Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

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 . . .

I often get asked the questions, “What is the symbolism of the dreidel? What exactly is its origin?” The dreidel is a four cornered top that was popular in the medieval era and originally used for gambling. Jewish folklore purports that when the Syrians prohibited the study of Torah, the Jews insurrectionists would take a top to gamble with, so that the soldiers would let them play their game in peace. The name, “dreidel,” is a Yiddish word that derives from the German verb, “drehen,” (“to turn”).

Historically, the origin of the dreidel is not quite so apocryphal. During the medieval era, gambling dice often had four letters inscribed, N,G, H, and S, representing “nichts,” (nothing), “ganz” (i.e., winner takes “all”), and “shtell arein” (“put in”).  Jews subsequently transformed the dice into a top and added four Hebrew letters, נ (N), ג (G), ה (H), and שׁ (S)—signifying, נֵס גָדוֹל הָיָה ֹשָם  “nes gadol hayah sham” (“A great miracle happened there”).

The symbolism gets more interesting when we take into consideration the numerological patterns the Kabbalists cleverly add when redesigning the dreidel during the medieval era.  The value of the four letters equals 358, the same numerology (gematria) as Moshiach (Messiah)! This could suggest several things:

(1)   The wandering of the Jews (drehen) is not purposeless, though it may seem that way at times. Israel’s wandering serves to bring the world that much closer to its final redemptive stage of human history—the Messianic era.

(2)  As the dreidel spins, it represents the pulsating movement of the Divine; we who observe it, cannot see how its final stage will unfold until it actually occurs. Such a concept has its antecedents in the Talmud’s famous statement, “Three come unawares: Messiah, a found article and a scorpion” (T.B. Sanhedrin 97a). I have always liked this passage, for in its simplicity, the Sages teach us that it is not for mortal men–or women–regardless how pious or learned they happen to be, to engage in the mindless pursuit of messianic prognostications. The Messiah will appear when we least expect him to arrive.

(3)  Our fortunes in life are much like the chaotic turnings of the dreidel; those of us, who lost our fortunes with the Stock Market, know this all too well. Political surprises like the recent death of North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-il, the cyber-hijacking of an American stealth drone,  know the wisdom of this teaching only all too well … the world—even on its quantum level is full of paradox and unpredictability.

In short, although our existence is unpredictable, faith is the compass that provides us with the wisdom and radar to navigate through even the most difficult of times, like today.

Recently, I have joined a new website (for me anyway!) Jewish Values Online. Here is a question somebody asked me earlier today: God warns us explicitly not to follow in the ways of the other nations. How does this apply to our custom to give gifts on Hanukkah which seems to have been taken from the very not Jewish tradition of giving gifts on Christmas?

Answer:

The verse, “Do not conform, therefore, to the customs of the nations whom I am driving out of your way, because all these things that they have done have filled me with disgust for them” (Lev 20:23) specifically pertains to not emulating pagan religious traditions. Most Halachic authorities do not consider Christianity as a “pagan religion.” At worse, Christianity is an amalgamation of Judaic and pagan elements; Jews should not regard Christianity as “idolatry.”

Still and all, the original question is valid for other reasons: Is it appropriate for Judaism to integrate practices that derive from non-Judaic sources? Historians believe the custom of gift-giving in early Christianity originated with the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, which also occurs late December.

Many traditional rabbis would certainly concur with the view that sees gift-giving on Hanukkah as a concession to popular Christian culture—plain and simple. To some degree, these rabbis make a valid point. In Southern California, there was a well-known rabbi of a prominent Reform synagogue who used dress up as “Chanu Claus” every year in a blue and white outfit, while wearing a prosthetic white beard. This type of religious capitulation to Christmas is painfully obvious—Oy, oy, oy! This is obviously the wrong message we wish to instill this time of the year about Hanukkah.

From a historical perspective, the question becomes a bit more nuanced and complex. Prof. Eliezer Segal thinks Hanukkah Gelt began at a time when Jewish teachers were an impoverished class. Hanukkah was the time when parents would give their children monies to give to their teachers. It was only natural for the children to receive a little financial incentive for carrying out the good deed. This practice eventually led to other older children asking that their parents give some money to them too.

This writer believes Segal’s explanation falls just a little bit short of the mark.

Life for the Jew in medieval and modern times was often filled with despair and uncertainty. As a persecuted minority, something had to be done to buoy the spirits of children, who frankly, felt jealous of the local Christian children celebrating Christmas with the usual pomp and festivities. This is the principle reason (in my opinion) why the giving of Hanukkah Gelt began, which later morphed into gift-giving.

While it is true, one could say this custom mimics Christian tradition, there is another way of looking at this relatively new Jewish custom. For one thing, no religion lives in a spiritual biosphere. Where different religions peacefully co-exist, a cultural commingling of values is inevitable.[1]

The commingling of Jewish and Christian values is not without complete precedent. One interesting example comes to mind:  the 16^th century Halachic scholar, R. Yoel Sirkes (better known as the “Bach”) had no problem using Christian melodies in the synagogue provided these melodies had widespread and universal appeal.[2]

In all candor Judaism has since rabbinic times borrowed numerous religious beliefs and practices from its Semitic neighbors, e.g., the belief in demonology (e.g., Lilith) is clearly Babylonian in nature. Many superstitions we have regarding the Evil Eye also derive from pagan sources.[3] In addition, many of the rabbis participated in what we would now identify as occult practices.[4]

Oftentimes we reason backwards in our attempt to find an explanation for a contemporary practice. It’s a little bit like trying to hit a bull’s eye by first painting the target around the arrow after it has already hit its target. Halachic drash (interpretation) often employs this particular method in its exposition of traditions.

One explanation I remember reading in a number of Hassidic texts dealing with Hanukkah explains that there exists a linguistic connection between the words חֲנֻכָּה (ḥănūkkâ) dedication and  חֲנֹךְ  (ḥānı̂k) which means, “to train,” or “educate,” as in  חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר עַל־פִּי דַרְכּוֹ  “train the child according to his way” (Prov. 22:6). The nexus between these two meanings is obvious: providing a Jewish education for a child is like dedicating him/her to God.

With respect to education, it was customary in Jewish communities to give the child a gift upon entering school for the first time. Maimonides was not at all averse to “bribing a child” in order to get the child accustomed to study. [5] So, it is argued (based upon linguistic sources) that giving a child a gift during Hanukkah is not without some antecedent.

This writer would further argue that gift-giving is specifically mentioned in Numbers 7, which delineates all the sundry sacrifices and financial gifts each tribe gave in honor of the Temple’s dedication.  Incidentally, this same theme of gift-giving reappears in the First Book of Maccabees where Judas and his brothers, along with the people, rededicate the Temple by giving gifts to refurbish the Temple.[6]

So, is gift giving such a bad practice during Hanukkah? Traditionalist will definitely prefer giving Hanukkah Gelt; but personally, I see no problem with it so long as we do not include the other Christian traditions of Santa Claus with the celebration. Continue Reading

Once upon a time, some American tourists went to Mexico on a vacation; they toured some hot springs, where they saw the natives washing their clothes! One tourist said to his guide, “My, isn’t it wonderful how Mother Nature provides her children with hot water to wash their clothes?” The tour-guide replied, “So you might think, Senor, but the natives complain that Mother Nature doesn’t provide the soap!”

It’s been said that the hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.  Chinese wisdom teaches, “When you drink from the stream remember the spring.”

Research has shown that people who regularly practiced grateful thinking were more than 25 percent happier, slept better, suffered lower levels of stress and even spent more time exercising. People sure like to complain. Kvetching is—for many—a national pastime, yet complaining tends to diminish the quality of our lives and relationships. According to one recent author, who wrote a book on gratefulness, Prof. Richard Emmons explains that” Preliminary findings suggest that those who regularly practice grateful thinking do reap emotional, physical, and interpersonal benefits. [...]  Grateful people experience higher levels of positive emotions such as joy, enthusiasm, love, happiness, and optimism [...] The practice of gratitude as a discipline protects a person from the destructive impulses of envy, resentment, greed, and bitterness.”

Cultivating an attitude of gratitude is a lot harder than it might seem. When we contemplate the economic problems of our society today, it is easy to get depressed. For a young family that loses a home, or a job, the economic and psychological effects can be devastating.  The idea of offering thanksgiving might even strike one as cynical. Some of you are probably familiar with Bart Simpson’s famous Thanksgiving quip, “Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves, so thanks for nothing.” I fear that Bart Simpson’s remark probably reflects the contemporary attitudes we often hear in our society.

One day of Thanksgiving will not solve all the problems of the world. Suffering has always been a part of the human condition throughout recorded history. As Rabbi Harold Kushner has pointed out, there’s never been a time in which bad things didn’t happen to good people.

The pilgrims experienced enough hardship to leave them demoralized. When they first began their colony, they were propelled by the strength of their dreams. Despite the bitter winter storms that threatened their fledgling community, they did not give hope. They sat for three days, feasting, rejoicing and grateful for what they had. Rejuvenated, they made it through that first winter, and another, and another — just as our immigrant ancestors who left the Old Country did.

Thanksgiving beckons us to see the cup as half-full, as we focus upon the many blessings we experience daily. The name “Jew,” comes from the root which means “to give thanks,” and that is what our tradition teaches us in so many ways. We expect to wake up in the morning and expect to be healthy, but when we receive a diagnosis that we have an illness, suddenly we appreciate and recognize what we have now lost. There is a quality of mindfulness that we must always have when it comes to being thankful for all of God’s gifts.

As rabbis, we often see people living on the ragged edge of life. Today’s economic problems impact the lives of many people we know. The human face demands that we treat that unfamiliar person with kindness and compassion. When in doubt, it is much better to err on the side of compassion.

The Judaic meaning of gratitude must go beyond the mere recognition of God’s countless blessings we experience in our lives. What exactly does “thanksgiving” mean? Thanksgiving comes from two words, “thanks,” and “giving.” True thanksgiving involves a willingness to share God’s blessings and create blessing in the lives of others around us. By creating blessing for others, we reveal that we are not choosing to live in a state of scarcity and want. By opening our hearts to the pain of our brothers and sisters, we are infusing them with a feeling of hopefulness for a better tomorrow.

For many, the yearly community service — helping in a soup kitchen, delivering canned goods to the needy, sick or elderly — has been fulfilled, and they can feel gratified in knowing they’ve done a good deed for others.

I am reminded of a comment I once heard about Thanksgiving, from the Jay Leno Show, concerning the human condition. Leno noted how on Thanksgiving, restaurants give away free meals, soup kitchens pop up all over the place, all kinds of groups provide all kinds of food to the poor. But, Leno pointed out, for the most part, all those who help out do so only on Thanksgiving. “We give these people one big meal a year, really stuff them and tell them, “That oughta hold you. See you next Thanksgiving.’”

We’ve said our thanks, counted our blessings and passed the peas, along with the candied yams. Thanksgiving is over, and as soon as the holidays are out of the way, we can get back to our lives. Why do so many of us relegate thoughts of thankfulness and limit kindly-acts to a single day, or a single season? Continue Reading