Everyone, Shlit"a

This was also published in the Jewish Star

Parshat Eikev

Other than former current events, nothing dates a Jewish book more than when discussing or quoting a deceased great rabbi, the text writes "Rabbi So and So, Shlit'a, says…"

The term "Shlit'a" is an acronym for "She'yichyeh L'Yamim Tovim Arukhim" – that he should live for good, lengthened days. Essentially it is a wish upon the person that he have a long and blessed life, a term which is out of place when one is speaking of or reading of the deceased.

While it is a lovely sentiment to write about someone, due to the likelihood that the written word will outlive the person, it seems silly to put it in print for posterity. Besides, it is really meant to be a blessing one "says" about someone, naturally, when quoting the living person or speaking nicely of the person.

And, of course, we should not limit it to rabbis, but should thus bless everyone we know with good, lengthened days. Including my two grandmothers, who should, please God, continue to live and be well.

How does one achieve long life? My grandfather, zichrono livracha (may his memory be a blessing) used to say "If you eat horseradish for a hundred years, you'll live a long life." Can't argue with that.

But many, fond of Torah trivia, will tell you there are two mitzvot in the Torah for which people merit long life – honoring one's parents (Shmot 20), and sending away the mother bird (Devarim 22). Is that all it takes?

Not really. Because the Torah, in fact, has many other examples of activities and manners of behavior that raise the possibility of extended and multiplied days on this earth, or in the Land of Israel proper.

Devarim 4:40 suggests that keeping the commandments is good for you and lengthens your days "Al ha'adamah" – on the land, just as does honoring your parents, as depicted in Devarim 5:15

Devarim 5:29 says that following God's path brings "life, is good for you, and causes lengthened days in the land of your inheritance." This verse leads into chapter 6:1-2, in which observance of the commandments leads to fear of God, which causes you and your descendants to have lengthened days.

In telling about Datan and Aviram, who were swallowed by the ground, the Israelites are reminded that their eyes have shown them the benefits of allegiance to God. "Keep the commandments, so you will be strengthened, and you will come and inherit the land – so your days may be lengthened on the earth that God promised to your fathers." (Devarim 11:6-9)

Perhaps most famously, the second paragraph of Shema, which appears in our parsha, concludes with the phrase "In order that yours and your children's days be multiplied on this earth" (11:21) suggesting that the wearing of tefillin and the placing of mezuzahs, as well as general allegiance to God's instructions ("Im shamoa tish'm'u"), will give one extended life.

Oddly enough, Devarim 25:14-15 says that carrying honest weights and measures and being honest in business is a good ingredient for lengthened days.

The ends of Devarim 30 and Devarim 32 also speak about how general commandment fulfillment leads to extended life while turning away from God leads to eternal destruction.

It could be that there is a focus on honoring parents and the sending of the mother bird because they are two specific positive commandments on opposite ends of extremes – honoring parents is most difficult, while sending away the mother bird is a relatively simple act.

Do any of these guarantee long life? Not really. They all guarantee lengthened days. And since lengthened days is relative in every person's life experience, we have no idea who has merited and who has not. A person who dies at 40 may have been meant to live twenty years, while a person who dies at 80 may have been meant to live 100 years. We don't really know how God takes account.

Our task is to do our best, to choose a life of Torah and to be as committed to God as possible. Upright observance, sanctifying God's name, and living as a model Jew from whom all walk away thinking "That is a Godly person," are the common denominator of all the ticket items mentioned above. You certainly don't need to be a rabbi to do all of them, and it is highly inappropriate to expect one's rabbi to "be Jewish for me."

May you, shlit'a, and you, shlit'a, (rabbi or not) merit to follow as many of these precepts as possible. In their merit and in the merit of the other fine deeds we will accomplish in our limited time on earth, may we enjoy the blessings of health and happiness as we live out our good, lengthened days.

Shema Bears Repeating

This can be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Va'etchanan

There is a story told of a Jew who bought a car from a very yeshivish mechanic. As he was about to drive away, the mechanic told him, “I tinkered with the car a little to make it more heimish. Instead of using a key, all you have to do is say ‘Baruch Hashem’ to make it start, and ‘Shema Yisrael’ when you want to turn it off.”

One summer day, he took a wrong turn off a country road and found himself driving straight for a cliff! He tried to hit the brakes, turn off the ignition, but nothing worked. In his fright, he forgot the formula the mechanic told him. On the brink of death and with no other choice, he screamed “Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!” And of course, the car stopped at the very edge of the cliff.

Unable to believe he actually survived, he started pinching himself all over, as he exclaimed, “Baruch Hashem!”

Putting the tinkering mechanic aside, why do we put so much stock into the verse and paragraph of Shema? Most Jews, regardless of education, are familiar with this verse. Rabbi Yaakov Skili (Torat Hamincha) includes Shema in his list of early “nourishment of the soul” given to a child who is at the developing stages of cognitive ability.

The idea of Shma being the last thing we say in our lives was emphasized in the Talmud by Rabbi Akiva 2,000 years ago (Brachot 61b). In our own time, this was most clearly emphasized by the story of Ro’i Klein, an IDF officer who fell on a grenade during the second Lebanon War to save the men around him.

The first sentence of Shema is arguably the highlight of Chapter 6 in Devarim, whose theme is so emblematic of what Judaism is meant to be and what role Judaism should have in a person’s life.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch asks: If the best form of testimony is to see something, why does the Torah use the term “Hear Israel?” Shouldn’t it say “Look Israel and see that Hashem is our G-d, that Hashem is one?”

Our forefathers certainly saw G-d and experienced a unique knowledge and understanding of G-d through the miracles they witnessed at the end of Egyptian bondage and in the journey to Sinai. At the foot of the mountain, as they witnessed the ultimate vision of G-d permissible to humans, our forefathers heard G-d speak directly to them.

Rabbi Hirsch says “Only at one time [in history] did G-d enter the earthly present and reveal Himself there to His people: when laying the foundation for the creation of His people. Henceforth one generation shall tell another about G-d’s revelation…”

In the absence of further revelations, knowledge of G-d is preserved through hearing, as each generation hears of the revelation and G-d’s role in our lives from those who precede us.

The main message of the Shema rests in the word “v’shinantam,” which means “you will review.” Again and again and again. An “enlightened” person might call this brainwashing. But people of faith call it transmitting a heritage and a legacy.

The strength of Shema lies in that we are saying it two or three times every day. Love G-d completely, with everything you have. Remind yourself, over and over, that you must love G-d. That you have to say this again and again, and include your children in the conversation. Tell them why you love G-d. If you don’t know why you love G-d, seek and find why you love G-d (4:29).

The Shema foments this belief. We prolong the last word, as we accept the yolk of heaven upon us, and the opportunity to serve G-d through fulfilling His commandments.

Some will view it as a burden, some will view it as a difficult task, some will passively or actively reject. As the song says, however, “Ain’t no mountain high enough to keep me from getting to you.” When you love something or someone and you want to do everything for that entity, there are no questions and there is no stopping you from achieving your objective.

This is the Shema, this is telling it to your children, this is transmitting a belief system through constant repetition. This is the first step in making the lifestyle we’ve chosen a lifestyle our children will want to maintain and strengthen.

Nine Days Over

Now that the Nine Days are over, it seems out of place to take apart the remaining practices of the period. In the future, I hope to get back to:

• Bris during the Nine Days (a subject that has much screen time in the Shulchan Arukh) - which is close to my heart for other reasons as well


• Swimming during the Nine Days


• Showering/Bathing during the Nine Days


• Mourning practices - cutting nails, shaving, etc

A Time to Mourn?

A slightly modified version of this article appears in the Jewish Star

Parshat Devarim / Pre Tisha B'Av

Like most of us who have been up to date on local news, I don't think Jewish scholarship in women is something we need to mourn for on Tisha B'Av. I think the more Jewish knowledge that is out there, that can be shared with those who will hear, that can be taught to our children, is a good thing.

But where I feel we need to mourn on Tisha B'Av comes from a reference in chapter two of Devarim 2:16-17. "And it was after the entire generation of soldiers died from amongst the people… And then God spoke to me saying…"

Rashi suggests that since the word which is used to convey God's love is "Vayomer" (and He said) instead of "Vaydaber" (and He spoke), this means God's conversations with Moshe since that time were more one-sided, that Moshe did not "converse" with God in the face-to-face manner he had otherwise enjoyed previously until the first generation died out completely. This teaches us that the prophets only come to help out Israel when Israel is worthy.

Over the last few years, I have heard a number of well-known rabbis speak of what they felt was the biggest threat to Judaism today: the failures of Jewish education. As much learning as there is, as much as we personally learn, and as much as we support, we are still not conveying to our children, and thus to the next generation, why we care and why they should care.

Many schools do a fine job of educating our youth. But the reality is that every school fails miserably. When Jewish children leave a yeshiva elementary school, and certainly high school, not knowing: how to read Hebrew, how to translate basic Chumash, the overall storyline and narrative of the Torah, some of the works of the Neviim (prophets) and Ketuvim (writings), basic Jewish history and other basic knowledge, why Judaism is important, why our ancestors died for the Torah, the struggle of faith, the challenges we face in our lives, then we have what to mourn.

Why do kids rebel? Why do kids reject? Why do we assume they will only come around when they get to Israel and become inspired?

Because it doesn't mean enough to us, or we don't know how to properly convey why it is meaningful. We can't express in words why we keep shabbos, why we spend more money on kosher food, why we spend so so so much money to make sure our kids get the Jewish education that fails them. And why we don't back up what they are taught in school with similar values and education at home. And that's because we fail them.

God didn't talk to Moshe in a loving way for 38 years because the people were not deserving. The generation Moshe lead was going to die. They spent 38 years waiting for their ends to come. And during that time, God did not have a loving word to say to them through Moshe.

When we wonder why it sometimes feels as if God doesn't speak to us, it is because as good as we think we are, we are still not doing enough to transmit all we stand for to the next generation. Is it our place to live out our lives waiting to die so the next generation can go to the Promised Land? If God did not declare we have nothing to live for except for our time to finish up so we can pass a baton, we have no right to give up on ourselves or our children.

I encounter too many adults who go through the motions of an observant life and I wonder why they bother. They don't seem to care about davening, learning, lashon hara, laws against gambling, lewd behavior, modesty in behavior and dress. Until we are successful at cleaning up our own house and setting goals for ourselves that correspond to the lifestyle we seem to want to model for our children (as indicated by the places we send them to be educated), the question over what we new things we mourn for on Tisha B'Av remains an open book.

Every man and every woman needs to first come to grips with the statement of Ben Zoma in the beginning of the fourth chapter of Avot. "Who is rich? The one who is happy with one's portion." I will never be a kohen or a levi. I will never be a king. I will never be a mother. I will never know what it means to be loved by a husband.

A woman will have a different list of what she will never be.

I am content with my lot, and try to make the most of the things I can be and the opportunities I have to reach out to other people. And heaven knows, I have a long way to go in becoming the best I can be.

When we can teach ourselves and our children that our lives are meant to be more Theocentric than egocentric, then perhaps God will speak to us again.

Until then, the mourning comes because we do not have enough men and women who are personally inspired and who are subsequently inspiring ourselves and our children.

Nine Days [II] – Music and Celebrations (not including Bris Milah)

Yesterday I wrote about the rules of laundering clothing during the Nine Days.

Today, our topic focuses on an important aspect of diminishing "simcha" – joy – during this nine-day period.

Let us begin with the Shulchan Arukh – again from Chapter 551 (תקנא)

1 – When [the month of] Av begins, we minimalize our rejoicing…

2 – From Rosh Chodesh until the fast we minimize business practices, and building things that give us pleasure, such as a new home for his son getting married, or a work of art. Or planting something that gives joy… If one's wall is going to fall, even though building brings joy to build, it is permissible [to fix]. For the sake of a mitzvah [all of these activities] are permitted. There are no weddings during this period, and we don't make meals celebrating betrothal (Eirusin). However, one may commit to a betrothal without a celebratory meal – even on 9 Av one may make such a commitment, to avoid someone else stepping in and possible taking the match you are looking to marry.

Ram'a – the custom is to be stringent and not to marry from the 17^th of Tammuz through 9 Av.

10 – For a meal associated with a mitzvah: Milah (AB's note - not our topic), Pidyon Haben, the completion of a Masechet (siyim), or a meal of betrothal, it is permitted for those who are relevant to the meal to eat meat and drink wine. But the crowd should be moderated and not too big.

On this last point, the Ta"z recommends that those who participate be relatives of the family.

Fair point.

But let us examine what is discussed here in general. It seems that the restrictions on rejoicing are generally on meat and wine consumption (which is also mentioned in chapters I did not cite here), and on having parties that can easily wait a few days, such as a betrothal meal and a wedding. Where do we get the carte blanc prohibition on live music (not to take away from a-capella groups)?

On the betrothal meal note, we have an inherent contradiction. In paragraph 2, the Shulchan Arukh says we do not have betrothal meals, while in paragraph 10, he writes that a betrothal meal may feature meat and wine (though with a limited guest list). Which one is it? Prohibited? Or permitted even with meat and wine?

The Magen Avraham gives two answers:

1. The case in chapter 2 is talking about a party not at the time of the betrothal. In other words, it is not celebrating the moment of joy, but it is a post-facto celebration that the couple will be getting married. The case in chapter 10, however, refers to when they actually announce their betrothal, which is clearly permitted during the Nine Days, and is even permitted during on Tisha B'Av itself (though the meal on 9 Av would be kind of sketchy).
2. 
   The words "Seudat Eirusin" should be removed from paragraph 10, where it was placed by some editor or the like.

I am not sure about either answer, but at least the first one makes sense.

Let's move on.

The source for no live music is actually the Mishneh Brurah 16, who says:

One may betroth because Eirusin without a meal is not a joyous occasion [it is neutral]. Certainly one can make a commitment through the writing of Tenaim (conditions), but a meal is still prohibited – even without dancing and music. Even on Shabbos it is prohibited to make a meal to celebrate such an occasion. To eat a few grocery items when they're writing the Tenaim is not considered a celebratory meal. It is prohibited to make dances and music from the 17^th of Tammuz and on, even without betrothal. (Eliyahu Rabba)

Well, there you have it. It is the Eliyahu Rabba who says music and dancing is prohibited during this time period. Which makes sense of course, because if one wants to minimize one's joy, one should certainly refrain from those activities.

I just find it fascinating that the Shulchan Arukh doesn't mention it straight out, leaving us open to thinking that music isn't necessarily a joy-bringer. Or, to put it another way, if the music is the kind that doesn't lead to dancing - such as on the radio or on a cd or ipod, or incidentally in a department store or in the background of a film - it is perhaps in a different category.

Nine Days [I] - Laundry

Unless one goes to a Jewish summer camp, it is hard to get into the mood of the Nine Days properly. No barbecues and closed doors at Kosher Delight translates to monetary savings for most people, as opposed to a "withdrawal" on account of some mourning practice.

The gabbai in my shul announced a few times on Sunday morning (erev Rosh Chodesh) "Enjoy doing laundry" because, as is known amongst those who observe the practices of the Nine Days, one does not do laundry during this period.

Sure. I remember that one from when I went to camp. Everyone got their dry cleaning in before the Nine Days. The camp did a special laundry run (outside of the regularly scheduled weekly laundry day), and we were all to take care of our clothes lest we be forced to wear something dirty out of lack of options.

I don't think I ever studied these laws, or customs, shall I say? I just accepted what was told to me. Besides, as a child in a camp, you don't really have much say as far as when your undies are getting cleaned.

WHAT THE SHULCHAN ARUKH SAYS

So I opened up the Shulchan Arukh, and found some fascinating information. It's all in Orach Hayyim 551 (תקנא). [Other restrictions of the Nine Days will be addressed in separate sections] The parts having to do with laundry are translated here, noted by the paragraph numbers in which they appear.

3 – [The Sephardic custom] has these restrictions during the week in which 9 Av falls. Even if you don't want to wear the garment now, and even if you only have one shirt, it is forbidden to wash it. Same rule applies to things washed beforehand – whether to wear them or make the bed with them. Even handtowels and tablecloths/napkins may not be washed in this period... Our kind of laundry is permitted; but our form of ironing is forbidden.
Linen/flax garments don't require ironing, and are this categorized as "our laundry" and are permitted. ALL OF THIS refers to ironing and putting them away for after Tisha B'Av. (seems to imply that all of the permission for washing is when one will not wear it during the Nine Days) But one may not wear these items during this week [that Tisha B'Av falls]. There are those who had the custom to even forbid the linen/flax, even with "our laundry," whether to wear or wash and shelve. One should not be lenient in any of this, because it was accepted as the custom. There is certainly the possibility that according to the law these practices are forbidden, for there are those who believed that "our laundry" has the same effect as the "ironing" of the Babylonians which does not clean so well because their waters are [not as clean]. Laundry of all others lands is possibly like the laundry of the land of Israel, and is thus forbidden. Nowadays, as we don't clean just with water, all of our laundry is considered "Ironing" and is all forbidden.

Ram"a – We [Ashkenazim] are strict about these things from Rosh Chodesh until after the fast, unless it's for a mitzvah, such as a woman wearing her white garments can wash them to make sure they are white. On 9 Av itself, she need not wear white…. One may not give the non-Jewish launderess clothes to wash from Rosh Chodesh and on. One may give them to her before Rosh Chodesh, even if she'll be washing them after Rosh Chodesh [aka during the Nine Days]

5 – Jewish women may not launder the clothing of the idolaters during this week [that 9 Av falls]

14 – Adults may not… launder children's clothing during the week 9 Av falls.

Ram'a – but clothing that gets completely soiled whether with soil or body excretions can certainly be washed. And even for the clothing of other little children (non-babies), the custom is to be lenient.

15 – A person whose mourning period led right into this period and his hair is exceedingly thick may cut it with a razor, but not with scissors, and may wash one's clothing in water, but not with niter and sand (friction/cleaning agents)

On "Our Kind of Laundry is Permitted," (in 3 above) the Mishneh Brurah says the following:

Our kind of laundry refers to Diaspora laundry which is permitted because it is not as nicely done as the laundry of Eretz Yisrael. Therefore one may wash garments and leave them to be worn after 9 Av. However, washing them and wearing them right away (during the Nine Days) is prohibited.

What I take from all of these comments is that it is not the act of laundering, per se, which is forbidden, as much as it is the feeling one gets from putting on freshly laundered clothing.

KIBUS SHELANU - OUR LAUNDRY

Which now leads us to the final discussion point. What are the actual definitions of "Kibus Shelanu" (our Laundry) versus "Kibus She'lahem" and "Gihutz Shelanu" and "Gihutz Shelahem"?

These terms appear in different contexts in the gemaras Taanit 29b and Ketubot 10a-b, and leave much unsaid insofar as how our contemporary laundry is done, and to my mind, what the ramifications are during the Nine Days.

Simply put, if the gemara and the Shulchan Arukh are going to compare Israeli laundry to non-Israeli laundry, then we are obviously living in the dark ages. There may have been places that had access to different kinds of natural resources, ie niter (see above #15 - which may have been a soap used for laundry), which would cause the quality of laundry cleaning to be different as per the different soap ingredients available locally.

But if you're reading this on the internet, you likely have access to a washing machine and laundry detergent, which arguably does a better job than the laundry of "Eretz Yisrael" in the days of old, and yet – due to its not being in Israel (unless you, the reader are in Israel right now) – is still considered "Kibus Shelanu" which would be permitted, according to at least one opinion in the Shulchan Arukh, and two in the gemara in Taanit – Rabbi Nachman and Rabbi Elazar.

Bear in mind that either way you look at it, with the exception of children, the custom seems to be that no one wears freshly laundered clothing during the Nine Days – certainly not if it was washed during the Nine Days, and, seemingly, even if it was washed before the Nine Days.
When I was in camp, they always recommended that those who had had their suits and shirts dry-cleaned wear them for a little while before the Nine Days actually began so they would not be putting on freshly laundered clothing during the Nine Days.

This would imply that the gabbai in shul, while well intentioned, did not present the entire story. People may want to launder their clothes before the Nine Days. But if they are following the actual instructions, if they don't wear the freshly laundered clothes before the Nine Days begin, it would seem that it doesn't matter when they're cleaned, during the Nine Days or before the Nine Days. If they're freshly laundered, they can't be worn during the Nine Days at all!

With this, I feel we must move our discussion to the contemporary day and age, as we divide our clothes into different categories.

CONTEMPORARY PRACTICES OF WEARING AND CHANGING CLOTHES

Some articles of clothing are changed daily, not to be worn again until laundered. Undergarments and socks are in this category.

Some articles of clothing are changed daily, and may or may not necessarily be laundered after one wear. Some shirts, skirts, and trousers fit in this category.

Some articles of clothing are not worn regularly, and are often put right back in the closet when taken off. They are laundered far less often than other clothes. Jackets, coats, suits, fancier outfits and specific to Sabbath garb are in this category.

Because laundry is so easy for us to do, I would argue that we don't get the same "amazing" satisfaction a person may have once upon a time had when putting on freshly laundered clothes.

The only effort expended into doing laundry lies in shlepping the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer and folding the clean laundry. Beyond putting detergent in the machine and pressing start, we don't do very much to get our clothes clean as the machine does all the work.

Therefore I feel that one need not wear all of one's undergarments for a short period of time before the Nine Days. We don't get a thrill out of having fresh undies because we would never put on not fresh undies.

Depending on how one wears the pants, shirts and skirts, the same thought process would apply. If a person wears something once or twice and then launders it, the regularity of the laundering would remove the satisfaction value of having freshly laundered clothes – simply because you would never wear it were it not clean.

But an item which might be worn on several occasions before being sent to the cleaners or the washing machine does have a certain satisfaction embedded in its being freshly cleaned. Those items need to be "unfresh" to be worn during the Nine Days.

To summarize:

• It is not the act of laundering which is prohibited during the Nine Days. It is the act of laundering in order to wear which is prohibited. The Shulchan Arukh does say a Jewess should not even launder a non-Jew's clothing, but it would seem that if this is one's business, one need not shut down their business for nine days – because there is no satisfaction from the laundry. The satisfaction comes from earning a living, which is permitted during the Nine Days (even though there is an opinion that one should not engage in business as much during this time period).

• According to some opinions, one may launder clothing during the Nine Days in order for them to be ready to be worn the day after 9 Av.

• Laundering clothing before the Nine Days does not necessarily help one wear them during the Nine Days. In my opinion, it depends on what kind of clothing one is talking about, and how one goes about wearing and cleaning them in general.

Because laundry done in any civilized country with washing machines is such an easy enterprise, it has removed much of the excitement of having freshly laundered clothing, and has also equalized the "Kibbus Shelahem" and the "Kibbus shelanu" leaving us with different categories of clothing that we may or may not wash during this time period, as we further determine which articles of pre-Nine-Days-freshly-laundered clothing may not be worn during the Nine Days either.

Additional Thought (added late 2019)
See Shulchan Arukh in the laws of Mourning (YD 389), where the following is stated

אחר שבעה מותר לגהץ בין לעצמו בין לאחרים ולא אמרו שלשים יום לגיהוץ אלא ללבוש:

After the seven [days of mourning, the mourner] is permitted to do laundry work both for himself³⁰To be worn after thirty days. and for others. The [prohibition against] laundry work for thirty days was stated only with respect to wearing [laundried garments].³¹Tur on the authority of T.H. Sem(H). VII, 10 and Asheri to M.K.

יש מי שאומר דהאידנא ליכא איסור גיהוץ שהרי אמרו גיהוץ שלנו ככיבוס שלהם :

There is an authority³²Tur and N.Yos. O.Ḥ. ibid. who states that nowadays there is no prohibition against laundry work, for they³³The Sages. said, 'Our laundry work is like their washing.'³⁴

^{IN OTHER WORDS - There is a distinction to be made between during Shiva (which is the equivalent of Tisha B'Av) and during Shloshim (which is the equivalent of the 9 days) with respect to doing the act of laundering and actually wearing the laundered clothes.} 

Universal Brotherhood = Marrying In

This can also be read in the Jewish Star

Parshat Matot-Masei

Without getting into particulars (I’ll leave you to look up the details), the Zohar on Parshat Matot uses the aftermath of the war with Midian as a springboard to speak negatively of intermarriage.

Of course, this is not a new discussion — from the Pinchas story and other sources in the Bible, it is quite clear that members of the Israelite nation should be marrying other Israelites, which translates to modern-day intra-marriage.

While those who choose to adopt or maintain an Orthodox lifestyle are not typically confronted with a challenge to this mindset, there are exceptions to the rule. Additionally, the society in which we find ourselves increasingly encourages some form of assimilation and an overall tolerance of others.

Meshuggenehs and radical extremists not withstanding.

And so, it comes as no shock that the concept of Jews not dating outside of the fold is often viewed as being anti-American, anti-harmony, arrogant and racist.

To put it in the form of a question — as Joseph Telushkin and Dennis Prager put it at the end of “Question 8” in “The Nine Questions People Ask About Judaism” — doesn’t Judaism believe in universal brotherhood?

Those who have been praying that one who is “Oseh shalom bimromav” should grant us peace and harmony know very well that a motto of Judaism vis-à-vis the rest of the world is “can’t we learn to get along?” We all have a few bad apples to our millions of wonderful people. Let’s stop pointing fingers and just live in harmony.

Telushkin and Prager write:

“Is the assimilation of the minority of Jews into majority cultures the answer? Is abandoning Judaism the answer? What sort of universalism demands that smaller groups give up their identities?… The only way to achieve brotherhood is through all people sharing moral values, while retaining ethnic diversity… [asking people to reconsider intermarrying] has nothing to do with negative feelings toward non-Jews, or with automatically positive feelings towards those born as Jews. It is based solely on our commitment to the survival of Jewry…”

Along similar lines, in a sermon Rabbi Norman Lamm delivered around Purim time in 1966, he said

“Loyal Jews are opposed to intermarriage — not because we are narrowminded, and not, most certainly, because of contempt for the non-Jew. We want to marry within our own group because of our desire to remain different, to preserve our different identity, to survive and flourish with our own character intact.”

While the story that follows the Midian war is complex, the fine line we are distinguishing is not. It becomes a matter of whether we appreciate where we come from, and how much we want to preserve our future as a unique and distinct people.

Several years ago, I served as a mohel for an intermarried couple, where the mother of the baby was the Jewish partner in the marriage. Her aunt, who arranged the bris, suggested I tone down the religious side because her new-mom niece had told her “That’s why I married out” — to get away from this component of Judaism. Ironically, her non-Jewish husband was more into the bris than she was, more Biblically well-read, and was extremely proud their son was named “Aharon Moshe.”

One person on my college dormitory floor taped a letter on his door that was written by a single woman to a New York magazine whose gist was this (I am quoting from memory):

“I have heard that Orthodox Jewish men truly court a woman before marrying her, because their religion does not allow them even to touch her or hold her hand before marriage. What a thought! To connect with someone emotionally first before the physical component is brought into the picture! Why can’t I ever meet someone like that?"

Because, madam, you have not committed yourself to a system that has worked well for thousands of years. If you choose to join us because you like our rules so much, and will commit yourself to living by these rules, we will welcome you with open arms (but only our wonderful women and your husband will physically embrace you).

For the sake of the preservation of our ranks, we must do all we can to teach our children, family and friends that marrying in is not just something we do “because” or “to fulfill a Torah law.” We do it to perpetuate the strong values that are unique to our experience, which was always meant to focus on how to preserve the holiness of the marital bond in an environment that is most fitting for the raising of our o-so-precious little Jewish souls, a.k.a. our children.

What was Tzlafchad's Sin?

A few years after writing this, I revisited Tzlafchad's sin over here
Parshat Pinchas

by Rabbi Avi Billet

“Our father died in the desert” (27:3) claim the daughters of Tzlafchad as they build their case to earn his portion in Canaan. Why would they use this as their opening statement when, after all, an entire generation died in the desert?

Chizkuni’s quick solution is that Tzlafchad was under twenty at the time of the spies incident and was not supposed to die on account of that decree and thus died from some other sin.

In the same verse, his daughters continue, “He was not among the members of Korach’s party who protested against G-d, but he died because of his own sin…” This claim could imply that the Korach rebellion either coincided with or preceded his death. Had he died before Korach, they would have said he “was not part of a previous group who had sinned” – such as the spies.

Furthermore, it would stand to reason that the deed for which he was punished was an objectively innocent one, as opposed to a deliberate and purposeful direct affront to G-d. Were he a real sinner, could his daughters use his sin as leverage to grant them their father’s inheritance? Can you imagine Datan’s and Aviram’s children saying “Our fathers died – but we want their inheritance?”

So what was his sin?

Rashi quotes the Gemara Shabbat 96b-97a and Sifrei 113 which record the opinion of Rabbi Akiva that Tzlafchad was the wood gatherer of Bamidbar 15:33 who was stoned for deliberately violating Shabbat in public. Since his daughters say “Our father died in the desert” and the Torah there says “When the Israelites were in the desert, a man was found gathering wood” the two stories are equated.

Rabbi Yehuda ben Beteira (same gemara) is troubled with Rabbi Akiva’s attempt to identify the wood-gatherer when the Torah deliberately left him anonymous. How could this crime be pinned on Tzlafchad? He suggests Tzlafchad was one of the Ma’apilim, who tried to invade and conquer the land in the immediate aftermath of the spies, after the generation was told they’d die in the desert.

Many commentaries suggest he had a private sin, one in which he did not cause others to follow his lead.

The Zohar on Parshat Balak (Volume 3, page 205) uses a number of hints and nuances to create a different picture.

Tzlafchad was a leader – a “rav” (not a rabbi) – but he was not eligible to be a prince of his tribe because he was an “am haaretz” – not knowledgeable in Torah. When the Torah tells us “An ‘am rav’ died” on account of the snake bites in Parshat Chukat, it refers to an individual “am haaretz” who was a “rav” in his Israelite family.

When his daughters said, “Our father died ‘bamidbar’ – in the desert” the word “bamidbar” could be read to mean “b’dibbur” – on account of his speech, or complaints.

Taking nothing for granted, the Zohar offers a final proof, noting that the cantillation mark on the word “avinu” – our father – is a serpent-shaped zarka, which indicates that ‘our father’ was the lone person to die from a serpent bite in that incident.

The snakes were sent because those with gripes about manna spoke ill of G-d and Moshe. Objectively speaking, complaining is not necessarily sinning, because many complaints in the Torah do not result in punishment. It is compelling to suggest only one person died, as four verses earlier when the Canaanites took prisoners-of-war, commentaries say they only took one maidservant captive. Furthermore, unlike in other cases of plague where corpses are left behind for the counting (as opposed to when they’re swallowed by the ground ala Korach and company), we are given a tally of the dead. With the snakes, we are not given a number – which points to it being a small number such as “one.”

After telling Rabbi Akiva it is unfair to pin a sin on Tzalfchad, Rabbi Yehuda ben Beteira does so himself, effectively ignoring that part of his own argument. The Torah gives us a number of examples of anonymous individuals who sinned – they remain so because their sin is not worthy to gain them infamy.

But in the case of Tzlafchad, the Torah retroactively pardons him and allows his daughters to inherit his property? Why?

There are times when people deliberately sin and give every indication of their inherent evil. And there are times when people make mistakes: something bugs them, and they take it to an extreme.

Rabbi Akiva takes a person who violates a fundamental tenet of the Torah and gives him a pardon through his daughters. Rabbi Yehuda ben Beteira takes one individual out of a group of many, and focuses on him to say he alone deserves to live on in perpetuity, despite the fact that he was part of a group.

The Zohar argues that he acted alone, did not involve others, was not objectively rebelling against G-d, and he was punished on the spot for his mistake. But that does not mean that his name needs to be driven through the mud, forgotten and punished forever. Sometimes death is indeed a “kapparah” (a source of forgiveness for the soul), which allows the family to move on, while still being accepted and generally involved in the community.