Thoughts on Yeshiva Student Deferrals

As a taxpaying Israeli with two sons who will one day, in all probability, serve in the IDF (and also hopefully spend a good amount of time studying Torah seriously), I despise the fact that there are blanket military deferrals for yeshiva students. Its social and economic impact on this country are outrageous, as many have noted.

And yet, when I set out to study the history of these deferrals closely, I began to realize how difficult - even impossible - it would be to change this state of affairs. Many of us are used to thinking of Israel as an American or European style democracy, in which all are equal before the law. But Israel is not, and never has been, that type of democracy. From the earliest days of the state, it has been conceived as a form of consociationalism, in which Haredim were given a certain degree of cultural autonomy in return for their agreeing to join the state. The vast majority of the state, if it had its way, would abrogate this social contract, but can and should such an agreement be breached unilaterally? I tend to think not.

The Tal Law expires tomorrow. I do not know what the future holds, but I tend to think that the agreement will remain largely intact, and Haredim will continue to serve as a matter of personal choice and not as a matter of conscription.

My full analysis appears today on Jewish Ideas Daily.

Unrelated: here's a Times of Israel article on our Thursday Night event.

Utopian Musings: Jerusalem Hosts the 2032 Olympics, Commemorates Munich

I scribbled something of a utopian musing on Israel and Palestine co-hosting the 2032 Olympics and how they would commemorate Munich's 60th anniversay. It's over at the Times of Israel.

Speaking of utopianism, here's an article from last week on Shimon Peres's Presidential Conference. Enjoy.

More utopianism? Take a look at this event that I am attending tonight and that I helped organize. Not too late to come on out if you're in the neighborhood.

Is utopianism even permitted during the 9 days?

Summer Speaking Schedule

I'll be speaking several times while visiting the US over the next few weeks. Here's the schedule:

Shabbat afternoon at 6:55pm, July 23, Beth Tfiloh Congregation, Baltimore, MD.

Topic: "Killing the Rabbis: A Reading of Berakhot 48a"

Shabbat Hazon, August 5-6, at Beit Chaverim of Norwalk/Westport, CT.

“Religion and State in Israel: Is there a Solution that can Work for Everyone?”

“What Makes a Good Jewish Community on Campus?”

“Old Mourning: What Keeps Tisha B’Av Relevant?” 

Tisha B'Av at Ohaev Shalom - The National Synagogue, Washington DC

Morning: A Tisha B'Av related topic, TBD

Late afternoon: A topic related to R. Amital's life and work, TBD.

If you're in the neighborhood, drop in.

Tisha B'Av 

The “Miracles” of Beitar: A Reading of Brachot 48b

Today is was the 15^th of Av, which is a minor Jewish holiday. Last year, I wrote about some of its calendrical significance. This year, I want to relate to the Gemara at the tail end of Taanit which discusses the different reasons why Tu B’Av became a holiday. The reasons I outlined last year correlate to the opinion that it was a wood-gathering festival. Right smack in the middle of the hottest, driest season is a ripe time to gather dead wood for the Beit Ha-Mikdash, and in general would be a good time for wood-gathering in preparation for the winter.

There’s another reason, which also comes up in Masechet Brachot; we know from the Mishna at the end of Taanit that Beitar fell on Tisha B’av. One opinion in the Gemara maintains that Tu B’Av was the day that the corpses of the fallen soldiers were finally allowed to be buried. This day became a holiday because God’s hand was seen twice in this event – in that the bodies had not begun to decompose, and in that the Roman authorities granted permission in the first place. Similarly, these two reasons are offered to explain why the Bracha of ‘Ha-tov Ve-hameitiv’ was added to bentching. God is ‘tov’ in that the bodies didn’t decompose, and ‘meitiv’ in that He arranged for the authorities to permit burial.

In the long list of holidays and miracles that the Jewish people celebrate, this one might rank all the way at the bottom. Beitar was an out-and-out massacre. The estimates for the number of dead from the Bar Kochba revolt are staggering – perhaps the greatest massacre of Jews until the Holocaust. Yet, the day that the Roman authorities permitted dead soldiers to be buried was a holiday. It was seen as divine intervention, despite the fact that it was those same Romans who perpetrated the massacres. This is like thanking God for influencing Germany to pay reparations.

Then there’s the fact that the bodies did not decompose. While this fact is admittedly quite miraculous, it hardly seems like the type of miracle that merits commemoration through a holiday or frequent blessing. If one is looking for some signal of Divine intervention in the wake of a national massacre, this seems to be a grasp for straws.

Looking at the Gemara in Brachot in a larger context can provide the key to understanding Chazal’s attitude toward the Beitar massacre. I wrote about it partially here (at the end), but the Gemara in Brachot (48b) stands on its own:

אמר רב נחמן משה תקן לישראל ברכת הזן בשעה שירד להם מן יהושע תקן להם ברכת הארץ כיון שנכנסו לארץ דוד ושלמה תקנו בונה ירושלים דוד תקן על ישראל עמך ועל ירושלים עירך ושלמה תקן על הבית הגדול והקדוש הטוב והמטיב ביבנה תקנוה כנגד הרוגי ביתר דאמר רב מתנא אותו היום שניתנו הרוגי ביתר לקבורה תקנו ביבנה הטוב והמטיב הטוב שלא הסריחו והמטיב שניתנו לקבורה:

Rabbi Nachman said: Moshe instituted the bracha of ‘hazan’ when the manna descended. Joshua instituted the bracha on the land when they entered the land. David and Shlomo instituted ‘boneh Yerushalayim’: David instituted ‘al Yisrael amecha ve-al Yerushalayim irecha’ and Shlomo instituted ‘al ha-bayit ha-gadol ve-hakadosh’. ‘Ha-tov ve-hameitiv’ was instituted at Yavneh for those who fell at Beitar, as R’ Matna said: ‘The day that the Beitar dead were allowed to be buried they instituted ‘ha-tov ve-hameitiv’ at Yavneh. ‘Ha-tov’ ­because they didn’t rot, ‘ve-hameitiv’ because they were allowed to be buried.’

Each bracha is linked by the Gemara with a certain event. These events capture the ultimate theme of each bracha. Never was it more clear that God feeds us than when the manna was descending on a daily basis. Never was our appreciation for the Land of Israel greater than when we first entered it (though 1948 would certainly come close). The newly built Jerusalem, and the newly built Temple, symbolized all of our hopes for God’s indwelling amongst us. Furthermore, there is a clear progression in the theme of each bracha. In the first one, God provides direct nourishment. As the brachot progress, we acknowledge God’s hand in the very productivity of our land, and ultimately in the epitome of our civilization, Jerusalem. The brachot move from the more basic through the higher levels of culture.

The fourth bracha is an abrupt shift from the themes of the first three. Halakha recognizes this shift (‘Amen’ after third and it’s not considered ‘semucha le-chaverta’), but it is clear in the theme as well. The first three are all optimistic, pertaining to an increasingly greater fulfillment of our ultimate vision. The fourth bracha was born in exile. The events that form the basis for this bracha are the product of a people who are searching for God’s Presence when it seems to be glaringly absent. It’s a worldview which seeks out God’s hand in the political machinations of powerful empires and in the silver lining of the darkest clouds.

Beitar was the final glimmer of redemption before the exile which has lasted two millennia. More than the Destruction of the Second Temple, the failure of the Bar Kochba revolt spelled the end of Judea, and eventually the land of Israel, as the center of Jewish life. This mandated a theological shift toward a search for God within the exile. The bracha of ‘ha-tov ve-hameitiv’ is that bracha which was never supposed to be, but which Our Sages instituted to mark that shift.

According to the Talmudic opinion that Tu B’Av commemorates this ‘double miracle’ of Beitar, this minor holiday is intimately connected with Tisha B’Av. If Tisha B’Av is the day when we lost God’s Presence, when we lived our own destruction, then Tu B’Av marks the day when we begin the quest anew, when we begin to pick up the pieces and to try to thrive despite an exilic existence, and when we begin our search for God despite His apparent absence.

The Evolution of the Three Weeks

I’ve been doing a bit of research lately on the origins of the various customs which pertain to the three weeks. There’s no big chiddush that most of the customs are Ashkenazic, and relatively late, in origin. I’d assume that anyone who has ever looked at a Shulchan Arukh knows that.

What’s interesting is that the idea of ‘the three weeks’, or ‘Bein Ha-metzarim’ as it’s known in the halakhic literature, was seen as a significant time period from a relatively early stage (I’d say either from late in the period of Chaza”l or the period of the Geonim), even though the customs were not nearly as developed as they are now and in fact differed in tone. Allow me to explain.

There is a significant body of evidence that the period was seen as a unit:

1) 17 Tammuz and 9 Av are linked by the mishna at the end of Taanit which record the 5 terrible things that happened on each. The mishna goes on to conclude by saying that we ‘diminish joy’ during Av.

2) The Midrash Eicha which applies the verse which mentions ‘bein ha-metzarim’ to the period between 17 Tammuz and 9 Av, and notes that it is a time which is particularly prone to bad things happening

3) The well known schedule of haftarot, which is first mentioned in a psikta (all of the Rishonim quote the Psikta) that I cannot locate, includes 12 sections – 3 of ‘puranuta’, 7 of ‘nechemta’, and 2 of ‘tiyuvta’. Tisha B’av and the Yamim Nora’im are the turning points – from puranuta to nechemta and from nechemta to tiyuvta. It was clearly sculpted around the Jewish year, and the 3 haftarot of puranuta would always be during the three weeks between 17 Tammuz and 9 Av (even if Rosh Chodesh Av falls out on Shabbat, according to the consensus of Rishonim).

4) There’s an odd Yerushalmi Taanit (4:5) which compares the 21 days between 17 Tammuz and 9 Av to the ‘ripening’ of an almond tree, based on Yirmiyahu’s vision (1:13-14) of a ‘almond rod=makeil shaked’, which happens to be from the first of the three puranutas.

The sense one gets is that the ‘3 weeks’ were indeed an acknowledged part of the year, but not as a time of mourning. Rather, it was a time during which bad things happened to Jews. ‘Puranuta’ is ‘misfortune’. The mishna is a laundry list of bad things that happened. ‘Diminishing joy’ during Av, the antipode to increasing it during Adar, takes the form in halakha of not doing business or adjudicating cases with non-Jews, because they w1uld have the upper hand during this inauspicious time.

The Shulchan Arukh states only 2 laws (unequivocally, that is; he also acknowledges that there are some who don’t eat meat all 3 weeks) that pertain to bein ha-metzarim: a) we don’t say ‘she-hecheyanu’; b) we don’t go out alone during certain hours of the day when the demon ‘Ketev Meriri’ is powerful (based on that Yerushalmi in Taanit). Here, too, we get the sense that the 3 weeks is an inauspicious time for the Jews (as the Arukh Hashulchan writes, the issue of saying she-hecheyanu is not one of sadness – indeed, there’s no prohibition against a mourner saying a she-hecheyanu. Rather, it is a bracha which acknowledges that a time is auspicious, when it is in fact not auspicious).

Even as recently as a century ago, the Arukh Hashulchan notes that the custom not to get married during the 3 weeks is because it’s an inauspicious time to get married. It’s a ‘siman ra’. Le-havdil, it’s like someone saying they wouldn’t get married on Friday the 13^th (the Arukh Hashulchan actually permits getting married during the 3 weeks if need be. R’ Moshe Feinstein, half a century later, only permitted the night of the 17^th o Tammuz, since he held the 3 weeks hadn’t started yet. R’ Soloveitchik didn’t even permit that).

At the same time, there has been a growing halakhic trend to see the 3 weeks as a time of aveilut. This has steadily replaced the perspective of ‘puranut’ as the dominant tone of the period. The extension of weddings to include other types of festive gatherings with music (‘rikudin u-mecholot’ = ‘dancing and playing instruments’, in the language of the Magen Avraham, who first mentions it in context of the 3 weeks), and the more recent extension of that to include any musical instrumentation, and the general stringency regarding shaving and haircuts during the three weeks, both of which parallel mourning customs, have taken hold primarily in the last few centuries but even more strongly and stringently in the last one.

Rav Soloveitchik’s relatively well-known chiddush about the ‘revese aveilut’ of the 3 weeks reinforced this conception. He says that the customs of the 3 weeks parallel the mourning customs of the 12-month mourning period, the 9 days parallel the customs of the 30-day mourning period, and on Tisha B’Av itself we ‘sit shiva’. This transforms the entire period into one of mourning – and this is a dominant theme of the Rav’s shiurim on the topic (admittedly, Tisha B’Av has always been linked to aveilut; the halakha goes so far as to say that one who is actually sitting shiva on Tisha B’Av can go to shul like everyone else, because we’re all mourners).

My point here is to acknowledge the trend. I find it quite fascinating to see that not only does halakha evolve – we know that – but that the meaning and observance of a particular ‘sacred time’ (I know, there’s no ‘kedushat ha-zman during the entire period; there is, however, an acknowledged time of year that is part of our collective consciousness) has been replaced over time (see what I wrote here about how we respond to the ‘Ship of Theseus’ dilemma). Why did this happen? Perhaps the sense of immanent danger during the three weeks gradually slipped away, and the need to observe a period of mourning, a temporal ‘zecher le-churban’ spot, took hold as a palpable sense of galut faded. Who knows? Does that even fit the time frames under discussion? Either way, it’s food for thought (which can even be eaten tomorrow) over the next few weeks.

Who pos' de mos'?

Apostomos.

Just gearing up for the 17th of Tammuz.

Have an easy and meaningful fast, and may we merit the healing of our national wounds speedily.

UPDATE: I hate having to explain my jokes. If you don't get it, say the title and first word of the post out loud, and follow the links. Sheesh!