The Halakhic Spring - Jews Are Doin' It For Themselves

There was an interesting article in Haaretz this weekend about kosher restaurants that are abandoning their Kashrut licences due to their opposition to stringent rabbinic-authority standards, their high fees or simply kashrut inspectors who aren't qualified to do their jobs. These places remain loyal to kashrut but not to the rabbinic certification. Let me quote a few lines:

The Jerusalem Rabbinate requires restaurants that want a kashrut certificate to use only hydroponic produce, commonly known as "Gush Katif," because it's bug-free.
"You can't work with this lettuce," said restaurant owner Shai Gini. "It's not tasty, and you need three or four Gush Katif lettuces for every ordinary head of lettuce I'd buy in the [open-air] market." 

I have written in the past about the high price of increasingly stringent kashrut standards by which "kosher food is now more kosher than ever, and being eaten by fewer Jews!" One of the interesting observations in the article pointed out that ultimately, real kashrut in a restaurant relies on trust. Without the sense that the proprietor is genuinely committed to enforcing kashruth in his restaurant, anyone can betray the system when the supervisors back is turned!

Carousela's Vadai, who is Haredi, said he was disgusted that he was paying for supervision, but "no one ever came to check" his cafe. Many restaurant owners have said the same for years: A kashrut certificate is no guarantee that the restaurant is actually kosher, since at best, inspectors usually make only brief daily visits. Just last week, the Makor Rishon newspaper published a report detailing numerous cases in which the rabbinate declined to take away a restaurant's kashrut certificate - which, after all, provides it with income - even after blatantly nonkosher food was found...."Before there were certificates, kashrut was based on trust," said Topolino's Gini. "But the [rabbinate] system, like any bureaucratic system, always needs to invent more and more rules to strengthen its control over its community. There's a competition over who is stricter, and the customers lose."

Now, I do have worries about the kashrut in these eateries, beacuse, after all, vegetables do need to be properly checked and kashruth supervision does provide a certain impetus. But if we can move beyond the specific restaurant and kashruth issue, it was this paragraph that really caught my eye:

People familiar with the phenomenon say it is part of a more general trend: Israelis who care about observing Jewish law, including kashrut, but want nothing to do with the official rabbinate. Other aspects of this trend include weddings, funerals and even conversions in which the rabbinate is uninvolved.

This is quite a fascinating trend of a growing empowerment within the younger religious-zionist population in Israel, and around the world. It is happening in non-orthodox circles as well. Examples of this are independent minyanim, amongst them the Shira Chadasha movement, self-proclaimed as Orthodox, but unrecognised by most Orthodox rabbis! One finds non-rabbinic Jews making halakhic decisions for themselves without consulting with Rabbis - about birth control, hair covering and personal standards of dress, but also about communal issues that would have been under the purview of a Rabbi. Recently I have observed growing numbers of visitors to Israel for the chagim (holidays) confidently making their own decision of how many days yomtov to keep (1, 2, 1 and half) and many making their choice independently rather than under direct instruction of their Rabbi. We are talking about halakhic practices that are emerging from committed, educated young observant Jews. Journalist, Yair Ettinger wrote a series last summer about how religious Israelis are sidestepping the Rabbinate on marriage, divorce and burial, and any number of modern-orthodox weddings that I have attended recently  have included creative elements, especially as regards inclusion of women. 

I sense that this is a growing movement, and I think we can point to a few roots of this phenomenon. To start, today many young Jews find themselves highly educated and textually proficient. Today's generation are far more knowledgeable than in the past. In Israel many have spent five years or more in post high-school Yeshivot and Judaic university programs. From the US and UK, many have spent significant time in text learning environments. These people understand how the texts work and are confident that they can reach independent conclusions on the basis of those sacred texts. At times, their feeling is that mainstream halakhic practice fails to reflect their own values, and in search of greater authenticity, they decide, quite autonomously, to act independently.

In addition, this is reflective of a shift in the modern zeitgeist at large to a more empowered environment. I say this in regards to the Facebook, or social media revolution which has given greater leverage to rank and file individuals, from the "cottage-cheese protest" here in Israel last summer, to the Arab Spring.. The sense is that in today's world, the average citizen should exercise his or her voice. Furthermore, with the rise of the internet, expert information is merely a click away. In previous eras, expertise was rare, guarded, and out of reach. Nowadays, every person feels that they can become something of an expert, reading up on the topic at hand. This allows individuals to feel more informed and more capable of independent decision making.

But it goes deeper than that. Let me illustrate with a story. Some years ago, my son went to visit a lung specialist for a mild asthma problem. The doctor asked him a series of questions, like, "If you play football, are you short of breath?" or , "How many times a month do you need to take your inhaler?" At the end, he posed the question: "Well, do you think that you need to be taking your inhaler daily then?" And my son, hesitantly and rather bemused, responded, "um ... um ... that's what we've come to ask you?!"

I find that this pattern repeats itself in many fields. A generation ago, the investment manager would decide for his client which fund to invest in. Now he gives you a menu of options with the upside and downside of each , and you decide.

The school doesn't instruct a child what to matriculate in. They discuss the options, and expect the student together with his parents to make the final decision.

Expertise doesn't have the same authoritative veneer as it once did, and many questions are thrown back to the individual. Whether we have lost faith in a single correct answer in a post-modernist world, or whether the experts are simply afraid of getting it wrong, the average person makes his or her own life decisions.

And similarly in the religious sphere. The Israeli Religious-Zionist world, once a homogeneous identity, has refracted into a huge number of sub-groups, each with their particular nuance and emphasis, dress, songs and venerated leaders. Whether you are described as Rav Kook, Carlebach, a settler, an academic, whether your prime goal is professional success, if you are dati-lite, feminist, left-wing, gay, Breslev, and what have you, all these and more constitute the myriad strands that build what is now an individualized identity. Most Religious-Zionist people don't vote for religious parties today. People are defining themselves in new combinations, constructing their own unique identities, unafraid to practise an individualised lifestyle, and that includes all aspects of their Judaism. Let me stress, these people are not lax or disengaged from their Jewish observance; they are highly engaged, but precisely this new confidence means that frequently they are not looking for rabbinic supervision or approval. This is as true in Hampstead and on the Upper-West-Side as in Katamon and Baka.

And so we are facing a new reality. Rabbis wake up! This is where the people are. Do we know how to provide a Judaism that will be attractive to this generation? Is this a blessing, an opportunity, or a danger to Judaism? Where will this lead us?

Comments are welcome below....

Yom Yerushalayim 5772

למה ירושלים תמיד שתים, של מעלה ושל מטה

ואני רוצה לחיות בירושלים של אמצע

בלי לחבוט את ראשי למעלה ובלי לפצוע את רגלי למטה.

ולמה ירושלים בלשון זוגית כמו ידיים ורגלים, 

אני רוצה להיות רק בירושל אחת

כי אני רק אני אחד ולא אניים

(יהודה עמיחי. פתוח סגור פתוח. דף 144)

Jerusalem.

United and divided, Holy and profane,

Consensus and contentious,

Of dreams and reality,

Of peace and of pain,

Of the One True God, and the God of all humanity.

… If only it could be simple!

But then would it be Jerusalem?

So, today is Yom Yerushalayim!
Was a beautiful tefilla and special Hallel today with feelings of gratitude for the gifts with which God has blessed us. 
Here are some of my favourite Jerusalem blog-posts over the years. Looking back at them, I now realise that several of them deal with the clash between the Dream and Reality.

Shopping in Jerusalem on Jerusalem Day

Make Yom Yerushalayim a National Holiday!

The Kotel isn't a Parking Lot!

Visiting Har Habayit

Nahem

Live the Dream!

The Israel Museum (#2)

A magical night at the Kotel

Here is another (less cynical, more beautiful) one from Yehuda Amichai:

למה ירושלים, למה אני

למה לא עיר אחרת למה לא אדם אחר?

פעם עמדתי לפני הכותל המערבי

ופתאום, להקת ציפורים עלתה למעלה

בקריאות ובמשק כנפיים, כמו פתקות בקשה

שהשתחררו מבין האבנים הגדולות והכבדות

ועפו אל על

Yom Hazikaron 5772

עקדת יצחק/ נעמי שמר

קח

את בנך

את יחידך

אשר אהבת

קח

את יצחק

והעלהו לעולה

על אחד ההרים

במקום

אשר אמר אליך

והעלהו לעולה

על אחד ההרים

בארץ המוריה.

ומכל ההרים

שבארץ ההיא

תעלה צעקה גדולה:

הנה האש

והנה העצים

והנהו השה לעולה

רבונו של עולם

המלא רחמים

אל הנער ידך

אל תשלח

אל הנער

ידך אל תשלח.

גם אם שבע נחיה

ונזקין

לא נשכח כי הונף

הסכין

לא נשכח את בנך

את יחידך

אשר אהבנו

לא נשכח

את יצחק.


 more here and here ...

Marc Shapiro on Women Rabbis and Kol Isha

I have blogged recently about issues relating to women's ordination and  modesty. In the sphere of our contemporary grapplings with Halakha that relates to gender , I very much enjoyed two blog posts on the topic by Marc Shapiro. He does not hide his personal predilections and is clearly in favour of an increased woman's leadership role in the Orthodox community. However, even if you are not in that space, the sources he brings are important reading.

Ordination 
Kol Isha
Thanks to the Sephorim Blog.

Let me add that this article by Rabbi Michael Broyde and Rabby Shlmomo Brody is one of the better presentations - informative, sensitive, correct balance between traditional and progressive - that I have seen on the topic.

Yom Hashoah 5772

My "minhag" on the evening of Yom Hashoah  is to watch the ceremony at Yad Vashem. I always find it so dignified, so Jewish, so touching and emotional. Peres spoke just beautifully. For all my friends in chutz la'aretz, this is one of those days that can only be experienced in Israel where the day fills the public space. One cannot go out to eat this evening, nor shop at the mall. They are all closed. Yom Hashoah is a national day of mourning and so it should be.

This is the incredibly evocative poster from Yad Vashem to commemorate Yom Hashoah this year:

But as I though about this image It dawned upon me that the picture is wrong.

Of course the image aims to portray a Holocaust survivor and the "shadow" as he was as a child before the war, along with his family who have perished. We witness this broken man and see the shadow of his past.

But this image is skewed; it is only half the truth. Why? Because so many survivors are not alone; they have wonderful families and accomplishments. Each of the six Holocaust survivors who lit the 6 torches at Yad Vashem tonight were accompanied by their relatives - most of them, by a grandchild. For this image to be truly representative, the Holocaust survivor should be surrounded by his descendants, the future, the tree that has grown out of the seed of a single survivor. In some cases, he will be surrounded by 2 or 3 family members, in other families it will be 10 or twenty or fifty, or more! Thank God, the "dry bones" of the worn, starved, and beaten survivors have given birth, in many instances, to beautiful families. (...to paraphrase Sanhedrin 92b "R. Eliezer the son of R. Jose the Galilean said: The dead whom Ezekiel revived went up to Eretz Yisrael, married wives and begat sons and daughters. R. Judah b. Bathyra rose up and said: I am one of their descendants, and these are the tefillin  which my grandfather left me [as an heirloom] from them." or Tehillim 107:41.)

Alongside all the pain and suffering, we live with hope. As Netanyahu said this evening: "עם ישראל חי". The Holocaust survivors that I know: Solly Irving, Ralph Aron z"l, Leah and Yoseph Friedler of Alon Shevut, are all exemplars of this amazing reality of the renewal of our people. They, along with every survivor that I have ever met, are shining models of inspiration, courage and optimism.

Two interesting and thought provoking pieces that I read this year - worth reading -  here and here.

I will finish by remembering the names of my mother's family who were murdered in the Shoah as we remember all the Six Million:

My grandfather's grandmother, 2 uncles, an aunt and 7 cousins:

Hinda bat Yehuda Leib

Sarah Keila bat Elimelech

Yosef ben Elimelech

Yehuda Langer (Sarah Keila’s husband)

Yehudith Fayga Alta bat Yehuda

Shifra bat Yehuda

Avraham ben Yosef

Naftali ben Yosef

Yechiel ben Yosef

Perle bat Yosef

Gittel bat Yosef

And from my father's family ( - my grand-parents fled from Germany in February 1939):

My great-grandfather Sali Israel, killed in Theresiensdadt, 23 April 1943

His 2nd wife, Bertha Goldschmidt, killed in Auschwitz, 18 May 1944

Imgard Israel (aunt)

Arthur Israel and his wife Bella, and their daughter Renate (uncle)

Hari Israel (uncle)

Raisa Garabaska (cousin)

Hugo Israel, killed in Riga Camp, 1942 (uncle)

תהיינה נפשותם צרורות בצרור החיים

הַרְנִינוּ גויִם עַמּו כִּי דַם עֲבָדָיו יִקּום וְנָקָם יָשִׁיב לְצָרָיו וְכִפֶּר אַדְמָתו עַמּו:

A Book Library in a Digital Age

I love my book collection. We have books in almost every room of our home, and they give me never-ending pleasure. 

On a Shabbat visit of my yeshiva students, they began to discuss whether it was worth accumulating books in a digital age. After all, most of our music and our photographs, our documentation and correspondence, has all shifted to the computer or hand-held e-device. It is worth asking why we still hold on to books in this day and age. Will they become obsolete?

I have an exceptionally strong attachment to my library. My well-worn Mishna Kahati sits next to to my Mishna Berura with my carefully written notes and highlighting. My Shas (Talmud) was a gift from my grandfather z"l for my bar-mitzva. A shelf of Rav Kook's philosophy and letters sits adjacent to a similar shelf of the writings of Rav Soloveitchik. Israeli poetry, contemporary fiction, books of my mentors Rav Amital and Rav Lichtenstein, classic Responsa, Bible commentary, new and old. Interesting combinations: Scholem and Shagar; Mandela and Scharansky, the Rambam alongside the Kuzari, Louis Jacobs with Rabbi Jakobovitz, and so forth. My library is my world. Every volume is a friend. Some volumes have shared deep and touching moments with me, others continue to accompany me on a daily basis, some will always be distant acquaintances, and there are others that I have yet to converse with, but I am happy for the presence of each and every one of them. This one I bought at Book Week, that one has a great autograph, another I picked out of a Jerusalem recycling dumpster that lay open, this is the massekhet that I am currently learning, and my battered Tanakh has over twenty-five years of mileage behind it.

This paean to my library was stimulated by an eloquent piece by Leon Wieseltier that I read today (link h/t Bookjed) . It elegantly and accurately articulates the perennial need for the authentic, old fashioned books; the hold-in-your-hand, have-on-the-shelf type. I couldn't say it better. Enjoy! :

THE LIBRARY, like the book, is under assault by the new technologies, which propose to collect and to deliver texts differently, more efficiently, outside of space and in a rush of time. If ever I might find a kind word for the coming post-bibliographical world it would be this week, when I have to pack up the thousands of volumes in my office and reassemble them a short distance away—they are so heavy, they take up so much room, and so on; but even now, with the crates piled high in the hall, what I see most plainly about the books is that they are beautiful. They take up room? Of course they do: they are an environment; atoms, not bits. My books are not dead weight, they are live weight—matter infused by spirit, every one of them, even the silliest. They do not block the horizon; they draw it. They free me from the prison of contemporaneity: one should not live only in one’s own time. A wall of books is a wall of windows. And a book is more than a text: even if every book in my library is on Google Books, my library is not on Google Books. A library has a personality, a temperament. (Sometimes a dull one.) Its books show the scars of use and the wear of need. They are defaced—no, ornamented—by markings and notes and private symbols of assent and dissent, and these vandalisms are traces of the excitations of thought and feeling, which is why they are delightful to discover in old books: they introduce a person. There is something inhuman about the pristinity of digital publication. It lacks fingerprints. But the copy of a book that is on my shelf is my copy. It is unlike any other copy, it has been individuated; and even those books that I have not yet opened—unread books are an essential element of a library—were acquired for the further cultivation of a particular admixture of interests and beliefs, and every one of them will have its hour. The knowledge that qualifies one to be one’s own librarian is partly self-knowledge. The richness, or the incoherence, of a library is the richness, or the incoherence, of the self.

Re-discovering the Kotel - A Magical Night at the Wall

Last night was the first time I have been to the Kotel in almost a year. I admit this with a real sense of guilt. I have always been committed to visiting the Kotel at least for each of the שלש רגלים in fulfilment of the Torah’s prescription:

"שלוש פעמים בשנה יראה כל זכורך את פני האדון ה' אלקי ישראל"

However, in recent years my regular chol hamoed visits have become increasingly unpleasant. The throngs that flock to Jerusalem over Chag have been (Barukh Hashem) so overwhelming that one year, we experienced a policeman directing the pedestrian traffic through the Rova. The parking has been impossible, and so what might have been a somewhat short visit to daven has become a hot, tiring, crowded trek for the entire family. In addition the pilgrimage has lacked a particularly spiritual component, as with the Kotel so full, it is difficult to concentrate or focus, and one is concerned to lose one of the kids. So, last chol hamoed, for the first time in about 20 years, I just didn’t go.

Well – after my highly positive experience at the Kotel last night, I have a new plan.

I went there to give a shiur to my Talmidim. Yeshivat Eretz Hatzvi was holding its end-of-winter-zman “Mishmar” - learning all night with Vatikin at dawn – by the Wall.  I arrived at the Old City at 12:30 and headed to the Wall.   

As I emerged from the car, the air was fresh, the streets were quiet, serene, calm. Whenever one goes to the Kotel one anticipates an experience of “Klal Yisrael” – an encounter with a mix of  Jews that communicates a deep feeling that beyond our diversity and difference, that there is a fundamental unity of all Jews. This was my mindset as I made my way from Sha’ar HaAshpot towards the security checkpoint. It didn't take long to engage with that diversity. Far ahead were 3 Yeshiva Students. About twenty yards behind me were 4 people –  two couples – smiling, jovially teasing one another. They were secular; the women in jeans, the men bare-headed. But they too were making their way to the Wall. Alongside me, an elegantly dressed young lady wearing leggings, carrying a designer handbag walked with a sense of purpose. Who was this woman, I wondered? I was trying to define her, to label her into one of the classic categories, the “tribes” in which we live. As she approached the washbasin, she washed her hands with the washing cup – 3 times alternately. By the way she washed her hand, it was evident that she was accustomed to this ritual. Was she religious? Secular? Newly religious? Once religious? - Who knows? Did she come here regularly? Was she here to pray for someone sick? ... it really didn’t matter. I proceeded, enjoying the fact that we were all here, together; lots of different stereotypes. Tonight, it felt like we all belonged here, in all our difference.  

The Kotel was calm, beautiful and reverent. Even the people calling us for a minyan – “Arvit; Arvit!” - made their announcement in soft tones. The Hazzan who lead my minyan – a red-head Hassidic man – davened with expressive kavvana. A simple, daily Ma'ariv, became elevated. Somehow, whenever I am at the Kotel, I sense that I have a special opportunity to stand at the “Gate of Heaven” and to really speak to God. I tried to inject my tefilla with special meaning, to genuinely connect with God. At this late hour, there was no rushing, no pushing; the minyan took its time.

And then, giving shiur. The Yeshiva were congregated there, all sitting at shtenders in the inner area, under Wilson’s Arch, some in havrutot, some learning alone. One or two boys had fallen asleep. I gave shiur to 25 guys, all huddled together, and I tried to communicate to them a sense of our special historic privilege. I told the boys: “Look where we are! Some 2 thousand years ago, our forefathers walked across the bridge above our heads leading the lambs into the Temple, to bring the Korban Pesach! Jews yearned for thousands of years to stand at this very spot. We may not have a Beit Hamikdash, but the Shekhina never leaves this site. We can still fulfill our obligation (Shemot 23:17) to “present ourselves” before God’s presence.” My shiur was Pesach oriented – Redemption, Eliyahu Hanavi, and other related themes. 1 a.m. and I was inspired by the fire of Eliyahu Hanavi, and the interest of my students.

I emerged from the tunnel area after bidding my students a good night of learning. I had work the next day and couldn’t manage without a few hours sleep. The entire prayer area was virtually empty. The larger plaza was also deserted. But then I saw them -  a  Chattan and Kalla, a bride and groom - deep in prayer, standing right at the front of the Kotel plaza. It was 2am. Here was a young Haredi couple who had come to the Kotel straight from their wedding! What was beautiful about this scene was that they were all alone! It looked strange; one does not generally see a man and woman praying alongside one another at the Kotel. But of course, this couple who had married some hours earlier didn’t want to separate from one another. They didn’t go down to the prayer area, but instead, stood together, in perfect harmony, swaying together, praying together. What were they  davening for? For the future of their lives together? Were they praying for the sick and needy of Israel, having absorbed the tradition that a Chattan and Kalla on their wedding day have a special spiritual power to pray for others? It was a beautiful scene. Although they were distant from me and oblivious to my presence in this most public place, I almost felt like I was intruding on their intimate, special moment. I marvelled at this young couple who felt a need to bring God so palpably into their relationship and personal joy.

So, I thought to myself, I have now discovered that this is the time of day to come to the Kotel. I think I am going to try to visit regularly now, late at night, at this magical hour when all is calm, when one can daven without interruption, when the Kotel returns to being enchanting, spiritual, inspirational. It is wonderful to have re-discovered my path back to the Kotel.

Chag Kasher Vesameach!

My New Book - Melakhim I - Torn in Two

I went to my publishers this morning - Maggid/Koren - to work on some maps and charts for my upcoming book and I was delighted to see that it appears in the new book catalogue. Here is the cover picture, and here is the text:

A sweeping study of the Book of Kings I, which addresses both broad themes and the details of the Biblical text. Drawing upon a rich skill set from midrashic and traditional medieval commentary to modern literary analysis, Rabbi Alex Israel's easy writing style opens this book to the modern reader. Whether discussing the complex personality of Solomon, the construction of the Temple, the split of the Kingdom, or the evil Ahab, this work offers the reader a clear structure to this complicated book, and a guide to its key spiritual messages. This book is an insightful companion to the study of Sefer Melakhim.

The book will be published by Maggid in Spring 2012 בע"ה 

Modesty and the "Women Problem"

The news has been filled with stories about the status of women in Israeli society:

Women relegated to the back of the bus, women eliminated from public street posters, 8 year-old girls attacked due to their "lack of modesty." We are witnessing a growing situation in which religious groups have succeeded in marginalizing women within the public space or excluding them from it, as women are viewed as a temptation, a sexual distraction.

I am a religiously observant person, a Rabbi, and yet I deem this interpretation as a distortion and falsification of Judaism's idea of modesty. I have spent some time recently trying to articulate where the problem lies; after all, I too subscribe to values of modesty. Let me attempt to explain it as I see it.

Some years ago, a Rabbi friend told me the following story. A congregant had approached him and asked to speak to him about a situation that was on his mind. The Rabbi asked him what the problem was:

"Well Rabbi," He said, "Yesterday, I attended Sheva Berachot."

"Mazal Tov!" responded the Rabbi. "What is the problem?"

"Well, the kalla got up to give a Devar Torah" the congregant said uneasily.

""Wonderful!" responded the Rabbi.

"Well," said the man, "She was very attractive and it was inappropriate."

The Rabbi engaged him in discussion on the topic, with the congregant frustrated by his inability to express what he found as the point of his discomfort.  At a certain point, he blurted out: "A women is just, quite simply, an object of immodesty!"

When men perceive women as a sexual object, I believe that however much they hide women away, they will still be aroused by something that reminds them of the sexual. And because these men are fighting to repress their sexual urges and to somehow eliminate them, they see women everywhere, they identify sexual stimulation in the slightest reminder of a woman. They push women further and further into the background to be continually frustrated that they feel continued sexual attraction. I recall reading a book in which an Islamic woman who wears a Burka, remarked that the men could identify which women had an attractive figure and would make sexual comments to women, even as they were covered from head to toe!

So here is the point. The Haredi community is terrified that sexuality will lead its men to sin. It responds by subjecting its women to increasingly stringent standards of dress, and removing them from the public space. But despite the fact that they require women to recede, the problem endures.

Now – this entire perspective is highly un-Jewish. How so?

First, modesty in the public arena is not to achieved by suppressing women; it is not women who are to pay the price. In most places that the Shulkhan Arukh addresses modesty, the man is instructed to restrict his gaze and not to look at a woman in an inappropriately sexual manner. But it doesn't say that a woman is required to button up in order to prevent or "protect" the man. Men are expected to take care of their sexual drives and to control their eyes and minds.

I think that something else should be said about the Jewish sexual ethic. Judaism has a host of laws regarding social interaction between the sexes. A man and a woman (who are unmarried) are not to be in a closed room alone (Yichud). They are not supposed to flirt or engage in affectionate physical contact (negia). A man should not look at women to gain some erotic pleasure (Histaklut assura and hirhur). Now, these laws are there precisely because men and women interact in the public arena, and because sexual attraction does exist between men and women. Hence, in order to facilitate a non-sexualized public space, these are regulations that seek to eliminate sexual opportunity and a sexually provocative environment. But this is precisely the point: These laws allow the genders to interact. They do not restrict the mixing of the genders!

It is certainly true that contemporary Western society has created a highly sexualized, provocative, flirtatious and even promiscuous public environment. Jewish tradition should have strong critique of modern society in this regard, and any Halakhically sensitive Jew would do well to guide his life, family and home, in an alternative direction. Possibly this overt sexualization is what sends our Orthodox world into retreat. After all, when the wider society is so audacious, traditional Judaism with its emphasis upon modesty, fidelity and marriage may justifiably attempt to protect itself. And yet, the overemphasis upon laws of modesty and gender separation become absurd.  In an almost absurd and perverse reversal, it thrusts sexual attraction into the centre stage; so much so that it appears at times as if these God fearing people have sex on their mind every second of the day, as if they may succumb to illicit desire at any given moment!

Judaism is fully aware of the wild nature of sexual attraction. And yet Jewish Law has created a mechanism to keep the public space sexually neutral. If people are dressed modestly, if they don't engage in physical contact or allow themselves to be alone in private, then Halakha says that this is the standard that will ensure a holy public space.

After that, any man who has a problem must take care of his problem on his own.

Rabbi Moses Feinstein- the great American posek of the 20^th Century – ruled that a Jew may travel the subway at rush hour even if he or she is pressed against the opposite sex. His assumption was that people who were crushed together in the train, would have preferred a more spacious environment, and hence there was no intent to engage in physical contact; the entire situation being against their personal desire and that a normal person would not be subject to sexual arousal. He did warn that if a particular individual was sexually aroused by the situation, they should take care of their "problem" by travelling at non-crowded times.

Similarly here. Women can be on street posters, the buses should be mixed. At the same time, I certainly would like to see people dressing in non-provocative clothing. But even with the street as it is, the street or bus cannot be worse than a crowded subway carriage. A normal person can control their eyes and minds. Women should not pay the price here.

This can be done. Let us hope that we can build God-fearing communities, that are respectful to all genders, that exclude no group or individual, that are seen as exemplars of kindness and respect, that engage with society and sanctify God's name.

The Amazing Limmud Experience

I have spent this week at the UK Limmud Conference 2011 and I think it deserves a blogpost just to talk about how wonderful it is.

I left Israel on Sunday morning, in a an elevated sublime feeling of Jewish Israeliness. Let me explain. I stepped into the taxi at the airport at 5:58 to be greeted by the recitation of the “Shema” as is broadcast daily at 6am on Israel radio. This was followed by the newscaster starting the news with the greeting, "חג אורים שמח", announcing the Hebrew date and that it was נר חמישי של חנוכה. So much Judiasm in 1 minute of radio at 6am; - It put me in a great mood.
I davened Shacharit in the airport with an eclectic mix of Haredim, messorati sephardim, a few Modern Orthodox Israelis and one very settler-looking fellow with full blown peyot, t'chelet tzitizit and a huge knit kippa. Wonderful to hear Birkhat Kohanim with the Hazzan's heavily hassidish pronunciation, answered by a pure Israeli accent. We are one people!
The beautiful end to the Jewish aspect of the journey was when the flight staff closed the flight by wishing us a חג חנוכה שמח  – as we landed in London on Christmas day. I couldn't but reflect on how fortunate we are to have our own nation state where being Jewish is natural, and woven deeply ad so naturally into the fabric of our national existence, as we live on our time, our terms, with our own dear cultural frame of reference. אשרינו מה טוב חלקינו. Yes I am a starry eyed old style Zionist. And 20 years in Israel somehow never succeeds in erasing that.

But I digress … let's talk about Limmud. This is my second Limmud in 2 months. Last month in Stockholm and now in the UK. Limmud is an organization, run by volunteers that create conferences which explore just about every facet of Judaism and Jewish life. In Limmud UK, over 5 days, over 2000 sessions were delivered. That is astounding. So many topics are on offer: Israeli literature, the current state of Israel and Zionism, Jewish community, arts and issues of the local Jewish community, women, education, policy, philosophy, Jewish texts and spirituality. You name it; its there. Moreover, everyone is welcome to come; everyone is welcome to speak. Limmud is a beautiful environment that respects every participant as a human being, a Jew, an equal. One hour, you are the teacher; the next hour, you are the student. Limmud creates a platform for people to explore and celebrate their Judaism and to learn more about it, hear new voices, gain inspiration, and enjoy their Judaism. (See a similar perspective from wonderful friends that I met at Limmud - see here and here.)

Now, in the British Orthodox (United Synagogue and rightwards) community, Limmud is shunned, certainly by the Rabbis. Several of my (British) students have asked me why I attend seeing that it “lends legitimacy to the Reform.” My Grandfather too, when I told him that I was attending Limmud, said to me: “Isn't that the Reform conference?”

One of the most forceful proponents of this thinking is Rav Hanoch Erentreu, Av Beit Din in the UK. I recall in the '80's that the Pope visited the UK. Dayan Erentreu was supposed to meet him in his capacity as Av Beit Din in Manchester. But then he heard that he would be presented to the Pope alongside the Reform Rabbi. This in his mind created an equation of sorts. He turned down the invitation. To meet the Pope was alright; to meet the Reform Rabbi was beyond the pale.

I cannot even begin to understand or accept Rav Ehrentreu's decion. To my mind this stark separation of the Orthodox community from Limmud is shortsighted and incorrect.

First, no one is legitimising anyone. Everyone who speaks is representing their own opinions, themselves. Everyone is welcome to attend or not to attend. As for lending legitimacy, the Reform, I believe, are fully aware that the Orthodox don't accept their version of Judaism. Somehow, the Orthodox feel that if they fail to associate with a Reform Rabbi, don't call him or her a Rabbi, then they will be less of a Rabbi, or if they discredit non-Orthodox denominations, that they will disappear. Don't they realise that when they discredit others , the only thing that they do is to generate disdain for Orthodoxy and alienation from it?

Limmud is the antithesis of this attitude. For five days you have thousands, yes – thousands of Jews – rushing from session to session, from shiur to political talk to historical lecture, exploring, learning, thinking, discovering more about their Judaism as they progress upon their Jewish journey. What typifies Limmud is its respect to every person, and love of Jewish learning. The warmth expressed by everyone is amazing. I believe that Limmud is as popular as it is in the UK precisely because it is so un-politicized , unlike the rest of Jewish living here.

The Orthodox rabbinate are making a mistake, because if they were there – 10, 20 50 Orthodox Rabbis - they wouldn't be recognising any non-Orthodox anything. They would just be seeing lots of Jewish people who don't want to be labelled, or judged, or looked down upon; good, well meaning Jews who wish to deepen their Judaism, as they see it. They would just see how thirsty people are to learn and to study. They would see that by respecting everyone, and taking down all our titles and divisions, we create genuine achdut, they would realize that if they can teach good Torah, a compelling Torah which is respectful and compassionate, loving and true, then people will listen and, maybe be drawn to their vision. That is why it is hugely shortsighted.

For me, at Limmud, just like at Pardes, where I teach, I am constantly impressed at the simple reality that we cannot impose our views on others; we can merely present Torah – their heritage and ours – with love. People are different – that is our divine spark. I cannot control another person's future. But I can seek to inspire, to teach, to influence, to spread the word of God to others. However, it will be best received when I demonstrate respect to the person sitting opposite me. And when I show that respect, I will probably learn something from him or her in turn.

I invite you all to join the worldwide Limmud movement. It is Achdut (Jewish togetherness) as its best.

Educating in Post-Moral World

I came across a recent sermon by Rabbi Haskel Lookstein of KJ and Ramaz. (Hat-tip Kavannah blog). Here is the most sensational segment:

And lest you think that this phenomenon is out there and has nothing to do with your world and my world, I actually found this problem this September in my sex ethics class in the 10th Grade at Ramaz. I gave the students an assignment to read an article about something quite grotesque: it described a group of Jewish married couples who gather periodically and engage in what is popularly called swinging, that is, spouse swapping. A sort of round robin sexual orgy. I asked them how many of you think that this is wrong? And only a few students raised their hands. Astonished, I asked them how could they not think that this was wrong. I got answers like: “well, since it is all out in the open and everybody knows that everybody is doing it, there is nothing fundamentally wrong. No one is cheating on a spouse because the spouse was also swinging.”

I said to them: “what about the seventh commandment – do not commit adultery.” One student answered that these people are really not religious. What the students didn’t seem to understand was that whether they were religious or not, there is a moral code that is rooted in the Bible which defines for us what is right and what is wrong. The problem is that when pressed, many of the students simply said that if it feels good and if it feels right then who am I to judge? I told them I wasn’t suggesting that they go over to somebody who is engaged in swinging and chastise them, but that they had to have an opinion on this practice. They looked at me with some disbelief. Now, please understand, these are good kids. I don’t for one minute believe that they will engage in this kind of debauchery when they are married adults. This is not related to what they are doing or will do; this is simply an indication that these children are not thinking in moral categories and that they feel that it is somehow politically incorrect to judge another’s behavioral choices. They are picking up from society in general a reluctance to judge.

I confess that I was so disturbed about their reaction that I spent much of the course, which is actually ending next week, coming back to this subject again and again in order to show them how far they have wandered intellectually from the religious sources in which they believe. These are children who follow the Torah which tells them to keep Shabbat, Kashrut and Yom Tov and to pray. They all do these things. But they don’t seem to understand that the same Torah is the source of our moral values, and morality is not simply a matter of opinion. God gave the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai not the Ten Suggestions ! Morality is not personal; it is ultimately ordained by a higher authority. (See entire sermon here.)

Let me say at the outset that I share Rabbi Lookstein's concerns and his broad perspective. But this sermon made me think, both as an educator, and as an individual.

Are things as bad as Rabbi Lookstein thinks? In a post-modernist world, surely, the only categorical wrong is to harm another person, against his or her will, or worse, to coerce another individual. Murder and thievery are wrong because they hurt other people. But does this mean that we have absolutely surrendered our traditional sense of  a moral code? Have other educators experienced this helplessness in addressing ethical discussions? I meet many teenagers who are idealists, who are passionate about moral positions and know how to argue their case. How much has this reality penetrated?

It has made me wonder about the degree to which this mode of thinking has penetrated my moral sense. With the shifting moral sands of our contemporary world, both general and Jewish, a sometimes wonder about the changes that go on in my mind. As modern people we are also consumers of this ethical climate. When should we be judgmental and when is it wrong? In a wold which gives voice to all individuals to argue their case and to explain their motivations, do we lose a sense of  good and bad?

And is the Torah the sole source of moral values? What happens when Torah or Halakha seem to preach one way, and society sees things another way. And what happens when our instincts say that society has a good point. (An example might be, egalitarianism.)

So, feel free to read Rabbi Lookstein and to add your comments below.

Gilad Shalit: Love Life!

Today in Israel, we were as one people. 

The Jewish people felt united. 

On Sukkot, the "four species" represent 4 different types of Jew which we take and bind together. Today, we were bound together by one person: Gilad Shalit. The hardened news reporters and anchormen were choking up the tears. It seemed as if the entire country were glued to some media format for hourly updates. I certainly followed the day's events with baited breath, just waiting for a first glimpse of Gilad, and feeling a sense of relief and closure as made his way back to Mitzpe Hila - back home.

It has been a highly emotional day, and it is virtually impossible to add something original after so much has been written. Instead of posting my original thoughts, I will share some quotes that resonated with me today:

Daniel Gordis:

In agreeing to this prisoner swap, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli public chose to return to their roots, to revive a central tenet of old-time Israeli ideology: we do not leave our sons in the field.

The tenet is as old as the country itself. It stems from the fact that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) is a citizens’ army, in which conscription is universal and every family knows that it could face the same tragedy as the Shalits. And in the army itself, the “stretcher march,” in which soldiers in training are ordered to carry one of their heaviest comrades on a stretcher up hills and down valleys for miles, is a formative ritual meant to instill one message: there is never a case in which soldiers cannot bring their wounded home.

This ethic is taught in other armies, too, but it resonates differently in Israel. From the moment of his capture, Gilad Shalit has been a household name. Compare this to the silence in the United States regarding Bowe Bergdahl, the U.S. soldier held hostage by the Taliban since June 2009. Ever since Shalit’s kidnapping, Israeli society has been wracked by a sense that it failed in its obligation to him. 

Miki Goldwasser mother of IDF reserve soldier Ehud Goldwasser, abducted and killed by Hezbollah in 2006

On Tuesday we shall see decorated stages, flags and joyous masses in Gaza. We shall see many arms raised and many fingers making the victory sign. Gaza shall rejoice, and to my great regret Israel will be affected by these sights. 

Dear citizens, think about it: The families of terrorists are happy like we are as we see Gilad Shalit's return. However, they did not win, and they know it. They were humiliated precisely because so many terrorists were released for only one soldier.

Make no mistake about it. They realize and feel this humiliation. They realize that they are not worth much if they are willing to exchange 1,000 of their own for one Israeli soldier. Do you really think that Gaza residents are not jealous of us, Israelis, for being so united around one soldier? It’s impossible not to envy us. Look at the global reactions – everyone is stunned.

In Israel, like the swaying palm branches of the Lulav, the mood of the people tends to fluctuate from one extreme to another. This time around, listen to the voice of reason and do not be deceived by the images from Gaza. The joy there is artificial. 

 Adrian Blomfield in the Daily Telegraph

For every Israeli who has served in the armed forces there is a feeling they could easily have been Gilad Shalit. For every Israeli parent, the young conscript could quite conceivably have been their own son.

In return for a sacrifice everyone has to make, Israelis believe that it is incumbent on the government to do everything in its power to save a living soldier when something goes wrong – whatever the cost.

But it also runs deeper than that. The notion of doing everything in one's power to free someone unjustly taken prisoner is deep rooted in the fabric of Israeli society.

This is partly due to the country's Jewish heritage. In Judaism, winning the release of any Jew held captive by gentiles – something known in Hebrew as pidyon shvuyim – is a commandment ordained by God. Heeding it brings you blessings; failing to fulfil it is a sin.

Captivity is worse than starvation or death, Jewish teaching says. "The redeeming of captives take precedence over supporting the poor or clothing them," wrote the Jewish scholar Maimonides in the Middle Ages.

For modern Israel, with its almost universal belief of being a country under siege, the Jewish notion of pidgin shvuyim is a hallowed creed, an affirmation that a militarised state can only be strong if it protects all its citizens, particularly its soldiers – no matter how lowly.

"Israel's main asset in human and security terms is the sense of mutual responsibility that its citizens and soldiers feel towards one another," wrote Avi Shavit, a columnist for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz.

"Without this feeling, there is no meaning to our lives here. Without this feeling, we have neither army, security, nor the ability to protect ourselves.

"Rightly or not, Shalit has become a symbol of mutual responsibility. And therefore his forthcoming release will not only be the redemption of a captive and the saving of a life and the return home of a son. Shalit's release will be the realisation of Israeli solidarity."

 And Daniel Taub (Israel ambassador to the UK)

As much as all Israelis know and identify with the young men and women who serve in defence of their country, so do they also know a victim of a terrorist atrocity. And many of those involved in perpetrating such atrocities are among those who will be released as part of the Shalit deal. Israelis cannot help but wonder whether we are saving one life, the face we know, at the cost of other unknown faces in future terrorist attacks.

Is it possible to overvalue life? Have our tradition and national psyche clouded our judgment and created an Achilles heel?

Disturbingly, the terrorist groups we confront seem to think so. Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah once declared “We shall win because the Jews are weak and love life.” Fathi Hammad, a leading Hamas figure echoed this credo as he defended the strategy of sending women and children to shield terrorist bases: “We desire death as you desire life!”

But at its root, the decision to make the deal was not won by pragmatic arguments or realpolitik. We are bringing Gilad home, and paying the painful price, not because we know that this is the correct strategic decision, but because of our profound conviction that it ought to be. The bittersweet joy of the moment presents a challenge to us all. If this indeed is not a world in which placing supreme value on a single human life is the best course of action, then let us work to make it one.

Taub's point is quite significant. Yesterday was a celebration of saving a life. Some are saying that with 1000 terrorists on the loose, this is foolish and shortsighted. Some will say that today was shallow sentimentalism and easy emotion. There is truth in both these statements. And yet, today, Gilad is our brother and son who has come home. We are all his family. And we have shown that we are who we are because we value life and our solidarity.

From Yom Kippur to Sukkot

At this moment in time, we have emerged from the seriousness of Elul and the עשרת ימי תשובה (Ten days of Penitence) to the joy of Sukkot - "zman simchateinu." In shul, the heaviness and looming tension has palpably lifted as our prayers are suddenly lighter, streamlined - the selichot, avinu malkeinu and various other additions to our prayers have been exchanged for a "no tachanun" week. For the regular shul-goer, there is no sweeter relief than that!

We may well ask ourselves what remains then, of the Yamim Nora'im? To answer this question, I will share an idea that I heard from Rav Yaakov Medan some years back. He related to the biblical Yonah, who entered the city of Nineveh and issued the famous proclamation:  "In forty days Nineveh will be overturned - עוד ארבעים יום ונינבה נהפכת" and astonishingly, the population, from king to child, all swiftly respond in a contrite mood of repentance, each returning stolen items and recanting their evil acts.

The text tells us that God retracts his condemnation of the city (echoing the famous line in Shemot 32:14 in which God waves his pronouncement of destruction after the Golden calf):

(י) וַיַּרְא הָאֱלֹהִים אֶת מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם כִּי שָׁבוּ מִדַּרְכָּם הָרָעָה וַיִּנָּחֶם הָאֱלֹהִים עַל הָרָעָה אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר לַעֲשׂוֹת לָהֶם וְלֹא עָשָׂה 

When God saw their deeds, that they turned from their wicked way, then God relented concerning the calamity which He had declared He would bring upon them. And He did not do it

Yonah (mysteriously) finds this repentance exceptionally distasteful. He sits outside the city and builds a Sukka: "to see what will transpire in the city." What is Yonah waiting for? And why is he so miserable? Does he think the city might be destroyed after 40 days? The Radak and the Metzudat David suggest that Yonah is waiting to see whether their penitence is genuine, in other words, whether their resolutions will hold, or will their behavior will merely revert back to its sinful ways - "עד אשר יראה אולי לא יעמדו בתשובתם" Yonah is rather cynical and suspicious regarding this "quick fix" teshuva, and he suspects that the changes are cosmetic in nature, and that very soon, the people will resume their sinful acts.

Rav Medan suggested that Yonah's skepticism should resound in our ears, in that our situation mirrors that of Nineveh. 

The model of Nineveh is built upon a pattern of a 40 day period of repentance, followed by a test period. We too have 40 days: the month of Elul and the 10 days of repentance. But what follows these 40 days of repentance? We now encounter a test period. The question that we face is whether OUR New Year's Resolutions will hold, or whether the commitments that we made sincerely and genuinely in the fervor of Yom Kippur will simply dissipate and evaporate. With the close of the tension of the days of penitence, we are challenged to ask ourselves whether our teshuva is only cosmetic, or whether it constitutes an enduring, fundamental reorientation of our behavior and lifestyle

Here we should pay attention to the small detail in the text. Yonah sits in a SUKKA (!) to see what will transpire in the city. The test is simple: Will our decisions last even the 5 short days until Sukkkot? Will we succeed in retaining that religious tension and passion even in these lighter, less intense, normal days? Will we be susceptible to Yonah's biting critique or will our change be more substantial?

Good luck! - Behatzlacha!