Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Picture: Rabbi  Yona Metzger

A question came up recently in my congregation regarding the use of music at a Jewish funeral. The Reform Movement has long permitted the use of music at a Jewish funeral—provided the music does not derive from the Christian liturgy, e.g., Amazing Grace. Most Conservative and all Orthodox synagogues frown upon the use of music at a funeral because they feel it distracts the mourners from mourning. R. Isaac Klein’s book on A Guide to Jewish Practices, says nothing about it, one way or other. However, an argument ex silencio suggests that Rabbi Klein frowned upon this particular practice.

The question is not by any means a new Halachic issue.

About a year ago the Israeli Knesset member Rabbi Hanan Porat died; he was one of the founding members of the Gush Emunim, a religious Zionist organization that is very visible in settling the West Bank. At the rabbi’s funeral, his children sang and played some songs with a guitar that upset Rabbi Yona Metzger, the Chief Rabbi of Israel.  Rabbi Metzger made his opinion known, and is quoted as saying:

• Rabbi Shlomo Amar and I stared at each other and neither one of us knew what was going on –a band, guitars, children singing … One might think that the people came to attend a wedding! But this was a funeral! I have never heard of this kind of ‘mourning’ before–not in Israel, not in Europe, and I am sure not in Yemen. We have never heard of and never saw such a thing like this.[1]

Actually, I applaud the family’s innovative spirit—and I am sure the spirit of their father did not mind either.

The tradition of music in funerals is well attested in biblical, post-biblical texts, Mishnahic and medieval sources.

In biblical sources, the Hebrew term qînâ (qînôt), is an oral poetic music used for times of national calamity and mourning. The best known example of this kind of singing can be seen in the acrostic style of writing found in Lamentations. Indeed, one of the more extraordinary images of God in the Bible is that of a musician and composer. The prophet Jeremiah depicts God as mourning for Moab, “Hence the wail of flutes for Moab is in my heart; for the men of Kir-heres the wail of flutes is in my heart: the wealth they acquired has perished” (Jer. 48:36 NAB).

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus arrives at the ruler’s home and saw the flute players and a crowd making a tumult, he said, “Depart; for the girl is not dead but sleeping ” (Mt 9:23, 24; Mk 5:38, 39). The NT passage suggests that the flute players went to work immediately at the time of death, as well as the time leading to the internment.

Josephus writes that when the news reached Jerusalem of the fall of Jotapata to the Roman armies in 67 C.E., “Most people engaged flute-players to lead their lamentations.” This style of mourning was common throughout the ancient world; Greece, Rome, Phoenicia, Assyria all utilized the flute in times of loss. Roman funeral processions were especially known for being very noisy. Musicians used to lead the way blowing their trumpets, horns and flutes announcing the presence of the corpse.[2]

The wailing of the flute players, the cries of the mourners, the sound of torn garments, was unmistakably common in the cities of ancient Israel. Note that the Jewish mourners had no afterthoughts whether they were emulating the pagan gentiles or not.

In the Mishnah, we also find: רַבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר, אֲפִלּוּ עָנִי שֶׁבְּיִשְׂרָאֵל, לֹא יִפְחוֹת מִשְּׁנֵי חֲלִילִים וּמְקוֹנֶנֶת R. Judah says, “Even the poorest man in Israel should not hire fewer than two flutes and one professional wailing woman [for a funeral]” (Ketubbot 4:4). Other Mishnaic sources speak about the use of pipes or flutes as a normal part of the Jewish funerals.[3] The rabbis lifted their prohibitions against women’s voices being heard in public were relaxed for funerary rituals.[4]

Maimonides similarly ruled  almost 1200 years later,”  When a man’s wife dies, he is obligated to bury her and to have eulogies and lamentations performed as is the local custom. Even a poor Jewish man should provide at least two flutes and one woman to lament.“[5]

Why is the music of the flute so special? Maimonides explains that the plaintive melody moves a person to tears at a funeral.[6] The Halachic Codes all acknowledge this custom.[7]

One 14^th century classical work on mourning, Kol Bo al Hilchot Aveilut  admits that during the Talmudic period music was part of the funeral, but rejects its reintroduction because it would be as a result of non-Jewish influence—undoubtedly referring to the Christians, who used music in their mourning rites. Some Halachic authorities had no problem with music being played at a funeral–so long as the musicians happened to be Jewish. It is interesting to note that this custom continued in Egypt during the early 19th century.

A very dear friend of the TBS synagogue died this past week. His name was Kurt Sax, and this Viennese Jew loved the Spanish guitar. In honor of his memory, two of his good friends played a couple selections  that Kurt really loved.  I can personally attest that the music was very  meaningful and moving for the family and their friends.

Was it traditional?

Maybe not by Rabbi Yona Metzger’s standards.

However, I will say Rabbi Metzger is right on one point. If a rabbi chooses to pursue such a path, it is important that he remind the people not to applaud, after all–it is a funeral and not a concert.

However, history has allowed this type of musical innovation. I think Jewish law and tradition needs to be less austere and  become innovative, as it once was before.  If Judaism is to be healthy, we must find a way to make our faith more appealing and less hung up on the external forms of Jewish piety.

In other words, it’s time to allow music to liberate the heart that inspires and experiences prayer—in good times and in bad times. Continue Reading

President Obama’s revelation surprised me. I wondered: Why did it take him so long to state his opinion? Wasn’t it obvious?

True, the President indicated that he had reservations on whether he should personally endorse same sex marriage, or not. Although I think the President would be wise to speak more about the economy, the question about accepting gay relationships and marriage is an important issue—but not because of its political ramifications. In a democratic society, the homogenization of public opinion is not always possible or even desirable. People have a right to their opinions on this subject—even if I, as a citizen, may not necessarily agree.

There is a higher issue at work here: it’s really about personal autonomy, i.e., the freedom for consensual adults to live one’s personal life without government interference. Therefore, I support anyone’s right to choose having a same-sex marriage.

In all honesty, I did not always feel this way.

Let me share a story with you. In the late 1980s, I lived in San Francisco and I was the rabbi of a Modern Orthodox congregation in the Richmond District of San Francisco. My father was a Holocaust survivor who had witnessed many terrible things in Auschwitz and Majdanek, two of the worse concentration camps of the Holocaust era. Hitler, as you may know, went after the gay community and killed approximately 15,000 in the camps. My father remembered seeing how they were treated. Their suffering left an impression upon him that he never forgot.

After settling in Alameda, CA., my father helped establish Alameda’s first Reform synagogue—Temple Israel. Well, one Sunday, I went to visit my father and he was on his way to attend a wedding. I asked him, “Where are you going?” He replied, I am going to be a witness for a gay Jewish wedding.” Feeling surprised—even shocked—I observed, “Dad, you never cease to amaze me; you are the last person I would have ever expected to participate in a marriage ceremony, given your religious background . . .” Dad replied with a smile, “What’s the matter with you son? What’s so terrible about two human beings wanting to affirm their love and commitment to each other?”

My Father’s words left a lasting impression. He helped me to look beyond the religious barriers that tend to stigmatize or marginalize feeling people in the name of “Tradition.” Just as I mentioned earlier, same-sex unions between consenting adults is a privacy issue. Nobody—whether it is the State or the Church or synagogue—has the right to micromanage people’s personal lives.

Earlier this past week, I briefly participated on an Orthodox blog named Hirhurim, and while I was on, I was surprised to read some of the comments regarding Rabbi Elliot Dorf, who happens to be an outstanding Conservative rabbinical scholar. One person felt it was wrong to call Rabbi Dorf by his title, “Rabbi,” since he endorses gay marriages. Some of us demurred. I wrote, “Whether you recognize Rabbi Dorf as a rabbi is not the issue here; it’s really about respect. You cannot go wrong showing kindness to another person. One can politely agree to disagree without being disagreeable.”

As the conversation ensued, one participant quipped, “According to the Torah, homosexuality is punishable by death!” I asked him, “Can you show me a single instance in Judaism where anyone was ever executed for being a homosexual?” He had no answer. I pointed out that there are two kinds of cases where a homosexual may be executed according to the Mishnah. One case pertains to someone who is threatening to sodomize a man, i.e., homosexual rape. Alternatively, the Mishnah may be speaking of someone threatening to sodomize an underage male child (BT Sanhedrin 73a). However, both cases appear to be only theoretical for there is no court record of any homosexual ever having been executed. If anything, the law is heuristic and intended for some future application, should the practical need arise. In the medieval Jewish period, the death penalty was sometimes administered on an ad hoc basis.

In our discussion, I explained that the scriptural basis of this law most likely derives from the famous biblical story of Lot and the angels:

• But before they laid down, the men of the city, the men of Sodom, both young and old, all the people to the last man, surrounded the house; ⁵ and they called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us, so that we may know them.” (Gen 19:4-5).

Obviously, the townspeople were interested in not inviting the guests for coffee, cake or crumpets. However, one thing is motivating their behavior—a desire to show that they are in control.  Homosexual rape has nothing to with love or even, “free love (for you ex-Hippies). However, it has everything to do with dominance and control. This would also explain why the Torah considers the rape of a male—“an abomination” (Lev. 20:13). Although this term is not used for cases of ordinary rape, one must remember that in a patriarchal society, sodomizing someone against his will evokes disgust and primal fear. In fact, it still does—even in the 21^st century.

So, in the final analysis, what does this mean? For one thing, ancient Israel’s society differed considerably from our own. Just because Abraham and Sarah lived in tents, doesn’t mean that we should live in tents also in order to emulate their particular lifestyle. Monogamous male relationships probably did not exist, or, happened to be extremely uncommon in ancient Israel, as it later occurred in Greek and Roman societies. Therefore, the issue of a same-sex marriage is for all practical terms historically irrelevant.

In addition, I would add that there are numerous passages that we do not interpret the Torah literally. The Torah tells us to “circumcise the foreskin of our hearts” (Deut. 10:16). Yet, I do not know of any fundamentalist who would interpret this passage literally; if he did, he would be a fool. In fact, the rabbis frequently refused to interpret biblical legislation pertaining to the death penalty literally because of their concern for the social welfare of the community.[1] We do not stone people for adultery either. If we did, a sizable portion of our society would be dead by now.

Unlike the Fundamentalists of the evangelical community, which tends to focus on the literalism of biblical truth, Jewish tradition has long argued that exegetical interpretations are derived contextually as well. Evangelical scholars often derive the prohibition against same-sex marriage from the biblical passage, “Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh” (Gen 24:25).

While it is true the Genesis passage speaks of a marriage between a man and a woman who create new life, one must remember that marriage is not only for the sake of siring children. The emotional bond of marriage, i.e., “becoming one flesh” can also mean a fully monogamous life that involves sharing and caring to one another. Marriage is the most profound connection that binds two human beings as they face good and sorrowful times together. Each partner is always present supporting the other. “One flesh” entails a lifelong, exclusive attachment of one person to another—both physically and spiritually; this sharing involves a willingness to eliminate all the barriers that keeps their hearts apart from one another.

In summary,  a contextual reading of the Torah dealing with homosexuality allows for a more elastic postmodern interpretation that could conceivably permit same-sex marriages.

One last question arises: Is it Halachic?

Halacha is not a static system. It allows for a radical re-visioning of Jewish law based upon the ever changing social circumstances. Hillel, for example, permitted people to circumvent the agricultural laws of the Sabbatical Year—despite the fact scripturally speaking—all debts are cancelled.[2] People who have committed suicide used to be buried in the outer parameters of a Jewish cemetery as a sign of disgrace. Today, psychoanalysis has completely altered our understanding of suicide, which often has physical or psychological causes that overpower a mentally ill person. The rabbis of the Talmud did not understand or legislate against pedophilia, but given what we now know about this terrible social and psychological disease, we would be foolish to rely on the views of Sages that lived almost 2000 years ago who thought molesting a child was harmless.[3] Women never voted in biblical times; today, despite the fact that many Halachic scholars think it is biblically forbidden for women to participate in an election or even run for a political office[4] (see the Woman’s Suffrage debate of the early 20^th century in the halachic literature[5]).

For generations, the Orthodox homosexual has been marginalized, ignored, and often shamed for being “different.”

This can no longer be tolerated.

Across the Orthodox divide, more and more Orthodox gays are “coming out” and demand that they be treated honorably and lovingly by their families and by their communities. The world has changed, and so must the Halacha. Nobody has the moral or halachic right to expect or demand that a Jewish homosexual ought to spend the rest of his/her life in seclusion, bereft of a life companion. Continue Reading

As a child, I used to love reading the golem stories attributed to Rabbi Judah Lowe, a.k.a., the famous “MaHaral of Prague” (1525-1609).  Since my father came from Czechoslovakia, I grew up hearing many family tales about the golem. These stories were especially delightful since my father was a naturally talented storyteller.  The golem was something like a medieval super-hero who protected the Jewish community from pogroms in its time.  It is interesting to note that despite the numerous tracts MaHaral wrote on various philosophical, talmudic, and mystical themes, never once does he ever refer to the golem that is associated with his name.

What is a Golem?

The term gōlem is a “shapeless mass” (Ps. 139:16), but according to Jewish folklore, a golem is a creature that is made from clay and is animated by magical and mystical means. One of the more apocryphal stories of the Talmud relates how a 4th century scholar named Rava, magically created a man through the Sefer Yetzirah and sent him to Rabbi Zera. The latter tried speaking to him, but the poor golem could not speak. When there was no response, he declared: ‘You must be a  product of our colleague. Return to your dust!’ and so he died (BT Sanhedrin 65b).

(By the way, in Yiddish, a “golem” can refer to someone who has marginal intelligence, who is almost incapable of sensible communication.)

Ironically, it is with no precedent in the Bible, except for the creation of Adam. It is remarkable how modern literature contains countless stories of how man has attempted to make an artificial “Mini-me.” I guess, since God has created us in His image, human beings have been trying to pay God back by creating a life-form in man’s image. Man has long fantasied about becoming a mini-creator. How could such hubris not fail? The mythos of the golem story always leads to chaos and destruction. How can it not be? Man’s own chaos is reflected in his handiwork–the golem.

Indeed, in nearly all the golem legends, it appears that anytime mortals attempt to create human life, it is an activity that is fraught with danger. It seems that our ancestors felt suspicious about the full extent of man’s creative powers. In many of the stories, the golem goes out of control, destroying everything in sight.

Adaptations of the Golem in Western Literature and Cinema

The Frankenstein story is a European re-adaptation of the Golem legends. In J. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Hobbit Gollum devolves into a treacherous shape-shifter under the malign influence of the Ring, it seems obvious that the author had these legends in mind.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, the character Data personifies  the golem legend. When attempting to integrate the emotional chip, he becomes capable of erratic behavior–even violence. Countless sci-fi films have developed this theme in numerous tales about humanoid-like robots turning against their masters, i.e., like the Terminator series. Even the X-Files had an interesting episode of a betrothed woman who turns her murdered husband into a golem, in order to avenge his death.

Some poor women I know, happen to be married to golems. It’s more common than you may realize.

According to some medieval tales, the golem is indestructible; if the golem had been created by writing the Hebrew word “אמת” (emet; “truth”) on its forehead, it could be destroyed by erasing the first letter to produce the word “מת” (met; “dead”). If one had created a golem by placing the name of God in its mouth, all that was needed was to remove the parchment.

Can a Golem Join a Minyan?

The golem has found a respectable place even in the Halachic literature. In one case study, Rabbi Zvi Ashkanazi (1660-1718) writes in a responsa how his grandfather, Rabbi Elijah of Chelm, once made a golem in his garage. In this remarkable responsa, he asks whether (1) can a golem count as one of the ten who make a minyan or quorum for prayer?  (2) If someone killed such an entity, would be considered a murderer? Each of these questions revolves around one basic question: could such a creature possess a human soul?

If the golem can be counted, does that mean that a golem may be considered as a Jew?  Or does he have a gentile status? On the other hand, it is logical to say that the golem should be no worst than an adopted child, who is considered “Jewish.”

The rabbi wondered:

“’Should it occur to you that a golem could have been counted for a minyan (or for that matter any occasion requiring a minyan),  why would R. Zeira deliberately destroy it? It could only mean that the Golem is not considered  a person, for otherwise Rava would have most certainly used him for a minyan! (I can hear him say, “Yo, Golem, we need ya for a minyan!”

According to this piece of “dazzling” wisdom (of course I am not being real serious) , it would appear that a golem is not really a ‘person’ in any real sense of the word, for the Torah clearly states, ‘If anyone sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; For in the image of God has man been made” (Gen. 9:6). In fact, were one to kill such a creature, it would not even be considered murder! [1]

In the case of Rava’s golem, since he was artificially made, therefore,  he could not actually be considered “human.” Rabbi Ashkenazi concludes, “Nevertheless, Rabbi Zeira should not have done away with it, unless it served no constructive purpose. If that is the case, its destruction can be of no consequence; therefore, it could not qualify for a minyan or, for that matter, any other sacred purpose . . . Moreover a golem is inferior even to the souls of women, and they are never counted for anything pertaining to a minyan.”

Defining “Personhood”

Right, Rabbi Ashkenazi, “inferior even to  the souls of women. . . ” I am curious: Since when is a soul, by itself, subject to gender? But that is another topic for future day.

It seems strange that the idea of a woman being a part of the minyan was not even a consideration, but the golem at least made the venerable rabbi pause for reflection. I suspect the Ortho-feminists of our time would most certainly have straightened Rabbi Ashkenazi out, if they could go back in time and argue with the rabbi.

Needless to say, a modern medical ethicist would definitely have serious problems with Rav Ashkenazi’s assertion that any person who  is artificially created– intrinsically–lacks the status of a “person.”

If Rav Askenazi’s logic is consistent, would a human being who  is in a deep comatose state also be considered like a “golem,” since he lacks the obvious visible signs of personhood?

Ultimately, it really boils down to the question: What is personhood? Using Descartes’ cogito ergo sum, if an entity is capable of thinking and self-reflection, then it is safe to presume it has the property of “personhood,” irregardless whether its origin is artificial or not. Equally important is the  matter of “reverence for life,” for once sentience and self-consciousness have been established, how can anyone not respect the “person” who possesses these two traits?

I often think of the Terry Schiavo story and how the State facilitated her death–by starvation. Within a year, Discover Magazine has produced a number of medical stories where consciousness did not die, and even people suffering from a chronic vegetative are still capable of regaining part of their mind back.[1]

Was Terri Schiavo a golem? No, I don’t think so.

Golems play an important role in the modern synagogue–a fact I can personally attest to seeing. As one of my colleagues once said, “If you wish to see ten golems, just come to an evening service  at my Shul.”

Ditto . . . but not in Chula Vista! Continue Reading

For Jewish Values Online

Question: My wife and I are thinking about how our children should dispose of our bodies once we have passed. Having no love for the traditional methods, we went in search of alternatives. We discovered a thing called a body farm. In this method the bodies are staked out (often) in the open on a protected plot of land so that they might be studied concerning natural decay, then the information gathered is used for forensic studies and training concerning murder investigations, and other such things. We like the idea of this for two reasons; first it helps to assist the living, and second it returns the bodies to the earth in the quickest way possible. We will not go any further in this plan without guidance. Can you help?

Answer: In all honesty, forensics is not my area of expertise. However, I am familiar with some other issues pertaining to the treatment of the corpse according to the Halacha. With that thought in mind, I will try to present a well-thought-out answer to your question.

There is an important aspect about the body farm concept that you may not properly understand. You wrote, “Secondly, it returns the bodies to the earth in the quickest way possible.” Actually, that is not really the case. The body is exhumed and sampled many times over a period of weeks and months. Your body will not remain undisturbed. If that is a concern to you, then you may wish to consider other alternatives.

• What does Jewish Law have to say about this process?

In Jewish law, it is traditional to compare one type of case study with possible antecedents that share similar properties.  Two other areas of Halachic inquiry immediately come to mind that could shed some light on this topic: autopsies and donating one’s body for science.

• Autopsies

Ordinarily autopsies are forbidden because they disfigure the body. In addition, any part of the body that is not properly buried after the organ has been removed is a violation of Jewish tradition.

However there are some important exceptions to this rule. Autopsies are not only permitted, but sometimes required—especially if it helps doctors and the police discover relevant information about the cause of death. With respect to a mysterious contagion, autopsies can help the physician determine the causes of a disease, so as to prevent the deaths of others. An autopsy is especially helpful in diagnosing a hereditary disease, which could save the lives of surviving kin as well as their children, by determining an appropriate medical intervention strategy for dealing with the disease. [1]

Are body farms in some ways analogous, in that both forensic discipline aims to ascertain certain information about the possible causes of death? On the surface, they do serve a common goal and purpose.

Body farms do not (as I understand) prevent the loss of human life. Nevertheless, they help assist in murder investigations. Forensic studies can sometimes prove the innocence of an accused murderer (much like DNA testing has proven the innocence of people accused of murder). On the basis of this comparison, the body farm is permitted—provided the body is eventually interned after the studies have been completed in a Jewish cemetery. This same principle applies no less to autopsies, which require that all the organs be properly buried with the body.

• Donating One’s Body to Science

Your original question may be parsed in a different way: Is donating one’s corpse to a body farm any worse than donating a body to a medical school, for the purposes of anatomical study? This issue has also been discussed in much of the relevant Halachic literature.

Donating one’s body to science for anatomical studies is permitted according to a number of  Halachic authorities. For example: The Chief Sephardic Ashkenazi Ben Tsion Uziel of Israel ruled one might make one’s body available to first-year medical students to study anatomy provided that (a) the body parts are subsequently buried according to Jewish law (b) and provided that one does not sell one’s body for money.[2]  However, among contemporary Halachic authorities, R. Ovadia Yosef ruled that, “He who donates his body to science, to have his organs dissected, even though his intention is to advance scientific research, he is committing a serious offense, and might be relinquishing the chance of resurrection of his soul and body. Therefore, we must not mourn his death.”  [3]

Although there is considerable debate within Jewish thought as to what exactly constitutes “resurrection,” (some Orthodox rabbis believe in a physical resurrection; others believe in a spiritual resurrection that occurs after death). Clearly R. Ovadia Yosef, like other rabbis before him, believes in physical resurrection. Of the two approaches, I personally follow the view of Rav Uziel, as well as Rabbi Yitzhak HaLevi Herzog, who permits donating one’s body for the scientific study of anatomy.

The concern for human life is the basis for many cadaver donor transplants. The prohibition from deriving benefit from the dead does not apply to donating organs that can improve the quality of human life.[4]  A transplanted organ is considered to still be “alive” when it is functioning in a living person. By the same token, transplanting an organ is not considered to be a desecration of the dead. There is no greater mitzvah than bringing life to the living, whether it is the gift of an eye, skin, or other tissues that enhance the process of healing. In the final analysis, every organ—sooner or later—will be interned with the demise of the beneficiary. Consent from the living is, however, a requirement.[5]

As mentioned above, the body still needs to be properly interned after the examinations have been completed. By the same token, one is not allowed to sell one’s body to the medical college. From this perspective, the same principle ought to apply to the body-farm concept as well.

• Other Alternatives

Rabbinical decisions often consider contrarian perspectives. While this may seem rather confusing to someone who is unfamiliar with this type of reasoning process, it serves to give the individual ample space to make a personal decision. As a rabbi, it is my duty to present both sides of an argument. Ultimately, each person must decide for him/herself. Bearing this thought in mind, let us examine this issue from a different point of view.

Anatomists often debate this issue among themselves. One school of thought argues that dissection is necessary to learn medical gross anatomy, while the contrarian perspective argues that dissection is not necessary to learn medical gross anatomy. Within this next decade, the development of holographic technology may make the traditional use of the cadaver a thing of the past.

Due the availability of cadavers, time limitations of the classes, and economic factors, it is important to note that not all medical schools offer courses in dissection. Computer-assisted programs such as Computer-assisted learning (CAL) packages are becoming increasingly more sophisticated, which offer an alternative to dissection.[6] With the explosion of medical technology and informational sciences that now exists, some medical schools superimpose  3D images of the human body upon the flesh of the student to demonstrate the relationship, size, and position of the various body parts. In addition, anatomy databases provide a much faster panoramic view and information about the human body than any cadaver can possibly provide. One can trace the images of a healthy person at age 20, and with the imaging software, one can literally follow the aging process from birth to death.

However, it is generally agreed that the CAL can never fully replace the intellectual, educational and emotional experience afforded to medical students by cadaver dissection provides.

In light of this, the forensic sciences also use the same kind of imaging software detailing how a body can decompose in a variety of different ways. The 3D imaging provides pictures of what a body might look like underwater, or if the body was burnt beyond recognition, diseased, and so on. Similar technological advances are also being used with animals, where vivisection is rapidly becoming passé.[7] Ergo, donating one’s body to science may not necessarily be a matter of pikuach nefesh (saving a life), as some scholars once thought–largely because of the new medical technology.

In light of the above, I would say that the CAL medical technology may already make the body farm concept unnecessary based upon the medical databases dealing with decomposition that are available on international databases. This knowledge may give you another reason to reconsider decision.

A Jewish cemetery provides an important place for your children and friends to come and visit you. The soil of the grave is considered sacred ground in nearly all civilizations around the world—and for good reason—it is a place where you can honor your loved ones; it is ultimately the place where others will someday hopefully honor and remember you. Some of the ancients believe that the greatest immortality one can receive is when others remember you for the person you were. Continue Reading

People often ask: Why do Jews not practice cremation? Why did the ancient Israelites not cremate the remains like other cultures in the ancient world?

Cremation is mentioned as one of four forms of capital punishment for a variety of religious and social offenses, e.g., Gen. 19:24; Lev. 20:14, 21:9; Num. 16:35; cf. Josh. 7:15, 25. There is an interesting passage in 2 Chronicles 16:13-14 that reads:

• Then in the forty-first year of his reign Asa died and rested with his fathers. They buried him in the tomb that he had cut out for himself in the City of David. They laid him on a bier covered with spices and various blended perfumes, and they made a huge fire in his honor.

This passage does not refer to cremation, because cremation was reserved only for villainous people, but it was customary to make a large bonfire in honor of the ancient kings of Israel. There is no indication that corpses were cremated in ancient Israel, except in days long before the Israelites’ arrival to Canaan, or among groups of foreigners; the Israelites never practiced it. [1]

In the spirit of speculation, cremation might have been frowned upon because of its association with Molech-worship. The book of Deuteronomy refers to, “passing a son or a daughter pass through the fire” (Deut. 12:31). Scholars since the time of Abraham Geiger (1810–1874), argue that some ancient Israelites clans believed YHWH worship involved some form of human sacrifice (cf. Isa. 30:33).[2] The prophets condemned the practice (cf. Gen. 22:1–14; Exod. 13:2, 12–13, 15; Mic. 6:6–7) precisely because of the syncretism between paganism and the worship of YHWH.

Some theorists take a different position because the lack of archaeological evidence suggests that the Canaanites of Phoenicia did not practice human sacrifice.  It has been argued that the Deuteronomy passages represent a rhetorical polemic intended to “Canaanize” what was originally an Israelite practice of human sacrifice.

It is interesting to note that the Phoenicians introduced cremation to the ANE (Ancient Near East). The Israelites, much like the other indigenous peoples of the ANE, e.g., the Amorites, Egyptians, and Assyrians, buried their dead in caves, or in bench tombs. One might wonder whether the Canaanite practice of cremation gave rise to the biblical polemic that the Canaanites cremated their children as a funerary rite. In other words, the Canaanites cremated their children—but only after they were already dead!

One could reply, “Not necessarily!” As with any scholarly debate within the archaeological community, there are counter-arguments. For example, in the ancient Phoenician city of Carthage, thousands of urns have been found that bear witness to the ubiquity of child sacrifice. Cremated bones of young children ranging between 2 and 12 show how common this pagan rite once was. Other Phoenician sanctuaries or sacrificial precincts discovered on Sicily and Sardinia also bear witness to this practice.[3]

In any event, the practice probably horrified Israelites so intensely, they decided to not to have anything to do with even the appearance of this dreadful pagan custom. In his commentary to Jeremiah 7:31, Rashi describes what he believed the resembled the ancient Molech ritual. Although his perspective may be somewhat Midrashic in tone, he captures the essence of the ritual, “Tophet is Moloch, was made of brass; and they heated him from his lower parts; and his outstretched hands were made red hot. The priests would place the child between his hands, and it was burnt; when it vehemently cried out; but the priests loudly beat a drum, that his father might not hear his son’s cries, and so that  his heart might not be moved . . .” Incidentally, Rashi’s exposition comes indirectly from ancient Greek traditions.

In the Punic city of Carthage, a Phoenician colony, Cleitarchus, Diodorus Siculus and Plutarch all mention burning of children as an offering to Cronus or Saturn, known also as Ba‘al Hammon, the chief god of Carthage. However, a number of scholars think the Romans demonized the people of Carthrage, and exaggerated cruel and barbaric customs. Paul G. Mosca, for example, in his thesis described below, translates Cleitarchus’ paraphrase of a scholium to Plato’s Republic as:

• There stands in their midst a bronze statue of Kronos, its hands extended over a bronze brazier, the flames of which engulf the child. When the flames fall upon the body, the limbs contract and the open mouth seems almost to be laughing until the contracted body slips quietly into the brazier. Thus it is that the ‘grin’ is known as ‘sardonic laughter,’ since they die laughing.

• Diodorus Siculus (20.14) wrote: “There was in their city a bronze image of Kronos extending its hands, palms up and sloping toward the ground, so that each of the children when placed thereon rolled down and fell into a sort of gaping pit filled with fire.”[5]

* Back to the Present

The crematoria of the Nazis has left a similar feeling of disgust among most traditional Jews, and for this reason, cremation has still never found acceptance among Jews as a burial rite. In a sardonic sense, the Nazis were much like Molech worshipers of old in their contempt of human life–much like the Islamic suicide bombers epitomize the Molech archetype today.

To this day, most Orthodox rabbis refuse to bury the ashes of someone who opted for cremation; moreover, anyone who has his body cremated is not mourned for by the next of kin. According to The Compendium on Medical Ethics, summarizes the Jewish view of procedures after death:

• The inviolate right of a person to life, which differentiates mankind from all other animal species, extends an aura of holiness over the body even after the Divine soul leaves it. The body, like the soul, is the property of the One who created it. It is therefore not permitted to injure or mutilate the body except when overriding consideration for the preservation of life and health make such action necessary…. Reverent treatment of the body and speedy interment are biblically-ordained precepts. Cremation, freeze-storage of the body, and above-ground burial crypts, are all in violation of Jewish law and practice. The duty to bury in the ground applies to all parts of the body and is the obligation of the next of kin. Even where testamentary direction to be cremated has been given, Jewish law requires that it be ignored as an unwarranted desecration of the body.[4]

However, Chief Rabbi Marcus Nathan Adler of Britain, though opposed to cremation, permitted the ashes of a person who had been cremated to be interred in a Jewish cemetery in 1887. The decision was sustained by his successor, Herman Adler (1891), who quoted the authority of Rabbi Isaac Elhanan Spector. It was also the attitude of Chief Rabbi Zadoc Kahn of France. (EJ 2010 ed.). Conservative and Reform rabbis generally take a more lenient position on this issue.

* One Famous Cremation in the Bible

Yet, there is one well-known biblical exception to this rule–King Saul. After the citizens of Jabesh-gilead retrieved the bodies Saul and Jonathan, we read that “they cremated their remains” (1 Sam. 31:12). Why was it practiced with respect to Saul? Among the Aegean and Anatolians, cremations were used especially to honor fallen warriors and royalty ( reminiscent of Mel Gibson’s film, Braveheart). It seems that the townsfolk wanted to show respect to the first king in a comparable like manner. It is also possible the townspeople feared that the more powerful Philistine townspeople would return and look to further inflict further desecration.

Some scholars think that the burning of the bodies of Saul and his sons by the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead (1 Sam. 31:12-13) may have been to prevent further desecration by the Philistines. On the other hand, this practice occurred when the bodies were in a mutilated state.

It is interesting to note that in Israel and Judah, it was the custom to light a large bonfire as a tribute to a dead king (cf. 2 Chron. 16:14; 21:19). This fire does not refer to cremation because Israel and Judah buried dead bodies rather than cremating them. Talmudic tradition says that the kings of Israel used to have their bed and other personal items burnt together with them (BT Avodah Zara 11a).

* Comparative Religious Perspectives

When one examines the Judaic view of cremation, it is interesting to contrast it with other perspectives, particularly with the Hindu tradition, which takes an altogether different approach to cremation.

For example, in ancient India, Hindu and Buddhist faiths thought that cremation provided the transition to immortality. The earthly fire symbolizes the celestial fire, which purges the earthly shell of the body, releasing the soul to achieve an immortal existence, conferring upon it a celestial identity. The sacred fire sublimates and extracts the soul, leaving it as a distilled spiritual essence, ready for the next incarnation into this world at some future time.

However, in Hindu and Buddhist cultures, ascetics and quite often—widows—will subject their bodies to the fire to achieve a higher incarnation in the next life time. Muslim suicide bombers likewise regard their deaths as a symbolic sacrifice to Allah, who will in turn grant them seventy virgins in Paradise.

On account of Judaism’s belief in the inherent sanctity of life, our ancestors rejected cremation as a Judaic form of mourning. Into your hands I entrust my spirit; you will redeem me, LORD,  faithful God” (Psa. 31:6).

An old former congregant and friend of mine (who happens to be a Cohen) recently lost his father, and he asked me the following question. Is a Jewish Priest’s ritual purity compromised by coming into contact with ashes of a cremated person?

Your question could also be parsed in a philosophical way: Do the ashes of a cremated person retain a residue of a person’s humanity? In practical terms, are we obligated to the ashes, or are do we regard the ashes as being bereft of anything considered “human”?

The Mishnah in Ohalot 2:2 discusses this intriguing question. Here is the text:

The ash of burned people—

A     R. Eliezer says, “Its measure is a quarter-qab.” (1 log = 0.506 lit.)

B     And the Sages declare the ashes ritually clean.

The commentaries state this only applies if the body is completely cremated; however, if the body is partially cremated, then even the Sages concur the cremated body conveys ritual impurity.  The Halacha follows the view of the Sages.  Although there is no legal obligation to bury the ashes in a cemetery—in the event someone died in a fire—nevertheless, a number of halachic authorities rule that it is considered meritorious to bury the ashes in a Jewish cemetery (cf. Gesher HaHayim 16:8:5).

R. Isaac Klein rules:

• A great number of authorities forbid the burial of ashes in a Jewish cemetery because this would encourage the practice of cremation (see Dudaei Hasadeh, sec. 16; Mahazeh Avraham, vol. 2, Y.D. 38; and Lerner, Hayyei Olam). Others permit it and even permit a service at the burial (Rules of the Burial Society of the United Synagogue of London, quoted in Rabinowicz, A Guide to Life, p. 29; see also Rabbi Eliyahu ben Amozegh, Ya’aneh Vaeish). The Law Committee of the Rabbinical Assembly has ruled that cremation is not permitted. When it is done by the family in disregard of Jewish practice, a rabbi may officiate only at the service in the funeral parlor; the ashes may be buried in a Jewish cemetery and appropriate prayers may be said, but not by a rabbi, lest his participation be interpreted as approval (Rabbinical Assembly Proceedings, 1939, p. 156; Law Committee Archives). [1]

Not all halachic scholars agree on this issue, and most Orthodox cemeteries will deny the burial of cremated ashes  for the reasons mentioned above. Conservative Jewish cemetery boards  tend to be more lenient on this issue and this has been my personal position as well.

Over this past week, the question regarding the charred remains of the 9/11 victims came up in the news. According to a new Pentagon report, the government sent the remains of several of the bodies that were gathered from the Shanksville crash to a local bio-medical waste disposal contractor. The contractor later incinerated the remains and used the bodies as landfill. Apparently, this has been the practice of the military for quite some time.

Using people’s bodies for landfill is not much better than what the Nazis did with the Jews in the concentration camps. For example, a woman named Isle Koch was the superintendent of the Nazi concentration camps Buchenwald (from 1937 to 1941) and Majdanek (from 1941 to 1943). As a consummate sadist, Koch took great pride in the lamp shades she made from the skin of Jewish inmates whom she had killed if they had distinctive looking tattoos. In case you did not know, the Nazis also cooked the flesh of Jews in order to separate the fat out and made soap from their bodies. The “Beast of Buchenwald” was one of the first prominent Nazis to be tried by the US military for her crimes against humanity.

According to the Jewish philosopher Emanuel Lévinas and Jacques Derrida, human existence always leaves what’s called a “trace,” of a person. On the one hand, the trace signifies the absence of that person’s presence, but it  also paradoxically preserves a residue of the person’s existence that still remains present.

From their philosophical observation, we may deduce an important ethical principle—one which has profound halachic implications. When dealing with the human remains of a cremated person, the little “trace,” of that person’s humanity does not disappear into a state of oblivion. So long as even the smallest fragment of that person remains, one needs to treat that “trace” with ethical sensitivity. Hence, what we have here is what Derrida calls, “the metaphysics of pure presence,” which I would argue, commands us to treat life with value and with respect.  In simple terms, the human being can never be reduced to an impersonal object, for even the “trace” bears witness to the invisible transcendence of the Other.

The accidental burning of the Quran in Afghanistan raises some important questions: How does one dispose of religious literature?

The 18^th century Muslim scholar Allamah Haskafi, author jurisprudence text Durr-Mukhtar, wrote of the disposal of the no-longer wanted Qurans: “If one decides to get rid of religious literature, the right thing would be to bury them by wrapping them in something pure first, in a place where people would rarely traffic. Similarly, it would be permitted to tie the books and papers with something heavy and cast them into a flowing river. You may also burn [texts other than the Quran], but in this case, only after erasing the names of Allah, his Angels and his Messengers…”

Religious traditions vary considerably—even within a given faith. Some Muslim traditions require that the Quran be wrapped in a linen cloth, to protect it from the impure soil. Some scholars recommend that the Muslims place the book in a niche dug along the side of a grave, pointing in the direction of Mecca.

Historically, some early Muslim scholars recommended burning the Quran—but only as a last resort to prevent the book from being defiled. Afterwards, the ashes should be buried or scattered over water. The place where the Quran is burnt is also important and should be ritually performed over the property of a mosque. One Muslim scholar informed me that burning individual Quranic verses represents a type of symbolic sacrifice.

Among the oriental faiths, Hindus immerse their holy writings in clean water, burial or burning, according to the Hari Bhakti Vilasa, a Hindu book of rituals and conduct. If still usable, the items can be sent to the next of kin or cremated with a deceased owner. Buddhist ritual is less defined. However, normally a Buddhist should recite a Buddhist scripture in front of the items to be disposed of, if such a person is present. The material can then be burned and its ashes buried. It is permitted to place the text in a bag and leave it for recycling.[1]

Medieval Christian history regarded the disposal of the Bible as a serious sin. Only recently have Christians adopted the Jewish and Muslim tradition of burying the Bible and other sacred writings, while others recommend one ought to simply fix the Bible so that it will be reusable. According to the Wikihow.com, Christian scholars recommend:

• Consider the intent of your disposal method. If you respect the Holy Bible as a sacred text, you should choose a method which is not deliberately defiling or irreverent. Burying or burning, would not mix the pages of your Bible with common household refuse and cause it to be subjected to objectionably gross conditions. Burying the Bible. Wrapping the Bible in a clean, plain white cloth, or building a small wooden casket would give the Holy Book a reverent final resting place. The Jews have a tradition of burying defiled or damaged copies of their sacred texts in a cemetery, usually with a body, after performing liturgical rites over them.

•  Burning the Bible. This should be done in a reverent, somber fashion. Building a small bonfire and placing the Book in the flames to ensure that it burns completely, and nature will scatter the ashes.  Show respect due, in accordance to your faith, the book which you are disposing of. Think of its history, value, and enduring quality. If you feel compelled, during the process of disposal, say a prayer, or repeat a selected verse or passage from the Book.[2]

Jewish tradition traditionally buries their holy books at the local Jewish cemetery. Unlike the Muslim faith, it is forbidden to erase or burn God’s Name to facilitate its burial.  Burning siddurim or old Torah scrolls is expressly forbidden—probably because of the violent abuse Jewish communities experienced in Christian and Muslim lands. [3]Unfortunately, not every religion shows its respect toward the faith of the Other. I would add that all religions are guilty of this type of sacrilege to a greater or lesser degree.

Erasing God’s Name is a complicated issue in Halachic literature. Many Orthodox Jews will write God’s Name as “G-d” to get around the issue. By doing so, since God’s Name is not really being written down, newspapers or articles with G-d’s Name may be discarded. This is somewhat of a legal fiction that probably makes little algebraic sense. Nowadays even our currency reads “In God we trust,” and some Halachic scholars would argue that one should not count money while in a bathroom, since God's Name needs to be associated with a clean place. On the other hand, one may justifiably wonder: How appropriate is it to have God's Name embossed on money in the first place? Some critics occasionally muse, "Does 'In God we trust' signify a faith in God? Or does it signify a faith in the god of mammon?" These are valid theological and practical questions that we might explore at a future time.

Several medieval rabbinic scholars contend that if the Divine Name was not meant for holy usage, it may be erased and discarded.[4] Other rabbinical scholars contend that the Hebrew Name only has holiness in Hebrew and that all secular names for God have no holiness whatsoever.[5]

The only exception to destroying God’s Name is when it involves the ritual of the Sotah (a woman accused of adultery). According to the Torah, the name of God had to be erased and used for a special ceremony (Numbers 5:11-31). The ritual involved seven steps performed by the priest: 1) putting sacral water into an earthen vessel; 2) throwing some earth from the floor of the Sanctuary into the water; 3) standing the woman on trial before the Lord, baring her head and placing her meal offering upon her hands; 4) adjuring the woman by solemn oath to which she answers, "Amen, amen"; 5) putting this oath down (which contained God’s Name)  in writing and rubbing off the ink in the water that is in the earthenware bowl; 6) elevating the meal offering, presenting it on the altar, and turning a token part of it into smoke on the altar; 7) making the woman drink the spell-inducing water of bitterness.

Burning God’s Name was considered one of the worse acts of sacrilege. According to the Talmud, Apostomos, captain of the occupation forces, publicly burned the Torah - both acts considered open blasphemy and desecration and became one of the principle reasons why the Sages created a Jewish fast day for the 17^th of Tammuz. [6]

In many synagogues, old Siddurim (prayer books), Torah mantels, teffilon (phylacteries), tallit, and mezuzoth, are placed in the synagogue genizah (hidden places). Traditionally, such places were often situated under the bimah (where the Torah is read), behind the ark in a small adjacent room, or in a cellar—as was the case with the Bokhara synagogue in Tehran. When the geniza became full, they would take the items to be buried at the synagogue once every ten years. The burial was believed to help induce a healthy rainy season. The manner in which this was carried out was with solemnity, followed afterward by a special banquet.

As you can see, the religious faiths of the world share many attitudes and customs regarding their sacred literature. In short, I think all religions can and ought to learn some practical lessons from one another. Let such a venture mark the beginning of our collective and personal spiritual healing.

Continue Reading

Jewish Values Online

Question: The problem of agunot (‘chained’ women – those who cannot get a divorce from their former husbands to allow them to move on with their lives) continues to plague our society. Why isn’t there a halachic (Jewish law) way to grant a woman a “get” (divorce decree) without the consent of her husband? Or is there?

Answer: Today, the problem of the agunah (the “chained woman”) who cannot remarry is a problem largely due to rabbinical leadership and misinterpretation of traditional texts.

Perhaps one of the best biblical personalities describing the plight of the agunah is Jephtah’s daughter (cf. Judges 11-12). In the tragic biblical story, the community leaders ask Jepthah to lead their community in battle against the mighty Ammonites. Before undertaking the mission, Jepthah makes a vow and offers God the first thing that comes out of his house as a burnt sacrifice. But to his surprise, his daughter comes out to greet him! The fate of his Jepthah’s daughter remains somewhat of a mystery. Commentators—ancient and modern alike—wonder what became of this nameless young woman, who never lived to realize her life’s potential. Rabbinical tradition offers an intriguing deconstruction of the story.

Rabbinic tradition makes an important observation about Jephtah’s character: Although Jepthah acts like a pious man, he is really foolish and quite ignorant. Jepthah’s vow could have been annulled had he visited Phineas (Pinchas), who acted as the High Priest in his community.

Phineas or Jephtah refused to solve the dilemma; each one demanded the other person come to him first. Pinchas said, “Shall I, high priest son of a high priest, demean myself by calling on an ignoramus?” Jepthah’s reaction was just as stubborn. Jephthah said, “Shall I, chief of the tribes of Israel, foremost of its leaders, demean myself by calling on a commoner?” As a result of their disagreement, the hapless maiden perished from the world, and both men were held liable for her blood. Interestingly, both Phineas and Jepthah meet a terrible fate. Phineas loses his ability to discern God’s will, while Jepthah meets a violent death; his body is cut to pieces by his foes.[1]

The above Midrashic text captures the dilemma existing today with the agunah, as well. Despite the numerous solutions that exist, the stodginess and reluctance of today’s Halachic authorities make this an insolvable problem. Given the magnitude of the problem we see today, responsible rabbinical leaders must act in the name of fairness and moral decency. Failure to end the deadlock scandalizes the religious community, which is perceived as enabling criminal and heinous behavior. At worse, some of the rabbinical leaders in Israel have been known to have received bribes from an estranged husband. Rabbis must choose to either solve the problem, or compound it. This is an ethical decision that must be made.

Historically, the rabbis did everything in their power to make it easier to terminate the agunah’s status as a married woman. If she claimed that her husband had disappeared and died—even on the basis of her own testimony, she does not require any other witnesses to substantiate her claim. This, of course, assumes each party had an amicable relationship.[2]

The history of annulment goes back to the early rabbinic period. The rabbis plainly state, anyone who marries a woman, must do so in accordance with the rules defined by the Sages, “a man takes a woman under the conditions laid down by the rabbis… and the rabbis may annul his marriage” (BT Gittin 33a), has rarely been employed since the 14th century. The fact the rabbis felt empowered to utilize annulment (hafka’at kiddushin) is sufficient reason to use it especially when husbands resort to blackmail and extortion. According to the Talmud, if a man forces a woman to marry him—even if she should later acquiesce to marrying the man, Jewish law rules that the marriage is nevertheless void. [3]

One of the methods to annul a marriage is an idea that was once proposed by R. Yerucham (14th century France), who argued: Any marriage that takes place with fewer than ten people may be considered invalid. More importantly, every community has the right to determine conditions for invalidating a marriage if individuals go against the standards that are defined by a given community.[4]

Some solutions stipulate at the time of marriage, certain conditions be made, which could retroactively annul a marriage, such as in the case of abandonment. Conditions may also be made at the time of marriage, to bypass the requirement to enact a levirate marriage in the event her husband dies childless.[5]

Annulment is by far the most straight-forward way of cutting the halachic Gordian knot. One of our past generation’s greatest Halachic minds, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, often annulled marriages in cases involving fraud. According to him, a woman would never have knowingly entered into a marriage had she been informed about certain facts, e.g., male impotence, spousal abuse, mental illness, and so on. The fact the husband refused to disclose this history prior to their marriage constitutes serious grounds for annulment. Rabbi Feinstein referred to these marriages as kiddushe ta’ut — marriages that were due to mistaken circumstances.[6]

In 1997, the State of New York State ruled that no court can enter a judgment of annulment or divorce unless any barriers to religious remarriage by a spouse, the removal of which are within the control of the other spouse, have been removed.[7]

In the Conservative Movement, in 1968, the Rabbinical Assembly Law Committee unanimously empowered the Joint Bet Din of the Conservative Movement to annul marriages, as a matter of last resort.[8]

Among the Orthodox, a number of rabbis are now using prenuptial agreements, not incorporated into the ketubah.  Some mention words to these effect by the groom during the ceremony, through which the husband and wife agree to abide by orders of a designated Beth Din, regarding the potential possibility of giving, or accepting a get.  Some scholars report that Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, looked upon this idea with favor.[9]

The late Rabbi Emanual Rackman, chancellor of the celebrated Bar-Ilan University in Israel, convened his own rabbinical court and implemented hafka’at kiddushin. Rabbi Rackman noted that, “There are three factors that play a part in all legal development: One is a sense of logic, the second is the sense of justice, and the third concerns the needs of society. All three elements play a part in Jewish law that there’s no escaping. This is true of all legal systems and of the halacha as well.”[10] In this seminal article, Rabbi Rackman calls for a demythologization (i.e., removing the incorrect misconceptions people have regarding the nature of Halacha) “By demythologizing, what do we mean? Some Orthodox rabbis say that Jewish law never changes; that it is fixed, immutable. They know this isn’t true, but perhaps they say it because they feel that this in itself creates a value that people should not get used to the idea that Jewish law can be changed. Changes are often requested by people whose motivation  is simply selfish. They want to justify what they want to do . . .” [11]

Rabbi Rackman was not only a brilliant scholar, he also possessed an honesty rarely seen among religious scholars today. There is no reason why we cannot solve the agunah issue in our time. The destruction of human happiness thousands of woman are experiencing and the fear of stigmatization must take greater consideration than some mistaken notion that Jewish law is monolithic and unchanging.

Where there is a Halachic will, there will always be a Halachic way . . .

Notes:

[1] Midrash Tanhuma, Be-hukkotai, 5.

[2] JT Yevamot 15:1, 77a (15:1, 14d

[3] BT Bava Bathra 48b.

[4] Responsa, Toledot Adam ve-Ḥavvah, Sec. Ḥavvah, xxii, 4.

[5] Responsa, Ḥatam Sofer, EH 1:111.

[6] Cf. Iggeret Moshe, Even HaEzer  Vol I  Responsa #79, 80.

[7] NY State Section 253 of the Domestic Relations Law.

[8] Irwin H. Haut, Divorce in Jewish Law and Life, (New York: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1983), 99.

[9] Meyer E. Rabinowitz (Chairman, Joint Bet Din of the Conservative Movement), Agunot (Abandoned Wives), 1998, adapted from his comments at the 1998 Agunot Conference, in Jerusalem.

[10]  Rabbi Levi Meir ed.. Jewish Values in Bioethics,  (NY: Human Sciences Press, 1986), 150-159.

[11] Ibid., 152.

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

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

=========

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