יום שישי, 27 בספטמבר 2013

בריאה, אכזבה, חורבן ובניין

לבני משפחתנו, חברותינו וחברינו היקרים,
על המילים "אל אמונה" בשירת האזינו כותב רש"י בעקבות המדרש: שהאמין בעולם ובראו.
בפרשת בראשית נראה את הבורא מתמודד עם האכזבה מהאדם, נזר הבריאה, כאילו הפרוייקט של האנושות נכשל ואכן, בפרשת נח נראה שאכזבה זו מביאה על האנושות את המבול, שהורס את כל היקום.
אך, לצד "וינחם ה כי עשה את האדם בארץ" נאמר על נֹח  "זה ינחמנו ממעשנו" ; תיתכן בנייה מחדש
ואולי מלמד אותנו המקרא שגם כאשר מפעל בו השקענו הרבה מאכזב אותנו או נכשל, אל לנו לאבד תקווה. עלינו להתחיל מחדש.
שחקי שחקי כי באדם אאמין...
שבת שלום
פנחס, ציפי ומשפחתם







Dear Family and Friends,

We'll start a new cycle of Torah reading tomorrow; it seems that somehow after Human Beings are to be considered the highlight of Creation, they didn't exactly act according to G-d's expectations and at the end of the section we'll read tomorrow, G-d seems to be totally disappointed of this part of his Project and in a next chapter, we'll understand that this disappointments engenders Annihilation of almost everything that has been created.
Nevertheless, we'll read that a new start is possible; Maybe this teaches us that even if we invested a lot in a very important project, and it fails or disappoints us, we shouldn't lose hope and start again; it's a necessary act  of faith and basic belief in Humanity.
Shabbat Shalom to all,

יום רביעי, 25 בספטמבר 2013

ערבה- ערֵבה - ערבות

לבני משפחתנו, חברותינו וחברינו היקרים,
במקורות הקדומים נקרא היום (הושענא רבה) יום ערבה, יום נטילת ערבה או יום שביעי של ערבה ואכן, בזמן המקדש, ביום זה, היו מקיפים את המזבח בערבות ולא ב-4 המינים. 
ההתמקדות בערבה המסכנה, המתייבשת לפני כל 4 המינים, והמסמלת את מי "שאין לו טעם ולא ריח" (לא תורה ולא מעשים טובים) מלמדת אותנו אולי קצת ענווה וצניעות.
ערבה זו "מתפללת" איתנו על מים, על גשמי ברכה, אך גם על ערֵבות הדדית.
שתהיה לכולנו שנה ערֵבה וחג שמח
פנחס, ציפי ומשפחתם
נ.ב. הנוסח האנגלי שונה הפעם מהנוסח בעברית 
 
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Dear Family and Friends,
It's about cycles: the cycle of festive days reaches its end and we are about to start a new cycle of everyday life; the annual cycle of Torah reading reaches it highlight – we are about to enter the Promised Land, our Great Leader and Master leaves this world and leaves us his Legacy , after which we experience Creation once again.
Maybe this teaches us that in order to get closer and closer to the Promised Land, we have to create our own world again and again every year.
 Chag Sameach and Shana Tova to all,
Pinchas, Tzippie, and Family

 P.S. the English  version is not identical to the Hebrew. 

יום שני, 23 בספטמבר 2013

There are no holy graves

“AND NO MAN HAS KNOWN HIS BURIAL PLACE
Pinchas Leiser
The last of the Tishrei festivals, termed “The Period of Our Rejoicing” concludes with “Atseret” – “Assembly”. Since the time when Jewish communities adopted the yearly (Babylonian) cycle of the Torah reading, this holiday has become “Simchat Torah” – “The Joy of the Torah”, a climax of joy, characterized by many customs expressing that joy. It is interesting to note that in those moments in particular when we call to the Torah the Chatan Torah – “the Groom of the Torah”, we read those verses which describe the death of Moshe and his burial. A short and dramatic chapter paints Moshe’s ascent to Mt. Nebo, his passing and his burial, concluding with the passing of this major figure. From here on begins a new story; the entry of the Israelites into the Land of Israel will be told in the Book of Joshua.

Let us examine verse 6 in Chapter 34:
            “And he was buried in the glen in the land of Moab opposite Beth-Peor, and no man has known   his burial place to this day.”
The first part of the verse describes the location of Moshe’s burial, but in the second, the Torah informs us that no man knows where Moshe is buried (according to Chazal in the Sifri and Tractate Sotah!!).

The Talmud in Sotah (Bavli Sotah 13b) discusses the paradoxical nature of the passage, without offering any explanation:
            “And he was buried [translator’s note: The Hebrew for “he was buried” may, because of the       lack of vocalization signs, be also read as “He buried”] in the glen in the land of Moab, opposite   Bet-Peor” - Said R’ Berechia: A sign within a sign,  and despite this, “no man has known his             burial place”.

R’ Hezkia ben Manoah, author of the Hizkkuni commentary, develops Chazal’s reading into an explanation:
            He buried him in the glen – The Omniscient gave three signs for the location of Moshe’s burial   place, as is written ‘in the glen’, and where is this glen? ‘In the land of Moab’, and where in             this land? ‘Opposite Bet-Peor’, and despite all this, ‘no man has known his burial place’, to          teach you that Moshe was not buried by man.”   (Hizkuni, Devarim 34:6)

The view that Moshe was not buried by man is buttressed by the lack of a clear designation of the clause’s subject - who “buried”? This lack of clarity facilitates the possibility that Moses buried himself (Rabbi Yishmael in the Sifri on Naso, and Ibn Ezra). Rashi argues that the Holy One himself buried Moshe (also based on Chazal).

Obviously, none of these suggestions can be understood literally. R’ Ovadia of Solferino, author of the Seforno commentary, adds:
            “If he buried himself, as some Sages suggest, it was his non-material soul [ha’nefesh        ha’nivdelet], because he died on the mountain, the peak of Pisgah”.
Here there is a clear differentiation between the flesh-and-blood Moshe and “his non-material  soul.”

The ambiguity surrounding the death and burial of Moshe prompted a Talmudic opinion that Moshe never died:
            It has been taught: R. Eliezer the Elder said: Over an area of twelve mil square, corresponding      to that of the camp of Israel, a Bath Kol made the proclamation, ‘So died Moshe, the great             teacher of Israel. Some say that Moshe never died; it is written here, ‘So Moshe died there’          and elsewhere (Shemot 34) it is written: And he was there with the Lord. As in the latter passage   it means standing and ministering, so also in the former it means standing and ministering.                                                                                                                                       (Sotah 13b)

Here, too, we may assume that Chazal are referring to the “nefesh ha’nivdelet” of Moshe and not to the flesh-and-blood Moshe.

It seems to me that the confusion created by the Sages and commentators’ readings of Moshe’s demise and burial place in the Biblical narrative creates a unique mood, and comes to make a number of important points, which we will discuss later.

Our exegetes, of earlier and later periods, deal with the question of the location of Moshe’s burial site in different ways.
The Talmud (Sotah 14a), according to the BaCH’s version, attempts to answer the question “Why was Moshe’s grave concealed?”:
            Said R’ Hama bar Chanina: Why was Moshe’s grave concealed? Because the Holy One knew      that the Temple would some day be destroyed and Israel would go into exile, and that might they             stand and weep and mourn over Moshe’s grave, saying to him: Moshe our teacher, stand and          pray for us, and Moshe would stand up and cancel the decree.

According to this understanding, God wanted to prevent the Children of Israel from arousing his mercies (Moshe’s? The Almighty’s?). by turning his grave into a place of prayer.

Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum (the Elder) of Sátoraljaújhely (Hungary) Chassidic author of the commentary “Yismach Moshe”, uses the juxtaposition of our passage to the one following in the Talmud  (Ibid., Soncino translation) for the following exposition:
            R’ Hama son of R’ Hanina further said: What means the text: Ye shall walk after the Lord your   God? Is it, then, possible for a human being to walk after the Shechinah; for has it not been said:        For the Lord thy God is a devouring fire? But [the meaning is] to walk after the attributes of the        Holy One, Blessed Be He. As He clothes the naked, for it is written: And the Lord God made for      Adam and for his wife clothes of skin, and clothed them, so do thou also clothe the naked […]   The Holy One, blessed be He, buried the dead, for it is written: And He buried him in the valley,    so do thou also bury the dead. (Until here, the quote from the Talmud).  I add my explanation,     for it is known that they [the Sages] interpreted “Let them follow this order” [The reference is to the Thirteen Attributes of God] (Rosh Hashana 17b) ‘Saying is not sufficient, but there must be action, they must act in accordance with the Thirteen Attributes (quoted above in the Haphtara       of Tetseh). R’ Hama bar Hanina’s first exposition is problematic—Does the Holy One, blessed        be He, hate Israel , forefend, that He devises             stratagems to avoid cancellation of the decree [to     live in exile]? But the solution is that His intention is to benefit them, for actually they could             have themselves cancelled the decree with the Thirteen Attributes. But in order for them [the Thirteen Attributes] to benefit them, they must act in accordance with this order, therefore             was Moshe’s burial place concealed, so that they would be forced to act according to His           attributes in order to cancel the decree. Thus, the second exposition ‘follow His attributes’,            and this is His will as He cautions them to follow his attributes, therefore was Moshe’s burial            place hidden, so that they would be forced to act according to His attributes, thereby cancelling             the decree . . . (Yismach Moshe II, 153b)

It is not desireable that Jewish prayers at Moshe’s grave offer an effortless substitute for actions encompassed by “walking in His ways”.

R’ Hezkia ben Manoach, author of “Hizkuni”, emphasizes the non-establishment of Moshe’s grave as a place of worship, along with an additional reason:
            “Until this day: So that no one else be buried alongside, such as was the case in Bet-El, and so    that inquirers of the dead not come with their requests.”

RaLBaG, explains the secrecy of the grave’s location similarly, but in greater detail (RaLBaG on Devarim 34:6):
            The Lord did so [that no one know the location] because if the site were to become known,          future generations may mistakenly make of him a divinity because of the famous wonders         which he performed. Do you not see how the copper serpent which Moshe formed resulted   in some of Israel erring because of the greatness of its creator (II Kings 18:4), and because God             buried Moshe [secretly] as an omen, no one ever touched his grave.

R’ Shimshon Rafael Hirsch also explained in similar vein:
            Let us recall how rituals bordering on idolatry often developed around the graves of great men     who did much for humanity, and thereby we can understand  the greatness of this final stroke in    the picture of Moshe’s life.

R’ Meir Simcha of Dvinsk took a slightly different approach:
            No man has known: In the sense of has not recognized, i.e., had no relationship whatever to      his burial place. This is because he was “a man of God in his lifetime, and very humble, and was     not connected to, not involved, in the material and in general matters as are all men, and this is    the meaning of “and no man has known” – not even Moshe.

Despite their shades of difference, the above explanations of the fog hovering over Moshe’s grave move in one direction:
Moshe, the man (incidentally, when the Children of Israel demanded of Aharon “Rise up and make us a god” it was the concrete “the man Moshe” they missed) of flesh and blood, whose life was partially described in the Torah, died like every man. The Torah describes his plea to enter the Land. Chazal, too, in different sources, depict his longing   to realize this dream and his desire for eternal life.
Moshe our teacher, man of God, greatest prophet of all time, “nafsho hanivdeletin Seforno’s words, did not die, because “the righteous, even in death, are considered alive”. He continues to live within us through the Torah, written and oral, in which “every innovation of future distinguished scholars has already been presented to Moshe at Sinai”. Therefore it is improper to desecrate his memory with idolatrous ritual. Rambam writes (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Mourning 4:4):
            “[…] monuments are not erected over the graves of the tsaddikim because their words are their     memorials, and one should not go to visit the graves”


The living Moshe should not be replaced with inanimate gravestones. Perhaps Moshe our teacher teaches us even with his death and burial a most important lesson: Our Torah is a Torah of life, and has no interest in turning graves into ritual sites and ‘holy places.” Holiness is not found in the ground, in stones and graves, not even in the tablets of the covenant (see RaSHar Hirsch’s last commentary on the Torah and the “Meshech Chochma” on Parashat Ki Tissah). It is to be found in Man’s striving to sanctify his behavior during his lifetime. 

יום ראשון, 15 בספטמבר 2013

About "shokkling" the Lulav

Ours won! Ours won!

Pinchas Leiser

During the Sukkot festival, we are commanded to take the Four Species.  It would seem that the minimalist halakhah requires us merely to take up the etrog, lulav, myrtle and willow branches and recite the appropriate blessing.  However, already in the Mishnah (Sukkah 3:9) we find mention of the practice of shaking them.  The Gemara (Sukka 37b) explains the manner in which they should be waved, citing, inter alia, the words of R. Hama bar Ukba:

In the West [i.e., the Land of Israel] they learned thusly: R. Hama bar Ukba said in the name of R. Yossi son of R. Hanina: [One shakes it] back and forth – in order to stop foul winds, up and down – in order to stop foul dew.  

In the “studies” section of his commentary, R. Adin Steinsaltz brings an idea in the name of the Jerusalem Talmud:  Why is it shaken?  In order to shake the power of the accuser.

That is to say: we shake the Four Species in order to overcome certain forces of nature and other forces that could hurt us.

The struggle between those evil forces which might harm us and the possibility of overcoming them is also described in the following midrashic tale:

Abba Yosi of Tzitor would always sit and study by a certain spring.  A spirit that was found there revealed itself before him and told him: Do you not know that I sit in your company these many years and have never done you evil, great or small?  Your wives also come here each morning and evening to draw water and they are unharmed, but now you should know that there is an evil spirit [here] which harms people.

Abba Yossi asked the spirit: What shall we do?

The spirit told him: Go warn the townspeople and tell them: Anyone who has a hoe or a rake should come here tomorrow “when the day grows,” they should look at the surface of the water and when they see a whirl in it they should strike it with an iron tool and say: Ours won! Ours won! They should not leave until they see a drop of blood on the surface of the water.  So did Abba Yossi. (Vayikra Rabba 24:3)

Can the concepts appearing in this midrash involving evil spirits and the possibility of gaining victory over evil spirits in the manner described in the story speak to modern people?  Can we connect them to the custom of shaking the Four Species and find in them significance for Jews of our generation?

Modern people are also sometimes threatened by various and sundry threats. Sometimes the physical survival of the individual and the security of the public, the community or the nation face a real threat.

It seems that there exist many strategies for judging the balance of power, gathering needed intelligence, and choosing the most effective means for the neutralization and achievement of “victory” over real threats.  For instance, a strategic assessment can consider the chances of beating the enemy in battle, the cost to be paid for victory, and first and foremost it must define the meaning of “victory” in the particular case, i.e., to determine what is to be gained by battle and what are the chances of its achievement.

Similarly, it may happen that when all options are considered, intelligence and strategic assessment will lead to the conclusion that military action has no advantage over other means (negotiations, mediation, and international pressure) for the removal or mitigation of the threat. 

It should be supposed and hoped for that if the events of the recent war are investigated seriously by an independent body, we will know to what extent those in charge assessed the threat accurately, clearly defined the goals of realistic “victory,” considered all available options, and chose the best and most effective course of action to achieve their defined goals.  In light of the calls for the establishment of a state commission of inquiry, it may be assumed that much of the public feels that the conduct of the war was flawed.  Beyond the real and present danger, one sometimes feels threatened by a demonic force which floods him with potentially paralyzing fear.  In contrast to the actual threat, here the source of the danger is undefined, making it impossible to develop a rational strategy for vanquishing the threat based on the assessment of information.

In the midrash quoted above, Abba Yossi of Tzitor asks the “good spirit” what should be done in order to overcome the “bad spirit” that might hurt the townspeople.  The good spirit suggests something that sounds like a magical rite.  However, the story can bear a different reading.

Abba Yossi of Tzitor sat by the spring and studied.  It is not surprising that he was connected to the “good spirit.”  A person who studies is in touch with the positive and constructive parts of his soul; through study and observation of the spring he can find the way to overcome his destructive elements, his “evil spirits.”  The “weapons” needed for doing battle against the evil spirit are not really instruments of war; it seems that the cry “Our’s won!” is what decided the outcome of the struggle.  Here we have an inner conflict with the forces of evil that can overcome a person or a society.  Such evil elements can be beaten by emphasizing the good, by cultivating faith in the ability of the good to gain victory over evil, and by struggling for that faith.

I think that Agnon’s story “From Foe to Friend” suggests an interesting way to conduct this struggle.

In the beginning of the story, the author finds himself in a desperate conflict with a wind [ruah – which also means spirit].  He tries various means to deal with it, but “I saw that I cannot conduct a discussion with someone stronger than me, so I left.”  Thus, the story continues with an endless and Sisyphean struggle against the wind that has been designated as his enemy.  Finally

I took some strong boards and beams and large stones and plaster and cement, and I hired good workers and oversaw them day and night.  My wisdom endured, and I deepened the foundations.  The house was built.

When the house was standing, the wind came and knocked on the shutters.

I asked: “Who is knocking on my window?”

It calmed and said: “A neighbor.”

I said to it: “What does one neighbor ask another on such a stormy night?”

He laughed and said: “A neighbor comes to congratulate his neighbor on his new house.”

I said to him: “Is it his custom to enter through windows like a thief?  Come, knock on my door.”

The wind said: “I am your neighbor.”

I said: “You are my neighbor, come inside.”

He said: “But the door is locked.”

I said to him: “The door is locked; it seems I locked it.”

The wind answered, saying: “Open up.”

I said: “I am afraid of the cold, wait until the sun comes out and I shall open it for you…”

I took a hoe and tilled the earth…not many days passed before the seedlings I had planted became trees with branches.  I made a bench for myself and sat in their shade.

One night the wind came and hurled itself against the trees.

The trees hurled themselves against the wind.

The wind became dispirited, he turned and left.

From then on, he brings a nice fragrance from the mountains and from the valleys… and I love him with a complete love. It is even possible that he loves me as well.

This story contains an echo of the definition of the valiant in Avot De’Rabbi Natan (chapter 23):

Who is the most valiant among the valiant? He who makes his enemy love him.

I think that while shaking the Four Species this year, we should reflect upon the deeper meaning of the difficult internal battle which can help us overcome the evil spirit of hatred, bigotry, and aggressiveness which can gain control of us.  We should change “a foe into a friend” and then we shall be able to announce whole-heartedly and with great conviction: “Our’s has won” – our original faith and values have won.

Pinchas Leiser, the editor of Shabbat Shalom, is a psychologist

אי הוודאות שבקיומנו - The Existentail Uncertainty

לבני משפחתנו, חברותינו וחברינו היקרים
 
בראש השנה נידונים כל באי עולם, ביום הכיפורים ניתנת חנינה וכפרה לבאי עולם וגם לעולם כולו,  בחג הסוכות אנו מתרכזים בסיפור הלאומי שלנו; ב-40 שנים של אי-וודאות במדבר המאתגרות את האמונה והמבטאות את הדרך הארוכה והמפותלת בין היציאה מעבדות לבין הכניסה לארץ המובטחת. בנוסף לכך, "בחג נידונים על המים" – אולי יש להתבונן בחג הזה בעובדה שקיומנו כאן איננו מובן מאליו. גם עם החי על אדמתו צריך לזכור את ימי המדבר כדי לא להיגרר לעמדה מתנשאת, רכושנית וכוחנית.
חג שמח ומועדים לשמחה לכולכם
ציפי ופנחס לייזר ומשפחתם

http://pinchaspeace.blogspot.com






Dear Family and Friends,
On Rosh HaShana the World and all its inhabitants are on trial; Yom Kippur is a unique occasion of Reflection, Repentance, Mercy and Atonement. At Sukkot, we are dealing with our more specific national narrative; it's all about 40 years of uncertainty in the desert, challenging our faith and illustrating the long way and journey between liberation form slavery and the Promised Land. Even more: on Sukkot, we are worried about the amount of rain we'll have during the year; even the Promised Land isn't guaranteed and cannot be taken for granted. We have to remember the Desert as an expression of humility and an antidote against hubris and possessiveness.
Chag Sameach to all of you.
Pinchas, Tzippie and Family

יום חמישי, 12 בספטמבר 2013

יום הכיפורים כחג של אחריות - Yom Kippur as a Holiday of Joy and Responsibility

לבני משפחתנו, חברותינו וחברינו היקרים,
במשנה "יומא" נאמר:
"עבירות שבין אדם לחברו, אין יום הכיפורים מכפר עד שירצה את חברו."
מעבר לאחריות המוטלת על האדם לתקן את יחסיו עם הזולת ולא להטיל את הדבר על הא-ל, יתכן שיש כאן מסר נוסף: אלוהיו של אדם שאינו סולח ואינו יכול לבקש סליחה הוא אל בלתי מתפשר, נוקשה, נוקם ונוטר.  רק אדם אשר מסוגל לסלוח ולבקש סליחה נמצא במקום בו הוא יכול לדמות את הא-ל כסולח ולפנות אליו.
שנה טובה, גמר חתימה טובה וחג שמח לכולכם
פנחס  וציפי לייזר  ומשפחתם


 Dear Family and Friends,
We read in the Mishna: There is no atonement on Yom Kippur until you achieve reconciliation with your friend.
Besides being responsible as human beings for our relations with others and not relying on Divine Grace, this teaches us maybe that people who aren't able to forgive or to ask forgiveness, aren't able to conceive G!d as being able to forgive; only people who are forgiving and are asking forgiveness are able to experience G!d's attribute of forgiveness.
Shana Tova, Gemar Hatima Tova and Hag Sameach to all,
Pinchas, Tzippie and Family

יום ראשון, 8 בספטמבר 2013

Is there an option of collective atonement?

REPENTANCE = ATONEMENT?
Pinchas Leiser

One of the more intriguing questions posed by religious thought is the “division of labor”  between man and God in perfecting the world and man. God is portrayed in many of our sources as one who desires the perfection of the world, who does not desire “the death of the wicked; but for the wicked to turn from his course and live.” Much has been written throughout the generations about the connection between repentance and atonement, and about the mutual tie between the two concepts.
            Many are acquainted with the berayta of Rabbi Yisrael on “chilukey kapparah” – the classification of modes of expiation. This berayta  is the basis for some of the Rambam’s “Laws of Repentance”, in which repentance is considered an essential – but not always  adequate – condition for atonement.
            The words of the Rambam at the beginning of “The Laws of Repentance” (1:2) pose problems and provoke thoughts – many of which were formulated by the Rambam’s commentators. So wrote the Rambam:
[2] The ‘sent away goat’ – because it was an atonement for all of Israel, the High Priest would confess upon it, in terms referring to all of Israel, as is written, “And is to confess over it all the iniquities of Children of Israel” (Vayikra 16:21)
The ‘sent-away goat’ atones for all the transgressions in the Torah, the light ones and the grave ones, whether done willfully or by mistake, whether beknown to him or unbeknown to him – all are atoned for by the sent-away goat.  All this, provided that the person repented. But if he did not repent, the goat atones only for the lighter infractions.
What are the lighter ones and what are the serious ones? The serious ones are those which incur capital punishment by the Beth Din, or kareth – a Divinely inflicted punishment. False and unnecessary oaths, even though they carry no kareth penalty, are among the serious ones. All other negative precepts, and positive commandments not subject to kareth punishment, are considered minor infractions.
            Rambam’s rulings are puzzling in many respects: According to his understanding, there is no single sacrifice which atones sans repentance. Even Yom Hakippurim in our time (1:3) provides atonement only for those who repent. Similarly – and this was noted by Rabbi Yosef Karo in his “Kessef Mishneh” – the Rambam’s system does not conform to any of the Tannaic positions consistently quoted in the Mishna and the Talmud Bavli.  Rebbi takes the most radical position – the sent-goat atones – even without repentance – for all sins, minor as well as major, with the exception of the three specially serious transgressions. According to the dissenting Sages, the goat can never atone unless accompanied by repentance. The Rambam’s position represents a compromise between these two extremes.  The Rambam’s “arm bearers” grappled with this difficulty. Rabbi Yosef Karo, in his “Kessef Mishneh”, concludes “requires further study”.  The author of the “Lechem Mishneh”  suggests that the Rambam’s aim is to make the controversy between Rebbi and the Sages less polar. None of these commentators suggest an alternate source for the Rambam’s position. I have not examined latter day  scholars’ explanations; I assume that they deal with this question.    
            Rabbi Soleveitchik, z”l, also dealt with this question in his “On Repentance”. He draws an interesting distinction – a la the ‘Brisk method’ – between the atonement of the individual and that of the community. He reads the Rambam’s text very closely – “The ‘sent-away goat’, because it was an atonement for all of Israel” – he identifies as an offering belonging to the totality of Israel, to Klal Yisrael.  The confession of the High Priest, then, is not a confession of individual sins, but of the sins of the community.  He is not the agent of individuals, but the emissary of Klal Yisrael. This distinction helps Rabbi Soleveitchik explain the contradiction within the Rambam’s own words to the effect that the passage “the  sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination” refers to the sacrifice – unaccompanied by teshuva – of the individual sinner A person who belongs to Klal Yisrael earns expiation through confession and the offering of the ‘goat to Azazel’.  This applies to all transgressions, excluding karet, because the essence of karet – being cut off – is the expulsion of the individual from Klal Yisrael.
            What, then, is the relevance of this brilliant analytic distinction for  a Jew living in a modern and post-modern reality, in Eretz Yisrael or in the Diaspora, other than having provided a resolution to a problem in the Rambam’s opus?
            In my opinion, there is no single, clear-cut answer. Today, of course, there is no practical possibility of atonement without repentance. In the wonderful formulation of the Rambam: “Today, when there is no Temple and we have no altar of atonement, there remains only repentance. Repentance atones for all sins…
            On a theoretical level, however, we might add a hermeneutic (drush) level to Rabbi Soleveitchik’s analytical examination.    
            The annulment of institutions or ceremonies which were prevalent in the past, opens the door to various explications. In certain instances, the sources take a clear and unequivocal  stand, for example: “With the increase of murderers, the [ceremony of] egla arufa -–the broken-necked calf – was cancelled; with the increase of adulterers, the  [ceremony of] the cursing waters [given the Sotah – the wife suspected of infidelity] was nullified.”  It is evident to all of us that a situation in which there is an “increase of murderers” is perceived to be a morally and spiritually degenerate reality.
            In other cases, things are less clear-cut. In contrast to the approach which considers the revival of sacrificial ritual to constitute “return of the crown to its  original position”,  we cannot ignore the fact that our Sages tended to assign to acts of charity and good deeds greater spiritual worth than to sacrifices. It is superfluous to state that the Rambam, in his Guide, considers the sacrifices to be a sort of “compromise” with the pagan world.
            A situation in which an individual can achieve atonement via the confession of the High Priest is, without doubt, quite advantageous; on occasion, we can sense the power potential of a public.  This power is beyond anything which the individuals comprising the community can amass; the individual draws his power from the masses. On certain occasions – such as on Yom Hakippurim – we are able to experience the tremendous spiritual power of communal prayer.
            In our own generation, society offered ‘sacrifices’.  Unlike the sent-away goat, these were very painful sacrifices. There is no doubt that the pain of all who pay a personal price for our existence here is unbearable. But as long as there was a tsibbur – a “community” – who felt that that the personal sacrifice was also its sacrifice, there was  a different feeling about the meaning of the sacrifice.
            It is not quite clear at what point the sense of “community” began to fade, and whether all its roots of decline can be identified; the tendency to blame the “other” (the ultra-Orthodox, the left, the settler, the hedonistic secularists, etc.) is widespread – and frighteningly simplistic.
            Perhaps, in the absence of “community”, the individual is charged with greater responsibility; in order to perfect himself, he has at his disposal only his own efforts. But beyond the opportunity for development, there is also regression in the  perfecting of the whole of society.
            For various and sundry reasons, we live in an era in which the concept of “community” has been weakened. “Knesset Yisrael”, as a spiritual concept, is independent of historical and others circumstances, but Jewish society is split and divided. I do not refer necessarily to political or ideological differences. When there is agreement on minimally common goals and on modes of resolution in cases of controversy, social cohesion need not be impaired. It is understood, then, that the ability to consider the sacrifice as a “communal sacrifice” is in proportion to  the weakening of the sense of “community.”
I do not necessarily long for the ancient ceremony of the “Goat for Azazel” as recorded  in the “Order of Service” of Yom Hakippurim.  I do pray that the day will come – may we merit seeing it – when we will be able to interpret the concept of “Eretz Yisrael is obtained through suffering” in a non-literal fashion. In the meantime, however, it seems that if life is dear to us, we must examine, each of us for himself, what is in his power to do in order to build anew a society which is marked by multiplicity but which is capable of defining common goals in a spirit of respect and mutual appreciation. There were times when sacrifices and shared suffering created “a covenant of destiny”, in the words of Rabbi Soleveitchik. In our day, it seems, this is not enough. There is an urgent need to define common and basic goals through wide communal agreement. Then, if we must pay a price, this society will see to it that it will be as low as possible and shared as equally as possible.
            The High Priest, according to Chazal tradition, was responsible for the spiritual condition of the generation; through his power and in his merit, human life was respected in society (so Chazal and some of the commentators explain the sentence of the accidental killer to life in the city of refuge “until the death of the High Priest”). Therefore, only a society able to nurture such a spiritual leadership can be represented by the communal sacrifice which the Priest offers and the confession which he utters.
Today, there is only repentance.”
                                              

יום שלישי, 3 בספטמבר 2013

מה ואיך לזכור ולשם מה? To remember: what? How and for which purpose?

לכל בני משפחתנו וחברינו היקרים בכל מקום שהם,
במחזור התפילות של ראש השנה מכונה ראש השנה "יום הזיכרון", על בסיס מסורות קדומות יותר שמקורן כנראה ב"זכרון תרועה", וגם בפסוקי הזכרונות הנאמרים בתפילת מוסף.
האם הדברים שאנחנו זוכרים או בוחרים לזכור ממה שעשינו,  ממה שעשו לנו וממה שקרה לנו קשור למה שזוכרים אחרים מאתנו? מה היינו רוצים שייזכר ומה היינו מעדיפים שיישכח? האם הסליחה מחייבת שכחה, או שמא יש לזכור תמיד את המוקשים בהם אנחנו עלולים ליפול? ואולי מה לזכור ומה לא לזכור, איך לזכור ומה לעשות עם הזיכרון,  הן השאלות להתבוננות בימים אלו של התחדשות וחשבון נפש.

שנה טובה, מתוקה ומשמעותית לכולכם
פנחס, ציפי ומשפחתם






Dear Family and Friends,
In our tradition, one of the names of Rosh HaShana is "Yom Hazikkaron" – "the day of Memory" or "the Day of remembering".
Is what we remember or what we chose to remember of what we have done, what others have done to us or what happened to us related to what others remember? What do we want to be remembered  and what would we like to be forgotten? Does "forgiving" imply "forgetting", or is it preferable to remember the pits in which we could fall or fail?
Maybe what to remember, what not to remember; how to remember, and what to do about our memories, are the relevant questions in these Days of Renewal and Introspection.
Shana Tova Umetuka – Let's all have a sweet, peaceful and meaningful year
Pinchas, Tzippie,and Family

יום שני, 2 בספטמבר 2013

ON MOSHE"S "MAGICAL" HANDS AND SHOFAR

ARE MOSHE"S HANDS LOADED WITH SOME MAGICAL POWER? 

The majestic efforts Rabbi Yehuda Ha'Nasi devoted to codifying the Mishnah has resulted in a work of 
momentous importance to the Jewish people and provides us with limitless opportunities to learn and reflect.
Towards the end of Chapter 3 of Tractate Rosh Hashanah in Mishnah 7 the following passage appears: "If one blows into a pit or a cistern or a barrel and can hear the sound of the shofar, that individual has performed their religious duty. However, if one hears the echo, that individual has not performed their duty. Similarly, if one was passing behind a synagogue or if their house was adjoining the synagogue and that individual heard the sound of the shofar or of the Megillah being read and listens with attention, he or she performs the religious precept. Otherwise, that individual does not fulfill the religious precept. Although one hears equally with the others, the one listened with attention while the other did not listen with attention." The halacha at the end of Mishnah 8 concludes the chapter: "A deaf-mute, a lunatic, or a minor cannot perform a religious duty on behalf of a congregation. The general principle is that one who is not under obligation to perform a religious duty cannot perform it on behalf of a congregation".
Between these two halachot a magical passage apparently not directly connected to the text appears. This passage says, " 'When Moses held up his hand and Israel prevailed,' etc. (Exodus 17:11), now did the hands of Moses wage war or crush the enemy? Not so for the text only signifies that so long as Israel turned their thoughts above and subjected their ears to their Father in heaven they prevailed, but otherwise they fell. The same lesson may be taught thus, 'Make thee a fiery serpent and set it up on a pole, and it shall come to pass that everyone that is bitten, when he sees it, shall live' (Number 21:8). No, did the serpent kill or did the serpent keep alive? No, when Israel turned their thoughts above and subjected their hears to their Father in heaven, they were healed. Otherwise, they pined away."
In his commentary "Beit Ha'Bichira" on Tractate Rosh Hashanah Rabbi Menachem ben Shlomo "Ha'Meiri", provides an explanation to the previous Mishnah of the mysterious passage. "As this referred to the intention of the heart, he brought this to show that everything is based on intention of the heart." The version of the Mishnah used by "Ha'Meiri" stressed that "Whenever Israel turned their thoughts above" and they were not enslaved, etc.
With a single glance we can connect the Halacha on religious intention with the mysterious passage that underscores the power of this intention in instances of war and healing. Upon further examining "Ha'Meiri's" writing, we discover more than what meets the eye.
The commentaries on Exodus 17 (in the war with Amalek) and Numbers 21 (the episode of the serpent and the copper) presents a perspective which struggles with ideas related to magical powers. The commentary states that neither Moses nor the copper serpent possesses magical powers. Rather, the fundamental moral and spiritual power of each human being can defeat Amalek or the serpent, which are sent as a result of spiritual laxity. The insight of the Sages is expressed in many places in the midrashic literature such as Mechiltah on B'shlach, which emphasizes the spiritual aspect of the war with Amalek "Amalek" and the "serpent" can metaphorically represent two types of dangers we can confront. The Amalekiteness represents the temptation of humans to use power and abuse this power to harm those in a weaker situation. "The serpent" or the impatience, which resulted in punishment by the fiery serpent, represents a loss of direction, hopelessness, and lack of meaning. The Israelites do not understand the meaning of their exchanging slavery for freedom and prefer to return to their enslaved state. These two dangers, the temptation when being intoxicated by power accompanied by acting against the weak and the loss of direction face each individual at all times. In any individual or national struggle for growth, liberation, or redemption, there are ups and downs. Any ideology can be corrupted, no matter how noble the ideology. There has not been a people in history that has never succumbed to the temptation of abusing power.
The commentary in the Mishna, which "Ha'Meiri" bases his writing, teaches us that the only way to prevail against these two temptations is by utilizing "intention of the heart". By being cognizant of these dangers and realizing the ethical and spiritual obligations to our "Heavenly Father" who brought us out of Egypt and commanded us to remember that we were strangers in the land of Egypt, we are commanded to recognize the vulnerability of the stranger and the weak. In Deuteronomy 24:17-18 we are commanded as follows: "Do not pervert justice for the proselyte or orphan. Do not take a widow's garment as security for a loan. You must remember that you were a slave in Egypt, and G-d your Lord liberated you. It is for that reason that I am commanding you to do this". The "intention of the heart" required here means the recognition of the reality of redemption and the resulting obligation providing the principle of "intention of the heart" with meaning and justification. What, then, is the connection between these lofty ideas and the Halacha which appears at the end of Mishna 8 (a deaf-mute, a lunatic, or a minor cannot perform a religious duty on behalf of a congregation, etc.)? The halachic ruling which appears at the conclusion of the Mishna, "one who is not himself or herself under obligation to perform a religious duty cannot perform it on behalf of a congregation", provides us with a better understanding of the meaning of this connection. The fundamental principle in fulfilling this commandment and the creation of a covenant between the public messenger and this individual's ability to perform the religious duty on behalf of a congregation is a willingness to accept personal responsibility. This is connected, on one hand, to "intention of the heart", which requires the recognition of liberation and redemption towards understanding the ethical and spiritual meaning of that liberation. On the other hand, fulfilling the commandment relates to the objective and subjective capability of that person to connec them as a person who possesses religious intention.
In this context, we might better understand the Halacha which does not allow the "deaf-mute, lunatic, or minor", as viewed by the Sages, to accept the obligation with full intention of the heart or to be public messenger in shofar blowing, which demands special intention. We note, though, that ideas about deafness have changed throughout the ages and resulted in halachic discussion to re-examine the Halachic status of the deaf. According to the Rambam "Both the listener and the person sounding the horn must have the requisite intention." The public messenger must possess the awareness, intention, and communication skills for people to rely on this individual to carry out this function and for the public messenger to know that the people support him. The sound of the shofar, like Moses' hands and the copper serpent, does not possess magical powers. The sound, which on its own is neutral and meaningless, is given meaning by those who fulfill the commandment of blowing and hearing the sound of the shofar. Beyond the personal significance that each individual can find in hearing the sound of the shofar meant to encourage reflection and repentance, we have halachic rulings, which define these sounds. The sound of the shofar must be authentic, original and not an echo of another sound ("if an echo of another sound has been heard, this does not fulfill the obligation"). The general ruling states that "all sounds of the shofar are kosher" and assumes the legitimacy existence of different, authentic sounds of different types of shofars.
We further explore the significance of the sounds of tekia, teruah, and shevarim. The sound of tekia is interpreted by both the Talmud and the Rambam as a simple sound and is associated with redemption, victory and important occasions such as "on that day a shofar sound will be blown."
Regarding the sound of teruah, the Rambam writes, "As a result of the long succession of years and the sore tribulations of the Dispersion, we are in doubt as to the precise meaning of the Scriptural term teruah and the exact sound which it represents. The sound might be a sobbing sound like that of lamenting women, or a sighing sound like the repeated sighs of a man whose heart is oppressed by great trouble, or a combination of both, the sighing sound and the sobbing sound that usually follows it. For a man in trouble will usually sigh first and then sob. Accordingly, we sound all three notes." (Shofar 3,2)
The gemarah in Rosh Hashanah 33, 72 also discusses the significance of the sound of the teruah. "It is written, 'It shall be a day of teruah unto you' (Numbers 29:1), and we translate [in Aramaic] a day of yebab, and it is written of the mother of Sisera, 'Through the window she looked forth' (Judges 5:28) [wa'teyabeyv]". The sounds of the shofar also have two perspectives, which the Mishnah addresses. The sound of the tekiah requires us to reflect and believe in the general principle of liberation and redemption without losing hope. The sound of the teruah, yevava, teaches us not to lose sensitivity towards other human beings' suffering, even if we are engaged in war, for even Sisra's mother was concerned and suffered for the welfare of her son.