I know you're all distraught just thinking about it, but don't expect to hear much from me over the next week or so. I'll be spending Easter Purim weekend in the land of the free, where winter still seems to be in its dying throes. I shiver just thinking about it. I will have net access, but not much blogging time.
While I'm there, I look forward to attending the First Annual Purim Masquerade Party of Anonymous Jewish Bloggers. How else can we meet without blowing cover? I'm already imagining what costumes other bloggers will wear. DovBear is obvious; Chayyei Sarah would be Carrie Bradshaw; MoChassid would be dressed Modern Orthodox on his left side, Chassidic on his right.
Any other suggestions? I don't have time to come up with more; I have a flight to catch.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Waving to Daf Yomi
Don't be fooled by the sidebar: "What I'm learning - BT Berachot 22b".
No, I'm not learning Daf Yomi. Daf Yomi's just caught up with me.
I've been learning Berachot since August. Lately, I've been on the same page for way too long.
Meanwhile, Daf Yomi has just come around for another lap, zoomed into Berachot, and before I blink will have overtaken me in the passing lane.
All I can do is wave at it from the window. And keep driving in the slow lane.
It won't take any notice of me, though. Big shot in its fast car!
No, I'm not learning Daf Yomi. Daf Yomi's just caught up with me.
I've been learning Berachot since August. Lately, I've been on the same page for way too long.
Meanwhile, Daf Yomi has just come around for another lap, zoomed into Berachot, and before I blink will have overtaken me in the passing lane.
All I can do is wave at it from the window. And keep driving in the slow lane.
It won't take any notice of me, though. Big shot in its fast car!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Schiavo: Don't make a federal case out of it
My sympathies in the Terri Schiavo case lie entirely with those wishing to keep her alive. But however strongly I feel about that, I can't justify the federal government intervening on her behalf. Issues of medical ethics, individual rights and legal guardianship belong firmly to the state courts. For Congress and the president to interfere, however compelling this particular case, is bad law and undermines the Constitution.
Responsibility here lies entirely with the Florida authorities. That's where it should stay.
Responsibility here lies entirely with the Florida authorities. That's where it should stay.
Karpas and the Purim Story
(Note: R' Ovdeich kindly asked me to post this insightful dvar Torah. Purim Sameach to all!)
Karpas and the Purim Story
by Rav R'vin Ovdeich
Near the beginning of the Megillah, we are treated to a detailed description of the lavish decorations in Achashverosh's royal palace:
Most of these terms are familiar to us as symbols of luxury. Tcheilet is the sky-blue color of tzitzit, argaman is royal purple, amudei sheish are marble pillars. The blatant exception is karpas, which of course is the green leafy vegetable which we eat at the Passover seder. The question: What makes karpas appropriate for the palace's decor?
Before approaching this question, let us investigate an unusual incident in the Megillah. As Esther wishes to approach the King, without permission, to plead for her people, she asks the Jews to fast for three days and three nights. This in itself is an extreme measure; usually public fasts last only one day.
But Esther goes even further. Commenting on verse 4:17, "And Mordechai passed (vayaavor)," Rashi says, "He transgressed the [Jewish] law by fasting on the first Yom Tov of Passover, as he fasted on the 14th of Nisan, the 15th and the 16th, for behold the scrolls [ordering the destruction of the Jews] were written on the 13th [see 3:12]." How can Esther proclaim fasts for the 15th and 16th of Nissan, the two seder nights?
The key to answering these questions lies in the history of the era. We learn from other books of the Bible and from the Midrash that the Megillah takes place 70 years after the beginning of the destruction of the first Temple in Jerusalem. Chazal emphasize how Achashverosh strives to demonstrate his dominion over his empire by degrading the memory of the Temple and insisting that there will never be a second one. This is why, for example, he uses the vessels of the Temple in his palace. He wishes to eradicate any hope that the Jews might rebuild the Temple.
As we know, the Passover seder service was modified after the destruction of the Temple, to emphasize the memory of the Temple and hopes for its return. Thus, to achieve his aims, it was necessary for Achashverosh to end the observance of the seder. To this end, he banned all green leafy vegetables from the kingdom, keeping only a remnant of karpas to decorate his palace as a symbol of his triumph over the Jews.
Without karpas, the Jews were unable to celebrate the seder. This in turn, barred them from eating for the rest of the day. This explains how they were allowed to fast on the two seder days of Passover: They were required to, due to the absence of karpas. Thus, Esther's fast was actually only one day long; the following two days they fasted only because they had no seders.
From this incident, we learn two incidental halachot: 1. It is forbidden to eat on Yom Tov Pesach unless one has the seder, and 2. It is forbidden to conduct the seder in the absence of karpas. This latter rule is especially surprising, as we usually consider the karpas to be a minor part of the seder.
This raises an obvious question: If Esther's fast was actually only for one day, why did she ask the Jews to fast for her for three days? After all, the other two days of fasting were not due to her.
The answer is that the first day fasting, the one called by Esther, changed the very character of the remaining two days. We know from the Talmud that three days is the limit of a human's ability to go without water. Thus, by extending the fasting period to three days, Esther's additional day made the fast much more difficult, changing the character of the fasting even on the other two days. The whole time period was transformed, imparting to it the character of a three-day fast for Esther.
One question remains: Why does Rashi say that fasting on the first days of Passover was against Jewish law? On the contrary, we have seen that they were in fact obligated to fast for lack of the seder. To this, we must answer that Rashi didn't know what he was talking about. Honestly, he's just not all he's cracked up to be.
The lesson for today is clear, and profound: One should never underestimate the importance of green, leafy vegetables.
May we soon merit the rebuilding of our Holy Temple, with the restoration of karpas to its rightful place therein.
Karpas and the Purim Story
by Rav R'vin Ovdeich
Near the beginning of the Megillah, we are treated to a detailed description of the lavish decorations in Achashverosh's royal palace:
Chur, karpas utcheilet, achuz b'chavlei vutz v'argaman al glilei khesef v'amudei sheish; mitot zahav vakhesef al ritzfat bahat vasheish v'dar v'socharet. (Esther 1:6)
Most of these terms are familiar to us as symbols of luxury. Tcheilet is the sky-blue color of tzitzit, argaman is royal purple, amudei sheish are marble pillars. The blatant exception is karpas, which of course is the green leafy vegetable which we eat at the Passover seder. The question: What makes karpas appropriate for the palace's decor?
Before approaching this question, let us investigate an unusual incident in the Megillah. As Esther wishes to approach the King, without permission, to plead for her people, she asks the Jews to fast for three days and three nights. This in itself is an extreme measure; usually public fasts last only one day.
But Esther goes even further. Commenting on verse 4:17, "And Mordechai passed (vayaavor)," Rashi says, "He transgressed the [Jewish] law by fasting on the first Yom Tov of Passover, as he fasted on the 14th of Nisan, the 15th and the 16th, for behold the scrolls [ordering the destruction of the Jews] were written on the 13th [see 3:12]." How can Esther proclaim fasts for the 15th and 16th of Nissan, the two seder nights?
The key to answering these questions lies in the history of the era. We learn from other books of the Bible and from the Midrash that the Megillah takes place 70 years after the beginning of the destruction of the first Temple in Jerusalem. Chazal emphasize how Achashverosh strives to demonstrate his dominion over his empire by degrading the memory of the Temple and insisting that there will never be a second one. This is why, for example, he uses the vessels of the Temple in his palace. He wishes to eradicate any hope that the Jews might rebuild the Temple.
As we know, the Passover seder service was modified after the destruction of the Temple, to emphasize the memory of the Temple and hopes for its return. Thus, to achieve his aims, it was necessary for Achashverosh to end the observance of the seder. To this end, he banned all green leafy vegetables from the kingdom, keeping only a remnant of karpas to decorate his palace as a symbol of his triumph over the Jews.
Without karpas, the Jews were unable to celebrate the seder. This in turn, barred them from eating for the rest of the day. This explains how they were allowed to fast on the two seder days of Passover: They were required to, due to the absence of karpas. Thus, Esther's fast was actually only one day long; the following two days they fasted only because they had no seders.
From this incident, we learn two incidental halachot: 1. It is forbidden to eat on Yom Tov Pesach unless one has the seder, and 2. It is forbidden to conduct the seder in the absence of karpas. This latter rule is especially surprising, as we usually consider the karpas to be a minor part of the seder.
This raises an obvious question: If Esther's fast was actually only for one day, why did she ask the Jews to fast for her for three days? After all, the other two days of fasting were not due to her.
The answer is that the first day fasting, the one called by Esther, changed the very character of the remaining two days. We know from the Talmud that three days is the limit of a human's ability to go without water. Thus, by extending the fasting period to three days, Esther's additional day made the fast much more difficult, changing the character of the fasting even on the other two days. The whole time period was transformed, imparting to it the character of a three-day fast for Esther.
One question remains: Why does Rashi say that fasting on the first days of Passover was against Jewish law? On the contrary, we have seen that they were in fact obligated to fast for lack of the seder. To this, we must answer that Rashi didn't know what he was talking about. Honestly, he's just not all he's cracked up to be.
The lesson for today is clear, and profound: One should never underestimate the importance of green, leafy vegetables.
May we soon merit the rebuilding of our Holy Temple, with the restoration of karpas to its rightful place therein.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Unorthodox Orthodox women?
The Jerusalem Post runs yet another feature story on Orthodox Jewish feminists (don't they ever get tired of this?). Most of it is old hat, but one line caught my eye:
Anyone know who they're talking about? Is this "unnamed institute" unequivocally recognized as Orthodox? Of the institutes which fit that description, I can't think of one which would conceivably take such a step.
(Note the curious phrases: How can a debate be both "very heated" and "hushed"? Is it very heated in a quiet sort of way? And why does "severe pressure from both insiders and outsiders" only describe the opponents of ordaining women, not its supporters?)
Meanwhile, in the accompanying sidebar about Orthodox "Rabbi" Eveline Goodman-Thau, she uses exactly the right words to confirm my opposition to Orthodox women rabbis:
Talk about the "patriarchy", and the assertion that a self-perpetuating, self-serving, male-dominated hierarchical establishment is responsible for the ills of society, comes straight out of the ideological feminist phrasebook. It has no basis in Jewish sources, and is a blatant substitution of feminist modes of analysis for those of the Torah.
Orthodox women only have a chance of winning respect for the changes they seek in Orthodox society if they promote those changes out of respect for that society, and base them in sources and forms of argumentation accepted in the halachic community. Derisory language towards the Orthodox religious tradition and community will only undermine their objectives.
Beyond individual rabbis, three sources told The Jerusalem Post that one unnamed institute of Jewish learning in Israel's Modern Orthodox community has been involved in very heated and hushed debates about possibly ordaining women, but is facing severe pressure from both insiders and outsiders.
Anyone know who they're talking about? Is this "unnamed institute" unequivocally recognized as Orthodox? Of the institutes which fit that description, I can't think of one which would conceivably take such a step.
(Note the curious phrases: How can a debate be both "very heated" and "hushed"? Is it very heated in a quiet sort of way? And why does "severe pressure from both insiders and outsiders" only describe the opponents of ordaining women, not its supporters?)
Meanwhile, in the accompanying sidebar about Orthodox "Rabbi" Eveline Goodman-Thau, she uses exactly the right words to confirm my opposition to Orthodox women rabbis:
"I call myself an unorthodox Orthodox woman, and I am trans-denominational," she says, "because I think divided religious movements are part of the patriarchy, so that they [the patriarchy] can remain institutionalized."
Talk about the "patriarchy", and the assertion that a self-perpetuating, self-serving, male-dominated hierarchical establishment is responsible for the ills of society, comes straight out of the ideological feminist phrasebook. It has no basis in Jewish sources, and is a blatant substitution of feminist modes of analysis for those of the Torah.
Orthodox women only have a chance of winning respect for the changes they seek in Orthodox society if they promote those changes out of respect for that society, and base them in sources and forms of argumentation accepted in the halachic community. Derisory language towards the Orthodox religious tradition and community will only undermine their objectives.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Women and communal Torah reading - IV
(Previous posts on this topic can be found here, here, here, and here.)
Conclusions
I neglected to mention why I've been interested in this topic. Aside from intellectual curiosity, there is currently a group of people in my community who may be interested in establishing a congregation inspired, in part, by Shira Hadasha. Some of those involved are friends of mine, and I've been looking to deepen my understanding of the issues at stake so I can decide where I stand on the matter. That's why I shlepped out to the event at Yedidya, and that's why I've blogged on it at such length.
The more I think about it, though, the more opposed I am to instituting changes in the participation of women in synagogue ritual, even in the context of a newly established community. My objections can be grouped into three categories: halachic, political and social.
Halachic objections
R' Sperber's halachic methodology seems questionable, to say the least. He appears to be reaching back to primary halachic sources to try and determine the original law at its earliest expression, in order to apply it in today's circumstances. Thus: 1) The Torah reading, as originally established, did not exclude women intrinsically, only conditionally; 2) The reasons for their exclusion have lapsed; 3) The current situation may be causing harm; so 4) Communities should now be free to call women to the Torah. Similarly, he noted the participation of women in communal leadership roles in ancient Greece, long before Rambam ruled against it. If it was okay then, he implies, it should be fine now.
R' Sperber's approach to halacha may well be valid (I am far from qualified to judge), but it seems inconsistent with how (at least) Ashkenazi authorities have generally decided halacha. It seems to minimize the significance of established traditional practices in establishing norms, and generally to ignore the conservative temperament of halachic development. R' Sperber is willing to give wide play to grand themes such as kevod habriyot, pushing aside the weight of precedent and explicit codified texts.
On that basis, for example, why not abolish the mechitza? It hardly appears in halachic sources, certainly not in ancient ones. But you can't just skip over centuries (millennia!) of halachic development to pick out the sources which support your position.
As R' Henkin explains in the opening of this essay, halachic psak does not end with determining the technicalities of halachic theory, what R' Henkin calls the "pure" halacha. It also entails considered judgment about the practical reality in which the posek rules. Not everything which is theoretically permissible is appropriate for implementation.
Instituting unprecedented practices which change the very structure of Jewish worship is inherently not consistent with the spirit of halachic development. Were such changes to be implemented, they would require the endorsement of authorities of greater stature - with all due respect - than R' Sperber, who admits that he is a scholar, not a posek.
R' Sperber is currently the only Orthodox rabbi who has endorsed the practice of aliyot for women, with all others, including R' Henkin, clearly opposed. What Orthodox community would adopt such radical practices on the sole say-so of a halachic maverick?
Furthermore, the theoretical permissibility is itself questionable. Gil Student summarizes the main objections here; many of the objections to women's prayer groups are also applicable.
Political objections
Even accepting the halachic acceptibility of the proposed changes, there are compelling political and social reasons not to implement them.
In Israel, especially, where the state is actively involved in Jewish life, halachic radicalism can have political implications. By implementing "egalitarian" changes rejected by the Orthodox mainstream, a community effectively endorses the critiques of the anti-religious factions in society. It risks being portrayed as the "good" synagogue, as opposed to all the "bad" synagogues which refuse to change with the times. It risks becoming a pawn in the constant religious-secular battles.
It's hard to get much done in the public sphere in Israel without political support. Who would support an "egalitarian Orthodox" synagogue? Not the mainstream Orthodox, clearly. That leaves the anti-religious factions, who would eagerly back their pet Orthodox community as an endorsement of their anti-religious, anti-halachic agenda. The potential here for hillul Hashem is palpable.
Social objections - external
Today's Orthodox community has no shortage of social rifts, but that doesn't mean we should deliberately deepen them. Instituting radical changes in synagogue practice does just that. I want a shul I can invite friends and relatives to without embarrassment on either side. I want my hareidi cousins and my elderly relatives to feel comfortable davening with me. The moment a woman steps up to the bimah or amud, for any ritual reason, that minimal social unity ends.
Most would, I expect, overlook a woman making announcements or giving a dvar Torah, especially if it is separate from the synagogue services. But that is clearly not true for any sort of shlichut tzibbur.
Social objections - internal
The other social objection relates to the self-styled "halachic egalitarian" community itself. I can't help but ask how committed many of the community members really are to halacha.
Clearly, "halachic egalitarian" is a contradiction in terms. The halacha is not egalitarian, period. Men and women have different roles, especially regarding public worship. When an individual or community calls itself "halachic egalitarian", aren't they implicitly prioritizing egalitarianism - an externally-derived value - over halacha? Aren't they implicitly criticizing the halacha for being insufficiently egalitarian? Aren't they implicitly declaring themselves to be better than all the non-egalitarian halachists before them and around them? Some, of course, are not implicit about this at all; they openly attack "the rabbinical establishment" or "the men who decide the halacha" - pick your derisory phrase. Is this the attitude of a halachic community?
Does a halachic community institute radical changes in practice despite the lack of any rabbinical support? That's what Shira Hadasha did, instituting women's aliyot on the basis of Mendel Shapiro's theoretical analysis, even though he opposed their implementation and R' Henkin also ruled against them. If anything, for an Orthodox community to implement changes in ritual, it must have rabbinical support for them; otherwise, who decides where to stop? A conventional shul can get along without a rabbi most of the time, since the rituals are familiar to all. An innovative shul requires rabbinical guidance, or it will quickly slide past the boundaries of halacha, by anyone's standards.
No doubt I will regret these generalizations, but those attracted by "halachic egalitarianism" seem to fall into a few broad categories: Orthodox women who have stopped going to shul because they find the experience so unpleasant; ba'alei (mostly ba'alot) teshuva, many of whom grew up in non-Orthodox communities and miss participating in synagogue rituals; liberal academics and intellectuals who look down on rabbis; political activists with an axe to grind; laymen without much halachic knowledge, who assume that if an "Orthodox" shul does something, it must be okay; and non-Orthodox congregants without a convenient Conservative synagogue. Many of them never approach a rabbi with a halachic question, unless perhaps they know the answer in advance. (One audience questioner at the Yedidya event said just that.)
As a rule, there is a correlation between an individual's level of halachic learning and their reluctance to implement radical changes. This is my sense of the group in my community. The most enthusiastic supporters of egalitarianism readily admit how little they know about the halachic issues. They talk about having a process of community learning to decide what practices to adopt. But if they are aware of their lack of learning, why not do the obvious, and consult someone with an established record of halachic knowledge: An expert rabbi!
Addressing legitimate gripes
So what is there to do? Women have legitimate gripes with many current synagogues, particularly in Israel. Often, the women's section is a cramped afterthought, with a nearly-solid mechitza which prevents them from even watching the service as spectators. Often, there are no adequate facilities for childcare, forcing someone to stay home with them. Often, many of the men are snide and derisive towards women who take davening seriously and care about Jewish learning.
None of this is necessary. Making shul a comfortable, accommodating place for women is itself a legitimate concern, and it can easily be accomplished without breaking the boundaries of halacha. (In our community, it would also address the main concerns of about half of the group looking to start a new congregation.)
An afterword
The fight over aliyot for women is just gearing up. Just a handful of "Orthodox" congregations have introduced them, and just within the last couple of years. Which way Yedidya falls will make a loud noise. If Yedidya adopts aliyot for women, will that constitute a mainstream endorsement of the practice, accelerating its penetration into the modern Orthodox community? Or will it simply marginalize Yedidya, moving it firmly beyond the fringes of Orthodoxy?
However this develops, it's hard to avoid asking whether Edah was acting responsibly in publishing Mendel Shapiro's original essay and the responses to it. Surely it was clear that a controversial article in an English-language lay publication would be widely distributed, and that not everyone would have the wisdom to distinguish between a theoretical exploration and practical psak. Surely the members of the editorial board know the difference between what R' Henkin calls the "pure" halacha and psak. If the objective was theoretical rather than practical, shouldn't the debate have taken place in a Torah journal, not a popular forum?
I also remain at a loss to explain R' Sperber's position. Granting his sincerity in the halachic analysis he espouses, is it reponsible for him to publicly endorse the adoption of radical, unprecedented changes in ritual, in opposition to every mainstream Orthodox authority? Is he unaware of the seriousness of the objections or simply indifferent to them? Is he not concerned for the potential social turmoil?
Among the group in our community, my sense is that, while about half are excited by the idea of "halachic egalitarianism", most are also aware of its risks. In practice, I doubt they will adopt the radical proposals for fear of breaking too far from the Orthodox community. I find it ironic that they are more concerned about this than R' Sperber or Edah seem to be.
(The next post on this topic can be found here.)
Conclusions
I neglected to mention why I've been interested in this topic. Aside from intellectual curiosity, there is currently a group of people in my community who may be interested in establishing a congregation inspired, in part, by Shira Hadasha. Some of those involved are friends of mine, and I've been looking to deepen my understanding of the issues at stake so I can decide where I stand on the matter. That's why I shlepped out to the event at Yedidya, and that's why I've blogged on it at such length.
The more I think about it, though, the more opposed I am to instituting changes in the participation of women in synagogue ritual, even in the context of a newly established community. My objections can be grouped into three categories: halachic, political and social.
Halachic objections
R' Sperber's halachic methodology seems questionable, to say the least. He appears to be reaching back to primary halachic sources to try and determine the original law at its earliest expression, in order to apply it in today's circumstances. Thus: 1) The Torah reading, as originally established, did not exclude women intrinsically, only conditionally; 2) The reasons for their exclusion have lapsed; 3) The current situation may be causing harm; so 4) Communities should now be free to call women to the Torah. Similarly, he noted the participation of women in communal leadership roles in ancient Greece, long before Rambam ruled against it. If it was okay then, he implies, it should be fine now.
R' Sperber's approach to halacha may well be valid (I am far from qualified to judge), but it seems inconsistent with how (at least) Ashkenazi authorities have generally decided halacha. It seems to minimize the significance of established traditional practices in establishing norms, and generally to ignore the conservative temperament of halachic development. R' Sperber is willing to give wide play to grand themes such as kevod habriyot, pushing aside the weight of precedent and explicit codified texts.
On that basis, for example, why not abolish the mechitza? It hardly appears in halachic sources, certainly not in ancient ones. But you can't just skip over centuries (millennia!) of halachic development to pick out the sources which support your position.
As R' Henkin explains in the opening of this essay, halachic psak does not end with determining the technicalities of halachic theory, what R' Henkin calls the "pure" halacha. It also entails considered judgment about the practical reality in which the posek rules. Not everything which is theoretically permissible is appropriate for implementation.
Instituting unprecedented practices which change the very structure of Jewish worship is inherently not consistent with the spirit of halachic development. Were such changes to be implemented, they would require the endorsement of authorities of greater stature - with all due respect - than R' Sperber, who admits that he is a scholar, not a posek.
R' Sperber is currently the only Orthodox rabbi who has endorsed the practice of aliyot for women, with all others, including R' Henkin, clearly opposed. What Orthodox community would adopt such radical practices on the sole say-so of a halachic maverick?
Furthermore, the theoretical permissibility is itself questionable. Gil Student summarizes the main objections here; many of the objections to women's prayer groups are also applicable.
Political objections
Even accepting the halachic acceptibility of the proposed changes, there are compelling political and social reasons not to implement them.
In Israel, especially, where the state is actively involved in Jewish life, halachic radicalism can have political implications. By implementing "egalitarian" changes rejected by the Orthodox mainstream, a community effectively endorses the critiques of the anti-religious factions in society. It risks being portrayed as the "good" synagogue, as opposed to all the "bad" synagogues which refuse to change with the times. It risks becoming a pawn in the constant religious-secular battles.
It's hard to get much done in the public sphere in Israel without political support. Who would support an "egalitarian Orthodox" synagogue? Not the mainstream Orthodox, clearly. That leaves the anti-religious factions, who would eagerly back their pet Orthodox community as an endorsement of their anti-religious, anti-halachic agenda. The potential here for hillul Hashem is palpable.
Social objections - external
Today's Orthodox community has no shortage of social rifts, but that doesn't mean we should deliberately deepen them. Instituting radical changes in synagogue practice does just that. I want a shul I can invite friends and relatives to without embarrassment on either side. I want my hareidi cousins and my elderly relatives to feel comfortable davening with me. The moment a woman steps up to the bimah or amud, for any ritual reason, that minimal social unity ends.
Most would, I expect, overlook a woman making announcements or giving a dvar Torah, especially if it is separate from the synagogue services. But that is clearly not true for any sort of shlichut tzibbur.
Social objections - internal
The other social objection relates to the self-styled "halachic egalitarian" community itself. I can't help but ask how committed many of the community members really are to halacha.
Clearly, "halachic egalitarian" is a contradiction in terms. The halacha is not egalitarian, period. Men and women have different roles, especially regarding public worship. When an individual or community calls itself "halachic egalitarian", aren't they implicitly prioritizing egalitarianism - an externally-derived value - over halacha? Aren't they implicitly criticizing the halacha for being insufficiently egalitarian? Aren't they implicitly declaring themselves to be better than all the non-egalitarian halachists before them and around them? Some, of course, are not implicit about this at all; they openly attack "the rabbinical establishment" or "the men who decide the halacha" - pick your derisory phrase. Is this the attitude of a halachic community?
Does a halachic community institute radical changes in practice despite the lack of any rabbinical support? That's what Shira Hadasha did, instituting women's aliyot on the basis of Mendel Shapiro's theoretical analysis, even though he opposed their implementation and R' Henkin also ruled against them. If anything, for an Orthodox community to implement changes in ritual, it must have rabbinical support for them; otherwise, who decides where to stop? A conventional shul can get along without a rabbi most of the time, since the rituals are familiar to all. An innovative shul requires rabbinical guidance, or it will quickly slide past the boundaries of halacha, by anyone's standards.
No doubt I will regret these generalizations, but those attracted by "halachic egalitarianism" seem to fall into a few broad categories: Orthodox women who have stopped going to shul because they find the experience so unpleasant; ba'alei (mostly ba'alot) teshuva, many of whom grew up in non-Orthodox communities and miss participating in synagogue rituals; liberal academics and intellectuals who look down on rabbis; political activists with an axe to grind; laymen without much halachic knowledge, who assume that if an "Orthodox" shul does something, it must be okay; and non-Orthodox congregants without a convenient Conservative synagogue. Many of them never approach a rabbi with a halachic question, unless perhaps they know the answer in advance. (One audience questioner at the Yedidya event said just that.)
As a rule, there is a correlation between an individual's level of halachic learning and their reluctance to implement radical changes. This is my sense of the group in my community. The most enthusiastic supporters of egalitarianism readily admit how little they know about the halachic issues. They talk about having a process of community learning to decide what practices to adopt. But if they are aware of their lack of learning, why not do the obvious, and consult someone with an established record of halachic knowledge: An expert rabbi!
Addressing legitimate gripes
So what is there to do? Women have legitimate gripes with many current synagogues, particularly in Israel. Often, the women's section is a cramped afterthought, with a nearly-solid mechitza which prevents them from even watching the service as spectators. Often, there are no adequate facilities for childcare, forcing someone to stay home with them. Often, many of the men are snide and derisive towards women who take davening seriously and care about Jewish learning.
None of this is necessary. Making shul a comfortable, accommodating place for women is itself a legitimate concern, and it can easily be accomplished without breaking the boundaries of halacha. (In our community, it would also address the main concerns of about half of the group looking to start a new congregation.)
An afterword
The fight over aliyot for women is just gearing up. Just a handful of "Orthodox" congregations have introduced them, and just within the last couple of years. Which way Yedidya falls will make a loud noise. If Yedidya adopts aliyot for women, will that constitute a mainstream endorsement of the practice, accelerating its penetration into the modern Orthodox community? Or will it simply marginalize Yedidya, moving it firmly beyond the fringes of Orthodoxy?
However this develops, it's hard to avoid asking whether Edah was acting responsibly in publishing Mendel Shapiro's original essay and the responses to it. Surely it was clear that a controversial article in an English-language lay publication would be widely distributed, and that not everyone would have the wisdom to distinguish between a theoretical exploration and practical psak. Surely the members of the editorial board know the difference between what R' Henkin calls the "pure" halacha and psak. If the objective was theoretical rather than practical, shouldn't the debate have taken place in a Torah journal, not a popular forum?
I also remain at a loss to explain R' Sperber's position. Granting his sincerity in the halachic analysis he espouses, is it reponsible for him to publicly endorse the adoption of radical, unprecedented changes in ritual, in opposition to every mainstream Orthodox authority? Is he unaware of the seriousness of the objections or simply indifferent to them? Is he not concerned for the potential social turmoil?
Among the group in our community, my sense is that, while about half are excited by the idea of "halachic egalitarianism", most are also aware of its risks. In practice, I doubt they will adopt the radical proposals for fear of breaking too far from the Orthodox community. I find it ironic that they are more concerned about this than R' Sperber or Edah seem to be.
(The next post on this topic can be found here.)
Dropping like black flies
Ghetto's Green
Hasidic Rebbele
Following on the heels of Bnei Levi
Hassidic bloggers seem to have a stunningly short half-life.
Hasidic Rebbele
Following on the heels of Bnei Levi
Hassidic bloggers seem to have a stunningly short half-life.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
And the winning brisket is...
The Washington Post reports on a Jewish cooking contest held by Temple Beth El of Alexandria, Virginia, a Reform congregation. The two categories: brisket and kugel. The reporter is rapturous:
Unsurprising for a Reform community, keeping kosher seems to have been a low priority:
Out of towners take note: Giant is an unlikely place to shop for kosher brisket. In fact, last I heard there were no kosher butchers in northern Virginia.
But that's not to say they aren't devoted to tradition:
And they certainly take Shabbos seriously:
Yes, I think I saw that in the Mishnah Berurah.
Some winning recipes are here. But you'd have to serve the kugels at kiddush, it seems:
It doesn't say whether or not the milchig kugels were all judged before the briskets, but clearly they deserve the benefit of the doubt.
Brisket and kugel are the cultural equivalents of fried chicken and biscuits. For those unfamiliar with Jewish cooking, the meat and starch perform a kind of Gene Kelly-Debbie Reynolds routine. They belong together. Done right, brisket glides from muscled customer to tender fellow, while kugel serves as dependable and versatile sidekick. The dishes have become a little heavy to eat often, by today's standards. But they continue to grace Sabbath and holiday platters. The leftovers are to die for.
Unsurprising for a Reform community, keeping kosher seems to have been a low priority:
"I was supposed to cook a brisket today, but Giant had run out of them," said kugel contender Leslie Haemer of Alexandria.
Out of towners take note: Giant is an unlikely place to shop for kosher brisket. In fact, last I heard there were no kosher butchers in northern Virginia.
But that's not to say they aren't devoted to tradition:
Kingstowne resident Ted Exstein displayed his platter next to his family's Sabbath wine cup and candlesticks on an heirloom tablecloth.
And they certainly take Shabbos seriously:
Az me est Shabbes kugel, iz men di gantseh vokh zat. Goodman has chosen to interpret that phrase with a generosity of spirit: To eat a delicious kugel on the Sabbath will fill you with a sense of warmth, comfort and joy -- a feeling that, ideally, will remain with you until the next Sabbath, and the next kugel.
Yes, I think I saw that in the Mishnah Berurah.
Some winning recipes are here. But you'd have to serve the kugels at kiddush, it seems:
...certainly neither of the kugels would normally be served with a meat meal in a kosher home, since they are made with dairy products.
It doesn't say whether or not the milchig kugels were all judged before the briskets, but clearly they deserve the benefit of the doubt.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
But why was the statue in a tyre?
Daily Star (Lebanon):
No word on whether they suspect any of the anti-disengagement protestors who blocked Israel's vital Ayalon Highway yesterday by burning tyres.
Incidentally, if Hafez Assad is a martyr, does that mean they think Israelis killed him too?
Of course, we'll know things have really changed the day we see statues of Assad coming down in Syria. (Bimhera biyamenu.)
And before you Americans pick on my spelling, be aware that it's correct in British English!
Second attack destroys statue of Hafez Assad in Tyre
....
The president of the Committee for Immortalizing Martyr Hafez Assad, Hussein Dakhlallah, accused the Israelis of perpetrating the attack.
"Dirty Israeli hands attacked the statue and those hands will be cut off for committing this stupid act," he said.
No word on whether they suspect any of the anti-disengagement protestors who blocked Israel's vital Ayalon Highway yesterday by burning tyres.
Incidentally, if Hafez Assad is a martyr, does that mean they think Israelis killed him too?
Of course, we'll know things have really changed the day we see statues of Assad coming down in Syria. (Bimhera biyamenu.)
And before you Americans pick on my spelling, be aware that it's correct in British English!
Ritual prayer, personal prayer
Anyone who davens regularly has thought about the paradox of ritualized prayer. We pray at fixed times from fixed texts, many of them virtually unchanged for millennia. Day after day I mumble through the same paragraphs, my mind rarely even aware of what my lips are doing. How can we reconcile that with the intensely personal character of prayer? Shouldn't it be between me and God? Shouldn't I just spill my guts in the most intimate way, each word an expression of my individual character and my current relationship with God?
Of course, even within the structure of Jewish prayer there is room for individual expression. This morning, I felt the need for just that. There was something specific and personal I needed to pray for. So, at the appropriate point in the Shema Koleinu blessing, I paused to insert my own request.
And I felt a bit foolish.
I'm fluent in Hebrew and comfortably familiar with Jewish texts. But try as I may, my words came out sounding silly. Awkward. Either too conversational or too formal. Random bursts of phrases from classical prayers stammered out haltingly between glaring pauses and clumsy segues. None of the grace and poetry of the rabbinically-composed blessings, none of the fluency of reciting familiar language, none of the connection to generations past through unchanging texts. Who did I think I was, trying to pray in my own words? Would I stand before a king stammering and improvising?
I don't regret making the effort. I've done so before, and I intend to do again. It is humbling, and renews my appreciation of the fixity of our prayer ritual.
Fixed, traditional texts actually facilitate our personal prayers, by expressing many of our personal needs in language of a sort most of us can only dream of composing ourselves. Meanwhile, it connects us to our forefathers and our ancient tradition, as well as to other Jews in our community and the world.
The real problem isn't with the ritualization of the prayer service. It's with the mindless way I usually mumble through it.
May all our prayers be answered speedily.
Of course, even within the structure of Jewish prayer there is room for individual expression. This morning, I felt the need for just that. There was something specific and personal I needed to pray for. So, at the appropriate point in the Shema Koleinu blessing, I paused to insert my own request.
And I felt a bit foolish.
I'm fluent in Hebrew and comfortably familiar with Jewish texts. But try as I may, my words came out sounding silly. Awkward. Either too conversational or too formal. Random bursts of phrases from classical prayers stammered out haltingly between glaring pauses and clumsy segues. None of the grace and poetry of the rabbinically-composed blessings, none of the fluency of reciting familiar language, none of the connection to generations past through unchanging texts. Who did I think I was, trying to pray in my own words? Would I stand before a king stammering and improvising?
I don't regret making the effort. I've done so before, and I intend to do again. It is humbling, and renews my appreciation of the fixity of our prayer ritual.
Fixed, traditional texts actually facilitate our personal prayers, by expressing many of our personal needs in language of a sort most of us can only dream of composing ourselves. Meanwhile, it connects us to our forefathers and our ancient tradition, as well as to other Jews in our community and the world.
The real problem isn't with the ritualization of the prayer service. It's with the mindless way I usually mumble through it.
May all our prayers be answered speedily.
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