Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

As we open our door to welcome Elijah, some of us probably snicker and say “Yeah, right…” The cynicism of our age makes us doubt whether the Messiah will ever really arrive.

People often wonder who the Messiah is going to be. Many faith communities believe it will be Jesus; Chabad Hasidim believe that Rabbi Schnersohn will arise from the dead and save humankind. Personally, when asked, I often like to tell my students, “Here’s the bad news: The Messiah is more metaphor than it is a historical reality–at least with respect to the present or future generations.  Antecedents for this belief appear in BT Sanhedrin 99a:

• Rabbi Hillel said: There is no messiah for Israel, seeing that they already had him in the time of King Hezekiah. Rav Yosef said: May Rabbi Hillel’s Master forgive him. Hezekiah lived during the First Temple while Zechariah prophesied during the Second Temple.

Rashi notes in his commentary that R. Hillel accepted the concept of a future redemption but merely held that there will be no individual who will bring that redemption. Rather, God will do it without a human messenger. In other words, the human aspect of the Messiah is not that important; what matters is that it is God Who will bring about the final redemption. The 15th century Jewish philosopher, Joseph Albo, contends that the belief in a personal messiah is not essential to Judaism. There is also nothing indicative that R. Hillel rejected the futuristic concept of a messianic age—just a human messiah.

In the Tanakh itself, the term Messiah, simply means, “the anointed one,” originally referred any individual consecrated with sacred oil such as the king of Israel and the high priest. But it  the was also applied to any person for whom God had a special purpose – Cyrus of Persia, for example (Isa. 45:1). This passage in particular is especially intriguing, because the prophet suggests that God can designate anyone–even a gentile–to function in an anointed capacity. One could further suggest that in modern times, President Truman was King Cyrus redux, for he alone made it possible for Israel to be recognized as a Jewish state.

One could even argue that the idea of a Messianic age is another metaphor for Utopia.

But then I tell my students: “Now here’s the good news: You’re it! You must act like a Messiah in redeeming the world around you.” To create the Messianic world, each of us must actualize the goodness p that we possess. Nobody is going to do this task for you. Here is a remarkable Talmudic story that speaks about the importance of getting in touch with the kind of redemptive lives each of us must live–if we are to ultimately midwife the Messianic Era that was envisioned by the prophets.

The Sages often wondered when and where the Messiah would appear, and frequently criticized individuals who claimed or believed in a messiah, e.g., Jesus and Bar Kochba.  Despite their reticence to make messianic predictions, the rabbis nevertheless believed that his coming remains an eternal possibility. As for the time when this consummation was to take place, it was generally held to depend on the degree of progress men will have achieved in their moral development.

This point is well illustrated in the well-known Talmudic parable:

• Rabbi Joshua ben Levi met Elijah standing at the entrance of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai’s tomb.… He then said to him, “When will the Messiah come?” “Go and ask him” was the reply. “Where is he sitting?”—”At the entrance of the city.” And how shall I recognize him? — “He is sitting among the poor lepers, untying and re-bandaging their wounds, while thinking, “Should I be needed, I must not delay.” …[1] So he went to him and greeted him, saying, “Peace be upon you, Master and Teacher.” “Peace be upon you, O son of Levi,” he replied. ‘When will you come, Master?’ asked he. “Today” was his answer.” When the Messiah failed to appear that day, a deeply disappointed Rabbi Joshua returned to Elijah with the complaint: “He lied to me, stating that he would come today, but has not!” Elijah then enlightened him that the Messiah had really quoted Scripture (Ps. 95:7): “Today, if ye hearken to His voice” (Sanhedrin 98a).

One might wonder: Why wasn’t the Messiah worried about ritual impurity? One exposition found in the commentaries suggests that the Messiah is among those afflicted with leprosy (cf. Isa. 53:4); while this is a plausible exposition, I prefer the image of the Messiah ministering to the lepers. The answer to the question is even more remarkable when considering how the ancients marginalized the lepers.

In the days of the Temple, lepers lived outside the cities in special huts, where they all congregated for support. People feared any kind of physical contact with them for fear of contagion, or because of the possibility they might become ritually contaminated.

It was not uncommon for children and adults to throw stones at the lepers because they were the outcasts of ancient society.[2] Anytime a person merely approached a leper, the leper had to say, “Unclean!” in order to avoid contact. One could only imagine the havoc this caused in the leper’s family. The mere appearance of a leper on the street or in a neighborhood meant that everyone had to avoid him.[3] No one could even salute him; his bed was to be low, inclining towards the ground.[4] If he even put his head into a home, that home or building became ritually contaminated. No less a distance than four cubits (six feet) must be kept from a leper; or, if the wind came from that direction, a hundred were scarcely sufficient. For all practical purposes, a leper was like a walking dead man.

Yet, the Messiah of our story seems as though he could care less about ritual impurity; for him, caring for the lepers is a supreme ethical demand that transcends ritual laws.

Learning to heal the lepers—just like the Messiah

The Messiah’s response is intriguing. Redemption will not occur tomorrow, but today when we emulate his acts of selfless love; messianic redemption comes when we bandage the wounds of those suffering in the world around us. It seems as though the Talmud is suggesting, we have a personal role to play in redeeming the human condition. Redemption comes by living a redemptive life.

Bandaging the open wounds of the lepers, one open sore at a time, is the only viable human response to preparing the world for ultimate redemption. This process begins with treating the forlorn and abandoned members such as the lepers, or the AIDS victims, or anyone with a terrible disease with prayer, consideration, kindness and compassion— regardless of the disease.

The Talmud relates a story that is consistent with the ethos of the Messiah passage mentioned above. “R. Helbo was once sick. But none visited him. The Sage rebuked the scholars, saying, ‘Did it not once happen that one of R. Akiba’s disciples fell sick and the Sages did not visit him? So R. Akiba personally entered his student’s house to visit him, and upon finding the chamber neglected, Rabbi Akiba instructed his students to clean up the home and the sick student soon recovered. Thankfully, the student exclaimed, ‘My master—you have revived me!’ R. Akiba began his very next lecture with the statement, ‘Anyone who fails to visit the sick is like a shedder of blood’” (Nedarim 40a). The moral of the story stresses the importance of mutual-aid and responsibility. Simply put, we are our “brother’s keeper.

The French Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas stresses how God’s face is mirrored in the face of the ordinary people we encounter; when we see the beggar on the street asking for us to help, God’s face is present in the face of those struggling just to survive–one day at a time. Kabbalists sometimes describe the Shekhinah (the maternal aspect of the Divine) as always present among those who experience pain and loss. Jewish tradition teaches us that we become most God-like when we outflow compassion to a suffering world.

According to Levinas, God participates in a “divine comedy” in which God makes himself both “knowable” and “unknowable” in the shape of the Other—neighbor, stranger. The way we care for the Other speaks volumes about our faith in God. Isaiah 58 contains a powerful message that still speaks across the chasm of time:

You fast, but at the same time you bicker and fight.

You fast, but you swing a mean fist.

The kind of fasting you do

won’t get your prayers off the ground.

Do you think this is the kind of fast day I’m after:

a day to show off humility?

To put on a pious long face

and parade around solemnly in black?

Do you call that fasting,

a fast day that I, God, would like?

“This is the kind of fast day I’m after:

to break the chains of injustice,

get rid of exploitation in the workplace,

free the oppressed,

cancel debts.

What I’m interested in seeing you do is:

sharing your food with the hungry,

inviting the homeless poor into your homes,

putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,

being available to your own families.

Do this and the lights will turn on,

and your lives will turn around at once.

Your righteousness will pave your way.

The God of glory will secure your passage.

Then when you pray, God will answer.

You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am”

(Isaiah 58:5-11).

Continue Reading

Luke Chabner and I composed a Passover Seder Rap. We hope you like it.

 

Table 1

We’re so glad you came to our Seder

We knew you’d come, sooner or later!

Whether by a truck or an elevator,

From China, Alaska & the Equator

 

This is the bread of affliction we eat,

We welcome the stranger from the street

Without you, Seder ain’t complete

We’ve got a tasty dinner, with delicious meat!

 

Table 2

We will soon hide the Afikomen

Whether you’re Conan or just a Kohen

We hope you like our little slogan

We invited our favorite Japanese shogun!

 

We remember the ancient tale of yore

The day after we put blood on the door

Left so fast, our feet were sore

The Red Sea parted, we crossed ashore

 

Table 3

Sit down with Father and Matta

And take out your Maxwell House Hagadah

We can tell by the smile on your Cada,

We know you want a Pesach enchilada-

 

Find the youngest child, ask four questions

We look to the rabbi, to recite the blessins’

As we learn about the Pesach lessons

Before we sit down eat and fressen

 

Table 4

Passover is about leaving really fast!

God took us out of Pharaoh’s grasp

We left Egypt, by coach first class

We celebrate Passover, not a mass

 

Moses’ name is hardly mentioned

God is the hero, deserving of attention

More important than your earthly pension

Everyone left without dissension!

 

Table 5

We drink four cups of wine

East Passover lamb, and not a swine

It’s our history—yours and mine!

So follow Moses, and get in line!

 

We wandered in the desert for 40 years,

A place of bitterness, a place of tears

D’Seder teaches us, banish our fears

We clean out our homes, & throw out the beers

 

Table 6

From Chula Vista to La Costa

We eat lots of flat tasteless matza

More and more, lotsa and lotsas

This ain’t your mother’s Italian pasta

 

We remember herbs that are so bitter

Forget the glamor and all the glitter

Jewish suffering still gives us lots of jitters

Anti-Semites are nasty critters!

 

Table 7

Now let’s all point to the shank bone

We’re here together and not alone!

Kindly turn down your cell phone

Pray that tyrants are soon dethroned!

 

Every person must see himself

Leaving Egypt with Egyptian wealth

We left proudly, not in stealth

Eat your egg, it’s good for your health!

 

Table 8

We will soon eat Gefillte fish

With horseradish on your dish

Stay away from the potato knish

Swallow the horseradish, make a wish!

 

Sephardic Jews love eating lots of rice

But Ashkenazim are afraid of mice

Let me give you some good advice

Make sure you put some spice in your rice

 

Table 9

Take the Afikomen, out of your pocket

Open the door for Elijah the Prophet

He’s comin’ fast with the force of a rocket

Now earthly power can hardly stop it!

Continue Reading

Children have an unusual ability when it comes to confronting our spiritual hypocrisy as parents and as adults; very often they get to the essence of the problem as they perceive things. Frequently, as parents, we often fail to hear the questions our young people ask of us; often we overreact whenever we feel that our beliefs and values are being questioned or attacked. Rather than listening with an inner ear, as parents, we often react with harshness and anger.

Sometimes we wish our children were more respectful and compliant, or at least, “mind their place” at the Seder table and not misbehave or draw undue attention to themselves. As any Woody Allen fan certainly knows, passionate family discussions always have been a part of Jewish life since ancient times. Unanimity never has been the goal of any kind of discussion wherever you have two or more Jews together engaged in dialogue.

Passover is no exception to this rule.

During Passover, this thought finds expression in the question of the “Rasha” (better known to most of us as the “wicked child”). Without his presence and participation, the entire Seder would be a dull experience. Here is a literal translation of this controversial passage of the Passover Hagadah:

• The wicked son says, ‘What is this service to you?’ Note the Torah says, to you, but not to him; because he has excluded himself from the community. He has denied a basic teaching of the faith. Therefore, you shall smack his teeth and tell him, It is because of this that God wrought for me in my going out of Egypt (Exod. 13:8)‘For me–but not him. Had he been there, he would not have been redeemed.”

The smack in the mouth in front of an entire family creates a toxic atmosphere that is not conducive for sharing and celebrating the Passover holidays.

As a parent, I often have wondered how anyone could call their child “wicked.” The glaring meaning of “Rasha” is arguably offensive. If we are to choose a less offensive title, let us describe him or her as a “Wayward Child,” or perhaps more accurately a “Rebellious Child.” At any rate, our “Rasha” is a person who is a young person who stands perilously close to the edge of his/her Judaism.

Without a wise pedagogical response, the “Rasha” may grow up to disaffiliate as a Jew. Calling him a “Rasha” could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. So we wonder: Why does the “Rasha” strike such a visceral note? The anger of the father deserves special attention. Why does he get upset? How could a simple question push a parent to act so violently at the family Seder? Clearly, the “Rasha” has touched a raw nerve in his father.

If my conjecture is correct, the “wicked” son’s question now begins to make more sense, for she/he may be a child who is dissatisfied with superficial answers. The father may love tradition, but he lacks the ability to articulate to his rebellious adolescent child what it means to be a Jew, especially in a modern age. Of all the children who are present at the Seder table, the “Rasha” is asking the best question of them all.

On a deeper level, the question, “What does this service mean to YOU?” Put in different terms, the child asks, “If the Seder has no deeper meaning for YOU, why should it have any special meaning for ME? How can I make this Seder a self-authenticating experience if the Seder is nothing more than a mechanical exercise? Until I find out the answer, I will not be subject to you or any tradition until I know for sure what it really means, assuming that it means anything at all.”

Regardless of his son’s attitude, he must respond wisely and compassionately—and not with anger and violence. He might have considered saying, “Son, your question is an excellent question—it is precisely the question of this evening. Although I can only speak for myself, but I think the message of Passover applies to you as well. None of us would be celebrating this festive meal had it not been for this important celebration all of our ancestors’ experience of the Exodus. Had our ancestors opted not to leave, you would not recognize the world of the present. Freedom resonates in our soul precisely because our ancestors chose freedom over slavery. They chose the insecurity of freedom over the security of slavery. That is what the holiday means to me—and it might mean the same to you, if you really think about it.” Wise parenting can bypass the Oedipal  conflict that parents routinely experience with their adolescent children.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this article, children have a way of discerning a parent’s Achilles’ heel. A child intuitively knows when parents are just breezing through the motions of religious life—especially in when it pertains to religious ritual. Maybe the rebellious child has a good reason to rebel, for she/he instinctively knows when a parent is real or unreal. The “Rasha” may well see something hollow about his “religious” father.

As parents, Passover reminds us that we need to reexamine what it means to celebrate freedom. Hassidic mystics speak of Egypt as the place of limitations (as intimated by the name “Mitzraim,” the land of straits. On Passover, it is time for us to break out of our narrow-minded way of looking at the world. Passover reminds us to show compassion toward all who are disenfranchised or marginalized.

In all honesty, a wise and loving response from the father might inspire his rebellious son to rethink his attitude about the holiday. There is obviously more to the Seder than the matza ball soup! Continue Reading

Of all the different types of Jewish literary expression, “Purim Torah” is a unique and remarkable genre. It is rabbinic satire at its best that centers on the festivities, customs, and traditions of Purim. Individuals writing Purim Torah display remarkable wit in weaving Talmudic logic in fabricating conclusions that border somewhere between the ridiculous and sublime.

A couple of years ago, I received a delightful section of a fabricated Talmud–replete with all the Aramaic expressions one would expect to find in a Talmudic debate. The selection contains a discussion written in Aramaic and Medieval Hebrew involving President Obama, Al Gore having a debate about global warming. Even the commentaries of Rashi and Tosfot that explained the make-believe text looked pretty authentic. The name of the tractate is Mesechect Obama Metzia (a pun on the Talmudic tractate Bava Metzia). The article proved to be quite novel and ingenious.

Here is another example of “Purim Torah” that almost sounds like a Rod Serling story from the Twilight Zone. The story is well-known. Haman’s plot to destroy the Jews of the Persian Empire ended in disaster for Haman and his family. Queen Esther and Ahashverus have a conversation.

• And the king said to Esther the queen: The Jews have slain and destroyed five hundred men in Shushan the capital, and the ten sons of Haman…Now whatever your petition, it shall be granted; whatever your request further, it shall be done. Then said Esther: If it please the king, let it be granted to the Jews that are in Shushan to do tomorrow also as this day, and  have the bodies of Haman’s ten sons hanged in public display on the gallows.” (Esther 9:12-14)

One might ask: Esther’s request seems somewhat strange. The ten sons of Haman had already been killed, why did the King bother hanging them? The simple approach suggests she made this request so that everyone would know the consequences that would befall them,  just in case anyone else might attempt to harm the Jews. However, rabbinic commentaries offer a different spin. Commenting on the word “tomorrow” in Esther’s request, the ancient rabbis comment, “There is a tomorrow that is now, and a tomorrow which is later” (Tanchuma Bo 13 and Rashi on Exodus 13:14).

From this interpretation, some 20th century rabbis claim that  the hanging of Haman’s ten sons is not an isolated episode in history. Esther unconsciously prophesied a time when the Jewish people would reenact the hanging of Haman’s ten sons! While this sounds preposterous, there is something to this story that you may not know.

And now you are going to hear–the rest of the story …

Rabbi Moshe Katz writes about one of the most remarkable “Torah Codes” of all time. The subject of the Torah Codes (a.k.a. Bible Codes) is widely debated and any student who understands textual criticism realizes the dubious validity of the Torah Codes as an interpretive enterprise. Advocates of the Torah Codes  (Hebrew: צפנים בתנ”ך‎) allege that the Torah contains set of secret messages encoded within the text Hebrew Bible and describing prophesies. This hidden code has been described as a technique by which specific letters from the text can be selected to reveal an otherwise obscured message. Torah Code expositors essentially view the Torah as a gigantic anagram. The subject has been popularized in modern times by Michael Drosnin’s book The Bible Code. However, this particular Bible Code in the book of Esther is too striking to ignore. If nothing else, the author presents an incredible synchronicity [1]

• During World War II, the Nazis in Germany tried to wipe the Jewish race from the face of the earth. Six million Jews were killed by the Germans. After the end of the war, the surviving Nazi leaders were tried at Nuremberg for this and other war crimes. These trials began on November 20, 1945, for 22 German Nazi leaders. On October 1, 1946, twelve of the German defendants were sentenced to death by hanging for their part in the atrocities committed against the Jews and others. One of those convicted was Martin Bormann, who was sentenced in absentia. A second was Hermann Goering, who committed suicide in his cell just hours before the executions by taking cyanide poison. The remaining ten Germans were hanged to death on October 16, 1946.

• The Massorah prescribes that the names of the ten sons of Haman be written in a perpendicular column on the right-hand side of the page, with the vav, i.e., and, on the left-hand side. This is probably derived from the tradition that the ten sons were hanged on a tall gallows, one above the other. . . . (The Five Megilloth, p. 179) However, there may be another reason why these names are listed one above the other. As you can see by looking at the list of names, four letters (the tav in the first name, the shin and tav in the seventh name, and the zayin in the tenth name) appear smaller than the other letters. Starting at the top of the passage, I’ve highlighted three of these four small letters in red. In the Hebrew language, letters can also represent numbers. Tav has a numerical value of 400, shin a numerical value of 300, and zayin a numerical value of 7. The tav, shin, and zayin, totaled from top to bottom, represent the number 707. . . [2]

 

• In Esther 9:7-9, we find a list of the ten sons of Haman who were killed by the Jews. Below is the Hebrew text of these verses as it appears in the Tanakh. Remember, Hebrew reads from right to left. The three letters together form taf-shin-zayin, the Jewish year 5707 (1946 C.E.), the year that the ten Nazi criminals were executed. Of the 23 Nazi war criminals on trial in Nuremberg, 11 were in fact sentenced to execution by hanging. Two hours before the sentence was due to be carried out, Goering committed suicide–so that only 10 descendents of Amalek were hung, thus fulfilling the request of Esther: “let Haman’s ten sons be hanged.” Furthermore, since the trial was conducted by a military tribunal, the sentence handed down should have been death by firing squad, or by electric chair as practiced in the U.S.A. However, the court specifically prescribed hanging, exactly as in Esther’s original request: “let Haman’s ten sons be hanged.”Though doubts may linger about the connection between the Book of Esther and the Nazi war criminals, the condemned Julius Streicher certainly had none….[as The New York Herald Tribune of October 16, 1946 reported after he ascended to the gallows] “With burning hatred in his eyes, Streicher looked down at the witnesses and shouted: “Purim Fest 1946!”…  If these “coincidences” are not enough, examine the calendar for that month. The date of the execution (October 16, 1946) fell on the Jewish festival of “Hoshana Rabba” (21 Tishrei), a day when God’s verdicts are sealed. This was the very day they were hanged, as we have said, all is hinted at in the Torah! [3]

We’ll add one more detail Moshe Katz left out: The Book of Esther recorded that the ten had been hanged on a tree. The Hebrew word for tree is eytz, which is also “wood” in English. The hangman at Nuremberg was named John C. Woods, an American army officer. (After the executions Woods burned the hoods and ropes even though he had been offered $2,500 for them as souvenirs. John Wood’s revulsion for pecuniary gain also corresponds to another passage found in the book of Esther, “The Jews of Shushan mustered again on the fourteenth day of Adar and slew three hundred men in Shushan. But they did not lay hands on the spoil” (Esther 9:15).

Could Rabbi Moshe Katz’s exposition qualify as “Purim Torah” according to the criteria we mentioned above? Maybe. Nevertheless, connection between the death of Haman’s sons and the ten Nazis, combined with Streicher’s realization that he and his fellow murderers were reliving the conclusion of the ancient Purim story. However, this time it was, as Streicher said,  “Purim Fest 1946.” This unexpected synchronicity ought to give us pause to think that history sometimes follows a trajectory of archetypal patterns. Actually, one would be hard-pressed to find a better example of Purim Torah than the story of the ten Nazis and its alleged connection to the ten sons of Haman.[4] Continue Reading

Today, the head of the American Haredi group, Agudath Israel has finally come out of the closet to articulate their position—after considerable soul searching for the right nomenclature, I might add! Its spokesman, Rabbi Avi Shafran, is no stranger to controversy. In his statement to the public, he writes:

•  Reports of recent events in the Israeli town of Beit Shemesh are deeply disturbing. Violence of any sort, whether physical or verbal, by self-appointed “guardians” of modesty is reprehensible.  Such conduct is beyond the bounds of decent, moral – Jewish! – behavior.  We condemn these acts unconditionally. Those who have taken pains to note that the small group of misguided individuals who have engaged in this conduct are not representative of the larger charedi community are to be commended.  It is disturbing, though, that some Israeli politicians and secularists have been less responsible, portraying the actions of a very few as indicative of the feelings of the many. Quite the contrary, the extremist element is odious to, and rejected by, the vast majority of charedi Jews.Lost in all the animus and ill will, unfortunately, is the concept ostensibly at the core of the controversy: the exalted nature of tzenius, or Jewish modesty.
  
  Judaism considers human desires to constitute a sublime and important force, but one whose potential for harm is commensurate with its potential for holiness. In a society like our own, where the mantra of many is, in effect, “anything goes,” many charedi Jews, men and women alike, see a need to take special steps – in their own lives and without seeking to coerce others – to counterbalance the pervasive atmosphere of licentiousness, so as to avoid the degradation of humanity to which it leads.It would be tragic were the acts of violence to lead Jews to, G-d forbid, reject the culture of tzenius that has always been the hallmark of the Jewish nation, to regard Jewish modesty as something connected to violence and anger, rather than to refinement and holiness.

First of all I would like to commend the rabbi for at least condemning the violence that took place in Beth Shemech. However, Rabbi Shafran seems to think that there is some legitimacy in Haredi complaint about the “immodest” clad eight-year old children.

The question occurred to me after some reflection: What kind of person would find an eight year old girl’s modest clothing (by Halachic standards) “immodest,” or even “provocative”? The answer ought to be real obvious: pedophiles. Most normal people would never even think of regarding a young seven or eight year-old girl as a sex object.

If you think the Catholic Church has problems, wait till you see the Haredi problems that has infested their community. Haredi rabbis in New York, Baltimore, and other cities have been hiding pedophiles in their midst for decades. The issue of pedophilia has been threatening to undermine the house of cards that is holding up the Haredi community in Israel and especially here in the United States.

Rabbi Shafran and his organization really need to ask themselves, what kind of perverted subculture are the Haredim trying to desperately hide?

One of the most colorful figures of the 18^th century, who almost single-handedly raised the moral of the Jewish people, was a man named R. Yisrael ben Eliezer, a.k.a., the famous “Baal Shem Tov,” (literally, the “Master of the Good Name.” When one looks back in history, the Baal Shem Tov taught a very important message that many of his movement’s descendents have seemed to forgotten.

• Ahavat HaShem—a love for God; in the theology of the Baal Shem Tov, the bond between a Jew and God Almighty is grounded in the heart of the Divine. More than that, the precept of love is the basis of the entire Torah.
• Harmony and peace with one’s neighbors is essential for having a healthy relationship with God.
• Worship God with a joyfulness of heart enables one to achieve of mystical state of bliss with God called “devukut” (cleaving).
• There is no room for asceticism in  the spiritual life of a Jew.

Baal Shem Tov felt very strongly, “A small hole in the body, constituted a large hole in the soul.” The care of the soul must never come at the expense of the body, since it too is a manifestation of God, and must not be considered as hostile or oppositional to Him.

Naturally, many of his ideas did not endear himself to the more austere Kabbalistic or Talmudic schools, which felt that the study of Torah was the greatest pursuit for the average Jew. Not so for the Baal Shem Tov—the inner life of the person was just as important, but the inner life of the individual could not ignore the welfare of his fellow human beings.

Following an old tradition going back to R. Isaac Luria, one of the most famous Kabbalists of the late medieval period, all prayer must begin with the precept, “Behold, I am taking upon myself the precept to fulfill: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Baal Shem Tov made this Lurianic prescription the foundation of Jewish prayer. Prayer has minimal meaning unless one takes into consideration the personal needs of his fellow Jew.

The early followers realized the importance of these lessons and for the most part, did whatever they could do to buoy the spirits of their depressed brethren. Teachers like Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1810), always acted like a mighty advocate for the Jewish people. There are many stories attributed to him, where he always gave the most defiant Jewish sinner, the benefit of the doubt. A typical story that is often told relates how he once noticed a wagon driver who was greasing his wheels while reciting his morning prayers, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak lifted his eyes to Heaven and cried: “Master of the Universe! Behold the piety of Your children! Even as they go about their daily affairs, they do not cease to pray to You!”

However, that was then . . .

Today’s Hassidic factions[1] that make up a large portion of Israel’s Haredi movement and their religious leaders have evolved into something radically different from what the movement’s founders once envisioned.

Their animus toward the non-Haredi world is disturbing—even shocking—to say the least. When hooligans refer to a Modern Orthodox seven year old girl a “harlot,” we have a problem of epic proportions.

They spat on poor little Naama Margolis because she was not dressed “modestly” enough in their eyes.  Proudly and boldly, this brave little girl said, “I am no longer afraid. My mother is more afraid than I am. I just want the fanatics to leave Beit Shemesh  . . .” Her mother added, “The exclusion of women from the public sphere makes my blood boil. They (Haredim) are trying to take us back to dark eras; this is a grave injustice.” By the way, the Haredim get equally upset if a girl is happens to be three years old.

Ditto!

I wonder: What would the Baal Shem Tov and Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev say, if they were alive today? The answer ought to be pretty obvious . . .

Many years ago, when I studied in Israel, I had some Haredi acquaintances who used to throw rocks at cars driving through Me’ah She’arim in Israel, but today the situation is far worse. We are witnessing virulent misogyny that has no parallel in Jewish history.

Who would imagine that Jews would ever subject Jewish children to such abuse? One must wonder: Why aren’t the Hassidic, Lithuanian, and Sephardic leaders condemning their followers’ violent behavior?

As Israel prepares itself against the greatest existential threat it has yet faced, the explosion of Haredi violence in Israel may do more damage than even a nuclear explosion in Tel Aviv. As we celebrate the holiday of Hanukkah, let us pray that the forces of light will triumph over the forces of religious intolerance and bigotry that are eroding the spirit of the Jewish people in Israel and abroad.

* I decided to completely rewrite and update an earlier post I had composed a couple of years ago.– Enjoy!

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Today’s article begins with a personal message I received from a Chabad acquaintance. The actual letter was a copy of a communiqué that originated from the Lubavitch Headquarters; the letter reminds the Hasidim how they ought to conduct themselves on Christmas Eve.

• December 25th is universally celebrated by non-Jews as the birthday of that person[1] upon whom a dominant non-Jewish religion was founded and who had the Halachic status as a Jew who lures other Jews to idol-worship. A spirit of impurity therefore prevails on that day. (Additionally, there was a period when members of that religion used to celebrate this eve by attacking Jews, which led to an enactment against keeping the Yeshivas open during the eve of Dec 25th).

The letter also quoted some comments expressed by the Friediker (Previous) Rebbe of Lubavitch, R. Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn and his son-in-law, R. Menachem Mendel Schnersohn:

• The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe adds, “It is our custom to refrain from studying Torah on Nitel Nacht until midnight. The reason, as the Previous Rebbe heard from his father, the Rebbe RaShaB (Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schnersohn, a.k.a., the 5th Lubavitcher Rebbe), is so that one will not add spiritual vitality to that person [Jesus], and those who presently follow his views [i.e., Christians everywhere]. The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe (i.e., Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schnersohn, the 6th Rebbe) quotes his father in the popular Hayom Yom (Teves 17), ‘I am not fond of those students who begrudge these eight hours and cannot tear themselves away from Torah study!’”[2]

Many Jews and Christians probably find this custom interesting but very strange–and for good reason!! Actually, even many Haredi Jews find the custom dubious and weird; for them, time is of the essence, and nobody should squander what precious time one has in this world pursuing trivial matters, when one ought to be studying God’s Torah instead! For them, “Nitel” is “bitul,” (a pure waste of time).

• The Origins of Nitel Nacht

The origin of Nitel Nacht in modern rabbinic literature is one of the more fascinating chapters of Jewish history and folklore. To begin with, this is a custom that exists only among Hasidim. Most Haredi communities, like the Lithuanian and Sephardic communities, generally disregard this custom; for them, the study of Torah is of primary importance.[3] R. Moshe Sternbuch correctly observes that the custom was unknown in Lithuania and it is only a custom among the Hasidim. One of the greatest Lithuanian luminaries of the 20^th century, R. Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz, (1878-1953) a.k.a., “Chazon Ish” did not discontinue his practice of studying Torah  “Nitel Nacht,” and said that it was forbidden to waste time from learning on this night and he criticized those who did not learn on that night.[4] Some Hassidic Jews, likewise won’t not study Torah on New Year’s Eve either for the same reason. Some of my old Litvak friends in the Litvisher yeshivas used to tell me that Hasidim will do just about anything not to study Torah! Behind every criticism is often a grain of truth . . . Oy, I think I have the soul of a Litvak!

Of course, the time of Nitel Nacht will vary depending whether one is a Greek Orthodox Christian or not, for they celebrate the holiday on January 6^th.

The earliest references to Nitel Nacht go back to the 17^th century; it was first mentioned by the Moravian scholar, R. Yair Chaim Bachrach (1638-1702).[5] Some scholars think that the famous Maharsha (R. Samuel Eides observed the day by the late 16th century.[6]

• The Meaning of “Nitel”

The etymology of the actual name, “Nitel,” actually comes from the Latin, “Natalis,” or, “Nativity Night.” It is truly ironic that 99% of all the Hassidic Jews follow this observance, haven’t the foggiest idea that Nitel Nacht means “Nativity Night.” It is also possible that Nitel Nacht may be a corruption of the Latin dies natalis, “birthday,” i.e., the “birthday” of Jesus.[7]

• Should Nitel Nacht be observed today?

On the one hand, the custom serves to remind us of an era when Jewish and Christian relations were strained and hostile. I once had a congregant who lived to be 95; she survived the Russian Revolution by hiding under a house, where the sewage was stored. With the sound of demonic  laughter, a Cossack crushed her  baby brother’s skull with his boot, while drinking his vodka. She remained traumatized by her experience–throughout her life. I imagine that the Schnersohn family also witnessed similar events in their lives as well and suffered from the lingering effects of these traumatic memories. No wonder the Jews of Lubavitch felt so nervous around Christmas season! Who could blame them? Remember “Fiddler on the Roof”? Sholom Aleichem merely hinted about this awful social reality. Undoubtedly, the world that created Nitel Nacht was filled with violence, hatred, and intolerance.

But that was then . . .

Fortunately, this is not the case anymore the case for Jews who live in Western countries. It’s time to leave the ghetto behind us; it’s time to exorcize the hurtred (pardon the neologism) and bitterness we have carried for a long time.

As a rabbi, whenever I see Jews show intolerance and bigotry toward non-Jews–whoever they may be–I get religiously offended. No religion is immune to the dangers of promoting religious prejudice; or as they say, “A pig with lipstick is still a pig.” Prejudice and intolerance should not be quietly accepted as if it is normal–because it’s not!

Yet, today, the religious intolerance seems to emanate more from Haredi Jews!? Aside from their intolerance toward other branches of Judaism and their endorsement of sexism, in Jerusalem, Haredi Jews often spit on the Greek Orthodox clergy of Jerusalem; in addition, a number of Hassidic Jews have the custom of spitting whenever walking by a church. Were this just an isolated case, one individual’s brazen act of spitting would hardly make the news, but it is a daily occurrence that has brought considerable embarrassment to Israel and to Jews all over the world. Others, still, will not even shake hands with a member of the Christian clergy. I actually saw this happen in Rock Island, when the Habad rabbi refused to shake hands with the local Monsignor, who was attending a Yom HaShoah community observance. To the Hassidic  rabbi’s credit,  he did eventually apologize—a year later.

On the other hand, Rabbi Shmuel Boteach of Chabad has just recently written a brand new book, “Kosher Jesus,” where he actually praises Jesus as a 1^st century Jewish teacher! I doubt the late Rebbe would have approved of his followers extolling the greatness of Jesus as a Jewish sage, but some people are attempting to change some of the old world attitudes. If anything, Hassidic followers of Chabad, Satmar, Bratzlav and others must be saying a collective, ‘Oy vei!” as his work goes to print next month. Kudos go to Rabbi Boteach! I doubt the Rebbe would have approved of such a book.

“The Jewish Annotated New Testament” was just released.  This volume is a study edition of the NSRV translation of the New Testament with commentary and essays by Jewish Biblical scholars (including Jewish New Testament scholars) such as Marc Zvi Brettler, Amy-Jill Levine, Daniel Boyarin, and Mark Nanos. The scholars attempt to understand the NT from a respectful Jewish perspective. Such a work would hardly have been possible a few centuries ago. Fortunately, countless numbers of Christian scholars are now studying Talmud and other Judaic texts to better understand the life of Jesus as a Jew.

Yes, the world is changing.

Should Nitel Nacht be observed today? Not unless you wish to offend your Christian neighbors. While there are number of customs that originated during the most depraved times of medieval history, it behooves us to let go of our medieval attitudes.

As modern Jews, it behooves us to cultivate a relationship with our Christian neighbors and friends based on the principle of mutual respect. Jewish leaders often insist that Christianity purge itself of its anti-Semitic attitudes, and this is necessary for the sake of all our sanity. As Jews, we have to do our part in getting rid of our own dysfunctional attitudes. Would it not be wonderful to see Haredi and Hassidic Jews seize the initiative and greet the Christian clergy of Jerusalem with a heartfelt, “Good morning, Fr. So-and-so . . .” A simple greeting would go a long way in bettering our relations. Spitting, on the other hand, will only create more anti-Semitism.

Certain customs really should have been discarded long ago in the dustbin of history. Fortunately, most Jews today have long historically embraced this change in attitude–except for a handful of Hassidic Jews in Brooklyn and in Israel who are still desperately clinging on to the ghosts of Christmas past. Unfortunately, many fundamentalists and radicals of all the Western faiths are still holding on to the negative and hateful caricatures of the Other that continue to be drummed into the minds of young impressionable children at home, church, synagogues, mosques, and schools.

Today, when we have a holiday celebration like Christmas and New Years, people generally have a family get-together, watch some football and enjoy their dinners, exchanging gifts. However, several centuries ago, people used to look for a different kind of entertainment; they would attack Jews on Christmas or Easter. The world was a very different kind of place.  Let us do our part and make sure our children never have to grow up in a religiously intolerant community again. Continue Reading

You must have heard this story about a child named Haim, who attended Heder (religious school). After coming home from class, his Zeyde (grandpa) asks him, “So nu, what did you learn today at Heder?” The child answers, “Well,  the Rebbe told us a story about Moses and all those people crossing the Red Sea that was really great! … So Moses got on his Ipad 2, texted some messages to the Israeli Air Force, the jets soon flew over and bombed the Egyptian army to smithereens!” The Zeyde can hardly believe his ears, “So, is that what they are teaching you in Heder?!”  Haim replies, “Zeyde, if I told you what the Rebbe really taught us, you’d never believe it!”

Jewish historical events often reflect the spin of the narrator. This does not necessarily mean that a story is a fiction. We simply need to understand the context by how a story is narrated. Hanukkah is one of those holidays, much like Passover. Even myth often has a basis in fact, which is often embellished by tradition. The task of a modern scholar is to solve the mystery of how the story came to assume its present form. In this sense, the scholar must be a little bit like Sherlock Holmes (see the new movie, it rocks!!)

The children of the original Hasmoneans who fought the Greeks proved to be a disappointment; most of them became as corrupt as the people their grandparents revolted against. Perhaps the marriage of priestly and political power proved to be too incongruous to balance—much like we see in Israel today. Politics and religion are a lot like meat and milk; each by itself is permitted, but when cooked, they form a forbidden substance.

Several centuries later, around the time of the Talmud’s redaction (ca. 400 C.E.), the Talmud nonchalantly asks:

• What is the origin of Hanukkah? Our Rabbis taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev begins the days of Hanukkah, which are eight, and on which mourning and fasting are forbidden. For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oils therein, and when the Hasmoneans [i.e., the Maccabees] defeated them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil with the seal of the High Priest,  but which contained enough [oil] for one day’s lighting only; yet a miracle happened and they lit [the menorah from that single cruse of oil and it lasted for] for eight days. The following year these [days] were made a Festival including the recitation of the Hallel and thanksgiving.[1]

The rabbis make no reference to the actual book of Maccabees, which the Christian church preserved. It is significant that the narrator of 2 Mac 10:5 does not mention anything about the miracle of the candles burning for eight consecutive nights. Here is what it does say:

• On the anniversary of the day on which the temple had been profaned by the Gentiles, that is, the twenty-fifth of the same month Chislev, the purification of the temple took place. The Jews celebrated joyfully for eight days as on the feast of Booths, remembering how, a little while before, they had spent the feast of Booths living like wild animals in caves on the mountains. Carrying rods entwined with leaves, green branches and palms, they sang hymns of grateful praise to him who had brought about the purification of his own Place. By public edict and decree they prescribed that the whole Jewish nation should celebrate these days every year.  Such was the end of Antiochus surnamed “Epiphanes.”[2]

Another ancient text dating back toward the beginning of the 1^st century, the Megillat Ta’anit, explains a different reason why Hanukkah lasted for eight days:

• Why did the rabbis make Chanukah eight days? Because … the Hasmoneans  entered the Temple and erected the altar and whitewashed it and repaired all of the ritual utensils. They were kept busy for eight days. And why do we light candles? When the Hasmoneans entered the Temple there were eight iron spears in their hands, which they covered with wood and drove into the ground, lighting oil in each and using them as lamps.[3]

According to this version, it ought to be obvious why the Rabbis purposely left the real story out. A single canister of undefiled oil would have become instantly defiled once it was used on the spears, which were ritually contaminated from war.

A second midrashic source, the Pesikta Rabbati, composed around 845 CE, relates the following:

• “Why do we kindle lights on Chanukah? Because when the Hasmoneans sons, the High Priest, defeated the Hellenists, they entered the Temple and found there eight iron spears. They stuck candles on them and lit them . . .”[4]

The story gets much more interesting when we read the Mishnah 10:1 of tractate Sanhedrin:

• Rabbi Akiva says, Even one who reads external books – Kehati explains, “there are the books by heretics, who interpreted the Torah, Prophets, and Writings according to their own opinion, and did not rely on the expositions of the Sages (R. Yitzhak Alfasi).”

In one Talmudic discussion found on page 100b, the “Sifre Minim” is referred to by some of the Amoraim, e.g., R. Yosef, who notes that the forbidden books refer to the writings of Ben Sira, but concludes that certain passages may be read so long as they do not offend the religious sensibilities of the community. Ben Sira’s book is interesting because he appears to reject the belief in the afterlife—a point which would most certainly have earned his book being excluded from the biblical canon, e.g., “When a man dies, he inherits corruption; worms, gnats and maggots” (Ben Sira 10:11).

Some scholars propose, it is also possible that the entire Apocrypha was included among the other “forbidden books,” because the book of Maccabees glorifies the triumph of the Hasmoneans.[5] I would only add that the glorification of the Hasmoneans’s descendants ( the Sadducees) was an anathema to the young Pharisee movement, as personified by R. Akiba and his colleagues. In addition, the absence of the miracle of oil burning eight nights would have undermined rabbinical authority and its “official” version of the Hanukkah story. Besides, much of the Apocrypha extolls Greek wisdom and represents one of the first major attempts to graft the philosophical values of Jerusalem and Athens together–a process that would later get jump-started by Philo of Alexandria, Saadia, Maimonides, Gersonides and other Jewish thinkers in the medieval era.

Simply put, the real story had to be suppressed because of political reasons.

Now, outside of the Talmud, there are some other narratives that explain why the holiday of Hanukka was originally called “lights,” which reads:

• Now Judas celebrated the festival of the restoration of the sacrifices of the temple for eight days; and omitted no sort of pleasures thereon: but he feasted them upon very rich and splendid sacrifices; and he honored God, and delighted them, by hymns and psalms. Nay, they were so very glad at the revival of their customs, when after a long time of intermission, they unexpectedly had regained the freedom of their worship, that they made it a law for their posterity, that they should keep a festival, on account of the restoration of their temple worship, for eight days. And from that time to this we celebrate this festival, and call it Lights. I suppose the reason was, because this liberty beyond our hopes appeared to us; and that thence was the name given to that festival . . .[6]

Note that Josephus actually provides much more than a scant and reluctant mentioning of the holiday’s origins especially when contrasted to the Babylonian Talmud’s version. The theme of light plays an important role as a symbol of perfection, enlightenment, clarity, and perfect being. Interestingly enough, just as Aaron and his sons lit the menorah in the Temple, so too did their descendants—the Hasmoneans (as noted by Ramban, in his commentary on Numbers 8:1-4). In addition, the 25^th word of the Torah is “or,” (light), and its synchronicity helped reinforce the triumph of light over the forces of darkness and hopelessness.

Lastly, there is some conjecture that the suggests the victorious Jews may have witnessed either a large meteorite shower or possibly saw the appearance of a comet at the time the Temple was being cleansed of its ritual impurities, hence the name, “Lights,” which incidentally is also mentioned in the NT John 10:22, where it is explicitly identified as the “Feast of Dedication.”

Incidentally, the Feast of Dedication, i.e., Hanukkah, was also known as the “Tabernacles of the month of Kislev” (2 Macc 1.9).

 

Notes:

[1] BT Talmud 21b.

[2] Cf. 1 Macc 4:36–59; 2 Macc 1:18–2:19; 10:1–8 for a fuller account of what happened.

[3] Megilat Ta’anit ch. 9.

[4] Pesikta Rabbati ch. 2. Continue Reading

Some time ago, I had a friendly discussion with Rabbi Yisrael Goldberg, a young Chabadnik who lives in Israel. In the course of our talk, he told me that Rabbi Avraymo Levitanski (a former teacher of mine) had recently died. Avraymo was a great man; he was a brilliant scholar as well and an exceptional human being. He was definitely one of the finest Chabadniks I have ever known.

On a light note, Yisrael told me how Avraymo always referred to Santa Monica as “Simcha Monica,” and San Diego, or, San Francisco as “S. Diego and S. Francisco.” The name, “Simcha Monica” was a new designation I hadn’t heard before; Avraymo’s designation actually made me chuckle. Where did these ideas originate in the first place? If my memory serves me well, I believe the late Rebbe was fond of using these unusual designations.

By the way, “Simcha Monica” roughly means, “Monica is happy.” I am not sure whether this name was given during the time of the Clinton and Monica Lewinsky scandal, I suspect Monica Lewinsky is not too happy about that unfortunate chapter of her life.

 

Actually, the real reason the city of Santa Monica received its special name was in tribute to Augustine’s mother and spiritual inspiration–Monica (331 – 387 CE). Monica was both the Algerian Christian saint and mother of Augustine of Hippo, the greatest Christian theologian of Late Antiquity. Augustine, ex-lover and former whore-monger, loved extolling his mother’s virtues in his Confessions, she exerted a profound spiritual influence on her son’s life.

 

If my sense of humor seems slightly off-colored, it’s because God speaks to me through the language of humor and irony. Yet even our most ordinary conversations with the everyday people we meet can sometimes serve as spiritual epiphanies.

Let us return to our topic at hand.

At first blush, it seemed there might be some scriptural support for this unusual practice among the Chabad rabbis. Consider two verses: “Give heed to all that I have told you. Never mention the name of any other god; it shall not be heard from your lips” (Exod. 23:13) and “There must be no foreign god among you; you must not worship an alien god” (Psa. 81:10).

Sounds pretty straightforward, right?

You see, it’s complicated.

It seems that the Chabad rabbis are rather inconsistent because the names found in the Gregorian calendar are actually based on the names of pagan deities of antiquity. If no other gods or goddesses are to be mentioned, how can Chabad rabbis refer to the name of actual deities whenever they use a secular calendar or at least refer to it in their daily conversation? The inconsistencies ought to create some cognitive dissonance among the steadfast among the Chabad rabbis; maybe they will say in the privacy of their homes: Could it be that we are wrong?

Here are some examples:

May derives from the Roman fertility goddess named Maia.

April is traditionally identified with Venus. April may possibly derive from Aprilis, the Etruscan Apru, which is also a diminutive of Aphrodite–the Greek goddess of beauty and fertility. The Latin verb aperire, “to open,” and is related to the Greek name for spring ἁνοιξις (opening), the time of the year when spring begins bloom with flowers and trees.

June alludes to Juno, the Roman goddess who served as protector and special counselor of the state.

Indeed, several other examples can be mentioned, but I believe we have made our point clear. If the Chabad rabbis used Hebrew names for months, that would make a lot more sense. Then again, even the Hebrew calendar refers to the Sumerian and Babylonian deity known as Tammuz, who is mentioned in biblical times (cf. Eze. 8:14).

Who exactly was Tammuz? Tammuz is the chief Sumerian deity; he is also known as Dumazi–the god of fertility, of vegetation and agriculture, of death and resurrection, and is also the patron of shepherds. Dumzai was both the son and consort of Ashtar (Inanna). In the Sumerian mythic pantheon, Tammuz represented the annual vegetation cycle of death during the heat of summer and the rebirth of life with the coming of the fall and spring rains, as mythically recounted in the Akkadian poem, “Inanna’s Descent into the Netherworld.”

When our ancestors went to Babylon, they adopted the Babylonian names of the months during the 70 year exile in Babylon, which also included Tammuz! The 17th of Tammuz is a special fast day in Jewish tradition. I suspect that the ancient Jews either viewed Tammuz much like we now view the days of the week. If it didn’t historically bother our people in times of antiquity, then why shouldn’t we refer to Santa Monica by its proper name?

Then again, we have the days of the week. Each day is dedicated to the pagan goddesses and gods of antiquity. For an example:

Sunday. Latin: dies solis – “Sun Day.” Sunday celebrates the sun god, Ra, Helios, Apollo, Ogmios, Mithrias, or the sun goddess, Phoebe. In the year 321 CE, the Roman Emperor Constantine ruled that the first day of the week, ‘the venerable day of the sun’, should be a day of rest. The name was later changed to dies Dominica, “Lord’s Day” in ecclesiastical tradition.

Monday. Latin: lunae dies – “Moon Day.” Monday was named in honor of the Assyrian goddess, Selene, Luna and Mani. In old English, mon(an)daeg meant “day of the moon.”

Tuesday. Latin: dies Martis – “Day of Mars.” In Greek mythology, Ares was the god of war (renamed “Mars” by the Romans). In English, “Tuesday” comes from Tiu (Twia), the English/Germanic god of war and the sky (identified with the Nordic god called Tyr).

Wednesday. Latin: dies Mercurii – “Day of Mercury.” In Greek mythology, Hermes was the god of trade and commerce (renamed “Mercury” by the Romans). In English, the name “Wednesday” derives from the Scandinavian god Odin, the chief god of Norse mythology. Woden is the chief Anglo-Saxon/Teutonic god, the leader of the Wild Hunt.

Thursday. Latin: dies Iovis – “Day of Jupiter.” In Greek mythology, Zeus was the god of the sky (renamed “Jupiter” by the Romans). The English word “Thursday” comes from the Middle English Thorsday, refering to “Thor” (the Nordic counterpart to Jupiter).

Friday. Latin: dies Veneris – “Day of Venus.” In Greek mythology, Aphrodite was the goddess of love/fertility (renamed “Venus” by the Romans). The name “Friday” comes from Freya (Fria), the name of the Norse god Odin’s wife and Teutonic goddess of love, beauty, and fertility.

Saturday. Latin: dies Saturni – “Day of Saturn.” In Greek mythology, Cronus was the god of the harvest (renamed “Saturn” by the Romans) who ruled until he was dethroned by his son Zeus.

So, I wonder: If the Chabad rabbis want to pick on just the Christian saints that they don’t recognize, I am OK with their choice. However, for consistency, I think they should make it a conscious point to use the Hebrew designations of months. They may want to refrain using the name Tammuz as well. By the same token, they shouldn’t use the weekday names either for the reasons mentioned above.

Let me propose a simple alternative that is truly kosher: They should refer to the Sunday as Yom Rishon (“the first day of the week”) and the other Hebrew names for the other various days of the week.

I suspect their followers might get confused. Oh well, that’s price one must pay for religious consistency, no? Aside from the Hebrew designations for days and months of the year, there is always Hebonics . . .

On a more serious note, I suspect the Chabad movement feels disdain toward Christianity in general and toward Catholic saints in particular. I really understand their rational. For the greater part of its history, the Catholic Church has not been friendly toward the Jews. In some respects, Chabad rabbis are like many atheists, agnostics, and other non-believers who refuse to say “Christmas,” because they do not believe in Christ. Instead, they refer to Christmas as, “Xmas.”

Since we all live in an open and civilized society, why not use the same names that everyone has long accepted? Jews and gentiles alike take great civic pride in the designated name of their city. You see, in the final analysis–it’s all about respect. Treating our neighbors with respect ought to be as important as keeping kosher.

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