Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

According to Jewish tradition, God’s Presence in the phenomenal world is calibrated to our actions. Indeed, actions speak louder than words, and are especially more effective than espousing the typical platitudes of faith that we are so bored hearing in the media, or for that matter—at the synagogue! With the holiday of Tisha B’Av, we read in the Talmud why God withdrew His Divine Presence from the world. The warning for future generations is all too clear: We must choose to manifest healthy images of God that bring healing to ourselves and our world.

History has shown us time and time again how God-images impact the way a religious culture treats its female members. Cultures ruled by a misogynistic conception of the Divine cannot help but treat its women in a barbarous manner. Indeed, a society that hates its women is incapable of loving anything else. Conversely, a religious culture that respects the maternal aspects of the Divine Feminine produces a community of believers where life becomes sacred and holy. The reverence for life—across the ideological spectrum—becomes the basis for all societal evolution and development. Contrary to the fundamentalist way of seeing the world, maleness is not the closest thing to godliness.

In Jewish tradition, the metaphor of this aspect of the Divine Feminine is better known as the שְׁכִינָה, (“Shekhinah), signifying, “that which dwells,” deriving from the verb [שָׁכֵן, shakhen], or [שָׁכַן, shakhan], “to dwell,” “reside” see Isaiah 60:2).

In this week’s parsha, the wording states   וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם   “They shall make a sanctuary for me, that I may dwell in their midst” (Exod. 25:8). The  verse brilliantly captures the subtle nuances that tend go get glossed over by most translations. The verse actually says, “They shall make a sanctuary for me, that  I shall dwell in them.” The more literal reading of the text  suggests that God dwells not outside the human heart, but within the human heart. This interpretation explains the idea of the “Divine Indwelling,” better known as the “Shekhinah.”

As I prepared the Torah reading today, I decided to spend a few minutes and take poetic license with the Midrash.  The thought occurred to me that I should write about a subject that is dear to my heart—romantic theology, also known as the “theology of love.” The topic today is:  the soulful wanderings of the Shekhinah.

The language you will read is shamelessly anthropomorphic–and from a Maimonidean perspective, what I am writing is probably quite offensive. However, I do believe this interpretive midrash captures the spirit of the text. If nothing else, it is an interesting deconstruction of midrashic thought.

Abraham Joshua Heschel often observed, “God is in search of man.” In other words, our own quest for love and intimacy comes to us quite naturally, for our beloved Creator also has a similar quest. Paradoxically, our love for the Divine gives something to our Maker something that S/he does not possess. In a mystical sense, we make God’s Presence whole in the world through our acts of love and compassion. I hope you enjoy the material as much as I did writing it.

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I come to my garden, my sister, my bride;

I gather my myrrh with my spice,

I eat my honeycomb with my honey,

I drink my wine with my milk.

Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love.

Song of Songs 1:1

The Midrash views all of Song of Songs as an extended metaphor about God’s love for Israel. The word “my garden” has Edenic overtones and significance.

The term “gani” (“My garden,”) implies not just any “garden,” but specifically to “My garden,” i.e., the bridal chamber where a bride and groom consummate their love for one another. By saying “My bridal chamber,” the text mystically suggests a return to a time when God’s Being was originally present and revealed.

The Midrash teaches that  when Moses built the Tabernacle, the Shekhinah returned to co-inhabit the earth just as She did in the days of Eden before the primal couple’s great fall. In Eden, God could be seen “walking” alongside mortals (Gen 3:8). However, after  the primal couple sinned, the Shekhinah began retreating Her Presence from the earthly realm. Bereft of Her divine intimacy, Adam and his wife hid themselves because they felt alienated from the deepest dimension of their souls.  Adam’s spiritual stature underwent a radical reduction.

However, the Shekhinah’s mystical ascent was far from finished, for when Cain murdered his brother Abel, the Feminine Presence felt disgusted with human violence and retreated unto the second level of Heaven in a panic.

Alas, Her ascent away from the earth still continued for when Enosh forgot his Creator when he worshiped idols, so the Shekhinah retreated to the third level; after watching more of man’s inhumanity to man, a flood occurs, and the saddened Shekhinah retreats because She could not watch Her children perish. With the passage of time, the Shekhinah develops a revulsion for violence. Once again, human cruelty chased Her one more degree away from the earth.

After the Tower Builders announced their designs to conquer the heavens, the Shekhinah retreated yet another degree because she found human arrogance repugnant. The violence of the Sodomites upset Her even more, as she wanted nothing to do with men because of their barbarism and sadism. The Shekhinah’s withdrawal from the world reached Her zenith after the Egyptians mistreated their fellow earthly brothers and sisters, by enslaving the Israelites to a life of suffering and pain. She could not bear to watch. She wondered, “Could the rift with humanity get any worst than this?”

However, the Shekhinah could not remain in a permanent state of estrangement from humanity—despite its errant ways. Abraham was the first to recognize the Shekhinah’s Reality and he sought to make her more intimate with mortals once more. Isaac’s willingness to die for Her, as a show of his love and devotion, made the Shekhinah yearn yet more for intimacy with mortals.

Through his many struggles within himself, Jacob comes to discover the Shekhinah’s luminosity and beauty and finally understands the true meaning of blessing.  In an effort to purge himself from the violence that defiled his life after he and his brother Simeon massacred the inhabitants of Shechem (Gen. 34-31), Levi sought to renew his relationship with Her. The Shekhinah  pitied this pathetic excuse for a human being and granted him a peacefulness of mind. She was determined to make Levi’s descendants do penance for their forefather’s crimes against humanity  by making them serve as priests to their Maker. She mused, “Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future–this applies even to Levi!”

The Shekhinah brought Yochebed and Amram together, and they became the parents of Moses—the liberator of Israel.  Mysteriously, She finds herself drawn back to the earth. With Moses, the Shekhinah found a lover who decided to build a new home for the Divine—The Tabernacle–a place that would permanently restore Her Presence to our world, where She would walk once more with humankind. [1]

(To be continued . . .) Continue Reading

Over the years, the Jewish Press has produced some interesting stories; and there was a time when I subscribed to it. Lately, the Jewish Press surprised me. Recently, they published an autobiographical article about a gay Orthodox Jew, named Chaim Levin. Chaim grew up in a well-respected Hassidic home located in Brooklyn’s Crown Heights. The young man wanted to share his story about living in an Orthodox world that wishes he would go back and hide in the closet.

Chaim recalls, “Saying that Hashem would never make a gay person unable to change is simplistic, inconsistent and flat-out wrong. If someone gets into an accident we would never say that we know he can be ‘cured’ simply because his affliction is not genetic and he wasn’t born this way. We would never tell a deaf person (born deaf or not) that his nisayon (ordeal) is to find a way to hear again, so that he can be mekayem (fulfill) the mitzvah of shofar? Yet the Torah Declaration uses all of these arguments to make gay people feel that their nisayon in life is to change their sexuality, simply because it may not be genetic and Hashem would never make it unchangeable. This is the worst kind of rationalized homophobia.”

Despite spending thousands of dollars in therapy to break Chaim of his homosexuality, Chaim realized his parents’ effort to change him was a waste of time. Chaim needed to make peace with his own conscience and so he did.

Chaim’s message is so eloquently simple: “I am simply asking my community not to judge . . . Just because someone is honest about being gay, does not mean that he engages in any sin or chillul Hashem (religious scandal). No one should feel silenced or asked to lie about who they are . . . A little humility goes a long way. Sometimes the kindest and most thoughtful response when it comes to very difficult situations is, ‘I don’t know, but I’m here for you because you are part of my family and community.’”

What does Chaim want? He wants the gift of Presence. He wants people to see and respect his humanity. It is a pity people in many religious communities, e.g., Jewish, Christian, Muslim, regard the gay worshiper as an affront to their values and belief system. In a community where conformity and fitting in are extremely important, you have to admire young Chaim for speaking his truth for all to see and hear.

The loss of human life is especially tragic whenever a young gay Orthodox or Hassidic Jew commits suicide out of a feeling of desperation, loneliness, and hopelessness. There have been numerous suicides in the Orthodox communities of Israel and New York—all because a community refuses to walk its talk about, “Loving your fellow Jew,” even though it is “the basis of our holy Torah.” A couple of years ago, one Haredi rabbi even suggested that if an Orthodox homosexual Jew cannot overcome his “evil inclination,” he should commit suicide! I am certain the Mullahs in Iran would love to offer that kind of “encouragement” to the gay members of their own religious community.

I want to extend kudos to the Editor of the Jewish Press for showing the courage to publish an article that is creating shock-waves within his community. The Jewish Press has received all sorts of threats from a number of its readers. Some of the advertisers have been approached by zealots, telling them to, “Stop advertising, or else!” As the editor wrote his in latest op-ed piece, “A situation where religious Jews are provoking children and adults who are different, to consider suicide is unthinkable and unacceptable.”

So far the advertisers are standing tall and strong and will not back down.

Yes, the Jewish Press is showing the world what real Jewish values are all about. Continue Reading

Although the Torah does not directly speak about willful destruction of the fetus as a “right,” nevertheless, the sanctity ancient Israel attributed to human life probably made abortion unimaginable.

The reason for this is simple: Infant mortality in biblical times was close to 50% and it is only natural that attitudes about voluntary abortion probably met with horror and disapproval. Arguments drawn from Scriptures seem inconclusive at best. The lone Pentateuchal source dealing with the legal status of the fetus comes from a section of Exodus dealing with the problem of miscarriage:

• When men have a fight and hurt a pregnant woman, so that she suffers a miscarriage, but no further injury, the guilty one shall be fined as much as the woman’s husband demands of him, and he shall pay in the presence of the judges. But if injury ensues, you shall give life for life” (Exod. 21:22–23).

The verse may be interpreted in a two ways:

It would seem that the Mosaic legislation considered the fetus property, and should not be viewed as living person, like its mother.  Financial compensation to the woman’s husband is determined by the judges, based on the development of the fetus. Such an interpretation has a parallel in the Hittite Laws, 17, in its treatment of the miscarriage. Most biblical translations regard verse 22 as referring to a miscarriage:

• Some scholars[1] translate v. 22-23 differently, “If men fight and hit a pregnant woman and her child is born prematurely, but there is no serious injury, he will surely be punished in accordance with what the woman’s husband demands of him, and he will pay what the court decides” (NET). The term אָסוֹן (˒āsôn) does not mean “death,” as interpreted in the Mechilta, but ought to be rendered as, “health complications,” or, “serious harm,” to the child. Accordingly, if the v. 23 may be speaking of the death of the fetus as well, and the assailant is subject to the death penalty.

Based on the latter deconstructive reading, the death of a well-developed fetus could be viewed as a capital offense. Moreover even v. 22 may not necessarily be speaking about miscarriage as such, but a pre-mature birth and would involve lesser injuries to the mother and the baby—depending upon its physical development. Thus, according to this view, the fetus could be viewed as having a status similar or identical to that of human beings.

Other ancient codes of the ancient Near East (ANE) viewed voluntary abortion in grave terms. According to the Middle Assyrian Laws dating back to 1600 B.C.E., observes that if a woman died as a result of having induced her own abortion, her body was publicly impaled and denied a proper burial.[2] Assyrians viewed this act of impaling as a form of tallionic justice on account of the mother’s murdering of her fetus. According to the laws of Lipit-ištar, as well as the Middle Assyrian Laws, if the woman dies, the man himself will be put to death.[3] The Code of Hammurabi also includes laws regarding miscarriages and determines a monetary settlement based upon the mother’s social status.[4] The Hittite laws do not deal with the cases where the mother dies. Continue Reading

* This is an older article I wrote back in 2009. So, if there is any overlap of ideas, please forgive me.

Abortion, as such, is not discussed in the Tanakh. Explanations  as to why it is not legislated or commented are at best speculative. The biblical world was much more concerned with the survival of its members, rather than with the willful termination of its unborn. Archaeological evidence suggests that in ancient Israel the infant mortality rate was about 50%.

Discussions concerning abortion are ancient indeed. The Torah imposes a fine on the assailant for causing abortion of a woman’s fetus in the course of a quarrel, and the penalty of death if the woman’s dies as a result of the assailant’s attack. “When two people who are fighting injure a pregnant woman so that there is a miscarriage, and yet no further harm follows, the one responsible shall be fined what the woman’s husband demands, paying as much as the judges determine. If any harm follows, then you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe” (Exod. 21:22-23).

Ancient Discussions

If the Code of Hammurabi is of any indication, the Torah had in mind only financial damages but did not advocate the death penalty for the death of the fetus—regardless how premature or maturely it was. In Section 209: Hammurabi writes, “If a man strike a free woman and cause her fruit to depart, he shall pay ten shekels of silver for her fruit.”

Perceptions regarding the status of the embryo changed centuries later during the days of Greek culture. A new interpretation was introduced that radically transformed our understanding of the biblical text. According to the ancient Greek translation of the Scriptures, the Septuagint, the Torah decreed that under certain circumstances, the death of the fetus could be imposed for causing an abortion:

ἐὰν δὲ ἐξεικονισμένον ἦν δώσει ψυχὴν ἀντὶ ψυχῆς

[And if two men strive and smite a woman with child; and her child be born imperfectly formed, he shall be forced to pay a penalty: as the woman's husband may lay upon him, he shall pay with a valuation.] But if it be perfectly formed, he shall give life for life . . . (Exod. 21:22)

Philo of Alexandria comments on this passage of the Septuagint, “But if anyone has a contest with a woman who is pregnant, and strike her a blow on her belly, and she miscarry, if the child which was conceived within her is still unfashioned and unformed, he shall be punished by a fine, both for the assault which he committed and also because he has prevented nature, who was fashioning and preparing that most excellent of all creatures, a human being, from bringing him into existence. But if the child which was conceived had assumed a distinct shape in all its parts, having received all its proper connective and distinctive qualities, he shall die; for such a creature as that is a man, whom he has slain while still in the workshop of nature, who had not thought it as yet a proper time to produce him to the light, but had kept him like a statue lying in a sculptor’s workshop, requiring nothing more than to be released and sent out into the world.[1]

Philo juxtaposes abortion with the ancient practice of exposure. He writes: “On account of this commandment he also adds another proposition of greater importance, in which the exposure of infants is forbidden, which has become a very ordinary piece of wickedness among other nations by reason of their natural inhumanity . . .”

Josephus also regards abortion as morally akin to murder.[2] Nevertheless, in practice, he followed rabbinical tradition, “He that kicks a woman with a child, so that the woman miscarry, let him pay a fine in money, as the judges shall  determine, as having diminishing the multitude by the destruction of what was in her womb.”[3]

Josephus and Philo may have been of the opinion that the assailant had to pay two fines, one to the husband, and the second fine to charity for depriving the human race of one less person. It is also possible the Hellenistic understanding did run contrary to what later became Talmudic Halacha. Nevertheless, it does reflect the disdain Jews have had throughout history concerning abortion—at least as a method of birth-control. Given the high degree of infant-mortality, this reaction was quite understandable.

Unlike the Septuagint, Talmudic scholars maintained that the word אָסוֹן (´äsôn) “harm” refers to the woman and not to the fetus, since the scriptural injunction, “He who fatally strikes a man shall be put to death” (Exo. 21:12), did not apply to the killing of a fetus.[4] Ancient rabbis did not consider abortion a sin unless the fetus was viable בן קיימא  (ben keyama)—still and all, if the infant was so much as only  one day old , his killer is guilty of murder (Niddah. 5:3).[5]

According to the view of R. Ishmael, only a Gentile, to whom some of the basic transgressions applied with greater stringency, incurred the death penalty for causing the loss of the fetus (Sanhedrin 57b). Though abortion was frowned upon in the ancient world, it did not constitute murder.[6] In one well known Responsa of R. Yosef Trani (14th century), the author argued against a Jew assisting in an abortion, because it “places a stumbling block before the blind (Lev. 19:14).” This Halachic attitude did not apply to therapeutic abortion.

All this doesn’t necessarily mean that the rabbis had a permissive attitude concerning abortion. Clearly, it wasn’t. Thus we find in one medieval Midrashic work that Israel is praised because in spite of Pharaoh’s genocidal decree, in Egypt, “Every boy that is born you shall throw into the Nile,  (Exod. 1:22), “Not one Israelite woman so much as harmed her foetus, much less after its birth. By virtue of their reverence for life, Israel merited the exodus” (Zohar II 3b).

Abortion is permitted if the fetus endangers the mother’s life. The Mishnah reads: “When a woman travails to give birth [and it is feared she may die], one may sever the fetus from her womb and extract it, member by member, for her life takes precedence over his”[7 This is the case only as long as the foetus has not emerged into the world, when it is not a life at all and “it may be killed and the mother saved.”[8] Once the birthing process has begun,  if the greater part of the fetus has emerged into the world-either its head only, or its breach—it may not be touched, even if it endangers the mother’s life  אין דוחין נפש מפני נפש (ein dohin nefesh mi-penei nefesh) “one may not discard one life to save another.”

In another passage of the Talmud, a newborn child is not considered to be viable, until it has lived for 30 days![9] How do we reconcile this passage with the above?

Back to the Future: Contemporary Perspectives

Rav Ben Tsion Uziel, the late Chief Sephardic Rabbi, observes in his Responsa, “When a child dies within 30 days, it is considered as if it was a stillborn and is not mourned for like a person who has died. It becomes evident only in retrospect, that it was stillborn [nofale] and that the period of its life was only a continuation of the mother’s vitality. Since there was no way to ascertain whether the foetus was indeed stillborn or not, it is not a crime one can be executed for because of doubt. Nevertheless, it is certainly prohibited to kill it because of doubt.”[10] This passage of Ben Uziel does have ramifications to another area of Halacha pertaining to discontinuing life-support mechanisms for a  seriously impaired newborn baby. A more contemporary  scholar, Rav Abraham Steinberg, notes “when in doubt, it is better to error in favor of life.”

Just to digress, it is interesting to note  that in a similar way, Christian theologian Augustine raised a key question in his own time, as it is now, was “at what time the infant begins to live in the womb; whether life exists in a latent form before it manifests itself in the motions of the living being.” Augustine admits that he cannot assuredly say at exactly what point human life begins. He seriously questions whether any human has the power to decisively say. Nevertheless, he asserts that anyone who looked at the cut-up remains of an aborted baby would have to recognize that this had been a human life. Although Augustine apparently had a firm belief that a developing foetus participates in human life, he argues equally strongly here that a conclusive proof is outside our human ability. There is some leniency if for example, the abortion will save the mother from an  illness deriving from an inflammation not connected with the pregnancy, or a poisonous fever . . . in these cases the fetus is not [per se] the cause of her illness.”[11]

Among modern Halachic authorities, psychological reasons are also a factor to allow abortions. The great 18th century Halachic giant,  Rabbi Yaakov  Emden, permitted abortion “as long as the foetus has not emerged from the womb, even if not in order to save the mother’s life, but only to save her from the harassment and great pain which the foetus causes her.[12]

One early 20th century scholar, Rav Ben Tsion Uziel, rules in favor of allowing an abortion in order to save the mother’s hearing, even though her life was not endangered. Disgrace and the quality of life are a very important factor to take into consideration when deciding whether one is undergo an abortion.[13] In the case of pregnancy resulting from incest, or any adulterous union, the 18^th century savant, R. Yaakov Emden, permitted abortion so that the stigma of bastardy be attached to her offspring.[14]

With regard to the dreaded Tay-Sachs disease, Rav Eliezer Waldenberg permits the abortion, since as he writes in his Responsa: “One should permit abortion as soon as it becomes obvious from the results of the test that the child is indeed, a Tay-Sach’s baby will be born—even until the seventh month of pregnancy. If we are able to permit abortion according to the Halacha because of great need and because of pain and anguish, it seems reasonable that this is the classic case for extending such permission. And it is irrelevant in what way pain and suffering is expressed; whether it be physical or psychological—It is all the same. Indeed, psychological suffering in many ways in greater than the bodily suffering.”[15]

R. Eliezer Waldenberg also notes that whenever possible, all such abortions should be performed within the first forty days of the pregnancy or at least within the first three months.[16] Pope Gregory XIII [1572-85) expresses a similar view, and wrote that an embryo less than forty days was not yet considered human. Incidentally,  it was only in 1869, Pope Pius IX who along with this doctrine of infallibility, decreed that the destruction of an embryo—even to save the mother’s life — was a mortal sin that merited excommunication from the Church.[17]

Many Orthodox scholars differ and are of the view that Jewish law prohibits abortion when its sole justification is to prevent the birth of a physically deformed or retarded baby. Likewise, abortion—on demand—purely for the convenience of the mother or even society is considered morally repugnant.”[18]

Suffice it to say as in any Halachic matter, there is no carte blanche answer for every conceivable case in Halacha—especially with regard to abortion.  Every case must be determined by its own unique circumstances. A competent rabbi should be able to help guide any person who is wrestling with this important decision. There is no one answer for such a complex issue as abortion. Continue Reading

Not all Pharisees of the Talmud are worthy of our admiration. No, this statement is not one I personally originated; this idea actually comes from the Talmud itself.

Two thousand years ago, the Jewish community had an entire class of people who delighted in such feats of piety. The Talmud heaps scorn on the religious pretentiousness of these “foolish Pharisees.”

The Jerusalem Talmud writes, “Who is a man of piety that is a fool? “He, for example, who, if a woman is drowning, says, ‘It is unseemly for me to look at her, and therefore, I cannot rescue her. . . . Who is the pious fool? He who sees a child struggling in the water, and says, ‘When I have taken off my phylacteries, I will go and save him.’ By the time he arrives to rescue him, the child has already expired. Who is the crafty scoundrel? R. Huna says, ‘He is the man who behaves leniently toward himself, while teaching others only the strictest rules.’”[1]

“Our Rabbis have taught: There are seven types of Pharisees: the ostentatious Pharisee[2], the Pharisee who knocks his feet together and walks with exaggerated humility[3], the Pharisee is one who knocks his face against the wall rather than gaze at a woman[4] The Pharisee who feigns religious piety while constantly exclaiming, ‘What is my duty that I may perform it?’”[5]

You have just returned from Memory Lane.

Imagine a Haredi convention where the great rabbis come up with their latest technological and religious innovations designed to keep men and women apart. Wait until you see the latest fashions the Haredi rabbis decreed upon their enthusiastic followers. Mind you, I am not saying that all Haredi are lunatics–however, the Belzer, Satmar, Gerer Hassidim have hundreds of thousands of lunatics following some very shady religious leaders. I did not include the Lubavitch or the Bratzlav, for both of these movements operate on a principle of ahavat Yisrael–for the most part (but not always). This is obviously a topic nobody in the Haredi world want to talk about. Like most dysfunctional families, family “secrets” are necessary to allow the dysfunction to continue.

Now, back to our subject . . .

Last year’s innovations included:

• A  ban on mannequins.
• The Personal Mechitza, which is a small partition Haredi Jews wear around their heads when travelling on El Al Airlines. The PM prevents Haredim from gazing at the lovely El Al Stewardesses. It comes in only one color: black.
• Women must sit at the back of the bus!
• How to attack Modern Orthodox girls walking to elementary school.
• How to attack wheelchair bound children on Shabbat!
• Rock concerts for Haredim during the Shabbat, where non-Haredim get stoned!
• Separate sidewalks!

This year’s innovations include:

• Use only “BLACK” rabbinically certified baby carriages!
• Using gangs to intimidate other Haredi Jews.
• Living like the Coneheads—special headgear for women designed to out-Taliban the Taliban burka!
• Separate elevators for women as of 1/18/2012![6]

The Taliban are probably experiencing envy as you read this article. “Why can’t we become more religious, more fanatical like the Haredim?” asks a child to her mother.

Most of you have probably heard of OCD—Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I personally prefer identifying this acronym as, “Orthodox Compulsive Disorder.” Hey, if the shoe fits, wear it!

OCD is a very common kind of anxiety disorder. Haredi behavior makes sense when you realize that all these new “halachic” acts of piety involves ways of coping with underlying anxiety, tension, anger, and guilt.

Most modern psychologists and therapists probably are not deeply in love with Freudian psychology, but I have a pretty healthy respect for Freud’s view of religion as an obsessional type of neurosis. Unlike Jung, Frankl, Rodgers, Fromm, and others who saw religions as serving a potentially positive function in society and in the life of the individual, Freud only concerned himself with the pathological aspects of religion that constricts rather than liberates the human spirit from its shackles.

When Freud wrote “Religion as Obsessional Neurosis” in 1907, he observed how religious people suffered from an overwhelming feeling of guilt:

• We may say that the sufferer from compulsions and prohibitions behaves as if he were dominated by a sense of guilt, of which, however, he knows nothing so that we must call it an unconscious consciousness of guilt, in spite of the apparent contradiction in terms. This sense of guilt has its source in certain early mental events, but it is constantly being revived by renewed temptations which arise whenever there is a contemporary provocation. Moreover, it occasions a lurking sense of expectant anxiety, an expectation of misfortune, which is linked, through the idea of punishment, with the internal perception of the temptation. . . [7]

Freud was right. Religion for many people is a mental disorder. Continue Reading

As we have pointed out in other postings, a strong case can be made that one of the most serious  “deadly sins” of history is the sin of misogyny. Every faith grapples with this problem in one form or another. In Judaism, there is a well known blessing men say every day upon getting up in the morning:

“Blessed are you, Lord, our God, ruler the universe who has not created me a woman.”

The Original Rabbinical Source of the Blessing

The origin of this prayer is found in the Tosefta to Berakhot 6:16 that reads:

R. Judah says: “A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: (1) ‘[Blessed are You . . .] Who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . (2) Who has not made me a woman’; and  (3) ‘ . . . who has not made me an uncouth person.’”

The Tosefta then explains its rational:  (1)    “. . . a heathen,” because it is written: ^‘Before him all the nations are as nought, as nothing and void he accounts them,’” (Isa. 40:17). (2)   “. . . an uncouth person,” because it is said, “an uncouth person cannot be pious” (Avot 2:5). (3)   “. . . a woman,” for women are not legally required to observe all the precepts.

To what is this matter (i.e., gentile, uncouth people, women who perform the precepts) analogous to? A mortal king once said to his servant, ‘Go cook a meal for me.’ However, unbeknownst to the king, the servant had never cooked a meal in his life! After cooking a meal, the king got upset with him. Another analogy: A king once asked his servant to hem a garment for him, but having never hemmed a garment before, the servant ruined the garment, thus angering the king. [The moral of the story: Let those who are unfamiliar with the observance of the commandments be exempt from observing them, lest they be an affront to their Maker.]

It is interesting to note that unlike the canned apologetic responses seen in subsequent rabbinic literature, which purports that women are essentially exempt from the performance of certain time-bound precepts because of her family obligations, the Tosefta dismisses such a perspective. Her legal exemption from the commandments is because of incompetence and not because of the lack of opportunity.

Re-interpreting the Tosefta

The Talmud discusses part of the Tosefta in BT Menachot 43b:

A learned discussion began: “ R. Judah [1] used to say, ‘A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: ‘[Blessed are You . . .] who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . who hast not made me a woman’; and ‘ . . . who hast not made me a brutish man.’

One of the Sages, R. Aha b. Jacob, once overhead his son saying ‘[Blessed are You. . .] who has not made me a brutish man’, when he immediately said to him, ‘Isn’t this blessing a tad bit presumptuous?’ (Who says the rabbis didn’t have a wry sense of humor?) His son retorted, ‘OK, what would you have me say instead?’ Surely it is better to say, ‘. . . Who has not made me a slave.’ Once again his son retorted, “ How is this blessing different from that of a woman (seeing that neither one is fully obligated to carry out the precepts of the Torah; in fact they are on equal footing in terms of their obligations)?  His father rejoined, “A slave is more contemptible” (since his character is generally prone to licentious behavior, which is not the case with women). Continue Reading

As we have pointed out in other postings, a strong case can be made that one of the most serious  “deadly sins” of history is the sin of misogyny. Men have been blaming women for everything wrong in their lives since the Garden of Eden. Much has not changed. Every faith grapples with misogyny in one form or another. In Judaism, there is a well known blessing men say every day upon getting up in the morning:

“Blessed are you, Lord, our God, ruler the universe who has not created me a woman.”

The Original Rabbinical Source of the Blessing

The origin of this prayer is found in the Tosefta to Berakhot 6:16 that reads:

R. Judah says: “A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: (1) ‘[Blessed are You . . .] Who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . (2) Who has not made me a woman’; and  (3) ‘ . . . who has not made me an uncouth person.’”

The Tosefta then explains its rational:  (1)    “. . . a heathen,” because it is written: ^‘Before him all the nations are as nought, as nothing and void he accounts them,’” (Isa. 40:17). (2)   “. . . an uncouth person,” because it is said, “an uncouth person cannot be pious” (Avot 2:5). (3)   “. . . a woman,” for women are not legally required to observe all the precepts.

To what is this matter (i.e., gentile, uncouth people, women who perform the precepts) analogous to? A mortal king once said to his servant, ‘Go cook a meal for me.’ However, unbeknownst to the king, the servant had never cooked a meal in his life! After cooking a meal, the king got upset with him. Another analogy: A king once asked his servant to hem a garment for him, but having never hemmed a garment before, the servant ruined the garment, thus angering the king. [The moral of the story: Let those who are unfamiliar with the observance of the commandments be exempt from observing them, lest they be an affront to their Maker.]

It is interesting to note that unlike the canned apologetic responses seen in subsequent rabbinic literature, which purports that women are essentially exempt from the performance of certain time-bound precepts because of her family obligations, the Tosefta dismisses such a perspective. Her legal exemption from the commandments is because of incompetence and not because of the lack of opportunity.

Re-interpreting the Tosefta

The Talmud discusses part of the Tosefta in BT Menachot 43b:

A learned discussion began: “ R. Judah [1] used to say, ‘A man is bound to say the following three blessings daily: ‘[Blessed are You . . .] who has not made me a heathen’, ‘. . . . who hast not made me a woman’; and ‘ . . . who hast not made me a brutish man.’

One of the Sages, R. Aha b. Jacob, once overhead his son saying ‘[Blessed are You. . .] who has not made me a brutish man’, when he immediately said to him, ‘Isn’t this blessing a tad bit presumptuous?’ (Who says the rabbis didn’t have a wry sense of humor?) His son retorted, ‘OK, what would you have me say instead?’ Surely it is better to say, ‘. . . Who has not made me a slave.’ Once again his son retorted, “ How is this blessing different from that of a woman (seeing that neither one is fully obligated to carry out the precepts of the Torah; in fact they are on equal footing in terms of their obligations)?  His father rejoined, “A slave is more contemptible” (since his character is generally prone to licentious behavior, which is not the case with women). Continue Reading

Every child comes into a world that is not of his or her own making. Our parents instill inside of us values that structure and guide our lives. We learn not only by what our parents verbally teach us, we also learn by their behavior. Children are much like clay; they watch how we interact with others; they observe the moral choices that we make, and our children mirror those same values to other children in their schools and communities.

A principal I once worked with for many years ago, when I worked as a Hebrew day school Talmud teacher, once said, “There are no illegitimate children—only illegitimate parents.” Unfortunately, children suffer for the sins of their parents. When perverse behavior occurs on the local level, the police, leaders, and especially the town’s spiritual leaders have a duty to speak out. The failure not to do so can only mean complicity.

In the news from Israel today, Rabbi Yosef Shalom Eliyashiv—a man who has been privileged to reach 100 years in his long life—has condemned an Orthodox based magazine called, Mishpacha Magazine” because Eliyashiv claims, “it distorts and obscures” the Torah. Of course, he was not alone. Haredi-Hassidic rabbis in Williamsburg, Brooklyn banned Mishpacha along with Hamodia and Bina.

What’s so treif about Mishpacha? For one thing, its writers are not afraid to talk about the real issues affecting the Orthodox Jewish community. Some of the topics in this fine periodical include: “Why do Orthodox young people stray from Orthodoxy?”, or “The Challenge of Technology and Raising Children,” Mispacha Magazine has been very critical of the “Haredi Spring of Beit Shemesh,” or, “Haredim Who Choose To Seek Employment Face Unexpected Obstacle”, or, “Israel – Army Rabbi Vows to Keep Extremist Jewish Behavior Out of IDFs” are but a few of the tantalizing topics one can find in this bold Orthodox magazine that is willing to ask hard questions.

The writers demand reflectivity and when confronted by self-righteous leaders who are lost in another world that time has long forgotten, they do what religious fanatics have always done in the face of criticism and moral accountability—they censure points of view they find threatening.

Here is what I find most disturbing about Rabbi Eliyashiv: he behaves like someone who has no moral conscience. One cannot expect an average citizen to act with nobility, but the truth is many righteous gentiles did exactly that during WWII and rescued many of our people. Somehow, I cannot for the life of me imagine that Rabbi Eliyashiv would lift a finger to do anything kind for a person in trouble.

How hard would it be for this Haredi “Gadol” (“Great One”) to speak out against the thugs of Beth Shemesh who threaten and harm small children? How hard would it be for Rabbi Eliyashiv to condemn children who attack wheel-chaired bound children who use their electric wheel-chairs on the Sabbath?

Not a word. Instead of following in the footsteps of Aaron, who “loved peace, and pursued peace,” Rabbi Eliyashiv fancies himself as a modern-day Pinchas. Continue Reading

Toward the end of the 19^th century, Jack the Ripper became famous for horribly slashing the faces of his many victims. Many American and European murderers have often done the same. When the infamous Nazi Julius Streicher did the same thing to photos of Jewish faces, the world was shocked by his callous disregard for the humanity of his victims. But what else would you expect from a Nazi?

Recently, the human face has come under attack in Israel and in the United States. No, these faces were not attacked by Palestinian terrorists; no, not by murderers, and nor were these faces actually defaced, but they were certainly symbolically removed by Orthodox Haredi/Hassidic Jews, who find the woman’s face pornographic.

Are these rabbis eventually going to promote burkas too?

More and more Haredi Jews are defacing women’s pictures appearing on billboard advertisements, in newspapers and magazines. Evidently, the laws against nudity now apply to the human face—but only a woman’s face.

How strange!

Some Israeli feminists interpret this gesture to mean that woman’s face should not be seen, nor should their voices be heard—in any sphere of modern life, and especially with respect to politics! While this perception is true, there is another aspect to this behavior they are not taking into consideration.  Haredi rabbis are doing everything in their power to suppress all visual expressions of the feminine. Gender discrimination has spiked up in all areas of Jewish life in Israel.

When you think about it, so much of our personal identity is very much tied up with our faces. To be without a face, or to be treated as though one has no face—condemns the victim to the most marginal kind of existence.  The deliberate effort to deface these pictures of women is a yet another subtle form of murder.

Many years ago, I recall visiting a young woman whose face was destroyed as a result of an explosion that took place in a bar, while she was trying to serve a customer a hot beverage. The loss of her beauty shook her to the core of her being. The inner and outer worlds of the individual are interrelated.

Judaism has much to say about the integrity of the human face. One of the most important Jewish thinkers of the 20^th century was the Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), who perhaps more so than anyone else (with the possible exception of Martin Buber), developed an important piece of his ethical philosophy based on the spiritual and ethical significance of the human face.

According to Levinas, the human face always “commands” a moral response. Even if the other person acts in a manner that is less than desirable, nevertheless I (as an individual) am commanded to still treat the Other with human dignity because that is how I would want to be treated as well.

• The face speaks. It speaks, it is in this that it renders possible and begins all discourse…. The first word of the face is the “Thou shalt not kill.” It is an order. There is a commandment in the appearance of the face, as if a master spoke to me. [1]

The human face—regardless how disfigured it may be—commands that we respect the uniqueness of the human person; this respect for the Other transcends one’s physical attributes. Whether a person looks like Ms. America or Quasimodo, whether a person is a king or a beggar, if we truly believe that God made us in the Divine Image, then, it is only apropos we show our respect toward the Creator by acting respectfully toward all people. Granted, this may not always be easy; in fact, it may be quite difficult but as Levinas argues, there is an asymmetrical aspect to ethics and morality. Just because one person acts rudely doesn’t entitle the recipient to act in kind.

Respecting the human face requires that I operate from a higher sense of values—even if it is not easy or distressing to deal with a difficult person. For Levinas, the human face commands, but does so without words; the human face silently demands that its dignity be respected. The face speaks often without words. I am amazed at how stroke victims (like my father and others I have known) can still express their feelings and sentiments without words ever being said.

Levinas notes further,

• There is first the very uprightness of the face, its upright exposure, without defense. The skin of the face is that which stays most naked, most destitute. It is the most naked, though with a decent nudity…. The face is meaning all by itself…it leads you beyond.[2]

Whenever problem solving, face-to-face encounters have a far better chance of succeeding in ways that email, or telephone conversations can never hope to achieve. Why? Because when two faces encounter one another, there is always the risk of vulnerability. The face exposes our inherent weakness, defenselessness, and insecurities—our mortality. When a poor man asks someone for help, the human face immediately silently says, “Care about me; see who I am; respond to me; do not leave me here in my aloneness and weakness.” Levinas adds:

• The Other manifests itself by the absolute resistance of its defenseless eyes. . . . [i.e., “The other person manifests himself by the absolute resistance of his defenseless eyes.”] . . . The infinite in the face . . . brings into question my freedom . . .[3]

In a sense the Ultra-Orthodox do rightfully sense something nude about the human face, but all of our faces risk exposure and the possibility of pain when someone denies our inherent God-given uniqueness and identities. By denying the human face of women or gentiles, as some New York Hassidic and their followers are doing, they are denying the mirror that reflects their own humanity in the process. To deny any human being a face, comes perilously close to the kind of Nazi-esque behavior that all decent human beings ought to find repulsive.

• As in water, one face reflects another, so too does the heart of man reflects another.—Proverbs  27:19 Continue Reading

Below is from my new Jewish Values Online column:

My mother and I are presently having an issue about tznius (the Jewish laws of Modesty). I wear long skirts and when skirts are just past the knee or a little longer, I wear pants underneath. I also prefer to wear long sleeves rather than 3/4 sleeves, and I generally do not wear red. My mother thinks that all this is unnecessary, and won’t let me out of the house in more than two layers during the summer, although I never get overheated. If I feel that dressing this way is essential to my Judaism, do I have to listen to my mother?

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Assuming that you are new to the Orthodox life, I think your mother is correct; honoring her wishes is certainly one of the most important precepts—especially since she does not mind you dressing like a Modern Orthodox young woman. Before you know it, someday you will be on your own and you can dress as modestly as you like.

I suggest you not try to be overly modest with your attire. As a general rule, one should always dress by the standards of one’s community and not try to draw too much attention to oneself (e.g., by dying your hair green, or wear a style of clothing that would stop traffic).

Modesty is really more about a state of mind than it is anything else. Being “modest,” is an important value in our tradition. Perhaps the most famous passage regarding modesty comes from the prophet Micah 6:8, which reads:

You have been told, O man, what is good,

and what the LORD requires of you:

Only to do right and to love goodness,

and to walk modestly with your God.

The traditions of tsiniut (modesty) really vary from community to community. What one community considers “modest,” is considered “immodest” by another. For example, a couple of years ago in Israel, there were some Haredi rabbis who complained about a dress shop’s display of naked mannequins! I can assure you there are no laws of tsniut governing mannequins! Some places in Israel even ban women’s pictures  in their newspapers, billboards, and magazines.

Here are some other examples to consider:

• In Sephardic countries, even young girls used to cover their hair because it was (and still is in many parts of the Muslim world), for young girls to appear “immodestly dressed.” Some ladies in Jerusalem have upset even the most pious of rabbis by wearing a burka, only exposing their eyes. However, as the great Sephardic scholar Ben Ish Chai explains, the custom of head coverings was rejected by the women of Europe.[1]

• Some Halachic scholars argue that a little bit of exposed hair presents no Halachic problem.[2]Many Modern Orthodox women will not cover their hair once they are married; those who do cover their hair, don’t mind letting large portions of their hair show underneath a hat. Now in other communities like in Me’ah Sha’arim in Jerusalem, that would be the height of immodesty.

• Another perennial question regarding tsniut is the matter whether or not women may sing in a public event; once again, there are ample precedents that permit women to sing—but others would regard this position as “immodest.”

• Women are routinely assaulted by the Haredim in Israel for not sitting at the “back of the bus,” and that their failure to do so is because of an alleged lack of tsniut.
• Some communities insist that women walk on opposite sides of the street, or that they not attend a store whenever there are men inside shopping.

Obviously, your community has different modesty standards than the examples I mentioned in Israel. As you can see, there is no limit how modest one wishes to be.

In summary, there is much to be said that, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.” Modesty rules commiserate with the standards seen in your community. Modesty is never pretentious; a modest person is not interested in merely “looking” modest, but is truly modest—she’s the real deal and not an imitation.[3]

One last note, I have noticed that some young women do wear dresses over pants; I am told by some of the young teenage girls in my Shul, that this is considered fashionable. As always, it behooves young and old alike to communicate their perspectives in a pleasant manner. Sometimes it is not what we say that is important, it is how we express our opinions that really matters.

Notes:

[1] Ben Ish Chai writes further, “Look at the women of Europe, whose custom is not to hide themselves from strangers. Nonetheless, their clothes are orderly; they do not expose their bodies except only their faces, necks, hands, and heads.  It is true that their hair is uncovered and this custom of theirs is not possible according to our laws.  However, they have one justification.They say, ‘Yet still, this custom (of having their hair uncovered) was accepted by all their women – both Jewish and Gentile – to walk about with their hair uncovered is no different than revealing of their faces. It does not arouse erotic  thoughts in men when they see their hair with their eyes.’ This is the justification for their custom, and there is no need to reject this [halachic] position of theirs”( Ben Ish Chai, Rav Po’alim 4:5).

[2] R. Moshe Feinstein, E.H. 1:58; cf. Igrot Moshe OH 4:112:4.

[3]There is a fascinating psychological concept in Halacha known as מחזי כיוהרא (mechzei k’yuhara), i.e., public religious actions that give an appearance of excessive piety). For example, the Mishnah Berurah mentions the practice of one individual who used to publically put on Rabbanu Tam’s Tefillon as a show of his excessive piety. Such behavior is considered ostentatious and inappropriate (O.H. 34 MB 16, cf. O.H. 652:6).