When in Rome?

Until our car is paid for and ordered, we are renting from a place in Kiryat Sefer. I went to pick the car up today, and the place had moved, and it was the wrong place, and it was in general bad news. I schlepped 2 car seats, my tefillin, and a bottle of RC Cola all around Kiryat Sefer, on foot. Finally, my wife got through to our rental agency, and they went to pick me up at the store of their competitor. The woman who picked me up expressed concern to my wife that she wouldn’t be able to find me amongst all of the similar looking men. My wife responded, “It’ll be easy; he’s wearing a green shirt”.

Mitzvot of Recitation

I heard the basic gist of this idea from R’ Yosef Blau, at a shaleshudis at YU about 9 years ago. He said it in the name of the Rav, zt”l. I have embellished it with some structural observations.

The Book of Devarim can be divided into three basic sections: the beginning, the middle, and the end. The beginning gives the background for why we should keep God’s command, the middle gives the content of that command, and the end reinforces the obligation to keep that command (of course that’s an oversimplification). The beginning includes the first 3 parshiyot of Devarim. The middle starts in Re’eh and ends at with shlishi of Ki Tavo (it should be obvious where the end ends).

The last two segments before the end of the middle, legal section discuss the obligation to recite particular formulae when bringing bikkurim and at the end of the triennial ma’aser cycle.

Several questions can now be raised:

• Why are these two mitzvot singled out to be accompanied by special recitations. Very few mitzvot have that property.


• Why are these recitations chosen to conclude the legal section of Devarim?


• Given that the divisions of our parshiyot are generally intuitive and thematic (as R’ Samet often points out), it seems extremely unintuitive to have the vast majority of the Parsha belong in the ‘end’, but include two relatively short segments that belong in the middle.

For starters, one may ask about the relationship between the mitzvah of bringing bikkurim and the accompanying recitation. Does the recitation deepen and explain the mitzvah, or does it provide something that the mitzvah itself cannot provide. R’ Samet takes the former approach (here). For several reasons, I think he’s off the mark, and I will take the latter approach.

The mitzvah of bikkurim is one of the most intensely personal mitzvot in the Torah. The individual farmer, who owns his own land, having labored all winter, finally sees the literal first fruits of his effort. He is enjoined to take that moment, naturally predisposed to be celebrated as a personal triumph, and dedicate those fruits to be an homage to God. It is strictly between the farmer and God. There are no others in this process.

Contrast that with the mitzvot related to tithing. The gifts to the Priests, the Levites, the poor, and to support the capital economy are all about social welfare. They are the types of obligations that one would feel duty bound, as a member of society, to be concerned with and to contribute to.

Yet, each accompanying recitation emphasizes the exact OPPOSITE of what the mitzvah itself emphasizes. The bikkurim recitation sees the individual farmer in the context of Israel’s foundational narrative. It’s not just about God and the farmer, there’s an entire national story that forms the background to this. That story is summarized, in the plural, before the farmer can get to the point where he can say, “and now I have brought the first fruits of the land…”. Lest the mitzvah become TOO personal, the national context is invoked.

In contrast, the ma’aser recitation reads like a laundry list of personal accomplishment. “I have completed…I have given…as you commanded me…I did not transgress and I did not forget. I did not eat…I did not give…I listened…I performed…”. The Torah is emphasizing that though the mitzvot of ma’aser might have tremendous social benefits, we must not ignore that we are still the commanded doing the Will of the Commander. The personal, private element – one man and God – can and must be present even in the most ‘socially responsible’ of all mitzvot.

Taken together, these two recitations have a common theme: neither the individual nor the collective can be ignored. We must not focus on the personal if it means neglecting responsibility to the community. Yet, one’s fealty to the community cannot come at the expense of one’s personal relationship with God. Both elements – the individualist and the socialist – are essential ingredients to carrying out the Torah’s ideal of communal structures which do not undermine individual expression, of becoming ‘communities of individuals’.

Thus, these segments serve as a segue into the final segments of the Torah, where the tension between the communal and the individual often come to the fore. It is with this balance that we understand the discussions at the end of the Torah of mutual and collective responsibility. Once the necessary balance between the poles of individualism and socialism have been staked out, a movement toward the appropriate attitude can be articulated and shaped in many ways.

Belated Social Observation/Dvar Torah on Shoftim/Ki Tetze

The Laws of Warfare are spread over the parshiyot of Shoftim and Ki Tetze, primarily. Though there are sections in Bamidbar and later in Ki Tetze, the primary locus spans 4 consecutive segments, but is interrupted by the laws pertaining to a corpse found near a city, otherwise known as eglah arufa. The question arises, why does this segment occur right smack in the middle of the laws of warfare?

Over the past few weeks, I’ve encountered this question twice; once in the drasha of a local Rav, and once in a D’var Torah by R’ Samet (which can be accessed in translation here, though there’s more in the published Hebrew version). The local Rav was saying that these laws were there lest one think, reading the laws of warfare which includes the command to utterly annihilate the 7 native tribes of Canaan, that the Torah doesn’t value life, we see the lengths that the Torah goes to in the case of a single mysterious death. We therefore can’t say that the Torah isn’t being compassionate when demanding genocide; we simply don’t see the whole picture. But we know from experience that sometimes what looks like compassion results in cruelty. Kol ha-merachem al ha-achzarim, sofo le-achzer al ha-rachmanim.

R’ Samet (with whom I identify strongly on this issue) takes an almost opposite approach. He reads this entire segment as a form of protest against warfare, an implicit precursor to Micha’s idyllic prophecy (4:3) of a world where ‘nation shall not lift up sword against nation’. Each of the sections about warfare, R’ Samet shows, is designed to sublimate, refine, and protect against the inevitable moral deterioration of the military, and to keep perspective of the things that are truly important. Eglah Arufa, he suggests, is a hedge against the inevitable outbreak of violence which occurs when soldiers return home from war. A greater sensitivity to acts of violence will prevent the returning soldiers’ temporary depravity from penetrating the rest of society, and assist them in their re-integration to normal life.

The Ganenet

Her name is Mazal. She’s probably in her 40s or early 50s, and has been running the nursery school that my two younger children attend for about 20 years. She is quite obviously of Sephardic descent, and though she is not observant, is deeply traditional.

We are finishing the first week of school, and she not only knows the names of all 120 kids in the nursery, but the names of their parents as well. She remembers the name of every kids who was ever enrolled in her nursery. She doesn’t just know them all, she also loves them all. She dispenses hugs freely, and makes sure that no kids falls through the cracks.

All in all, this is a brilliant, competent, caring woman who has successfully run a mid-sized organization for 20 years running. It makes me wonder what kind of opportunities were available to her when she was growing up? She easily has the tools to be a successful lawyer, accountant, or businesswoman, but somehow I tend to doubt that those options were available. So she runs a darn good nursery school. An enriches us all (but probably makes less).

A Wicked Game of Ping-Pong

Deep Breath In…Deep Breath Out
The kids are adjusting great. They’re making friends. They love school.
We made Aliyah for the kids. And they’re doing great.

HOLY FREAKING COW. WE HAVE NO CAR. WE HAVE NO LIFT. WE HAVE NO MONEY!!! HOW DO ISRAELIS SUBSIST ON THESE SALARIES????

Deep breath. Another deep breath.
The Kids. The Kids. They’re doing great. They’re happy. They’re adjusting. It’s all about the kids.

I’M LEAVING THE WIFE AND KIDS FOR A WEEK TO TRAVEL TO THE PLACE I THOUGHT WAS IN THE REAR-VIEW MIRROR, FOR A JOB THAT I JUST STARTED AND ENTAILS A PRETTY SERIOUS CAREER CHANGE. THE LIFT ARRIVES THE DAY I LEAVE!

The kids are thrilled to be in Israel. They’re eating well and healthy. They have friends. They’re learning Hebrew. They’re learning Torah. This is where the future is. It’s worth sacrificing the present for a better future. The future. The kids.

I’M AN IMMIGRANT! MY COLLEGE EDUCATION MEANS BUPKIS WHEN I CAN’T GET THROUGH A SENTENCE WITHOUT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. LOOK AT THOSE GAS PRICES!!!! I’M BLEEDING MONEY. I’M HEMHORRAGING MONEY. I DON’T HAVE MEDICAL INSURANCE YET. NOT TO MENTION LIFE, HOMEOWNER’S, AND, OF COURSE, CAR. I WORK TILL MIDNIGHT. I CAN’T USE MY PHONE AND THE INTERNET SIMULTANEOUSLY, DESPITE THE FACT THAT I’M PAYING FOR ADSL. I’M DROWNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yet, today was a bit better than yesterday, no? Baby steps. And remember, it’s for the kids. The kids the kids the kids the kids the kids the kids the kids. What can possibly be more important?

WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING, LEAVING GOOD JOBS THAT WE WERE DAMN GOOD AT, A PLACE THAT WAS REAL COMFORTABLE…

The grass was not greener there. This is better for the kids. What if your grandparents had stayed in Hungary and Germany? Did they have an easier time when they reached American shores? Nevertheless, they did it because of what they knew would be better for their families in the long run. The kids.

“The great proof of madness is the disproportion of one's designs to one's means.”
-Napoleon Bonaparte


And as my grandfather used to say:

Ich bin in der Erd. Git in der Erd. = .אני בארץ. טוב בארץ

Literati King

I just scored 68 points for the seven-letter-word ‘mimetic’ across 2 double-word-scores, with the ‘e’ in the middle turning ‘mend’ into ‘emend’.

Shout out to Chaim Potok and, ybl”ch, Dr. Haym Soloveitchik. Couldn’t have done it without y’all!

Rambam on Renewal of Sanhedrin: Redux

After a bunch of skeptical comments, including from Prof. Wolff, I wanted to provide more evidence to strengthen my thesis that Rambam's position on the renewal of the Sanhedrin stems from a combination of his understanding of the mitzvah of Shoftim Ve-Shotrim and his political philosophy and not from any messianic agitation. It's true that he believes that a Sanhedrin will have to convene in order to appoint the Messianic King (see Hil. Sanhedrin 5:1), that doesn't mean that the reason to establish a Sanhedrin is in order to appoint a king. It's one of the many functions of a Jewish supreme court.

The proof (circumstantial, not direct, but still, to my mind, convincing) is in a very strange position that Rambam takes at the very beginning of Hil. Sanhedrin. He holds that the mitzvah of Shoftim Ve-shotrim is only in the Land of Israel. That's problematic because it goes directly against a Gemara in Makkot 7a. Attempts to suggest that the Rambam had a different version of the text fall short, as many of the commentaries point out.

However, the following progression would make perfect sense:

• The Gemara in Sanhedrin states that Semikha can only be performed in the Land of Israel, though once administered, it grants powers everywhere.
  
• Semicha, for the Rambam (again, this is clear from his discussion of semicha in both the Yad and the Sefet Ha-Mitzvot; see also Sefer Ha-Chinukh on Shoftim Ve-shotrim) is the mechanism by which the mitzvah of minui Shoftim is perpetuated.
• Therefore, the Rambam can understand the inability to administer semicha outside the lant of Israel not as a procedural impossibility, but as the result of the fact that outside of Israel, there's simply no mitzvah to engage in that mitzvah, rendering that act meaningless. The source for Rambam's strange psak would seem to be the sugyot that deal with semicha outside of Israel.
• The limitation ofthis mitzvah to the Land of Israel has an implication that we're not just interested in finding a way to adjudicate claims, but to set up a hierarchy of courts. In other words, for the Rambam, the mitzvah is not to set up courts, but to create a court system. This mitzvah devolves specifically upon Jews living in Israel.
• Thus, absence of the original method of appointing judges does not absolve the population from the obligation to set up courts.
• At this point, one may ask why the Rambam insisted that there must be another way to reinstitute the Sanhedrin. The answer might be from the predictions in Isaiah, the promise of the coming of a Sanhedrin-appointed Messiah, or simply that it was inconcievable to the Rambam that a mitzvah as essential as providing justice might be completely neglected on what basically amounts to a technicality. The Rambam therefore 'de-mystifies' semicha by understanding it as an act of appointment and not the conferral of some kind of special status.

The Hazing Continues

Still no car.

Still no lift.

Still feel like a ping-pong ball between banks, Bituach Leumi, Kupot Cholim, and the Interior Ministry.

It’s overwhelming at times, but usually manageable. Next week will be tough for the Rebbetzin with me away.

A few amusing observations about Israeli parlance:

1) Israelis use the term ‘mail’ to refer to ‘email’. It took me a bit to realize that. Someone told me they’d send me something by ‘mail’, and I told them that I prefer ‘doar electroni’ (or doa”l for short), the ‘real’ term for email, and I got a puzzled look in response. If you ask me, calling email ‘mail’ is kinda dumb, but that’s because I speak English.

2) The term ‘cable’, depending on the context, can mean different things. In Israel, cable television is called ‘kvalim’, and jumper cables are called ‘kabelim’. Ironic that the word ‘cable’ is originally Hebrew – just look at the end of Tehillim 149 (tomorrow at Shacharit would be the opportune time to do so).

Funny Outreach Speech

This is brilliant. Funny as heck. Really captures many of the BT/FFB tensions (that, if you've read this blog long enough and know my professional trajectory, I think about a lot). It's from njop.