Praying at the Grave of Franz Rosenzweig

This past February, I had the chance to visit the grave of Franz Rosenzweig in Frankfurt--not a pilgrimage site, but a place I was drawn to nonetheless. A week later, I was invited to join the editorial board of a project named for his adult education initiative, The Lehrhaus.

Fast forward a few months, and the site is ready to launch. To mark the launch, which coincides with the Yamim Nora'im, I imagine a prayer that I might have recited at Rosenzweig's grave.

Read about it here: http://www.thelehrhaus.com/commentary-short-articles/grave-franz-rosenzweig

R. Amital and the Yom Kippur War

The OU has posted an excerpt of By Faith Alone pertaining to the Yom Kippur War. For some reason, most of the discussion about this war on the occasion of its 40th anniversary will follow the Gregorian date. Perhaps this is for the best, as it will not distract us from the holidays. There is no reason, however, not to contemplate the responses of men like Rav Amital.

Four Approaches to Fasting

Why do we fast? What is fasting supposed to accomplish?

Within Judaism and other religions, fasting is conceptualized in different ways. There are three, possibly four different approaches, only one of which has biblical support.

The first approach sees fasting as a form of expiation: my bodily suffering serves as retribution for bodily sin. I experience a little bit of pain or a little bit of death, and that cleanses me from the stigma of transgression. The pre-Yom Kippur ‘Tefilah Zakah’ prayer is an excellent example of this idea within the Jewish tradition. Line after line, the prayer expresses the hope that each element of suffering purges a corresponding area of sin: not wearing leather shoes atones for when my feet ran to do evil, not eating atones for forbidden foods I consumed, and so forth. The traditional ‘BeHa”B’ fasts are in this vein as well - fasts were observed after major Jewish holidays to atone for conspicuous consumption during the holidays.


The second approach views fasting as sobering corrective. I return to spirit by denying the body. By removing the distractions of the flesh I am able to turn back to the soul and nourish it with what it requires. This is the classic Platonic view of asceticism, that the body actually impedes the soul. One need not take an extreme ascetic view in order to see fasting as a manifestation of this idea; just as easily, fasting might be an attempt to restore balance between body and spirit. It is a temporary measure to create a certain atmosphere for a brief period of time, after which things return to normal. Perhaps the mitzvah to eat on the day before Yom Kippur echoes this view that asceticism has value, yet must be tempered. In the contemporary milieu, a form of this approach is advocated by those who cast fasts as days to reflect on personal food choices.


A third possible approach was taken by R. Tzadok Ha-kohen of Lublin. He turned the equation on its head by reconceptualizing fasting not as a set of behaviors intended to effect change, but as a set of behaviors that reflect a mood. On Yom Kippur, when your life hangs in the balance, food is the last thing on your mind. How can you think about eating? On Tisha B'Av, while contemplating the smoldering ruin of God's Temple and the destruction of Jewish civilization, who even has an appetite? Who can eat?


A fourth approach is implied in Chapter 58 of Isaiah, which is tellingly recited as the Haftara on the morning of Yom Kippur. The prophet begins by criticizing those who fast and beat their chests while continuing to oppress and persecute. He declares that this is not the fast that God wants. What, then, is the fast that God wants?

Is it not to...loose the fetters of wickedness, undo the bands of the yoke, let the oppressed go free, and break every yoke? Is it not to deal your bread to the hungry, and bring the homeless poor to your house? when thou see the naked, that you cover him, and that you do not ignore your own flesh? (Isa. 58:6-7)

 At first blush, the contrast seems to fail. The "fast that God desires" is not a fast at all - it is feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and sheltering the homeless. On further contemplation, however, an entirely different conceptualization of fasting emerges.


A Jewish "fast" is more than not eating or drinking. It included wearing sackcloth and ashes as well as congregating in public places to pray and mourn (see, for example, Mishna Taanit 2:1 or Ch. 4 of the Book of Esther). Isaiah's prescription for the fast that God desires addresses precisely these elements: when you gather in the town square to call out to God, think of the people who sleep there at night because they have no home. When you feel the pangs of hunger after not eating for a day, think about those for whom this is a regular occurrence. When you don your sackcloth and ashes and take off your comfortable shoes, remember that there are those who do not have what to wear. The point of fasting is to sensitize us to those for whom such denials are a daily occurrence, and not by choice.


This approach to fasting is shared by Islam. According to Islamic law, one who cannot fast on Ramadan must instead feed the poor for a day. This link between fasting and feeding the poor is precisely the same as the one made by Isaiah.


The Jewish people, if not prophets, remain the children of the prophets (b. Pesachim 66a). Although the synagogue has replaced the public square as the site of our fasts, and although Isaiah's linkage of fasting with social welfare goes largely ignored, it is refreshing and inspiring to see that the core instinct has not completely evaporated. Over the summer, hundreds of thousands of Israelis took to the streets to protests their country's lack of social justice. Regardless of one's opinion of the protests' aims, this linkage between voluntary homelessness and sensitivity to social ills harks back to the prophecy of Isaiah.

Israel's New Daylight Savings Law

Interior Minister Eli Yishai has extended Daylight Savings Time into October. This means that Yom Kippur will not fall during DST about 50% of the time. Extending DST into October makes economic sense according to virtually all studies, but many religious people are upset because now Yom Kippur will be "longer".

Of course, Yom Kippur will not be "longer." It's 25 hours any way you slice it. If the issue is that it "feels" longer or contains more waking hours, synagogues now have leeway to start services a bit later (daylight starts later, after all) so people can sleep longer and keep the same number of wakeful fasting hours. And if not? Tough it out. An hour being hungry isn't worth tens of millions of shekels. Furthermore, synagogues that start earlier at the beginning of the winter calendar (because sof z'man kri'at Shema is earlier) will be able to keep their 8:30am start times for a few extra weeks. So there's a net benefit for hours of sleep accrued. Since I try to go to a very early minyan on Yom Kippur so that I can come home and my wife can go to a later minyan, the new schedule actually works out better for me.

High Holiday Tune Selection FAIL

All of the davening was nice. All of the ba’alei tefilla for the main tefilot (Shacharit and Mussaf on RH; everything, except maybe mincha, on YK) knew nusach and had nice voices. Nobody was too quick or too shleppy. Which is good. So why did I get the feeling that it wasn’t anything special this year?

I think it has to do with the tune selection of pretty much every shali’ach tzibbur – and I’ll include myself in this. I’m aware that tune selection is a tricky business. The tune must capture the mood of the particular piyut in question (i.e., no U-netaneh Tokef to the tune of “Puff the Magic Dragon,” to use an actual example from my childhood). The tune must be familiar to the crowd, or at least be familiar to enough of the crowd that you’re not singing solo and simple enough for others to pick it up quickly. And I think that the ba’alei tefilla all nailed these down pretty well, even if some got a little cutesy or gimmicky (like Ve-khol Ma’aminim TTTO “Anachnu Ma’aminim Benei Ma’aminim”).

The problem was this: too many of the tunes used were tunes from throughout the year. There were a bunch of Shabbat zemirot tunes (the Gerrer Kol Mekadesh, the Carlebach Kah Ribon, the standard Friday night and Shabbat afternoon tunes for Yedid Nefesh, and others). It was Carlebach heavy, but with Carlebach tunes that are completely ubiquitous – “Ata Takum,” “Niggun Neshama,” and the like. And I think that every slow song ever written by Abie Rottenberg made an appearance at some point during the High Holidays.

I’ll grant that many of these tunes actually were set to parts of the liturgy – Ko Amar  and Ha-bein Yakir Li being the obvious examples. I was also happy that “Adam Ha-Rishon’s Niggun” made several appearances (I used it for “Atiti Le-chonenakh”) over the course of the High Holidays.

These are all wonderful tunes, but by and large too few of them were Yamim Nora’im tunes. I understand that YK fell out on Shabbat this year – so commemorate that by using one standard Shabbat tune. Or use a Shabbat tune that is not sung every. single. week. There are at least three well-known tunes for Yedid Nefesh that are not standard (the one from Aish is my favorite – and I used it for Mimkomecha at Shacharit on RH). Use one of them (I see that my neighbor, the Nusach Freak, has the same gripe).

There’s a reason that these days are called the Days of Awe. The liturgy – and that includes the tunes – should inspire intense feelings of love, awe, and majesty. Using special tunes, that the congregation associates specifically with the Yamim Nora’im – like we all do with Chamol, for example – is the only way to do that.

One other gripe – don’t hybridize tunes for kaddish titkabel, something I heard a few times this holiday season. I enjoy the standard tune, what the NF calls the “victory kaddish.” I also happen to love the Modzhitzer titkabel, which I use. But don’t start with Modzhitz and switch to the victory tune for yehei shelama rabbah. You’re simply not doing justice to either.

I enjoy a mix of popular tunes (of the Carlebach and D’veykus variety), Chassidishe melodies (few and far between in our milieu, unfortunately), and “standard” Yamim Nora’im tunes from America, Israel, and even from particular yeshivot. And I’m not rigid about it like some people are. But when the tunes used are rather pedestrian, then the entire davening feels pedestrian, uninspiring, blah. In short, the davening wasn’t anything special because it wasn’t anything special.

Negotiations

[I wrote most of this on Erev Yom Kippur, but ran out of time and was unable to post it beforehand]

The parsha of Ki Tavo coincides annually with the second Shabbat before Rosh Hashana. The most prominent feature of the parsha is the blessing and curses that God promises for upholding or failing to uphold the Torah. A superficial look will show quite obviously that the curses, the tokhecha, is much longer than the promised blessings. In fact, there is a general pattern that the warnings against breaching God’s covenant are generally much longer and more detailed than the promises of reward for obedience.

Negotiation is a tricky business. It involves getting two (or more) parties to consent to some kind of mutually beneficial association. In order for negotiations to succeed, the agreement must be in the best interest of each side. The more each party feels that it has no choice but to come to an understanding, the greater the chance that the negotiations will succeed. This is true of any and every negotiation.

As a result, the reward for upholding an agreement should be self-evident – if it were not worth my while to enter into the association, I would not have done so. Sure, there can be incentives along the way, but the real benefit of the agreement should be part and parcel of the agreement itself, not some external sanction or incentive. On the other hand, building sanctions into an agreement can keep each party honest. The greater the penalty for backing out of an agreement, the less likely a party is to have a change of heart and breach the contract. This accounts for the length of the tokhecha as well as the small print on any contract.

Currently, the NFL Players Association and the NFL owners are in the initial stages of negotiating a new collective bargaining agreement. Though there may be a lockout, everybody knows that the players and owners will eventually come to an agreement. After all, the players and owners desperately need each other. The owners can’t play, the players don’t have the resources to run a team, and the benefit that accrues to both when a team is fielded is way too great for either side to terminate the relationship for any extended period of time.

Contrast that with the current negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority. The recent articles by Karl Vick and Roger Cohen about whether Israelis are truly invested in the peace process point to a reality that I think is accurate, even if the authors did not necessarily unpack it correctly: Israelis want peace, no doubt. But things are good enough in Israel right now that the incentives offered by peace do not justify the risks that peacemaking entails. Israelis are not desperate for peace, because, frankly, life is pretty darn good without it. And so the price they’re willing to pay for peace is not so high (I’m not judging whether this prevailing attitude is good or bad, or whether it has any bearing on the actual negotiation process, which much address a far more complex reality – those are much longer posts).

This is all by way of introduction to the intense negotiations that Jewish people all over the world will hold with their God over the next day. The primal, mythic core of Yom Kippur is the re-enactment of God’s selection of Israel and His entry into a covenant with them (the most potent symbols of this are the se’ir La-Shem and the second Luchot). Our basis for negotiations (see here) is that our collective relationship with God is akin to that of the players vis-à-vis ownership; we are powerless yet indispensable to His goals (Rav Ezra Bick has a wonderful discussion of this concept here), and He therefore must renew His covenant with us.

Tovel ve-sheretz be-yado.
Oh, Jimmy.

Holiday Roundup

The holiday roundup thus far:

On the Yamim Noraim, I gave 2 shiurim and davened a Shacharit, a Maariv, and Neilah for the amud. Nevertheless, I emerged feeling pretty uninspired and that the Yamim Tovim were “Lo Nora”. It’s possible that I’ve been so absorbed in my new self-employment that I simply have not been able to focus on it.

Whenever I clapped at latznu, I was being “toveil ve-sheretz be-yado”.

I’ve been reading up a bit on the history of etrogim. Fascinating history. One amusing recollection that I have is of an Israeli discussing the responsum of the Chatam Sofer on the kashrut of the so-called “Yanover Esrogim”. These esrogim were actually from Southern Italy, but reached Central Europe via the port of Genoa (Yanova). The Israeli kept referring to the city of Geneva, which neither possesses the climate to grow citrons nor is a port city.

I also noticed yesterday, when visiting a religious yishuv, that they labeled an etrog tree with a short description that includes the purported fact that etrogim were introduced into Israel around the time of Ezra. I think that this is generally accepted by historians and botanists (or perhaps it is a bit early by their count), but I was under the impression that the general thinking in mainstream Orthodox circles is that the etrog goes back to the time of Moshe and the giving of the Torah. I’m not disturbed by the idea that there was some ambiguity regarding the identity of the pri etz hadar. There are some indicators in Tanach (Nechemiah 8:15) and in the Gemara (Kiddushin 70a) that the etrog was a foreign import and not initially understood to be the Biblical pri etz hadar. However, I was unaware that there were segments of the Orthodox world who took this as a foregone conclusion.

Happy Eruversary

This past Shabbat/Yom Kippur marked three years since the University of Maryland/College Park Eruv became operational. It was a great project. I still consider it the highlight of my rabbinic career. There are a few stories in particular from when we were building the eruv that stand out.

First of all, the whole project was, in my opinion, a major Kiddush Hashem. It was highly visible and got excellent publicity in various local media outlets.

We primarily worked at night because the technology we employed was really only visible at night. We used a self-leveling laser to make sure that the tips of our lechis, which were ½” ground wire molding strips affixed to electricity poles, were directly underneath the electrical wire (based on the principle of gud asik). This is a relatively new but highly effective technique used in eruv-building. Normally, the lechi would have been run all the way up to the wire. This device, which cost us $200, saved us thousands and made it easy to thoroughly check the eruv regularly. The inventor of this little gadget was truly mezakeh the rabbim. We had to work at night, however, because it’s really hard to notice a red dot on a black wire in broad daylight.

So imagine, if you will, a bunch of guys walking around at 2 a.m., holding flashlights, hammers, nails, metal brackets, plastic strips, and this laser thingy, which, before we realized it an covered the extraneous beams, would shoot off into drivers, living rooms, etc. Despite letters of encouragement from the city, county, and university, we had a hard time explaining to people exactly what we were doing, and why we were doing it at such ungodly hours. Then we started getting media coverage, and all of a sudden everyone understood – ‘Oh, you were those guys on the news…’

Part of the fun was translating the theoretical into practice. In theory, it’s easy to slap a piece of plastic on a pole. In practice, there’s no such thing as a straight telephone pole. We found out what type of plastic we’d need, and then figured we’d go to Lowe’s or Home Depot and just pick it up. Wrong. They don’t sell ground wire molding. So we did some research on the web and came up with 4 or 5 suppliers of the stuff, and started calling around. I called this place in Roanoke, VA called Virginia Plastics, and get on the phone with their warehouse manager. Yes, they have 300 yards of ½” black ground-wire molding in stock. The woman then asks me if I work for an electrical company – their main clients. I responded that, no, this was for a private initiative. So the woman says, “Oh, are y’all building an ee-ruv? Did I say that right?” I nearly fell off my chair.

There were some other moments as well. When placing the last lechis in a wooded area at the northern end of the boundary – at around 3am – we found that these woods were also home to rather large spiders in large webs. At least one of our party was an arachnophobe.
I heard from a former UMD student that she had been on the Eruv Committee 10 years earlier. I later found the minutes from those meetings. That eruv had been in the works for at least a decade, but it was about a month between the time we drove the first nail into wood and the time it became operational.
Our eruv dedication ceremony was attended by various notables, including University President C. D. Mote. In my speech, I made reference to some of the challenges of eruv building. Afterward, during the reception, President Mote came over with some technical questions about how eruvin work. I invited him to attend the shiur that I had started giving on the ins and outs of practical eruv building and checking, in order to train our bodkim, but he politely declined. Woulda been nice if it could have been accredited by, say, the engineering department. No such luck, though.

Thoughts on Forgiveness

When it comes to Yom Kippur, we discuss the theme of the day by using terms like atonement. ‘Atonement’, and even ‘forgiveness’ to a degree, is not used meaningfully in our society. There are other words – like clemency, pardon, reprieve, excuse, and amnesty – which have much greater cultural currency. Three of these terms form a juridical progression. Clemency is a reduction of a sentence without minimizing the gravity of the crime. A pardon is when the crime is forgiven but where the guilt of the pardoned is implicitly recognized. Amnesty happens when an offender or group of offenders is treated as though the crime never took place at all.

And for all of them, O clement God, grant us clemency, pardon us, grant us amnesty

The term ‘forgive’ is more often used in the context of individuals, free agents. If I owe you money, you have the option of forgiving that debt. That idea can be transposed to insult and injury as well. I feel it is important to clarify terminology because otherwise we’re simply playing word games – with our selves, with our friends, and with God. Thus, I would like to take this opportunity to ask my readers to forgive any offense I may have committed against you this year.

The Ethical Dimension of Fasting

In Yeshayahu Chapter 58, which forms the main part of the Haftarah of Yom Kippur Morning, the navi contrasts the type of fast that God desires with the type of fast that He despises:

ישעיהו פרק נח

ג) למה צמנו ולא ראית ענינו נפשנו ולא תדע הן ביום צמכם תמצאו חפץ וכל עצביכם תנגשו: (ד) הן לריב ומצה תצומו ולהכות באגרף רשע לא תצומו כיום להשמיע במרום קולכם: (ה) הכזה יהיה צום אבחרהו יום ענות אדם נפשו הלכף כאגמן ראשו ושק ואפר יציע הלזה תקרא צום ויום רצון לידוד: (ו) הלוא זה צום אבחרהו פתח חרצבות רשע התר אגדות מוטה ושלח רצוצים חפשים וכל מוטה תנתקו: (ז) הלוא פרס לרעב לחמך ועניים מרודים תביא בית כי תראה ערם וכסיתו ומבשרך לא תתעלם: (ח) אז יבקע כשחר אורך וארכתך מהרה תצמח והלך לפניך צדקך כבוד ידוד יאספך: (ט) אז תקרא וידוד יענה תשוע ויאמר הנני אם תסיר מתוכך מוטה שלח אצבע ודבר און:

5 Is such the fast that I have chosen? the day for a man to afflict his soul? Is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the LORD? 6 Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the fetters of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? 7 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him, and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? 8 Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy healing shall spring forth speedily; and thy righteousness shall go before thee, the glory of the LORD shall be thy rearward. 9 Then shalt thou call, and the LORD will answer; thou shalt cry, and He will say: 'Here I am.' If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking wickedness;

The contrast seems to be a refrain of the classic prophetic message that observance and worship are meaningless if the worshipper oppresses his fellow human being. This recurs throughout the Latter Prophets, quite literally from the first chapter in Yeshayahu until the last (actually, second to last) chapter in Malachi.

I was bothered, though, by the following question. Verse 6 begins by saying ‘This is the fast I desire’, and then goes on, for the next 2 verses, to beautifully describe a man’s duty to his fellow. There’s a progression from ‘sur me-ra’ in verse 6, where the prophet enjoins his audience to stop oppressing their fellows, to ‘aseh tov’ in verse 7, where the audience is encouraged to actively provide food, shelter, and clothing (in that order) to the needy. This description seems to have nothing to do with fasting, though.

There are two basic reasons given for why we fast: expiation and sobriety. Expiation means that my bodily suffering serves at retribution for bodily sin. I experience a little bit of pain or a little bit of death, and that cleanses me from the stigma of transgression. The pre-Yom Kippur ‘Tefilah Zakah’ prayer is an excellent example of this idea within the Jewish tradition. Line after line, the prayer expresses the hope that each element of suffering purges a corresponding area of sin: not wearing leather shoes atones for when my feet ran to do evil, not eating atones for forbidden foods I consumed, and so forth. The traditional ‘BeHa”B’ fasts are in this vein as well.

Sobriety means that I return to spirit by denying the body. By removing the distractions of the flesh I am able to turn back to the soul and nourish it with what it requires. This is the classic view of asceticism, that the body actually impedes the soul. One need not take an extreme ascetic view in order to see fasting as a manifestation of this idea; just as easily, fasting might be an attempt to restore balance between body and spirit. It is a temporary measure to create a certain atmosphere for a brief period of time, after which things return to normal. Perhaps the mitzvah to eat on the day before Yom Kippur echoes this view that asceticism has value, yet must be tempered.

This chapter seems to be advocating an entirely different dimension to fasting. The problem with the fasting that ‘God has not chosen’ is that I pound my chest with wicked fists. The same hand I beat my breast with is also around the throat of the oppressed. It’s not about the public display of piety, fools. Do you think that’s what God wants?

Rather, when you gather in the town square to call out to God, think of the people who sleep there at night because they have no home. When you feel the pangs of hunger after not eating for a day, think about those for whom this is a regular occurrence. When you don your sackcloth and ashes, remember that there are those who do not have what to wear.

I know that this sounds like a Camp Ramah D’var Torah, but it is precisely what the Navi is saying. This is the fast that God wants: feed the hungry, give shelter to the homeless, and clothe the naked. It means thinking twice before flippantly saying ‘I’m starving’, ‘I’m dying of thirst’, or ‘I have nothing to wear’, because there are people who are really starving, really dying of thirst, and really have nothing to wear.

I thought of this explanation on the bus in Jerusalem this morning, but now realize that it had been percolating for a few days. Each year, Magen David Adom organizes massive blood drives before Tishrei and before Pesach, in anticipation that supplies will begin to run low during the holidays. As I was giving blood last week, I though of the line in ‘Tefilah Zakah’ – ‘may the lessening of my blood and fat atone for all of my sins, iniquities, and transgressions.’ Indeed, there is an ethical dimension to fasting.

If God had a Facebook page…

…His relationship status would be ‘It’s complicated with The Jews’.

A Reading of Avoda Zara 17a: The Strange Case of Rabbi Elazar ben Dordaya, Part 2

Although Elazar has, at this point in the story, stepped away from the brink of eternal futility, he has not yet repented. He sits alone and searches for an intermediary. These lines are the most cryptic in the story: what exactly does he want from the sun, moon, stars, etc.? How can they beg for his mercy?

Elazar had just learned that he was leading a futile life. He had contributed nothing to the world of any redemptive value. Faced with that reality, he, as many would, looks for redemption that stems from mercy, not justice. It was not his fault. He was condemned from the outset to lead a life that way. Why?

Because of the material wealth (heaven and earth? see Bereishit 27:28) he had accumulated without earning. Because societal norms (mountains and valleys? See Yeshaya 40:4) conditioned him to value certain things. Because his parents (the sun and moon? see Bereishit 37:9) spoiled him and told him he could have whatever he wanted, and that the main thing is to be happy. Because he was, by nature (stars and constellations as proto-psychology?), through no fault of his own, predisposed toward certain types of behavior and craved certain types of attention and companionship. Thus he sought to place blame. Everything has conspired to make him like this, thus absolving him of his own responsibility.

Each thing, in turn, rejects his attempt to blame them by noting its own worthlessness. Once one begins to blame, it’s blame all the way down. There is no responsibility for anything, and everything becomes arbitrary. Each verse cited appears as a contrast between the world’s futility and God’s Eternity and responsibility. Human beings, and they alone, were invested with the ability to say ‘the buck stops here’. Only man can become responsible, and only by accepting responsibility can man be redeemed. It is certainly possible to place blame, but then of what significance is man?

Elazar ultimately does take responsibility. He curls up and cries until he dies. Did he achieve resolution? Did he become something other than a shattered remnant of a man? Is that teshuvah?

As is well known, there is a 12-step process for overcoming addiction. I once met an addict who described his experience with the steps, stating that at a certain point, after Step 5, I believe, he felt like a newborn baby, completely clean and innocent. I think that sense is borne out in the Gemara at this stage. Elazar places his head between his knees, curls up into the fetal position. As we saw earlier, the process of teshuvah is compared to a return to the source. Here, Elazar actualizes this process, cleansing himself and recovering his core identity.

At this point in the story, Elazar dies. The Gemara suggests that it had to be this way, that he could only truly atone through death. The Rambam cited earlier (Teshuva 2:1) seems to suggest that his death upon repentance was a form of grace. Had Elazar rejoined society, gone back home after his intense experience, what would have happened? Would his change have been made permanent? Was he still vulnerable to a relapse? None of that matters, because he died. He died innocent, like a newborn.

Alternatively, it really doesn’t matter what happened the next day. The Elazar ben Dordaya that we met at the beginning of the story died. Perhaps he left the valley, enrolled in night school, became an accountant, got married, had a bunch of kids, and learned daf yomi. It doesn’t really matter. The story ends with his total repentance. What happens next is Chapter 1 of a different story.

The omniscient narrator, privy to events seen and heard by nobody, now records a heavenly voice that issued forth upon Elazar’s death – he had achieved eternity. God had given his seal of approval. There can be no more room for speculation that perhaps Rabbi Elazar’s repentance was not complete or not sufficient.

Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Nasi, known as just Rabbi, cried when he heard Rabbi Elazar’s story. Rabbi was a paragon of virtue, never even letting his hands slide below his navel despite the pain of having kidney stones. Jewish tradition knows him as ‘Our Holy Rabbi’. And he has just found out that in the heavenly academy, he will be sitting next to Mr. Hefner, who gained access at the very last minute. Moreover, he seems to have gotten a last minute semicha. Imagine that on sukkot you walk into a friend’s sukkah and see a poster of all of the gedolim on the wall. The Rav is there. Rav Kook is there. The Chazon Ish, Rav Moshe Feinstein, Rav Shlomo Zalman. And Hugh (OK, I’ve actually been in a sukkah which had a poster of R’ Kook next to a picture of Bob Marley, but I digress).

Rabbi’s sobs echo the criticisms of Eliyahu and Yonah; teshuva is not fair, especially for those who have remained clean throughout. The Kotzker’s quip – that tzadikim gemurim can’t stand in the place of ba’alei teshuva because ‘tze shtinkt dortn’ (it smells over there) – becomes Rabbi as well. And I sympathize. It really seems unfair sometimes.

Yet, there he is. Rabbi Elazar ben Dordaya. He earned the honorific ‘Rabbi’ (which was once an honorific) because he did what Rabbis do: he taught us something. He taught us about complete repentance, turning around at the top of your game, accepting responsibility, and returning to your clean, innocent self.

A Reading of Avoda Zara 17a: The Strange Case of Rabbi Elazar ben Dordaya, Part 1

תלמוד בבלי מסכת עבודה זרה דף יז עמוד א

תניא: אמרו עליו על ר"א בן דורדיא, שלא הניח זונה אחת בעולם שלא בא עליה. פעם אחת שמע שיש זונה אחת בכרכי הים והיתה נוטלת כיס דינרין בשכרה, נטל כיס דינרין והלך ועבר עליה שבעה נהרות. בשעת הרגל דבר הפיחה, אמרה: כשם שהפיחה זו אינה חוזרת למקומה, כך אלעזר בן דורדיא אין מקבלין אותו בתשובה. הלך וישב בין שני הרים וגבעות, אמר: הרים וגבעות בקשו עלי רחמים, אמרו לו: עד שאנו מבקשים עליך נבקש על עצמנו, שנאמר: +ישעיהו נד+ כי ההרים ימושו והגבעות תמוטינה. אמר: שמים וארץ בקשו עלי רחמים, אמרו: עד שאנו מבקשים עליך נבקש על עצמנו, שנאמר: +ישעיהו נא+ כי שמים כעשן נמלחו והארץ כבגד תבלה. אמר: חמה ולבנה בקשו עלי רחמים, אמרו לו: עד שאנו מבקשים עליך נבקש על עצמנו, שנאמר: +ישעיהו כד+ וחפרה הלבנה ובושה החמה. אמר: כוכבים ומזלות בקשו עלי רחמים, אמרו לו: עד שאנו מבקשים עליך נבקש על עצמנו, שנאמר: +ישעיהו לד+ ונמקו כל צבא השמים. אמר: אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי, הניח ראשו בין ברכיו וגעה בבכיה עד שיצתה נשמתו. יצתה בת קול ואמרה: ר"א בן דורדיא מזומן לחיי העולם הבא… בכה רבי ואמר: יש קונה עולמו בכמה שנים, ויש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת. ואמר רבי: לא דיין לבעלי תשובה שמקבלין אותן, אלא שקורין אותן רבי.

BT Avoda Zara 17a

It was taught: It was said about R. Elazar ben Dordaya that there was not as single whore that he did not have relations with. He once heard that there was a certain whore in one of the towns by the sea whose price was a wallet full of dinarim. He took a wallet of dinarim and crossed seven rivers to get to her. During foreplay, she passed gas and said, “Just as this wind will not return to its source, so, too, Elazar ben Dordaya’s repentance will never be accepted.

He then went and sat between two hills and mountains. He said: “Hills and mountains, plead for mercy for me!” They replied: “Before we pray for mercy for you, we must pray for ourselves, as it says ‘For the mountains shall depart and the hills be removed’” (Yeshaya 54). He said: “Heaven and earth, plead for mercy for me!” They replied: “Before we pray for mercy for you, we must pray for ourselves, as it says, ‘For the heavens shall vanish like smoke, and the earth will become worn out like a garment’” (Yeshaya 51). He said: “Sun and moon, plead for mercy for me!” They replied: “Before we pray for mercy for you, we must pray for ourselves, as it says, ‘Then the moon shall be confounded and the sun ashamed’” (Yeshaya 24). He said: “Stars and constellations, plead for mercy for me!” They replied: “Before we pray for mercy for you, we must pray for ourselves, as it says, ‘And all the hosts of heaven shall rot away’” (Yeshaya 34). He said : “It all depends on me alone.” He placed his head between his knees and he wept aloud until he died. A heavenly voice issued forth and said: “Rabbi Eleazar ben Dordai is destined for eternal life.”…Rabbi [Judah Ha-Nasi] wept and said: “Some acquire eternal life over many years, and some in one hour!” Rabbi also said: “It is not sufficient for ba’alei teshuvah that they are accepted, but they are even called ‘Rabbi’!”

The story seems straightforward enough: there’s a beginning, where we meet a decrepit Elazar ben Dordaya and hear of his sexual adventures. There’s a middle, where he seeks mercy from various inanimate entities, and an end, where he achieves true repentance. There’s also an epilogue where Rabbi makes several points about the experience of repentance. The main thrust of the story is obviously Elazar’s transformation. Understanding this Gemara means getting to the bottom of his experience in all parts of the story.

First, a word about the main character’s name. Maharal points out that the name ‘Dordaya’ is related to ‘le-darder’ – ‘to degenerate’, and also to God’s curse of Original Man – ‘it will sprout thorns and thistles (dardar)’. Thus, the name ‘Elazar ben Dordaya’ means ‘God helped the degenerate son’ or something like that. God’s only appearance in this story is as a part of Elazar’s name/identity.

Elazar was no lowlife. When a guy sits around drinking cheap booze, he’s a wino, a drunkard. When a guy drinks an abundance of very good wines, he’s a connoisseur. He was not simply chasing after his desires, a creature overwhelmed by passion. He promoted it into a lifestyle. In Biblcal and Rabbinic symbolism, ‘crossing a river’ has a similar connotation to ‘going against the tide’. Elazar defied convention and overcame obstacles in his pursuit. Neither money nor distance was an obstacle. His goal was to experience it all simply because he could, like the first man who scaled Mt. Everest, “because it was there”.

The Gemara doesn’t tell us how Elazar could afford his luxurious and sensual lifestyle. One gets the impression (from his name, mainly) that his wealth was inherited. He was a rich kid with Daddy’s credit card and become famous for something fundamentally unproductive. He just as easily could have chosen to ride every roller coaster or smoke every brand of cigar. Sleeping with every prostitute is paradigmatic of this lifestyle choice. He is a millionaire playboy – nay – he’s THE millionaire playboy. Elazar ben Dordaya was the Hugh Heffner (intentionally misspelled to avoid automatic amazon links) of his generation.

Elazar travels far and is willing to spend a small fortune on a particular prostitute in a city by the sea. Perhaps this was to be his ‘crowning achievement’, his last and greatest experience. After this, what’s left? Indeed, while he was with this prostitute, she tells him that very thing. This is it. There’s no going back for you. You can never get back to your origins. You are a lost cause.

Perhaps if Elazar had finished what he started, there indeed would have been no going back, or at least not all the way back. Had Elazar slept with that whore, he might have woken up the next morning feeling totally empty. What’s left? The incredible meaninglessness of his life would have finally dawned on him, after the thrill of his pursuit had blinded him to it for so long. One often hears about entertainers, athletes, and celebrities who return to religion, Judaism included, once they are on the downside of their careers. Something which had occupied such a central place in their lives had been removed, leaving a gaping emptiness. Granted, the doors of repentance remain open, but, as Rambam writes (Laws of Repentance 2:1, where he ‘paskens’ this Gemara, and in the process strips away the narrative elements), full teshuvah occurs only before the onset of the downside.

Elazar’s ultimate teshuvah is complete specifically because he turned around before reaching his summit. The whore’s prediction proves untrue because he did not let the moment that it would become true – perhaps just minutes away – arrive. One may ask what this prostitute was doing giving mussar shmuessen. She is not in much of a position to issue rebuke to others, and from a purely pragmatic perspective, it’s probably bad for business (‘You naughty boy’ does not count as mussar). So what is she saying?

I would suggest that she did not need to say anything. Something, some gesture, called his own futility into relief. Something about the moment gave him pause. Perhaps he had glorified his actions and glorified this woman (as a ‘godess’, perhaps), but was called back to earth by the recognition that she, too, is just another human being who holds no keys to immortality. Indeed, the Gemara later suggests that Elazar’s devotion to his ‘cause’ was so strong that it actually became an avodah zarah. The very act of turning away, exhibiting strength of character similar to Joseph’s, enables his ultimate redemption.

TBC...

Rambam on Sexual Sin

[cross-posted to Reshimu]

Maimonides, Laws of Repentance 2:9

“Repentance and Yom Kippur only atone for sins between man and God, such as eating forbidden foods, engaging in forbidden sexual relations, and the like. Sins between man and his fellow, however, like if one injures, curses, steals, etc. from his friend, he is not forgiven until he pays his fellow what he owes him and appeases him…”

That Rambam includes prohibited sexual relations in the category of ‘Between Man and God’ is jarring. If one cheats on a spouse, is a pedophile, or commits rape it is only between man and God? There is no victimization in these cases? There are definitely cases, such as between consenting adults, where indeed there is no sin toward a fellow human being. On the contrary, the parties involved might even think that the other is ‘doing such a mitzvah!’ Perhaps Rambam takes his cue from King David who confesses his sexual sin with Batsheva by saying before God, “I have sinned against You alone, and have done what is evil in Your eyes (Tehillim 51:6)”. Yet, the parable that Natan the Prophets confronts David with sure seems to imply that the sin was against Uriah. I’m really not sure what to make of this Psalm; granted, there wasn’t much David could do for Uriah at that point, and granted that Chaza”l jumped through hoops to make David’s sin technically permissible although still morally reprehensible (as clearly evidenced by his confession!). In my opinion, however, these justifications do not sufficiently clear God’s Messiah from having done wrong by his fellow human being.

One might suggest that there are two aspects of sexual sin – one against God and one against man. Fair enough. It’s possible. I’m not satisfied with that answer because a) there are many prohibitions ‘between man and his fellow’ which could have fallen into both categories, and b) Rambam uses sexual sin as a paradigmatic example of ‘bein Adam la-makom’. Is there a shortage of prohibitions of the ‘between man and God’ type? Shouldn’t idolatry make that list?

To add a bit of fuel to the fire, Rambam makes a well-known distinction in the sixth chapter of ‘Shemoneh Prakim’, his introduction to his commentary on Tractate Avot. He notes, on one hand, that the philosophers say that it is better to do good because one is naturally inclined toward doing good than to do good because one forces himself to do good. On the other hand, Our Sages said that one need not reduce his appetite for sin. Rather one should refrain from sin because it is the decree of God. Rambam resolves this issue by saying that each refers to a different category of mitzvot: those which are ‘mefursamot’ (which I, not knowing the original Arabic and basing it on context, would translate as ‘conventional’) and would naturally be arrived at by every society and correspond to widespread definitions of good and evil, and those which are ‘shim’iyot’ and would not be considered evil had the Torah not prohibited them.

The list of ‘widespread’ mitzvot includes the prohibitions against stealing, murder, battery, and overcharging. The other list includes shaatnez, prohibited foods, and – you guessed it – prohibited sexual relations. Once again, the inclusion of sexual relations on this list seems very jarring. Here, though, he’s quoting from an earlier source (my edition doesn’t give the reference, but I found a variant in the Yalkut Shimoni on Kedoshim, 626). Once again, one can make the case that certain sexual sins are not forbidden because of a need to maintain society the same way that, say, theft must be prohibited. It’s somewhat chilling to think that Rambam would say that it’s ok to look around and think ‘efshi ve-efshi, but God said no’.

These two examples lead me to the conclusion that Rambam had a dramatically different sexual ethic than we do. He treats it very impersonally, like it’s a biological fact and need and not a function of erotic love. The problem with cheating on a spouse is that God said no – and it remains between man and God. For the Rambam, it’s not a significant en1ugh c1mponent of the human relationship for it to warrant categorization as ‘Between Man and Man’ or for it to be acknowledged as a norm that all societies recognize. The closest that I’ve seen the Rambam coming to a description of Eros is in Yesodei Ha-Torah 2:2, and there he talks about the love of God.

Rav Lichtenstein, Ralph Branca, and Alan Dershowitz

(Indeed, baseball is on my mind, as one of my childhood heroes, Cal Ripken, is being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame today. A few posts on the topic may follow, but you can start with this one)

This is one of those stories that can only take place with people from a certain generation, when the world of American Orthodoxy was much smaller and centered in very few locations. It begins on the afternoon of October 3, 1951, when the New York Giants’ Bobby Thomson hit his famous “Shot Heard Round the World” off Brooklyn Dodgers’ pitcher Ralph Branca. It is considered one of the greatest moments in baseball history, if not the greatest.

A few years ago, though I don’t know exactly when, a Jewish publication erroneously noted that the game was played on Erev Yom Kippur, Kol Nidre night. Rabbi T (name withheld upon request) of Yeshivat Har Etzion (a.k.a., Gush) remembered that a friend of his, and an observant Jew, claimed to be at that game, which would have been close to impossible if the game indeed coincided with the eve of the fast. Rav T went and asked Rav Lichtenstein, who is a bit older and would have a better memory of the day, whether this was indeed the case. Rav Lichtenstein responded that he remembers distinctly that the game was, in fact, played on Tzom Gedalyah, the fast day which falls a week before Yom Kippur (this calculation can be confirmed here). Rav T then commented to R’ Aharon how amazing it is that Thomson hit the home run even though he was fasting. R’ Lichtenstein responded that, to the contrary, Branca was the one fasting. According to Rav T (who is here in Camp Moshava this month, which has given me the opportunity to clarify some of the details of the anecdote), Rav Lichtenstein was extremely proud of his retort, and asked Rav T to repeat it to others.

I first heard this story from my chavruta when I was in the kollel at Gush. Several years later, I was back in the U.S., teaching in a Jewish high school in the south. The local federation had brought Alan Dershowitz to speak, and the event sponsors offered tickets to the speech and subsequent reception to all Judaic Studies teachers in the school (and I alone took up the offer). During his speech, it somehow came up that he remembered Bobby Thomson’s homer, and that it took place on Yom Kippur. At the reception, I called him on it. I waited in line, and when all of the old Jewish ladies finished kvelling and telling him how much they loved his speech and how they wish their grandkids would read his books, I approached his and said “I enjoyed the speech, but one thing you said was absolutely wrong.” This got his attention. He looked at me, ready for a fight, and said, “Oh, really? And what’s that?” I said (in this fashion, that only one who speaks the language of traditional Judaism speaks), “I have a mesorah from my Rebbeim that the ‘Shot Heard Round the World’ was on Tzom Gedalyah.” He put his hand over his chin in a brooding manner, and after a few seconds conceded: “You’re right. All I remember is that as soon as the game ended, we ran to shul and got there during layning. I assumed it was Yom Kippur, but now that you mention it, I must have been Tzom Gedalyah.”

I wonder how many other people Alan Dershowitz has conceded to. I know of one other, sort of – Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz. In a sense, that story is the continuation of this one (from my perspective, anyway), but it will have to wait for another post.

Collective Bargaining Agreements

I’m not an economist or a labor lawyer, but there are certain features of any labor dispute which seem obvious. There are always three parties involved: ownership, labor, and the consumer. The consumer is the engine that drives the whole thing. When two people own a goose that lays golden eggs, they might bicker over the details and responsibilities of ownership, but ultimately they understand that what’s at stake is more than just schnitzel. They know that keeping it together is ultimately beneficial and necessary for both parties.

The immediate cause for thinking about this is the expiration of the NFL’s CBA. Football is such a cash-cow that it’s simply impossible that there won’t be some kind of agreement reached between ownership and the players. In order to bring the product to the consumer, i.e., the fans, there must be a CBA. Ownership has everything, but can’t play the game. The players can play, but don’t have the resources to bring the game to the world. The needs of the fan dictate that the owners and players must figure out a way to get along, and re-enter into a contract with each other.

OK, but that’s football, right? Wrong.

17 You have agreed this day that the LORD is to be your God, and that you will walk in His ways, and keep His statutes, and His commandments, and His ordinances, and listen to His voice. 18 And the LORD has agreed this day that you are to be His treasure, as He hath promised thee, and to keep all His commandments; 19 and to raise you above all nations that He has made, to be a praise, a name, and a model of glory, and that you will be a holy people unto the LORD your God, as He has spoken. {P}
-Devarim 26: 17-19

The above passage is but one which discusses the nature of the covenant between God and Israel. It’s a bilateral covenant, wherein each side agrees to certain responsibilities. Using the sports analogy, God is Ownership, Israel is the players, and the rest of the world is the fan, the consumer. For better or worse, through thick and thin, God and Israel are ‘stuck’ with each other.

Essentially, Moshe was the first to point this out, in this week’s parsha, when he argues that once God has selected Israel, to destroy them would undermine the very message that He’s trying to broadcast to the world. The basis of this covenant, invoked by Moshe in our Parsha, is the ‘thirteenfold covenant’ which both names God’s attributes and describes for us how we can become ‘Godlike’, how we can ‘walk in his ways’. It also ‘forces’ both both parties involved, God and Israel, to renew the ‘contract’ every year (specifically every Rosh Hashana), where we agree to wipe the slate clean and give it another chance, basically because neither party has a choice in the matter.

There’s also the idea of a ‘Players’ Union’ which is so important. Individually, each player is expendable. Collectively, their bargaining power becomes formidable. Similarly, the bargaining power that each member of Israel has is pretty weak. Any one of us is ultimately expendable. It’s only through ‘collective bargaining’ and ‘unionization’ that we can ‘force’ God back to the table with us.

Haloscan comments

Balancing Ahava and Yir'ah

Here’s something I wrote up on Acharei Mot in the past. It’s not mine originally – it was inspired by something I read in R’ Tzadok – but it’s dead-on both textually and conceptually.

Stay Close; Keep your Distance

This week’s Parsha opens with a prohibition against entering the Sanctum Sanctorum whenever one wishes, and recalls the death of Nadav and Avihu, who perished as a result of coming ‘too close’ to God. The Torah then describes the special Yom Kippur offerings. Following that is the prohibition of Shechutei Chutz, bringing sacrifices outside the precincts of the Temple, which the Torah explicitly compares to foreign worship, here called ‘zivchei se’irim’.

These two prohibitions are antipodal. The first prohibits unrestrained ‘closeness’, the second, too much distance. The first is rooted in an unchecked ahava, a love which bespeaks too much familiarity. Distance between man and God must be maintained. The second is similar to idolatry in that both relate to deities as awesome powers, to be revered but not loved. As gravity threatens to consume the Earth in the sun, and as inertia alone would send the Earth hurtling off into space, so, too must fear and love operate in lockstep. Each becomes most valuable in the presence of the other.

The passages in between describe two particular services on Yom Kippur which are the exceptions to each rule. The High Priest on Yom Kippur must perform a service inside the Sanctum Sanctorum itself. There’s also the service of the Se’ir La-Azazel, when a ‘scapegoat’ is hurled off of a desert cliff. This is the only sacrifice brought outside the Temple. Whether this sacrifice is merely done outside or is actually a sanctioned form of worship of a non-God (as Ramban states, and as is borne out by the connection between Shchutei Chutz and ‘zivchei se’irim) really makes little difference, as the two are conceptually linked.

What can this teach about Yom Kippur, the day upon which these prohibitions are prohibited? There are two conceptual possibilities: that Yom Kippur is a day of heightened balance, or that it’s a day of no balance. The first possibility means that the essential dangers of ‘too close’ or ‘too far’ remain, so permitting one mandates permitting the second to balance. Yom Kippur is thus a day when we allow ourselves extreme religious experiences, provided that they remain balanced. This approach would not, however, explain why an extreme but balanced religious approach would be prohibited at other times.

The second approach, adopted by R’ Zadok in Dover Tzedek, pp.98-99, suggests that on Yom Kippur, normal restraints are unchained. We allow ourselves to get close enough to be burnt, or far enough to become paralyzed, and in these circumstances it’s OK. ‘These circumstances’ – the ‘be-zot’ of the beginning of the Parsha – refer to a state of being, unique to Yom Kippur, when all self-consciousness dissolves into God’s pure, all-embracing Will. This state transcends the dissociation of good and evil, as in it, there is nothing but God. Thus, these two commandments are subsumed under the notion of Aveirah Lishmah – an act that within the paramount reality is a transgression, but within certain states of consciousness become essential. R’ Zadok spells this out, specifically with regard to the Se’ir Ha-Mishtalei’ach – the scapegoat – in paragraph #40 of Tzidkas Ha-Tzaddik.

R’ Zadok (in the Dover Tzedek piece) detects this theme of balance between love and fear in several episodes in TaNach, beginning with the story of Nadav and Avihu and finally achieving balance in the episode of Eliyahu at Mt. Carmel, where Eliyahu brings the people closer to God through the medium of Shchutei Chutz. Along the way, he discusses Pinchas as a character who is struggling to achieve balance. It’s a wonderful piece. Ve-acamo”l. I specifically wanted to bring his points on the beginning of the Parsha, since the textual structure (which R’ Zadok was not so concerned with) and his conceptualization of these mitzvoth dovetail so well.