A Parable of Two Ships

Rabbinic wisdom speaks of a well known parable about two ships were sailing near the shore; one headed toward the open sea, while the other headed toward the harbor. Everyone was cheering the outgoing ship. But very few cheered for the incoming vessel. A sage observed, there is something paradoxical about all this. The outgoing ship should not be cheered, for nobody knows what lies ahead in wait for it. Nobody knows what stormy seas it may encounter; what dangers might lie ahead of the person as she continues her voyage.  But everyone ought to be cheering the incoming ship, for it has clearly reached the port safely. The ship concluded its journey in peace. Loved ones were now united; life begins anew once more. . . .

We are here to pay tribute to a most remarkable woman, Esther Avruch,  whose voyage through life was full of danger, loss, joy and triumph.  survived the horrors of the Holocaust and made a wonderful life.

Esther’s Life

Let me tell you a little bit about Esther’s life. She was born July 15, 1929, in Sochaczew, Poland, the daughter of Avrum-Scholum  and Miriam Fleischman.  She was the third youngest of ten children, Esther, and one of her sisters were the only family members to survive the Warsaw Ghetto and the Holocaust.

Like many children in Eastern Europe, religious families sent their children to Catholic schools to learn secular studies, while spending the rest of the day learning about Judaism. (My father also attended Catholic school with all of his siblings–despite the fact that they were Hasidic Jews; this was quite common in Eastern Europe because there were no public schools.) Esther learned at the one of the first Beth Ya’akob schools for Jewish girls. Esther could still remember the songs she learned in school. She dressed up like a Jewish princess whenever she attended services, which she always loved doing. Esther also learned to speak several languages that included, Yiddish, Polish, and Hebrew.

Every week, she used to clean her home for the Sabbath; she had a very happy childhood. Esther especially loved dressing up for the Sabbath in her finest clothes.

The Beginning of the War Years

As Hitler approached Poland, anti-Semites used to say, “Just wait till Hitler comes to Poland . . .” The situation grew worst in Sochaczew, and the family decided to leave for Warsaw, where they thought life would be safer.

In one of the buildings they were hiding, a German bomb exploded the building but miraculously nothing happened. This happened on September 3^rd of 1939.

One of the worst experiences occurred on Yom Kippur when all the Jews were huddled at the synagogue, when the Nazis started bombing it.  Esther’s sister Raisel, was injured in the attack; they ran away to their home where they hid in the cellar.

For now, everything was ok—or so it seemed. There was no water, and little Esther had to shlep miles  to bring just a few buckets of water. Warsaw was conquered by the Nazis, and the family had no choice but to go back to their home town. After the Nazis took over, every Jewish home was burned to the ground; the Jews had to wear armbands with the Mogen David insignia on it. As if the Nazis were bad enough, many Poles proved that they could be  just as cruel, and would beat the Jews, and seize their food and water.

Miracles

After a while, Esther and her family were reunited with their father and brothers in Warsaw. Despite the theft of their food and water, Esther did her best to survive and survive she did. When typhus broke out, it was the wisdom of their mother, who protected her children. Anyone going to a hospital, simply never returned.

Starving for food and drink, simple Polish peasants, like a miracle from God, shared their food with the family. They were friends of Esther’s father’s business partners. They acted morally and with compassion. As the war continued, the Germans threatened to kill any Pole who would dare save a Jew. The pious Polish Christian family was gunned down, one by one, for daring to save the Jews.

Esther’s mother, Miriam, always shared with what little food with others who were starving as well.

Throughout the ordeal, Esther did her best to maintain contact with her brother Scharma, who was working at a Polish factory in Warsaw. During that time, she managed to smuggle bread to her brother. At one point, she was caught and beaten by the Nazis for helping the Jews.

Another kind Polish family got her a fake birth certificate, and she then assumed the name Marsia Rakowsa. Because the Nazis never suspected that Esther was Jewish because she had blond features. This act of kindness enabled Esther to survive the war. With this birth certificate, she was able to obtain a ration card, which also helped her escaped getting arrested. On more than one occasion, Esther had to face the German officers and tell them she was an orphan, after her parents were killed in a bombing raid. She attended Church services,  sung Christian songs and nobody suspected that she was Jewish.

Just prior to the what was to be the famous Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, she found out about the plan of the Jews to fight back, and that she needed to prepare herself a special bunker where she would remain safe.  Instead, she decided to take her chances on the Polish side rather than remain in the bunker.  Esther said to herself, “If I am to die, I would rather die in the open air, than die in a bunker.”

Esther’s intuition saved her once more, for after the Germans came in and crushed the revolt, there were no more survivors in any of the bunkers. If people were not killed immediately with their families, they were shipped to the Treblinka concentration camp. She recalls that while her brothers Scharma, Yitzchak, and Benjamin were in the trains, they jumped from the train as the Germans began shooting at them, killing Isaac in the process.  Scharma was knocked out for a while, only to be robbed and attacked by the Poles in a forest nearby. That was the last time she saw her brother Scharma.  Eventually, he was captured and killed by the Nazis.

Esther lived with the fear that somebody might recognize her; sometimes the anxiety was so great, she almost wanted to die.  On one moment, while she was kneeling at church, somebody tapped her on her shoulder who recognized her. Esther’s heart froze with fear, until she realized that it was a friend from her home village of Sochaczew. From that moment onward, Esther realized there were still other Jews who managed to stay hidden even after the uprising was over.

As the Germans began losing, the Polish underground became bolder and with the help of the Russians, Jewish partisans also joined the ranks. The war would soon be over.

After the War: Esther Met Saul

After the war, Esther met her husband Saul Avrich, in a Displaced Persons Camp in Traunstin, Germany, following World War II. They were married in 1947. He preceded her in death in 1982. They came to America in 1950, living in New York City for a time. They moved to the Quad-Cities in 1952. They were married for over 35 years and they loved each other very deeply.

Some years later the war was over, Esther gave birth to Susan and Steve Avrick (Judy), Wilmette, IL; five grandchildren, Jessica and Samantha Harris, and Emily, Olivia, and Ryan Avrick.

Grandchildren Remember

The grand children shared with me several wonderful memories of their beloved grandmother.

– Our grandmother loved bowling and had many bowling trophies
– she visited Florida often and loved engaging with others, meeting new people and taking walks
– she had an affinity for birds, especially cardinals — which will always remind us of her
– she crocheted blankets for us, which is now a hobby I have taken up and realize how much time and effort goes into making the cherished, memorable items she had created for us
– she always provided a warm, welcoming home for her friends and family
– she was extremely generous and always striving to make us comfortable and happy when we came to visit
– she always brought home gifts for her grandchildren

Her daughter Susan and her son Steven told me that she never tired expressing her love for them and their spouses, and grandchildren. Whether it was at a school play, a recital, or whatever, Esther made Jessica and Samantha Harris, and Emily, Olivia, and Ryan know how much she loved each of them. She had a necklace that had the birthstone of each of them. Whenever she traveled to Chicago, she took with her the hallahs, gefillte fish, chocolate cookies and other dainties to share with her mishpacha.

Like an artesian well, her cup of love constantly overflowed, and replenished itself anew.

A Community Remembers

As a beloved member of the Jewish community, Esther loved to participate at the Holocaust Memorial programs every year. In addition, she would go to many of the local schools where she shared her story with the young people—making an unforgettable impression. Esther  always took immense pride in her appearance and was the epitome of femininity. Despite the losses and suffering she endured, Esther celebrated life with a gusto, much like my own father.

Decades later, Esther traveled to Washington DC to be at the Holocaust Museum when it opened, she also went to a reunion of Holocaust survivors in Poland. She honored the memories of those people she loved.  When she made a friend with someone, you can be sure it was for life.  People she met in the displacement camps of Europe remained her friends throughout her life. Esther was instrumental in getting a special Righteous Gentile Award for a Polish family who saved a Jewish family during the war. Esther also gave testimony to the Survivors of the Shoah Visual History Foundation, and the Steven Spielberg videotape interviews of Holocaust survivors in 1995.

Debra Bowen wrote a children’s book, Never Alone, which was written about Esther’s life.

Yes, the boat has arrived home—safe at the harbor at last. While we are mourning for her loss, know that in the world of Eternity, there is a great homecoming celebration. Esther is united with her beloved family once more.

May her memory be a blessing unto us all.

Ramat Shlomo, East Jerusalem. Lower right corner: replica of 770 Eastern Parkway, the world headquarters of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement. (AP/ Ha’aretz.)

The picture surprised me. At first I thought somebody photo-shopped the picture, thus superimposing the picture into the background, but this was not the case. Aside from looking completely out of place, I am amazed the Israel government would even allow a building that was not made up of limestone. One must wonder why the Chabad architects would choose a style that sets it apart from all the rest? The answer is only too obvious: Chabad loves being “different.”

For those of you who don’t know, there is another facsimile of the 770 Headquarters in Kfar Chabad. Something tells me they are planning to franchise the model. McDonald’s and Pizza Hut may have some competition in the next decade or so.

I’m a member

And I approve this message.

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Yochanan composed another great melody I think everyone will enjoy.

Apologies to the Animals:

Notes:

[1] The recurring phrase “Rising Son,” is a pun and parody of the Chabad belief that Rabbi Schneersohn is going to literally “rise from the grave,” and claim to be the King Messiah.

The Mythology of Trolls

Trolls are interesting little creatures who were once believed to inhabit caves and hills. In German lands, they were considered to be excellent craftsmen and treasure guardians. In just about all the mythologies regarding them, trolls are especially known for their stupidity.  In addition, they are considered evil and dangerous because they have supernatural powers.

In many folktales, trolls make bargains with mortals. Typically, the humans must find a way to outwit the troll, or suffer a miserable fate. I recall as a child reading the famous Rumpelstiltskin story about a miller who lied to a king, claiming that his daughter could spin straw into gold. The girl is soon summoned by the king, shut in a tower with lots of straw and a spinning wheel. The king threatens to execute her if she fails to produce the gold. When she was about to give up all hope, a dwarfish creature (possibly a troll) appears and saves the day—on one condition: she must give the troll her firstborn child. Well, after marrying the king, she gets pregnant and delivers her firstborn child. Suddenly the troll appears to her and demands his payment.

The dwarf refused but finally agreed to give up his claim to the child if the queen could guess his name in three days. At first she failed, but before the final night, her messenger discovered the dwarf’s remote mountain cottage and, unseen, overhears the dwarf hopping about his fire and singing. While there are many variations in this song, the 1886 translation by Lucy Crane reads:

“To-day do I bake, to-morrow I brew,

The day after that the queen’s child comes in;

And oh! I am glad that nobody knew

That the name I am called is Rumpelstiltskin!”

A Rabbi Who Is in Touch with His “Inner Troll”

Well, trolls just made the news the other day, but instead of being of the Scandinavian or German variety, the troll of our story happens to have taken on the human appearance of a Kabbalist and Haredi Jew. If you do not believe that trolls really exist in real time, trust me, they exist in mythical time and this rabbi is definitely in touch with his “inner troll.”

On one lovely wintry day, Troll Inc.  decided to crash a party in the peaceful suburban city of  Great Neck, New York. The black-hatted rabbi, along with his four hasidim (Moe, Larry, Curly and Shemp),  crashes a family gathering that was celebrating their one-year-old child’s birthday.

Banging his siddur on the table, he cries out, “Shema Yisrael!” (“Hear O Israel!”). Imagining that he was like a modern day Pinchas, he excoriates the community for having mixed dancing–number 1 of the Haredi mortal sins–all in honor of a little girl’s first birthday. The troll of our story then curses all the participants with Hebrew curses that they be smitten with “illness, bankruptcy and tragedy for eternity.” According to a petition signed by some of those in attendance, “They started to curse everybody, saying — ‘You’re going to have tragedies, everyone who stays here . . . ’”

The parallels to our original story about a troll named Rumpelstiltskin gets even more interesting.

* Trolls have a talent for upsetting babies

* Trolls love curses and  possess supernatural powers

* Trolls are threatening beings

* Trolls are also very stupid and dim-witted.

Rabbi Aderet seems to mastered each of those traits, he is like a Haredi Rumpelstiltskin. Just as in the mythology of trolls, knowing a troll’s name gives a person power over it, the same holds true with our Haredi troll. Identifying this person, for whom he is, will alert others to keep a safe distance from them. This is one rabbi you should not invite to your home for dinner.

A Pinchas Wannabe

As mentioned earlier, trolls are believed to have mystical powers, and this particular rabbi, Rabbi Mordechai Aderet, has a wide following who swear by his mystical abilities to bless people with whatever they want. The local rabbinic councils refuse to chastise the rabbi. Could it be they are afraid of his dreaded powers?  Had this event occurred in Mea Sharim, we would probably not be surprised, for  Jerusalem is famous for its extremist Haredi behavior–but in suburbia? Really . . . After the party was over, Rabbi Aderet’s followers circulated a rumor that there were wild naked women at the party. The Freudian in me thinks the rabbi and his four guests were hoping for something much more entertaining.

And the hits keep on coming . . .

Some of the guests feared their business might suffer financial repercussions if they  publicly spoke out against the rabbi. According to one of the supporters, the Rabbi claimed to be on the guest list. Right . . . . Maybe Rabbi Aderet also thought he was a celebrity or a rock star. In any event, he crashes the party–both literally and figuratively. The guests at the party had no idea the rabbi was coming to their shindig.  It kind of reminds me of Sidney Poitier’s 1967 classical film, “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” but this time it wasn’t Sidney, but Rabbi Mordechai!

Now, why was the rabbi so upset? Evidently, the party occurred on the Jewish fast day known as “The Tenth of Tevet,” which marks the siege of Jerusalem. Interestingly enough, it never occurs to our dimwitted friend that maybe the guests were even unaware of the Jewish fast day; it is quite possible that even if they were aware of the date, they still would have opted to ignore it because they are not frum. Jewish law teaches that if we know that a “sinner” is about to sin, and will ignore our plea for him to refrain from “sinning,” then it is much better to be silent and say nothing. This of course is prudent advice–it is the halacha as well.

Invasion of the Trolls

What is perhaps more troubling about this kind of story is the real possibility that Haredism is looking to expand its political and religious sphere of influence not only in Israel, but even in the peaceful suburban communities located thousands of miles away from its strongholds. Until they moderate their policies and promise to behave like civilized people, then it is best we keep them out of our communities.

Just as in the mythology of trolls, knowing a troll’s name, gives a person power over it, the same holds true with our Haredi troll. Identifying this rabbi as a menace, will alert others to keep a safe distance from them. It is a pity nobody called the police, for if they did, the rabbi would be with his fellow trolls in jail (remember, trolls love caves).  Let the Scandinavian and German communities keep their trolls, while we in the Jewish community will gladly send them ours.

Rabbi Aryeh Levin was a famous saintly man, beloved by everyone in Israel for his gentleness, wisdom, and humor. Someone once asked him to curse Abdul Nasser, who hated Israel with a passion and even threatened to push the Jews into the sea. He replied, “Cursing is not a Jewish quality anyone should want to emulate; it is the characteristic of the pagan soothsayer Balaam . . .” In other words, invoking curses is the sign of a truly disturbed person.

And now you know, the rest of the story . . .

Biblical translations by and large also reinforce this popular misunderstanding. Oftentimes the biblical  translation renders טֻמְאָה as “filth” or “contamination.” As proof for this notion, examples are frequently cited from the list of “unclean” animals which were considered too “detestable” and revolting to eat.  In contrast, people often think animals that are considered tahor are because they are perceived as being clean and bereft of filthy habits.

If impurity were just a purely “physical” phenomena, then a ritual bathing would certainly suffice for reentry into the temple or shrine. However, in order for a person to be ritually purified, there are many ritual steps that must be undertaken. To mention a few, one may also have to bring an offering in addition, wait for the sun to set, and lastly, undergo ritual immersion.

To really appreciate what purity and impurity is, we must examine these terms according to the symbology of ancient Israel. To begin with, both of these terms are relative only in relationship to faith community’s relationship to the Sacred.

Anthropological studies show that cultic boundaries serve to keep the integrity of sacred space intact;  it also serves to protect the secular realm from invading its space. To gain entry into a sacred space, the worshiper must first be in a “pure” state; being “impure” does not allow entry into the sacred at all.

Commoner and High Priest alike cannot enter or participate at the sacred precinct without undergoing the necessary cultic purification. To willfully do so, was believed by the ancients to imperil one’s soul. By the same token, to partake of holy foods, one must be in a state of ritual purity (Lev. 7:20-21; Deut. 26:14).

From a structural and mythic perspective, all the substances mentioned in the Torah which induce ritual impurity are all–in one way or another–associated with the reality of death. Whether it be a human corpse, or the carcass of a permitted or an unclean animal, touching these items, or being even within an enclosure with a man who has just died, renders all the persons who were in it or might enter it, and all the open vessels that were there (Num. 19:11, 14-16).

Not only does this pertain to the loss of actual life, it applies even to the unfulfilled potential for life. The Torah has said on many occasions that blood is the carrier of the life principle commonly referred to as the soul. Saadia Gaon was probably the first medieval Jewish thinker to observe that once any organ or for that matter, any part of the body which becomes  detached from life, has  the power to convey ritual impurity.^[1]

Saadia’s theory would also explain at least in general comprehensive terms^[2] why all body fluids, e.g, menstrual blood, semen and other discharges  (Lev. 15) all symbolized the flow of life, and on some level, represented, a kind of death^[3] or at the very least, reminded a person of the bodily decomposition which occurs after the time of death, when the bodily secretions run amok inside and outside the body. The rabbis went so far as to say that two-thirds of a pint of blood (a.k.a. a “log”) ritually defiles as well.^[4]

The same idea would also explain, why leprosy (or more precisely,) “fungal” or “scaling disease” fall into this category (cf. Num. 12:12). Images of a decomposed hand, or the withering the human skin, would certainly make the infected person feel as if s/he was a character from the “Night of the Living Dead.”

While death is certainty for all flesh, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and the Oriental faiths view the heavenly realm as the true  home of the soul.  For these reasons and more, the concept of ceremonial purity is always bound up with that which is holy and eternal.

On the deepest ontological level, the laws governing purity and impurity remind us of our duo nature, both as finite creatures who occupy the continum of time and space, and as beings who are endowed with an eternal identity which is rooted in God. On the one hand, physically, man is an epiphenomenon in this world, as the Psalmist said, “As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field . . .” (Psa. 103:15).

Despite his earthbound destination, man is paradoxically, the bio-centric object of God’s ceaseless love, Who set apart and designed him in the Divine image. The Creator of the universe endowed human beings with a unique and  trans-personal identity that links the soul to the world of eternity. For these reasons and more, whenever a person attempts to bring purity and holiness to one’s  earthly existence, man breaks free from the shackles of the physical and temporal world  and with God’s help and grace, he will hopefully evolve into something much more.

^[1] Saadia Gaon, Emunah V’Deot 6:4.

^[2] While Saadia’s insight is significant it is not all encompassing in its details. Nowhere does the Torah or the Mishnaic texts suggest that fingernails, dead skin, or hair that is cut conveys ritual impurity unless it comes from a corpse (cf. Temurah 7:4).

^[3] Out of this  attitude, emerged the theological notion of ethical purity a popular prophetic theme – which aims to cultivate and bring the worshiper to a refined  inner state of mind, conscience and behavior which is consistent with ritual purity. Among modern anthropologists, Levi-Bruhl has long held that among primal peoples, the rituals of purification are affected by the emotional makeup of the worshiper. Feelings of anxiety can effect the ultimate outcome of a rite and refers to this notion as the “bewitching effects of ill-will” (Primitives and the Supernatural, [trans. Clare] London, 1936, 186).

^[4] Cf. T.B. Bava Kama 101b; T.B. Sanhedrin 4b.

A Talmudic Discussion

There is a controversy in the Talmud  regarding this very issue between Daru bar Papa who cites in the name of Rav, and Rabbi Yochanan, who differs with Rav. Here is the substance of the argument. Daru b. Papa held that only someone who is obligated to observe the precept of circumcision can act as mohel (the one who performs the circumcision) for others, whereas R. Yochanan felt that a woman can act as a mohelet as indicated in the story of Tziporah (see Exod. 4:24‑26 for details). [1]

In practical terms, R. Yosef Caro, the Halacha follows R. Yochanan and a woman may act as mohelet [2] but Maimonides adds one stipulation: this only applies in the event that a male Mohel is not available, however, she is certainly permitted to do so as a religious duty.[3] However, Rema cites authorities who differ on this matter, and discourages a woman from doing acting in this capacity. In fact, the same passage in the halacha states there is no legal obligation on the part of the mother to even circumcise her child, for the duty falls upon the father.

To the best of my knowledge, there is not a single Haredi or Hasidic scholar living today who would literally endorse such a scandalous halachic position. Were such an opinion like this considered halachically normative, many young Jewish men would choose never to get circumcised.

By the way, some rabbinic commentaries assert that Tziporah merely started the act of circumcision on her son, but it was really Moses who completed it.

Adding a Psychological Perspective

From a psychological perspective, the reluctance to utilize a female mohelet may have something to do with Freud’s theory of the “castration complex.” Freud theorized that castration anxiety is based on a deep‑seated fear or anxiety in boys and men said to originate during the genital stage of sexual development; Freud asserts that a boy, when seeing a girl’s genitalia, falsely presumes that the girl had her penis removed probably as punishment for some misbehavior. The young boy then becomes anxious lest the same happen to him.[4]

It is worth noting that in some cultures, notably 19th century Europe, it was not unheard of for parents to threaten their children with castration, or to otherwise threaten their genitals, a phenomenon Freud documents several times.

Freud’s Castration Complex in Patriarchal Religious Societies

Freud’s controversial theory may also help clarify why some Halachic authorities are reluctant to go along with a female mohelet. Freud’s controversial theory may even help explain why male dominated societies like the Muslim and Haredi fundamentalists fear women’s liberation.

The fear that the patriarchal conceptions of masculinity being broken, may explain in part why there exists such an animus directed toward women in these closed societies. Basically, male dominated cultures are fearful of appearing “impotent,” and will do almost anything to promote the image of strength and virility–the trademark of mullahs and Haredi Gedolim (“Giants” ) alike (obviously, another example of Freudian wish-fulfillment, or the Nietzschean “will to power”).

The unraveling of the patriarchal order frightens men, perhaps on a very primordial level. Some scholars suggest that the ascendancy of the patriarchal religions of antiquity was because of their unconscious fear of the goddess religions. Whether this theory is correct or not, remains to be seen. However, it does fit a Freudian castration theory quite well.

A Memorable Story About a Female Mohelet

One of the most moving stories involving a female mohelet occurs in a concentration camp. In Yaffa Eliach’s “Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust,”  she narrates an incident at the Janowska concentration camp where, Jewish children were brought (apparently by their parents) from the surrounding areas to be killed.

In her book, one of the great heroes, whose stories she records was that of Rabbi Israel Spira. Years later, he tells the story of what unfolded. “I heard the voice of a woman. “Jews have mercy upon me and give me a knife”. In front of us was standing a woman, pale as a sheet. Only her eyes were burning with a strange fire. I thought that she wanted to commit suicide. … “Give me that pocket knife !” she ordered the German [guard standing by] in a commanding voice. The German, taken by surprise, handed the knife to the woman. … With a steady hand she opened the pocket knife and curcumcised the baby. … “God of the Universe, you have given me a healthy child. I am returning to you a kosher child.” She walked over to the German, gave him back his blood-stained knife, and handed him her baby on his snow-white pillow. Amidst a veil of tears, I said to myself that this mother’s circumcision will probably shake the foundations of heaven and earth.” [5]

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Notes:

[1] BT Avodah Zarah 27a

[2] Yoreh Deah 264:1.

[3] Maimonides, MT, Hilchot Milah 2:1 By the same token, this was also the view of the Rif (toward the end of his notes in c. Rabbi Eliezer d’milah . . .) as well as the HaGah Maimoni on the Rambam, the Beit Yosef on the Tur Y.D. 261:1. However, the Tosfot rules in accordance with Rav (BT Avodah Zarah 27a, s.v. isha) namely, a woman cannot be a mohelet and this opinion has support in the Hagot Mordechai and the Semak. The same authorities permitting a woman to function as a mohelet, also allow her to recite the traditional blessings said over a brit mila.

[4] See Freud’s essay “Little Hans” (published in 1909), and “On the Sexual Theories of Children” (1908).

[5] Yaffa Eliach, Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust (Visalia, CA: First Vintage Books, 1988), 151.

Continuing with our last thought, how could Deborah in the Bible (Judg. 4:4) serve as a judge, according to the Talmudic and medieval rabbis?  The 13th century of scholars known as the Tosfot, try to make sense of the problem posed. To their credit, Tosfot offers at least adds fluidity to much of its interpretation; they are a lot like the girl with the curl, when they are good . .  . you know the rest of the story. The same may be said of the Tosfot interpretations.

Ba’ale Tosfot discuss the problem from a variety of perspectives:

A. One answer proposed suggests that that Deborah was a judge because her community accepted her. Tosfot also admits that a woman is considered to be an equal in every matter of jurisprudence, except when it comes to serving as a witness. [1]

B. The Jerusalem Talmud rules that a woman is not allowed to act as a judge [2]; the case of Deborah is the exception–and certainly not the norm. Deborah was chosen by virtue of the Shekhinah resting upon her.[3]

C. Alternatively, one may accept a woman to serve as a judge, just like two litigants may accept a relative to serve as a judge–provided each party agrees. [4]

D. Some scholars say that Deborah could only “teach,” but she could not render legal decisions–only men could do that.[5]

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In the interest of brevity and clarity: Explanation A strongly supports the idea that a woman may be accepted as a spiritual leader by the community.  By the same token there is certainly no violation of “modesty laws,” just like the modesty issue never played a role in the narrative of Deborah. She unabashedly taught Torah and functioned like a judge in every respect.

With respect to the third answer, we discover a view that is similar in  substance to the first opinion, but it is somewhat similar to the second view as well. While a woman may not technically be “kosher” as a judge, if she is competent and the people wish to accept her–despite the limitations of gender, a community has every right to accept her–provided she has a strong mandate from the community empowering her to lead.

This is the liberal approach of Rabbi Avi Weiss, which I wholeheartedly support.

Understanding the Conservative View of the Haredim and RCA

It is not hard to see where Rabbis Shafran and Pruzhansky derive their point of view–it is primarily from the Jerusalem Talmud, as well as those scholars who have subsequently followed in its footsteps. They would argue that Deborah is the only woman to function as a judge in the Bible. Centuries of Jewish tradition, since early rabbinic times, certainly (but unfortunately) supports that kind of narrow interpretation. Besides, who says the Jerusalem Talmud is necessarily correct? The last time I checked, nobody in the Talmud ever said that the Sages were infallible.

What About Option D?

Option D does not have even the flimsiest bit of support from the Tanakh; one would have to redefine the verb שֹׁפְטָה  (šöpta) in a way that radically different from any other usage found in the Tanakh. Ordinarily, a  šofate (judge) decides cases that come before his attention (Exod. 21:31; Deut. 25:1; Josh. 20:6). Thus young King Solomon, e.g., asked God for understanding that he might “hear mishpat”- and a case is shortly brought before him to decide (1Kgs 3:11). The language of the text indicates that Deborah acted no differently than any other male judge before or after her. For this reason, we must reject Tosfot’s reasoning. If anything, Tosfot’s argument here proves the exact opposite.

One More Point . . .

The Mishnah clearly states in  “Whoever is eligible to act as a judge is also eligible to act as a witness; however, one may be eligible to act as a witness, but not be eligible to serve as a judge.”  A woman really does not fall into the Mishnaic category, which only speaks about someone who can be both a witness and a judge. A woman may serve as a judge, but she cannot serve as a witness. Her exclusion from being a witness does not necessarily exclude her from serving as a judge at all–the Mishnah did not specifically address this kind of case scenario. One suspects the reason why the Mishnah never excluded a woman as a judge is precisely because Deborah functioned as a judge.

For the Mishnaic framers, this was really a no-brainer.

A Possible Compromise for Rabbi Avi Weiss

As a compromise, I think Rabbi Avi Weiss ought to consider ordaining Rabba Hurwitz to serve an exclusively female congregation for the time being. This way, there will be no issue of “modesty,” since it is an exclusive female congregation. Secondly, since the women will have accepted her as a rabbinit (female rabbi), there will be no violation of Jewish law as specified by the sources of A and C, but not B (but possibly D, in a limited sense).

The absence of unanimity should not be a cause for alarm to the Modern Orthodox community, since Halacha has seldom ever been unanimous in its thinking and redefinition. Indeed, there are numerous other rabbinic passages we can look at, but I believe we have demonstrated that Halacha is by no means a monolithic process; social issues do impact a religious and halachic community, as we have mentioned above in the case of woman’s suffrage. I suspect that had Rabbis Shafran and Pruzanski lived during the first part of the 20th century, these men would have opposed women’s suffrage for the same reasons they oppose female rabbis.

I dare any Haredi or RCA rabbi to explain: Why can women vote, serve as supervisors in Kashrut, answer Halachic questions with respect to the Jewish family purity laws, serve as attorneys in the most Haredi rabbinical courts in Israel, but not serve as women rabbis?

Inquiring minds really want to know.

Latest word (March 12, 2010)

The leadership of the Rabbinical Council of America and Rabbi Avi Weiss have apparently reached agreement that Rabbi Weiss would no longer confer the title of “Rabba” upon graduates of his women’s seminary, but rather the title “Maharat.” This superficial move does not in any way change the position of the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah that placing women in traditional rabbinic positions departs from the Jewish mesorah, and that any congregation with a woman in such a position cannot call itself Orthodox.

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Notes:

[1] BT Nidah 50a, Tosfot, s.v., כל הכשר לדון כשר להעיד, cf. BT Bava Kama 15a.

[2] ירושלמי סנהדרין פ”ג ה”ט; טוש”ע חו”מ ז ד

[3] תוס’ ב”ק טו א, ועי’ ירושלמי יומא פ”ו ה”א ותוס’ נדה נ א ומהרש”א ומהר”ם שם בפי’ הירושלמי, ועי’ תומים סי’ ז ס”ק ה.

[4].חי’ הר”ן שבועות ל א, וע”ע בית דין שכל הפסולים כשרים לדון כשבעלי הדינים קבלו עליהם

[5] כל הכשר לדון כשר להעיד– תוספות מסכת נדה דף נ עמוד א

Frankly, I am not surprised at all by the series of events that ensued. Surprisingly, Agudath Israel spokesman Rabbi Avi Shafran admitted that the issue whether women may become rabbis or not is not a matter of “Torah law,” or not; in his opinion, it is morally wrong. Shafran remarked, “[If] Weiss had the backing of a world-class posek (halachic decisor) he would have a claim that he’s not departing [from the mesorah], but he does not have any such backings on the recognized Orthodox spectrum, chareidi or central. He’s changing the face of mesorah without anyone of stature behind him.”

I am curious: Where does the Torah speak about rabbis in the first place, since “rabbis” did not exist in biblical times?

But wait, it gets more interesting than just that.

Rabbi Shafran further argues that the ordination of a woman ran counter to the concept of tzniut, (modesty). It includes the idea that women are demeaned, not honoured, when they are placed in the public eye,” said Rabbi Shafran, “and that a position like the one suggested here is violative of that concept.”

Rabbi Steven Pruzansky of Teaneck, NJ, expresses a similar position in his blog: “There are two greater objections: the utter disregard of norms of tzniut, with which ModOs generally struggle, and the corruption of the methodology of psak that transmits the Mesora and Jewish cultural norms and societal values. The only way to consider in this context the compelling Jewish value of “the glory of the King’s daughter is within” (kal kevuda bat melech penima- Tehillim 45:14) is essentially to discount it and say it has no relevance in the modern Western world. Thus, this ideal of Jewish femininity – the disinclination to seek a public spiritual role, cited by Chazal hundreds of times – is simply written out of the Torah system. And why ? …”

Both of these men’s argumentation are interesting. For now, let us raise the obvious question: Is the idea of a female “poseket” (Halachic decisor) truly without precedent in rabbinic law?

One of the famous questions asked in the Halachic literature concerns the famous biblical heroine, Deborah, whom the verse explicitly states: “ At this time the prophetess Deborah, wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel” (Judg. 4:4). The verse clearly says that a woman can serve as a judge, despite the fact this position was normally reserved for men. Faced with the awkwardness of the biblical text, a number of different responses have been offered–which for the most part, prove to be mutually contradictory.

(To be continued)

—Proverbs 12:10

The author of Proverbs stresses an important ethical lesson: a humane person considers the needs of his animals and acts kindly towards them.^[1] The world of Creation is full of sentient beings, which also experience many of the joys and blessings that people commonly enjoy: like humankind, these creatures also experience pain. Suffering is a common language that links humanity with other species of animal life.

Therefore, Jewish ethics take sharp issue with French philosopher Rene Descartes (ca. 1596–1650), who compares animals to machines that service people, stating that their suffering “means nothing more than the creaking of a wheel.”[2] In physiological terms, according to Descartes, what human beings and animals share is that their bodies function by the laws of mechanics. One might respond: How then do human beings differ from animals? Descartes argues that the Creator endows human beings with a divine soul and a moral conscience—qualities that are lacking in animals.

In addition, unlike animals, human beings possess the ability to conceptualize and verbalize ideas. Most importantly, only human beings are capable of conscious and rational thought since they are uniquely endowed with the ability to be self-reflective. Only a human being is capable of exclaiming, “Cogito ergo sum.”

Philo of Alexandria explains that the Mosaic proscription prohibiting the boiling of a kid in its mother’s milk aims to teach Israel that mercy and self-restraint should govern people’s relations with animals no less than with each other.[3] According to biblical law, a person may not satisfy his or her appetite disregarding the feelings of animals, especially where mothers and their young are concerned. A worshipper in ancient times, for example, is barred from sacrificing a newborn animal until it is at least eight days old (Exod. 22:28–29; Lev 22:27).

He writes, “Nothing could be more brutal,” writes Philo, “than to add to the mother’s birth pangs the pain of being separated from her young immediately after giving birth, for it is at this time that her maternal instincts are strongest.” In other respects, too, the Law calls for self-restraint. Thus, it would be an act of unnatural excess, Philo argues, to cook a young animal in the very substance with which nature intended it to be sustained. In a similar vein, the Law prohibits one from sacrificing an animal together with its young (Lev 22:28), since this would again involve an unnatural combination of that which gives life and that which receives it.[4]

[1] R. Yehuda HaHasid of Regensburg notes: “The cruel person is he who gives his animal a great amount of straw to eat and on the morrow requires that it climb up high mountains. Should the animal, however, be unable to run quickly enough in accordance with its master’s desires, his master beats it mercilessly. Mercy and kindness have in this instance evolved into cruelty.” Quoted from Noah Cohen’s Tsa’ar Ba’ale Hayim — The Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1959), 45–46.

[2] Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason, and Seeking the Truth in the Sciences, ch. 5, 92-93.

[3] Philo, Virtues 125-44.

[4] Philo’s explanation is later found in the commentaries of Ibn Ezra, Rashbam, Ramban, Bechor Shor, Abarbanel, Aharon Eliyahu and S. Luzzato. On the other hand, Bechor Shor supposes that it also refers to the cooking of the kid, before it has been weaned from its mother’s milk.

To the modern mindset, the mentality that believed in animal sacrifices must seem very strange. Even Maimonides viewed sacrifice as a form of retrogressive religion, tolerated in the Torah only because of the unsophisticated spiritual maturity of the Israelites.

Ironically enough, in Israel, today many students are studying Maimonides’ Laws of Sacrifice on the hope and expectation that Jews will at some point rebuild the Temple and offer the animal sacrifices just like their ancestors did in ancient times. Right . . .

I can just imagine Maimonides turning over in his grave. Maimonides would have undoubtedly have been surprised to see that we have evolved so little over the past 800+ years.

If you think the money changers made a killing when Jesus created a ruckus that chased them out (obviously, many other pilgrims must have felt the same way), just imagine what today’s Haredi rabbis would do today if he had a new Temple, replete with animal sacrifices.

No thanks, but no thanks.

An anthropological approach demands that we view a society’s customs through the eyes of those individuals who practiced animal sacrifice. There is a symbolism and significance that moderns can learn and may even apply in their own spiritual formation and development.

An analogy from human behavior might serve to answer this question. The giving of a gift, even between human beings, is not a purely external transaction but at the same time establishes a personal relation between giver and recipient. This would explain why bribery is morally offensive; by accepting a bribe  the judge becomes, at the very least, psychologically beholden to the litigant  (cf. Gen.32:14-19).

Many scholars in the field of anthropology note that archaic man often offered sacrifices as a bribe to the gods for personal enrichment; or to placate the gods from harming the worshiper. Think of it as a form of divine “protection money.” Personally, I think that in the story of Noah, Noah offers the olah shortly after the ark rests upon dry land. He brings the olah as bribe because he is uncertain whether God might change His mind and will eventually bring a new flood on Noah’s descendants.

Perhaps the most forceful antecedent to the Israelite practice of the burnt sacrifice is from Isaac’s near sacrifice of Isaac at Mt. Moriah (Gen. 22ff). Illustrating this eternal truth, God beckons Abraham to offer Isaac “as an olah.” More than any other incident in Abraham and Isaac’s life, the Akedah taught both of them how to be wholly given over to the Divine.

Over the centuries, as the worshippers brought their olah offerings to the Temple, the olah rekindled ancestral memories of how Isaac was prepared to give his very life to God. As the body of the animal dissolved into vapor and ascended heavenward, the worshiper inferred that he too must be prepared to subordinate every aspect of his body, mind and soul, not to mention whatever belongs to him, are subject to the authority of God. Indeed, the martyrdom of countless Jews over the last 2000 years bears this truism out.

It was only natural, that the olah offering came be seen as a means of honoring the Divine. Philo of Alexandria regards the burnt offering as rendering honor to God apart from any other motive or self-interest. Philo explains, “Therefore the law has assigned the whole burnt offering as a sacrifice adequate to that honor which is suited to God, and which belongs to God alone, enjoining that what is offered to the all perfect and absolute God must be itself entire and perfect, having no taint of mortal selfishness in it.”^[1]

^[1] Special Laws I, XXX VI, 196.

Sabbath rituals exemplify Judaism’s quest to sanctify time. To the pagan, the notion of holiness is inextricably related to sacred space; as a result, there is a tendency for the primal psyche to project its concept of the divine into an object that is found in the phenomenal world. But the Sabbath is radically different. With the Sabbath, as Heschel notes, human beings leave the realm of holy space and enter into the realm of holy time.[2]

Judaism teaches us to be attached to holiness in time, to be attached to sacred events, to learn how to consecrate sanctuaries that emerge from the magnificent stream of a year. The Sabbaths are our great cathedrals; and our Holy of Holies is a shrine that neither the Romans nor the Germans were able to burn; a shrine that even apostasy cannot easily obliterate.[3]

The Sabbath also exerts a profound economic impact upon a society. As a symbol of sanctified time, the Sabbath releases men and women from the tyranny of a consumer-driven market economy. Keeping the Sabbath must be more than just a mere activity—it must foster a renewal of the soul. The Sabbath symbolizes the ideal state of creation where every creature great and small, stands in cosmic unity together in honor of the Creator. As a symbol of rest and renewal, the Sabbath signifies an inner serenity that permeates the spirit.

The Sabbath also provides the context for appreciating the Eternal within the boundaries of sacred time. As a “cathedral of sacred time,” the Sabbath stands apart from other precepts of the Torah that have more of a spatial dimension to its holiness.

This may be illustrated with the following Hassidic anecdote: Two rebbes—the Vorker Rebbe and the Kotzker Rebbe—were discussing the relative importance of certain biblical mitzvoth (precepts). The Vorker Rebbe commented upon the holiness of the “four species”[4] that are held together and waved in honor of God. Once the precept has been performed, they are laid aside, for the precept has been properly carried out.

The Vorker Rebbe continued, “Such is the way with most mitzvot-as long as we hold them dear, we experience the holy; however, once we let go of the precept, the holiness departs. However during the holiday of Sukkot [Tabernacles], the holiness of the sukkah pervades every part of the person who is inside and the sukkah’s holiness is even more pervasive.” The Kotzker Rebbe replied, “There is one mitzvah whose holiness was even greater than that of the sukkah—the Sabbath, for once a Jew walks out of the sukkah, he is no longer surrounded by the aura of the sukkah’s holiness, but that is not the case with the Sabbath, for no matter where a Jew goes during the Sabbath the quality of the Sabbath always remains with him.” The holiness of time is something that remains, even in the absence of the holy Temple. Some Hasidic thinkers also see in the Sabbath a rich eschatological dimension, a quality that will not be fully realized until the Messianic Era, when every day will have the holy quality of the Sabbath.[5]

[1] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man (New York: Farrar Straus and Young, 1951), xvi. It is ironic that Heschel utilized a spatial metaphor to describe the sacredness of time.

[2] The Zoroastrians also conceived of history as moving toward a telos; after the final rehabilitation of the earth implies its purification and its joining, with a purified hell, to the extension of heaven.

[3] The Sabbath, op. cit., xvi.

[4] The “Four Species” (Hebrew: ארבעת המינים  = Arba’at Ha-Minim) refer to the: lulav (לולב) – a ripe, green, closed frond from a date palm tree,  hadass (הדס) – boughs with leaves from the myrtle tree, aravah (ערבה) – branches with leaves from the willow tree, and the  Etrog (אתרוג) – the fruit of a citron tree. During the holiday of Sukkoth, these four species are waved together by the worshiper in a special ceremony of thanksgiving to God. For a biblical description of the rite, see Leviticus 23:40.

[5] Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, The Passover Haggadah (New York: Ktav, 1983), 22-23.