May a Woman get an Aliyah on Simchat Torah?

Here is a responsum I wrote on the topic (in Hebrew). I will try to translate it before Simchat Torah.

תשובה בענין עליות לנשים ביום שמחת תורה by Elli Fischer

More Provocations

Ha'aretz's "Anglo File" has an article in its weekend edition on Anglo (i.e., American, pretty much) opposition and discomfort with Modi'in's policy of barring non-residents from Anabe Park.

The article is here. Here's the bit where I'm quoted:

When Baltimore native Elli Fischer drove past Modi'in's Anabeh Park during the Sukkot festival this week, he witnessed firsthand an ultra-Orthodox couple being denied entry due to a controversial new policy that restricts holiday admission to local residents.

Fischer, himself a Modi'in resident, stopped his car and arranged to have the family of five admitted as his guests - but not before arguing with park officials.

"The policy is nothing but thinly veiled anti-Haredi bigotry," Fischer, a writer, translator and ordained rabbi, chided the park officials.

Last week, before the onset of the seven-day Sukkot festival, the Modi'in-Maccabim-Reut municipality decided to close the popular park to nonresidents of the three communities in its jurisdiction, citing "overcrowding." It's the latest volley in a saga that has pitted the municipality against the mayor of the neighboring Haredi community of Modi'in Illit, Yaakov Gutterman, who recently announced that its archaeological sites would be closed to non-Haredi visitors.

Fischer, 36, suggests the new policy is linked to an incident that occurred in the park during this year's observance of Passover, when a female performer at a concert was asked to step off the stage by Haredi members of the audience.

Nothing, he says, can justify the exclusion of citizens - a principle to which many among Modi'in's burgeoning Anglo community are particularly sensitive, he explains. "Americans in particular grew up with the legacy of the fight for civil rights as a part of our cultural DNA," said Fischer, who invoked the images of separate water fountains for blacks and whites in the United States. "I think it very much affects the way that we relate to issues of discrimination and bigotry, whether it's against Haredim, Arabs or African migrants."

ADDeRabbi, Agent Provocateur

For those not following along at home, my fair hometown of Modiin has barred non-residents from visiting its spacious and beautiful Anabe Park during vacations and on Hol Ha-Mo'ed. This is a result of a pishing contest between Modiin's Mayor Haim Bibas and Modi'in Ilit's Mayor Yaakov Guterman, plus it plays into a strong anti-Haredi (and occasionally anti-religious) sentiment amongst a minority of Modiin residents (a political party, Modiin Hofshit, ran on an anti-religious platform and got only a few hundred votes for city council).

The new policy upsets me greatly, and I wanted to see how the policy was being implemented generally. As I got in line to enter the park, I could see that a few cars ahead of me the line was being held up by a Haredi family insisting on entering the park. Since the new regulations allow for Modiin residents to bring guests, I went and invited the family in as my guests. After a while, the guards let us in on that basis. Serendipitously, a reporter from Haaretz was there at the time. Her report is here (Hebrew) and here (English - paywall). The paragraphs relevant to my story are:

As the argument continued, a Modi’in resident, Eli Fischer, decided to see whether everyone was really being barred from the park, or only those in ultra-Orthodox garb.

“He’s my guest, let him in,” said Fischer, in an effort to help Tirnauer, at first without success. The guards checked Fischer’s identity card, and then started questioning Tirnauer and his family about their relationship. One of the ushers called a municipal security guard to help.

“He’s not really your guest, he’s here to make a provocation,” the security guard told Fischer. But Fischer persisted after the getting approval of his superiors the security guard allowed Fischer and his new acquaintances into the park.

“The park is empty, and I wanted to see what would happen, since according to the instructions that were publicized, [the park] is reserved for Modi’in residents and their guests,” said Fischer. “I don’t know why they were questioning me.”

The municipality said that the confrontation involving Tirnauer and Fischer was the first to occur since the instructions were issued, claiming it was a planned provocation by the media.
“During all the days that entrance to the park was restricted, there wasn’t a single incident, except for one in which a visitor who isn’t a city resident came with a reporter to create a provocation and get a headline,” the municipality said.

 The Hebrew version also includes a Gemara that I cited for the benefit of the reporter, from Sukkah 27b:
"All Israel are fit to dwell in a single sukkah."

Beautiful Dvar Torah for Shemini Atzeret

I have a chavruta with whom I am studying the works of R. Yehuda Leib Graubart, who was a Rav in Europe and later in St. Louis and Toronto in the early part of the 20^th century. We’re learning through a book of his drashot called “Devarim Kichtavam”. It’s fascinating to see how he relates to the “current events” of his time, such as the Scopes Monkey trial.

He has a short Devar Torah on Shemini Atzeret which is beautiful, and which expresses his Zionist sympathies. He contrasts the celebration of Sukkot, which symbolizes galut in that we exit our homes and bring sacrifices on behalf of the nations of the world, in which we shake a lulav that represents our subservience to foreign powers and our constant guardedness against threats that could be coming from any direction, with the celebration of Shemini Atzeret which reminds us that we will eventually return to our home with its strong foundations and steady shelter, that the galut has an Atzeret – an end. On this date (at least in Israel) we read the verse of “Va-yishkon Yisrael betach badad” – Israel shall dwell securely alone.

Hag Sameah!

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.

Flattered but Outraged

They say that plagiarism is the highest form of flattery. I understand, but it still seems outrageous when it happens. There’s also the issue of “meivi davar be-shem omro” (link is to an old but good post).

I mention it because a few weeks ago I was forwarded an email promoting “Adam Ha-Rishon’s Segulah for Parnassah”. It seemed very familiar to me, and that is because I wrote it. This mixed emotion of pride (however perverse) and outrage is new to me.

Earlier today, in shul, I was speaking with someone who mentioned that another fellow had hung this segulah for parnassah in his sukkah. I asked if it was “Adam Ha-Rishon’s Segulah”, and sure enough it was, and had been forwarded to him from a friend in the States. Apperently this has been making the rounds, so I felt compelled to put it out there again – please attribute it when forwarding it around!

Anyhow, the fellow I had been schmoozing with about it in shul put it into a good perspective for me. He (Dr. Ari [Arthur] Schaffer) penned an article in 1982 entitled The Agricultural and Ecological Symbolism of the Four Species of Sukkot (timely, no?). He mentioned that he had heard his main thesis repeated in a number of contexts and by a number of people. He took immense pride in the dissemination of the idea, even if it remained unattributed. I guess I should aspire to that attitude, but I really can’t say I do. I take pride in my chiddushim, whether they are good or not, and whether they are edifying or not (in this instance, I believe that a strong case can be made that my lampoon constitutes ‘leitzanuta de-Avoda Zara’ and is thus edifying).

So if you get this in a email, reply to the sender with a link to the original post and bring a bit of ge’ulah into the world. And to the reader who lifted it and sent it out without attribution – please try to remedy the situation.

Water, Water Everywhere

The connection between Sukkot and water is obvious, and everywhere. It begins with the second Mishna in Rosh Hashana, that the world is judged with regard to water on Sukkot. This designation is intuitive, given that Sukkot marks the start of the rainy season. Consequently, we begin praying for rain on Shemini Atzeret, after the solemn ‘prayer for rain’. Additionally, we collectively engage in a bit of sympathetic magic with the Simchat Beit Ha-Sho’eva, offering a bit of water to God in the hopes that it ‘primes the pump’ and influences Him to provide us with abundant water.

Water shows up in other places – odder places – as well: for example, in the context of the special requirement that the 4 species must be ‘hadar’. The quintessential lack of hiddur, listed at the beginning of the Mishna (3^rd chapter of Sukkah), before getting into greater detail, is desiccation. A dried out lulav, devoid of moisture, is disqualified. It must contain some water. Even stranger is a discussion in the Gemara about how we know that the Biblical ‘pri etz hadar’ actually refers to the etrog. One of the Gemara’s suggestions is that the word ‘hadar’ is related to the Greek work ‘hydro’, meaning ‘water’. The etrog is an extremely water-intensive fruit. And of course, the arava, or willow branch, is called the ‘willow of the brook’ in the Torah.

The question is, does this connection indicate anything beyond the notion that we are initiating the rainy season and praying for rain?

The connection to the 4 species in general, and to hidur mitzvah specifically, indicate that there is something more to it. About 8 years ago, Rav Yehuda Brandes published this homiletic article about a Midrashic/mythic narrative which appears in several sources, including the Bavli and Yerushalmi, and discusses a potsherd which Kind David removed when he was digging the foundations of the Beit Ha-Mikdash. The watery abyss began to overflow and threaten the world, until King David, with the help of Ahitofel, succeeded in bringing the waters back to their proper levels. The Bavli (Sukkah 53a) mentions this story in the context of the Simchat Beit Ha-Sho’eva, explaining the reason for the 15 steps, corresponding to the 15 Sir Ha-ma’a lot Psalms, which served as the Levite bandstand during the celebration. The upshot of R. Brandes’ article (the whole thing is highly recommended) is that water represents id or primality. If it is completely suppressed, the world is deprived of creativity, growth, and, in a nutshell, life. If it is unfettered, it threatens to overwhelm everything and become a completely destructive force.

Hidur mitzvah serves a similar function. It allows us to inject a bit of personality into the potentially ‘dry’ performance of a mitzvah. It allows for a balance between a rote, impersonal attitude toward mitzvah-performance on one hand, and antinomianism or total flexibility on the other hand. Like water, which gives life when it can be integrated into an existing structure, hiddur mitzvah allows for individuation within the structure of mitzvah observance. Our challenge on Sukkot is to find a way to allow full expression but through the halakha – to be able to see the stars even though we sit inside a structure.

Sukkah with a View

Here are some pics that I took from inside my sukkah (at sunset):

The window faces south, toward Emek Ayalon. Nof Ayalon is in the background on the right side of this first picture.

In the immediate background of this picture, you can see the new Modiin bypass road which has not yet opened because of politics. Further in the background, you can see the tracks that are being built for the high-speed train to Jerusalem. If is expected to be finished by 2011:



In the center is the Modiin-Latrun road, beyond which are more Shephelah foothills. Part of Nof Ayalon is visible on the right.

Kol ezrach mi-kem yeshvu ba-sukkot

The Four Species of Shabbat Guest

There’s a well known Midrash which compares the four species that we take on Sukkot with four personality types. There are 2 variables – Torah and good deeds – which yield 4 possible combinations.

Having been in Israel for over a year now and having frequent Shabbat guests of the year-in-Israel type, and more precisely of the ‘seminary girl’ type, we can say with certitude that the same four categories apply to Shabbat guests. Sometimes, the guests are very engaging and participate in discussion and Divrei Torah at the Shabbat table. Sometimes, they are very helpful with set-up, clean-up, and taking care of the kids. Sometimes they are both. Sometimes they are neither.

We don’t really like having aravot for Shabbat. Any of the other three are fine.

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.

Hakhel

In just about a month, we would have the opportunity for the mitzvah of hakhel, on Chol Ha-Mo’ed Sukkot of the Shemittah year. Well, according to Ibn Ezra, anyway. I was startled to discover that Ibn Ezra, against pretty much everyone else, says that Hakhel was performed during the Shemittah year itself, and not the year after Shemittah.

During my little bit of research, I came upon several different ideas regarding what Hakhel was intended to accomplish, and, consequently, why it was performed when it was. First, the verses themselves:

דברים פרק לא

(י) וַיְצַו מֹשֶׁה אוֹתָם לֵאמֹר מִקֵּץ שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים בְּמֹעֵד שְׁנַת הַשְּׁמִטָּה בְּחַג הַסֻּכּוֹת:
(יא) בְּבוֹא כָל יִשְׂרָאֵל לֵרָאוֹת אֶת פְּנֵי יְדֹוָד אֱלֹהֶיךָ בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחָר תִּקְרָא אֶת הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת נֶגֶד כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּאָזְנֵיהֶם:
(יב) הַקְהֵל אֶת הָעָם הָאֲנָשִׁים וְהַנָּשִׁים וְהַטַּף וְגֵרְךָ אֲשֶׁר בִּשְׁעָרֶיךָ לְמַעַן יִשְׁמְעוּ וּלְמַעַן יִלְמְדוּ וְיָרְאוּ אֶת יְדֹוָד אֱלֹהֵיכֶם וְשָׁמְרוּ לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת כָּל דִּבְרֵי הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת:
(יג) וּבְנֵיהֶם אֲשֶׁר לֹא יָדְעוּ יִשְׁמְעוּ וְלָמְדוּ לְיִרְאָה אֶת יְדֹוָד אֱלֹהֵיכֶם כָּל הַיָּמִים אֲשֶׁר אַתֶּם חַיִּים עַל הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר אַתֶּם עֹבְרִים אֶת הַיַּרְדֵּן שָׁמָּה לְרִשְׁתָּהּ:

And Moshe commanded them: At the end of seven years, during the time of the Shemittah year, on the festival of Sukkot, when all of Israel comes to appear before God at the place that He will choose, you shall read this Torah before all of Israel, in their ears. Gather the nation – men, women, children, and immigrants who are in your midst in order that they hear and in order that they study, and they will fear the Lord, your God, and they will observe the performance of this whole Torah. And your sons who did not know will hear and learn to fear the Lord, your God, as long as you live on the land that you are crossing the Jordan in order to inherit. (Devarim 31:10-13)

• Ibn Ezra, ad loc, states that this was supposed to take place during the Shemittah year itself. He says that, like Shabbat, the purpose of Shemittah is to provide an opportunity to turn away from mundane pursuits and to engage in more spiritually edifying endeavors. Hakhel, which comes at the outset of Shemittah, is a sort of inaugural Shemittah kick-off event whose purpose is to get everybody – even children and non-Jewish immigrants – engaged in Torah. Incidentally, the phrase ‘mi-ketz sheva shanim’ can be interpreted either as during or after Shemittah – see Devarim 15:10
  

• The traditional interpretation (Gemara, Rashi, et al) is that Hakhel occurs during the eighth year. It is called Shemittah because it is still being observed de facto in that there’s really not much for a farmer to do then. Perhaps this is why that time was chosen – it’s convenient for everybody, and doesn’t interrupt any farm work. Thus, as indicated in several Rishonim (Rasa”g, Chinukh), the choice of the eighth year is simply coincidental. There should be a gathering of the entire nation every seven years in order to read the Torah publicly and transmit it to those who were not familiar with it, and in order that people hear it and continue to learn it. The choice of Sukkot, a pilgrimage festival, and the eighth year, when there was little, if any, ‘gathering’ taking place in the field, was for convenience.
• Rabbeinu Bachya provides a rationale which links Hakhel directly to the post-Shemittah year. He relates the seven-year Shemittah cycle, as well as the seven-day Shabbat cycle, to a grater, cosmic Creation cycle in which the world exists for seven ‘millenia’ (purposefully in parentheses), six of ‘creation’ and one of ‘destruction’. The beginning of the first year after Shemitta represents the beginning of a new creation cycle. Therefore, the Torah, which is the world’s blueprint, is read at the site of the Temple, from where the world was created. Thus, according to Rabbeinu Bachya, Hakhel is a mythic re-enactment of the world’s creation after its symbolic destruction during the Shemittah year.

So we have three explanations – the educational, the practical, and the mythic. I think that each one provides a valuable perspective on this mitzvah and, indeed, on the mitzvah of Shemittah as well.

Yom Tov Sheni Musings

Why is it that the same Israelis who get all bent out of shape when chutznik tourists keep 2 days of yom tov in Israel also wouldn’t even dream of keeping 2 days in chu”l, even if they are there for an extended period? There are Israelis who have 1-day minyanim in chutz la-aretz (for example, having the full hakafot on Shemini Atzeret, and not because they’re chassidish).

I also remember a few years ago (6.5, to be exact), the Rebbetzin and I went down to Eilat for a couple of days after Sukkot. We arrived in Eilat a few hours before sunset on isru chag (the Rebbetzin was then pregnant with our first child, so we managed to visit every single rest stop on the way down). My brother-in-law then decided to play a cruel trick on us. Just before we arrived, he called and mentioned to us that there are acharonim who hold that one needs to keep 2 days of yom tov in Eilat. He really scared me before I had a chance to think it through, because it is forbidden to do any melacha if one is in a Jewish community on 2^nd day Yom Tov even if one is a ben Eretz Yisrael.

When I thought about it, though, I realized that since R’ Tukachinsky holds that Eilat is indeed part of Eretz Yisrael, I can do melacha. As long as there is a position, even a minority position, that something is permitted on Yom Tov, there’s no issue of ‘mar’it ayin’ for a ben Eretz Yisrael to do it. Phew. Crisis averted. Good thing I knew the sugya, right?

Then we actually started to walk around Eilat a bit, and I saw all of these people with kippot driving cars, etc. At first, I was thinking ‘Hey, that guy must hold like R’ Tukachinsky; that guy must be kim lei like R’ Tukachinsky, etc’. Then I asked someone if anyone in Eilat keeps 2 days, and he looked at me like I was from Mars. Apparently, the only people who keep 2 days in Eilat live in Bnei Brak and Jerusalem, and never actually go to Eilat. The people who really actually live there keep one day (by the way, this is the difference between the Aruch Hashulchan and the Mishna Brurah, ve-hamaven yavin).

Similarly, I imagine that nobody actually keeps Shabbat for two days a week in Japan or Hong Kong. The location of the halakhic International Date Line is a matter of dispute (like before, between R’ Tukachinsky and the Chazon Ish). Some suggest being chosheish for both, meaning that any land mass whose majority lies between the two lines would keep Shabbat 2x a week, 3 days of Rosh Hashana, etc. According to this chumra, it’s conceivable to have a 5-day Yom Tov. The Tishrei chagim would be an absolute nightmare. In reality, though, nobody keeps this. In actual communities, normalcy tends to prevail.

Dancing Camel in the Mainstream Media

A few months ago, I linked to the homepage of my friend and neighbor, microbrewer David Cohen of the Dancing Camel Brewing Company. The Jerusalem Post did a story about him today (link). Of course, the blogs are way ahead of the curve. So when you come to Israel, we’ll sit down and drink a Dancing Camel together. Perhaps the Trog Wit will be in season.

Sukkot on Campus: Some Strange Applications of Teshvu Ke-ein Taduru

Last year, we spent all of Sukkot at home in College Park, on campus. I don’t think I’ll ever have a Sukkot like that again. There were several highlight, but one stands out above the rest.
One highlight was helping the local chapter of AEPi build their Sukkah. They built it, then partied in it. Teshvu ke-ein taduru. They were even thinking of having the freshmen pledges make paper chains to decorate it.
For Hoshana Rabbah, I went and cut a ton of aravot that grow alongside the Paint Branch Creek, right outside Comcast Center. It was a lot of fun driving a car full of willow branches smack-dab through campus. There were a lot of knowing looks and nods. Everybody knows about the Jews and their leafy twigs in the fall.

The best was the result of several fortuitous circumstances. Maryland only plays 6 or so home football games each year. They are generally on Saturday afternoon. About every two years, they play a home game on a Thursday night. Last year, they played such a game and it fell out on Chol Ha-Mo’ed Sukkot. That meant that any Jewish student who could get a ticket would be going to the game. Add to this that UMD was going to play #3 Virginia Tech, with potential national championship implications, and that it was going to be nationally televised by ESPN, and you’re talking about a huge party in College Park. Maryland students wore black – to distinguish themselves from the burgundy wearing Tech fans.
So I procured (from my landlord, actually) a parking permit for the main lot, and went as the lot opened with my Sukkah to make sure that we had a choice spot. We built the Sukkah right there in the lot, brought over grills, and floted blue and white helium balloons so that people would know where to find us. We had a massive, kosher tailgate party in that Sukkah (which has since made Aliyah with me). We sold out of food and black Hillel T-shirts. Hundreds of people came through – Nate helped with the grilling, Alan treated me to a Corona he brought (we didn’t serve beer, but couldn’t tell people that they’re not allowed to bring beer into the parking lot), and we were even visited by the only frum Va Tech fans on the planet. It was probably the most fun I had during the years at UMD, and was definitely a one-of-a-kind kiyum of teshvu ke-ein taduru.

I have some more pictures on my facebook page, and a lot more stored on disk.

Simchat Yom Tov, Rav Soloveitchik, and Oktoberfest

A well-known idea, articulated by R’ Soloveitchik, is that the Simcha of Yom Tov derives from the existential state of being ‘lifnei Hashem’. True joy, for the Rav, is only in the Presence of God. A quick glace at these results from Google gives an idea of just how widespread this idea of simcha has become. A neighbor of mine just came over to borrow my copy of Harerei Kedem, R’ Michel Shurkin’s cliff-notes on the Rav’s teachings about the Jewish Holidays. He is preparing a shiur on the simcha of Yom Tov. On how true simcha is lifnei Hashem. Walk over to any random guy in the RYBS orbit and ask “what’s the definition of simcha according to R’ Soloveitchik?” BAM. Lifnei Hashem.

There are different variations within this idea, depending who you ask. Lifnei Hashem might be the ultimate simcha, the true simcha, the only simcha, or the state which triggers the obligation of simcha.

Here’s the problem: it’s incorrect. It is VERY possible to have plenty of simcha with or without God, and the Torah is full of references to it. Furthermore, the Rav’s idea is not even borne out by a simple reading of the verses he uses for support. In fact, it flies in the face of a central theme of Sefer Devarim. Allow me to explain.

In the context of the 3 festivals, each time the obligation of pilgrimage is mentioned, God is referred to as ‘Adon’ – Master (as in ‘Yes, Massah’), Magnate, Landowner, Balabos. Our obligation to make the pilgrimage is formulated as the obligation of the vassal toward the magnate. Lest we begin to think that the land is actually ours, that we are entitled to it, we are enjoined to visit the true Owner thrice annually, and to bring tribute along.

This theme recurs throughout Devarim, from beginning to end. The Torah is constantly warning and legislating against growing too self-secure and forgetting God in our success. It is in the very formulation of the mitzvot of Shabbat (in the Devarim version of the Decalogue), the laws governing slavery, the obligation to pray after eating (bentching), the gift of the first fruit (bikkurim), and, as mentioned, the obligation to make pilgrimages.

It shows up in the ‘warning’ sections at the beginning of Devarim (‘kochi ve-otzem yadi being the most well-known and characteristic phrase), in the awful tochecha (which I’ll address shortly), and in Ha’azinu (va-yishman Yeshurun va-yiv’at). In the tochecha, the element of simcha appears specifically. In a well-known but oft-misunderstood section, the Torah warns against forgetting God while being in a state of simcha. If we neglect to serve him while we’re happy, we’ll end up serving our enemies from a state of material want. Simcha without God is indeed possible, but heinous and worthy of punishment.

This brings us back to sukkot, which is our time of joy (zman simchateinu). It is the Jewish ingathering festival (Chag Ha-asif), which is naturally a time of intense joy. Many, many cultures celebrate the annual gathering in the autumn. This is the time when everything that was left out in the field to dry or ferment is brought in. Right at the beginning of the winter is when there’s a lot of food available, so it’s time to party. So the Germans have Oktoberfest, the Americans – Thanksgiving, and we Jews, Sukkot. The Torah was concerned that the natural simcha of this time period would deteriorate into a simcha in which God is absent (and I’ll resist the temptation to take potshots at the way in which Simchat Torah is celebrated in many American congregations); thus, the Torah mandates that our simcha be lifnei Hashem.