like to share the lessons I've learned over the years in the hopes that people out there who may be disillusioned with Torah Judaism right now might take another look at it and give it a second chance.

I'll start up front that I do not work for any kiruv organizations although I attended services at an Aish HaTorah shul once in 1993 and I'm friends with the Chabad emissary in my town. I want to be absolutely clear: I'm committing the following to print because I believe that Torah Judaism has the potential to provide a wonderful life for its devoted adherents, if it's practised properly and the participant isn't under certain delusions regarding what it is and isn't.

(Also, I hate writing "him/her" so "him" will refer to both, okay?)

1) Recognize that the reason for someone to become a Baal Teshuvah is because Judaism believes that a person is in this world to perfect himself spiritually. The way to do this is through the performance of mitzvos and living life in the way God intended for us to. That is the reason a person should become a ba'al teshuvah. Not because frum Purim parties rock, or because one might be feeling lonely and wants to identify as part of a group, or because one is seeking out a religious group that might be all-moral and all-holy. Those are lousy reasons because the person will ultimately be disappointed and then wind up leaving Judaism. God is perfect, everyone else is flawed to a greater or lesser extent and understand that will prevent a lot of heartbreak.

2) Realize that frum people are, unfortunately, just like everyone else. Yes, a Torah lifestyle should lead to a higher level of morality. Yes, one should practice what one preaches. Yes, wearing the outfit of an observant Jew in public means one should behave in a manner befitting what that clothing implies. But in real life, it doesn't work that way. The same person who is medakdek to make sure he only eats mehadrin food and waits 6 1/2 hours after meat to eat milk (not like those meikels) may have no scruples about cheating another person in business, Jewish or not, fooling around on or beating his wife, or doing all manner of anti-social activities. Don't look at frum Jews and say "I want to be like them!" That's another straight road to heartbreak. A ba'al teshuvah shouldn't be going through the process to become like someone else. God made you an individual for a reason and to be a good Jew you don't have to give up your individuality for the sake of some mythical community standard no one holds to anyway.

3) Learn for yourself. Don't let others spoonfeed you information because everyone has a bias and will only tell you those things that they want you to know. Yes, lectures and shiurim are important sources of Jewish knowledge but they're not the Torah from Sinai, just part of the package. For example, Rav Dovid Gottleib has posted dozens of the lectures he gives to Ohr Samaeach students on the web. Rav Akiva Tatz has stuff at the same site. I've lost count of the times I've heard both these very intelligent men make statements about something in halachah or haskafah that isn't as black and white as they're making it out to be. Judaism is never simplistic and each person has an obligation to learn about that complexity for themselves. If the ba'al teshuvah is looking for a simple way, "do this and don't do that", then he will eventually be told to do something that his inner moral sense objects to and he'll be faced with a lousy choice - do something that feels wrong because somebody said so, or abandon the path with all the attendant bitterness it brings.

On that note, I have some specific recommendations(assuming minimal or basic Hebrew skills):
a) The basic foundation of Judaism is the Torah. Learning Mishnah, Gemara or other works is a waste of time without a basic knowledge of Chumash. Reading the Chumash straight without a decent commentary is also a waste of time and while Rashi is the de rigeur commentator that one must learn at some point, he might not be the best for the introductory level student. My recommendations include the Artscroll Stone Chumash because its commentary is general enough for the beginning and intermediate reader. Yes, the Chumash will insist on a version of history that doesn't fit the facts of archeology and geology but one shouldn't let that be a barrier. Everything our Sages said is true. We just don't understand their words and after misinterpreting them, we blame them for these "errors". After a couple of times through that, one can try the Metzudah Rashi Chumash. As opposed to Artscroll's, this one minimizes the supercommentary on Rashi so the reader can spend more time on what he picked up the set for in the first place.
b) My father always said that someone who learns Gemara gets an insight into the brains of Judaism but in order to see its soul, one must learn Tanach. Having done that, I can't agree with him more than I already do. Gemara will teach a student what is and isn't allowed and it does have its share of Aggadah and inspirational stories but Tanach is the history of our people, warts and all. For those who condemn Reform and Conservative as easily as they take in air, an exposure to Tanach will teach that our ancestors were, at times, much worse than anything the heterodx amongst us are like today. What we were meant to be, and what we were, is all laid bare within the pages of Tanach and it gives a learner a good reminder that the point of observing halachah isn't simply to see how many chumros and minhagim one can accumulate in one's lifetime but rather to bring a sense of Godliness to this world. Behaviour that does that is the right thing, and behaviour that doesn't is wrong, no matter what "the book" says.
c) Mishnah and then Gemara follow this. Well, come on. The Talmud is the foundation of Jewish life today and not learning it leaves a huge gap in one's knowledge base. In addition, being ignorant of Talmud allows unscrupulous individuals to take advantage of the new Baal Teshuvah. Yes, there are some statements in the Gemara that might be seen as problematic but with proper perspective and interpretation many of those problems can be reconciled. Not knowing what the issues are in the first place won't help the new Baal Teshuvah overcome those difficulties. The Artscroll Talmud is a great way to start. If one has a functional knowledge of Hebrew, bypass that and go to the Kehati Mishnayot and the Steinsaltz Talmud. They're easy to read, well laid out and full of god commentary.
d) Halachah - don't start with halacha digests like Artscroll's or Feldheim's. Remember these books are written by authors with an agenda and they'd never see the light of day if they brought a balanced approach between lenient and strict opinions. The primary sources are the best and with Feldheim's Mishnah Berurah translation you can learn a lot that later sources just might miss. Also it's a great way to pick up Hebrew. Hebrew is important because in the English books with Hebrew footnotes (eg. Rav Eider and Fuchs) one can often find leniencies and opinons that somehow didn't make it into the English section.

In short, you are responsible for your own education, not someone else.

4) Never EVER forget - a truly observant Jew does what he does because of his relationship with God. I had a friend who lived in a Chareidi neighbourhood and stopped going to shul for 2 years because he was sick of the hypocrisy he saw around him. I finally convinced him to try going back because the bottom line for him was that he wasn't supposed to go to shul for social purposes or to win the approval of his peers. He was supposed to go to shul because it's a place to daven. God, being all-mighty and omniscient, can form a 1-on-1 relationship with every Jew, no matter how crowded the room. Why not daven at home then? Because there's something special about answering to the kadish, Borchu, and kedushah. But going to shul wasn't for others, it was for him and his personal relationship alone.

5) One's ties to one's family (assuming they were close in the first place) and one's friends from before the Ba'al Teshuvah started "the process" are important. They are part of what defines a person. There are some within the kiruv world who will try to convince the new Ba'al Teshuvah to cut as many of those ties as possible as he heads into his new lifestyle. Unles one comes from a bad family, chalilah, like abusive parents, one should remember that the honouring of one's parents isn't limited to frum ones. True, the halachah is clear that if a parent asks a child to do something against the law, the child is obliged to refuse but the halachah is also clear that this refusal must be done as respectfully as possible with the child making clear that the only reason for it is that it is against Jewish law, not because of any questioning of respect for the parent. Those who maintain a good relationship with their parents will find that their parents will come to accept their decision to become more religious over time. I know of Ba'alei Teshuvah who simply keep their own set of dishes in their parent's home and eat certain foods when there to keep up their relationship.

What's more, I have found that keeping one's family and old friends close is a good barrier against fanaticism. If a Ba'al Teshuvah starts looking at his parents and friends and thinking "Tsk, such ignorance" or the like, there's a good warning right there that learning has ended and brainwashing has begun. Be self aware. Be yourself.

Have Ba'alei Teshuvah been hurt because they've been rejected by "frummies", or told their kids can't attend a certain yeshivah because of their past, or been cheated by a trusted figure in the religious communities? Unfortunately, this happens all the time but it is not because of the observance of Jewish law but rather its non-observance that this happens. Remembering that is so important so that one doesn't not reject God and his Torah simply because some of his self-proclaimed representatives are jerks.

May we all find peace and contentment in our relationship with God and not reject that which has the potential to give us Life Eternal.