Are Women Not Part of the Covenant of the Bris?

I wrote this for my mohel blog, but thought it was worthy to be repeated here.

I am a "Florence Melton Adult Mini School" instructor, and this week my assignment was to teach the class in "Rhythms" entitled "Birth and Berit." Sounds easy enough – doesn't seem like I need to prepare all that much.

[The Melton curriculum is officially "pluralistic." While I will engage all Jews where they are in their Jewish journey, I don't consider myself pluralistic in my approach to Judaism. With this in mind, let us continue…]

The class as formatted explains what the Covenant (Bris) of Circumcision (Milah) is, offers some rabbinic suggestions as to its purpose and why the mark of the covenant is placed on the particular part of the anatomy where it is.

It even asks important sociological questions that pertain to a society in which Jews and non-Jews are routinely circumcised, which would negate the "only Jews" element of circumcision, as well as a concern that non-traditional Jews continue to go through with the procedure on account of a connection based on conformity, as opposed to a religious or traditional conviction. Compelling conversation starters.

All this is fine with me.

But the part that bothers me is when the question is raised as to why there is no parallel ritual for girls, and why it seems women are not part of the covenant. 

I will now proceed to address the different approaches Reform and Reconstructionist Judaism have created in order to rectify this problem. I will conclude with my own explanation for why I believe all of this is a result of ignorance and a focus on a particular agenda in place of educating ourselves and our constituents as to what the real significance of Judaism's practices are all about.

I. A Big Party is Made for a Boy's Birth, But not for a Girl's Birth. Therefore we will now make a big party to celebrate the girl's birth.

Let us make one thing quite clear. All normal parents are equally joyous over the birth of their baby – regardless of gender. Some may have wanted (in their heart or mind) the other gender. But that feeling is usually wiped away one second after the baby is born. Nowadays, with many people knowing the child's gender before birth, it is a non-issue by the time the baby's mother goes into labor.

The Bris Party is not a celebration of the birth of a boy. It is a celebration of the fulfillment of this great and important mitzvah that parents (hmmm – a male and a female, and in cases of a single mother - only a female) perform on their son, to mark our commitment to the Covenant, and our connection to God through the promulgation of our continued adherence to the commitment He forged with our Forefather Abraham through circumcision.

People who wanted to celebrate their daughter's birth would often have a celebration in the synagogue on the Sabbath when their daughter was named – which was traditionally done when the Torah was being read. That this fell out of practice in less-traditional communities is a flaw in education and ritual practice -- not in the celebration of the arrival of a baby girl.

Which leads us to the next issue.

II. A Boy has a bris, but Judaism has no parallel ritual for girls. So, we will now make a parallel ritual

It is entirely appropriate to make a big deal over the birth of a baby girl. By all means, people should be invited to the synagogue when she is given her name. But, as mentioned before, the bris is not meant to be a fuss over the baby boy's arrival. We are celebrating the forging of the mark of the covenant on the baby.

Since girls obviously do not have the same anatomy as boys (they are, after all, girls), there is no need for a so-called parallel-ritual. Making a big baby-naming ceremony, complete with rituals that look more like a baptism than anything Jewish, have a connotation of a misplaced priority. I have read of rituals which include: the immersion of the child in a mikveh, the washing of her feet, a drawing of blood from her toe, assigning her first menstrual blood as her "blood of the covenant."

We must understand what we are celebrating, and put every kind of celebration in its proper context. Most mothers I have met would happily not have me do the bris on their sons were it not for the mitzvah. Who wants to have a newborn go through with such a procedure? Whenever I tell people (latter half in jest as you'll see) "Call me when your baby is born, but only if it's a boy. I don't work with girls." I always conclude the line with a hearty "THANK GOD."

We don't WANT to circumcise girls, and we certainly don't need to "compensate" for the lack of a parallel ritual by fabricating ceremonies that have no Jewish flavor.

III. We seek to change the premise that girls and women are not considered full members of the Jewish people

I have addressed here that a person is Jewish if born from a Jewish mother. This applies to male and female babies alike, and is completely unrelated to circumcision. In fact, a boy born of a Jewish mother who is, for whatever reason, uncircumcised, is still a Jew. [Depending on why he was not circumcised he may be responsible to take care of his circumcision once he reaches the age of majority, but he is never considered out of the fold, until he dies uncircumcised, in which case, we might take care of it for him anyway.]

Jewish females are not enjoined to partake in a circumcision (oy gevalt) or any parallel ritual simply because the first instruction given to Abraham was to "Walk before Me and become complete." (Genesis 17:1) In other words, with a foreskin, he is considered incomplete, requiring human intervention to perfect and complete his body. Once he no longer has a foreskin, his body is complete, and his spirit is opened (in a way it wasn't before) to become complete. The foreskin is therefore the barrier to his completeness.

Now let's look at the female. Hmmm... No foreskin… It should be obvious that the woman is created physically complete! 

Logic would follow that insinuating a so-called "parallel ritual" for females would now be an insult to women. Why would you want to "imitate" the males if such a move would first have to bring you downfrom the level you're at, only to then go up? If you've already "arrived" why would you want to take steps back?

IV. We will now have a ceremony on the eighth day of the girl's life.

Many mothers have told me how much they enjoy the relative ease that follows the birth of a girl. "You don't have the rush and bustle of preparing for a bris. You don't have to worry about entertaining guests. You don't have to try to fit into a dress, or worry about the fact that despite baby now being on the outside, it sometimes takes a couple of weeks for the uterus to go back down to normal 'empty' size. You don't have to subject your baby to a surgical procedure a week after she was born. You don't have to shlep her out of the house for a bris and celebration. She does not have to be present when she is given her name. I don't have to be present. And we can take our leisurely time in celebrating her arrival in the way we want, at the time we want."

The Torah even describes such a difference in a woman's status after giving birth to a girl versus after giving birth to a boy (Leviticus chapter 12).

Why would you want to rush yourself to have such a celebration (beautiful as it is, but completely not mandated), when you can wait for baby's mommy to get back to herself leisurely and have her "go public" when she is ready?

Just to imitate boys?

This reminds me of the notion I have heard of having girls become "bnot mitzvah" at age 13. Traditionally, girls reach the age of Jewish majority at age 12. This is a tribute to their maturity, in mind and body, a complete year before their male counterparts. Celebrating their reaching majority at age 13, like the boys, is an insult to girls. Not a compliment.

Life is not about "trying to be like the Joneses" or "like the boys." Life is about embracing who we are, living to our potential, and filling the natural roles we are meant to fill. Saying a woman should be a father is not only ridiculous. It is nonsensical. (Just as saying a man should be a mother is ludicrous)

Saying a girl should have a celebration on the eighth day is similarly silly. If anything, following the chapter in Leviticus mentioned above, there may be room for a celebration of some kind on her 15^th day. But that is pure conjecture – I have never seen any source that made such a suggestion.

V. But when we say the Grace After Meals, the text refers to our thanking God for, among other things, the "Covenant that You sealed in our flesh." It is clearly a text written by males, for males, which is meant to exclude women who do not bear such a mark in their flesh. We will change the text so it additionally thanks God "for the covenant You sealed in our hearts"

Nebich. I feel for people who can take a line like this and find offense in it. We, collectively, are thanking God for all the gifts he has given our people as a whole. We all thank God for the Covenant which happens to be marked on our (males') flesh. Just because the males bear the mark of the covenant does not mean women are not included in the covenant. I am unaware of any other reference to a "Covenant sealed in our hearts," and I believe this is a fabrication of such a notion.

Of course women are included in the covenant marked in our flesh. And here is why. 


Firstly, the covenant was made with Abraham's descendants - ALL of them. Male and female.

Secondly, if you read through Genesis 17, when Avraham is given the commandment to circumcise himself and the males in his household, taken careful note of what triggers the possibility of his being able to create this mark in the flesh.

7 I will sustain My covenant between Me and between you and your descendants after you throughout their generations, an eternal covenant; I will be a God to you and to your offspring after you. 8 To you and your offspring I will give the land where you are now living as a foreigner. The whole land of Canaan shall be [your] eternal heritage, and I will be a God to [your descendants].' 9 God [then] said to Abraham, 'As far as you are concerned, you must keep My covenant - you and your offspring throughout their generations. 10 This is My covenant between Me, and between you and your offspring that you must keep: You must circumcise every male.

AND OF COURSE, HOW DO THESE OFFSPRING COME ABOUT, SO HE CAN DO THE CIRCUMCISION?

15 God said to Abraham, 'Sarai your wife - do not call her by the name Sarai, for Sarah is her name. 16 I will bless her, and make her bear you a son. I will bless her so that she will be [the mother] of entire nations - kings will be her descendants.'

19 God said, 'Still, your wife Sarah will give birth to a son. You must name him Isaac. I will keep My covenant with him as an eternal treaty, for his descendants after him.

21 But I will keep My covenant with Isaac, whom Sarah will bear to you this time next year.'

The reason why we can fulfill this covenant is because our wonderful women bear the Jewish children who will bear the mark of the Covenant. Without getting into intricacies of the birds and bees, obviously these children were created when the women "bore the mark of the covenant in their flesh." (sounds weird, but it is obviously true.) Without our women, born complete in body, we are helpless, hopeless, and there is no Covenant.

CONCLUSION

I am not here to deny that in some elements of Jewish history women were not accorded opportunities they are accorded today. While there may have been an element of chauvinism involved, I do think it was no different than in any other society and culture in the world. At the same time, I believe Judaism has always been far ahead of the general society when it came to the positive treatment of women, inclusion of women, and appreciation of the role of the woman and mother in the family and community.

Before educational and employment opportunities were availed to women in the way they are now (our society in general has come a long way), women were very busy in their family lives and responsibilities – many of which have been made easier by modern technology. And these changes are welcome, wonderful, and an enhancement of our society.

But saying women were excluded from the bris comes from an ignorance of Torah, an ignorance of what the Covenant is, what women are, and what it means to have male anatomy. It is very easy to say that Judaism discriminates against any person or animal who is not included in certain practices. [It discriminates against men, women, Jews, non-Jews, Kohens (who cannot participate directly in funerals), Levites, homosexuals, heterosexuals, kosher animals, non-kosher animals. The list is not exhaustive and could theoretically be endless.] I will never be a Kohen, a Levi, a woman, a mother. I will admire their roles in Judaism as an observer, and I will do my best not to be jealous of their responsibilities because I know that I fit into the tapestry that is the Jewish life in my own way.

Most women I know are very happy that they never had a "bris," don't feel slighted in any which way, and never put a second thought to any notion of "inequality" in this regard.

May we all live to appreciate our gifts from God, who we are, how He created us, and find a way to live our lives filling our God-given roles as best as we possibly can. 

Looking Out For Myself

Parshat Noach

The Tower of Babel story teaches many lessons. Arguably the most blatant problem in the story is that the goal of the people involved was to "make for ourselves a name." (Bereishit 11:4)

Unified they were, but to what end? Hillel said, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me?" (Avot 1:14) Avot D'Rabi Natan explains this to mean that "I am my own best advocate." For a person to be successful, the initiative to make a good name must come from within and must be followed with precise actions which will help achieve such a goal. How could this be a problematic aim for the builders of the tower?

The answer lies in the focus of the name they were trying to make, and its purported intent.

It is one thing to stand up for oneself and to make a personal growth chart guided by distinct benchmarks of "what I need to achieve to be the best I can be." It is an entirely different matter to put the vital interests of our community above those of other individuals and the world as a whole.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch writes, "The community complements the individual, but only if the community assumes the same attitude toward God as the individual should; that is, if it subordinates its will to God.

"If the community declares, 'We want to demonstrate the powers inherent in the community' without calling in God's name; if the individual is called upon to be a servant of the community, but not to serve God; if the community presents itself as an end instead of as a means to an end – then mankind's whole moral fixture is lost."

While Rabbi Hirsch may have been addressing the dangers of Communism (he lived at the same time as Karl Marx and they overlapped living in Germany at different times), I think we can springboard off his division between the community and the individual to create a new paradigm for what individual growth can look like.

Over the course of many travels and shabboses spent in different cities and towns, I have found many people quite dedicated to their communities. Many talk about how "everyone here is so nice." They'll talk about the distinguishing character of their shul, or the "chevra" they have, or how people look out for one another, in good times and especially in bad times.

They'll talk about how the community is very supportive of Jewish causes, how the community is a "makom Torah," and how the community is a model of chesed. Many people will say "I wouldn't want to live anywhere else." Some might even express the name of the "somewhere else" where'd they'd never want to live because "We don't want to be like those people."

But the story of the Tower of Babel is meant to tell us that it's not about what your community can accomplish. Many communities, in fact, do a lot of good. Each one supports their causes (and thank God there are plenty to go around), and each community looks out for their own.

The downside of the Tower of Babel group is emphasized particularly in contrast to an individual named Abraham, who chose to make a name for God, instead of making a name for his community. He worked on himself in order to sanctify God's name, rather than focus his attention on the trimmings of his neighborhood.

Now that the holiday season is behind us, let us ask ourselves in what ways we are working to sanctify God's name – both as communities, and even moreso as individuals. It's nice that we have shalom zachars. But why are rabbis the only ones who prepare the divrei torah to share?

It's nice that we have long shabbos meals, but why do we spend the entire time chatting, perhaps remembering to say a "quick dvar" right before bentching, in place of filling our shabbos tables with songs and a vibrant discussion of the parsha?

It's nice that our children speak at their bar and bat mitzvahs. But why does half the speech need to contain a gratuitous "roast" of siblings instead of a sophisticated thought that parent and child worked on together that shares a powerful message for speaker and participants? Let us aim to bring our children into adulthood, rather than encourage them to demonstrate how childish they can be.

It's nice that the communities we live in support causes, Torah, chesed. But wouldn't it be even greater if every individual participated in these support efforts, not just by saying "I'm a fan" but by showing up, rolling up sleeves, and getting involved?

Our communities can have whatever reputations they've developed or will develop. But our goals as individuals should always be, as Hillel said, "To look out for myself." If I don't make the effort to break away from the coattails of others to create my own good name, to sanctify God's name myself, and to continue to grow in a spiritual way, "Who will be for me?"

Making The Most Out of Life

With the return of Gilad Shalit to Israel, alive and in one piece (at least in body - who knows what his mind has been through?), an image many had doubts we would ever see, there is cause for celebration for the positive end to his personal ordeal. Many question the math of a 1,027 person exchange, many of whom are convicted murderers who literally have blood on their hands, as being a fair price to pay to get Gilad back. I will not render an opinion in this forum on that question. It was surely a difficult decision, and I do not envy the Israeli leaders who brokered this deal, for the aftermath of this exchange which rests on their shoulders.


It did get me thinking, however, about a famous film that raised a similar question. It's hard to compare the storylines, and perhaps I am stretching things, but the quotes I present here from the movie "Saving Private Ryan" are provocative conversation starters, and certainly fit in line with my parsha piece this week. I present the quotes first (lifted from imdb.com), unedited, followed by the dvar torah on the first parsha of the Torah. The spaces between lines indicate that the quotes are from different parts of the film and are not presented as straight dialogue.

Private Reiben: You wanna explain the math of this to me? I mean, where's the sense of riskin' the lives of the eight of us to save one guy? 

Sergeant Horvath: I don't know. Part of me thinks the kid's right. He asks what he's done to deserve this. He wants to stay here, fine. Let's leave him and go home. But then another part of me thinks, what if by some miracle we stay, then actually make it out of here. Someday we might look back on this and decide that saving Private Ryan was the one decent thing we were able to pull out of this whole godawful, shitty mess. Like you said, Captain, maybe we do that, we all earn the right to go home. 

Captain Miller: He better be worth it. He better go home and cure a disease, or invent a longer-lasting light bulb. 

Captain Miller: You see, when... when you end up killing one your men, you see, you tell yourself it happened so you could save the lives of two or three or ten others. Maybe a hundred others. Do you know how many men I've lost under my command? 
Sergeant Horvath: How many? 
Captain Miller: Ninety-four. But that means I've saved the lives of ten times that many, doesn't it? Maybe even 20, right? Twenty times as many? And that's how simple it is. That's how you... that's how you rationalize making the choice between the mission and the man. 

Captain Miller: [weakly mutters something] 
Private Ryan: [leans in closer] What, sir? 
Captain Miller: James, earn this... earn it.         [Captain Miller dies shortly after he says this]

Old James Ryan: [addressing Capt. Miller's grave] My family is with me today. They wanted to come with me. To be honest with you, I wasn't sure how I'd feel coming back here. Every day I think about what you said to me that day on the bridge. I tried to live my life the best that I could. I hope that was enough. I hope that, at least in your eyes, I've earned what all of you have done for me. 
Ryan's Wife: James?... 
[looking at headstone] 
Ryan's Wife: Captain John H Miller. 
Old James Ryan: Tell me I have led a good life. 
Ryan's Wife: What? 
Old James Ryan: Tell me I'm a good man. 
Ryan's Wife: You are. 

Parshat Bereishit

After she finished reading Dara Horn's recent novel "The World to Come" my wife said to me, "The last chapter is amazing." I have not yet read the book, but I did read the last chapter. It's filled with Dara Horn's style of weaving Jewish titles, terms, and quotes in her narrative, and is a joy to read. Especially if you "get" all the references.

In the chapter, two souls who already lived spend some time with a "not-yet," a soul who is soon to be born, on a journey to the Tree of Life that is guarded by the sword described in Bereishit 3:24.

The male character wants the not-yet to eat from the tree, while the female character does not. She says, "You actually, genuinely want him to be born and never die." When the male character (the not-yet's deceased grandfather) proceeds to scream at her saying, "WHY NOT? Why can't he have what we didn't have? Why should his children have to watch him die?" her response is, "Because that's what makes it matter."

It's a chilling image, one imagines taking place in a heavy rainstorm, at a tottering bridge, before the world is about to end. The scene is very powerful and dramatic.

The Torah lists the concern that a person might eat from the Tree of Life and live forever as one of the reasons for the expulsion from the garden (3:22-23), but it does not say why living forever would be a problem.

In fact, Radak points out that original command of 2:16-17 included instructions that allowed people to partake of the Tree of Life: "You may eat from every tree except the Tree of Knowledge." Once they partook of the Tree of Knowledge, mortality was introduced – they were condemned to die one day. On account of this, they were expelled from the garden, lest they eat from the Tree of Life and extend their lives beyond their now-allotted years.

Radak feels God could not command them "Do not eat from the Tree of Life" because it had already been permitted to them. Furthermore, experience shows they don't do well with one commandment not to eat from a specific tree. Therefore they were taken out of the garden to avoid the problem altogether.

Ramban speaks in less cryptic terms when he says, "God wanted His punishment decree to be fulfilled with the death of man. Were he to eat from the Tree of Life, God's decree would have been thwarted, delayed, or he might even live forever." The problem with the Tree of Life, therefore, was that it would take away the punishment the humans were meant to get for eating of the Tree of Knowledge. (Chizkuni)

In the most spiritual of the answers I found, the Alshich looks at the practical side of living forever, and though he does not mention the cathartic stage we go through in death directly, he says "Were he to eat of the Tree of Life and live forever, he would never achieve a tikkun" or a correction for his mistake. Rashi even describes how a person who lives forever will steer people after him, making himself into a god-like figure.

It does not seem that immortality in and of itself is a bad thing (assuming one doesn't fancy himself a god on account of it). But for Man who was punished for partaking of the Tree of Knowledge, living forever would remove the punishment, and the possibility it would bring for the soul to make amends. For Man who needs to achieve atonement or to receive forgiveness for an error, death brings about such atonement and forgiveness. For Man to bring a correction to the soul, such a correction could only come about when the body no longer stands as interference to the soul.

Death also brings closure to a life lived – sometimes well-lived, sometimes long, sometimes tragically short. Knowing of our own mortality, we set goals for the lives we live, and if we are lucky enough to apportion our time right and stay focused, we can spend a good portion of our lives working towards and achieving our goals. The knowledge that we have a finite amount of time makes our individual journeys on this earth matter, and makes our existence matter to those we touch in our lifetimes.

The mark of a life well-lived is being missed by those who survive us once we are gone. Were we to live forever, we would never be missed, and we would lose our relevance. We might even ask God to end our existence, as did many Biblical and Talmudical figures (Moshe, Eliyahu, Yonah, Choni Ha'Magel, to name a few, as well as the elders of Luz (Sotah 46b) )

May we merit to always live our lives noting the incredible gift of life we have been given. May we also find the resilience to make the most of our lives so that when our time on earth comes to an end, we need not look back with any regrets.

As the female character says to the not-yet born in "The World to Come," "The test comes later." And her male counterpart says, "Later. During every moment of every day of your life."

Greatest Gift of All

Simchat Torah
What are we celebrating on Simchas Torah?

Some focus on our completing the cycle of the Torah reading for the year, others focus on beginning anew. Some prefer to take the whole picture into account and say it is a celebration of the Torah in general.

I like this latter approach simply because it seems more complete. The Torah does not need a specific event, moment, or anecdote to be celebrated. It just is. It is special, it is unique, and it is ours.

The Mas'as Hamelekh (Shimon Moshe Diskin) shares an insight on this subject that seems so obvious, yet is quite profound. He looks at the verse in Devarim 28:47, the explanation for the tokhacha (rebuke) which says "These things will come upon you on account of your not serving God with joy and a good heart." From this verse, he deduces that the service of God must include two ingredients: a joyous heart and a good heart. Having either one or neither of these ingredients is an incomplete form of serving God.

He goes on to describe our celebration of Simchas Torah:

"If we focus on the completing of the Torah, we lose sight of the joy of the holiday. Rejoicing with the Torah is a 'rejoicing of the heart,' but is not called 'tov' – goodness. We are therefore minimizing the joy of the holiday because we need "simcha v'tuv levav" (a joyous and good heart) and all we have is a joyous heart.

"There is therefore a simple solution to the problem. The joy of 'Pikudei Hashem' (Tehillim 19:9) – which refers to the study of Torah, is only joyous but is not called 'tov' – good. But the joy over the Torah, celebrating the fact that we have the Torah – this is an entirely different story, falling into the category of 'the joy of a good heart.'"

We certainly celebrate the completion and the new beginning of the Torah cycles. More importantly, we celebrate that we have the Torah, that it was given to us, and that it is ours.

In a world dominated by other monotheistic religions, we ought to be proud that our religion is the original, the Coke of religions ('the real thing').

In a country that prides itself on "Judeo-Christian values," we can be proud of the prominent role Judaism's values play in guiding our society (well, the part of it that is moral, anyway).

Mostly, we can take pride in the Torah because of the wonderful gift that it is. That our people were chosen to carry its responsibilities, and that our people made it available to the world to learn from. Though the "Targum ha-70 (Septuagint)" is considered in our tradition to have been a negative moment in our people's history, the fact remains that God-fearing people view the Aseret Hadibrot (aka "Ten Commandments") as essential religious dogma, and a clear guide to a certain moral code that unites a society.

For those of us who do not yet appreciate the amazing gift that the Torah is, who do not understood what it means to simply celebrate that we have it – that it was given to us and that it is ours – this now becomes the challenge which should define your Jewish experience. How can you come to appreciate the amazing nature of our being the ones who 'have' the Torah?

In a similar vein, I once heard Rabbi Moshe Tendler share an insight in the Haggadah's song Dayenu. We say "Ilu kervanu lifnei har Sinai v'lo nasan lanu es haTorah, Dayenu" – had you brought us close to Mt. Sinai and not given the Torah to us, it would have been enough.

What would have been the point if we hadn't received the Torah?

Rabbi Tendler explained that "bringing us close to Mt. Sinai" refers to the giving of the Torah. "Not giving us the Torah" refers to the ability to delve, discuss, analyze, and decide what the law should be. The Torah was not given as a sealed book, closed to interpretation and practical application. It is a living book, which lives, thrives, and finds a way to re-present itself in every generation - God gave it to us with this purpose and design in mind..

May we merit all the blessings in the world as we celebrate Simchas Torah for what it is: a day of joy (which comes from completing, beginning and generally learning Torah), and a day filled with a good heart, one that celebrates the greatest gift of all – our having the Torah, our being the spiritual and rightful heirs of its teachings, and our being the bearers of its banner and its tradition in the truest sense of all of its teachings.

Avoiding Hoshana Confusion - and Traffic Jams!

While the issue and suggestions are real, the tone is somewhat tongue in cheek (by design!). Please excuse in advance if you find it a little "sharp."

There is a known quote which is attributed to Albert Einstein, though others argue that it is from a "get out of addiction" guide book. insanity is to do the same thing over and over and expect different results.

Every year during the Hoshanos I feel this is what we do. Everyone knows that carrying the Arba Minim around the room, following the chazzan, creates a traffic jam. Yet, somehow, the traffic jam is never resolved.

Sometimes I feel that the people in shul need a producer, or at least a choreographer in order to make things move seamlessly instead of aimlessly.

So, here are my "let's make Hoshanos move smoothly" suggestions:

1. Let us all remember that our goal is make a personal circuit around the Bimah where the Torah is being held.
2. Let us further remember that our circle begins and ends at our seats, NOT from the moment we get to where the chazzan began his circuit.

NOW it is quite simple. Instead of getting into the slow-mo shuffle that follows the chazzan around the room (and therefore backs up all the other participants), each of us is aiming to get our circuit done ASAP so we can get out of the line of traffic that is forming behind the chazzan.

With this in mind, we can proceed:

3. Instead of getting in the slow-mo line, work your way around the crowd and the Bimah in order to get back to your seat. Once back at your seat, you have completed your circuit, have therefore finished your hakafah, and can finish saying the words while the other participants make their way around the room.
4. Being at your seat makes for more room in the line. It also encourages others to be as smart as you. Once they see the slow-mo line is not for you, maybe they'll make a beeline for the sideline as did you.

May we all have enjoyable, non-traffic-jam-y Hoshana experiences.

Unified By the Sukkah

Sukkot

In the context of a discussion about what materials could be used for building a sukkah, the Gemara Sukkah (11b) raises a debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Akiva regarding of what material the original sukkah God described in Vayikra 23:43 was made.

Rabbi Akiva says the sukkahs in question were actual booths. Rabbi Eliezer says the sukkah was not a physical structure – the protection of the sukkah was actually God's clouds of glory. [The Mechilta of Rabbi Yishmael (Bo 14) switches around who said what.]

On a simple level, the debate is over whether the physical sukkah we are meant to build reflects a literal or metaphysical sukkah that protected the Israelites in their journey. The sukkah of today mirrors the sukkah of yesteryear.

On a deeper level, the discussion revolves around the role of God in our lives. According to Rabbi Akiva, God provided the means for the people to be self-sufficient, giving them the temporary dwellings that they managed themselves. When we build our sukkah, we leave our permanent homes to these temporary dwellings to demonstrate our faith in God, on the one hand, that we are confident that our temporary home will sustain us. On the other hand, we are able to perceive a newfound appreciation (if we take notice) for the God-given gifts we enjoy regularly, such as a roof over our heads, air-conditioning and heating, and home amenities that make our lives easier (though no longer less complicated) than things were even one hundred years ago.

In Rabbi Eliezer's interpretation, the sukkah as a reflection of the clouds of glory carries much depth to it. When we sit in the sukkah, we are reminded not only of the physical God-given gifts we enjoy. We can contemplate the Divine hand that watches over us.

This idea is particularly poignant after Yom Kippur, after we all proclaimed that God determines who will have a peaceful or turbulent year, who will become poor and who will become wealthy, who will be denigrated and who will be elevated. The good times and the bad times are brought upon us by God. Our choices in the past and behavior in the present (and future perfect – for grammarians) contribute to what future outcomes will come about.

All this being said, I think the point added by the Midrash (Sifra 12) to the conversation of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Eliezer, is the one we need to bear in mind. And, as obvious as it seems, it likely carries the greatest depth of any reason for why we build the sukkah, and what we are commemorating in using the sukkah.

After recording both opinions, the Midrash says "We learn that even the sukkah is a reminder of the exodus from Egypt.

It is obvious simply because our liturgy includes the phrase "zecher liyitziat mitzrayim," a reminder of the exodus, after each reference to the holiday in the holiday prayers.

The significance of the exodus cannot be overstated. It needs to be etched in our heads so we can understand what it means for a group of slaves with a common ancestor to leave Egypt in order to become a nation, under God.

The Mechilta of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai describes the image of the sukkah of clouds as a parable. The people left Egypt and entered the clouds right away, to rest in the area called Ramses, much as a groom might bring a palace to the door of his bride, so when she leaves her old home, she enters his domain right away.

Leaving Egypt to enter God's immediate protection symbolized the creation of a Holy nation. Just like Yom Kippur turns people of all walks of life, with different life experiences, into people with a shared experience who share the same clean slate, the Divine protection gave the people a new collective lease on life and lease on God as the took upon the selves the monikor of a "kingdom of priests and a holy nation." (Shmot 19:6)

Whether we're enjoying the sights of sukkahs around town, or basking in the feeling of collectiveness that we enjoy as the bride who just left her old home to enter her new home, we can always look to the symbol of the Exodus from Egypt for inspiration. For our purposes, imitating actual sukkahs or divine clouds can carry the same significance.

As we're reminded of the Exodus, may we merit to recognize and experience the unity that is embodied in the image of entering God's palace as one nation, under God, indivisible by petty grievances and unnecessary altercations.

A Big Fish Story?

A Yom Kippur Message
In our tradition, the High Holidays are viewed as a time period when all of humanity, not just its Jews, are judged for the coming year.

In his introduction to the book of Yonah, the haftarah read at Mincha on Yom Kippur, Rabbi J.H. Hertz writes, "The essential teaching [of Yonah] is that the Gentiles should not be grudged God's love, care and forgiveness. It is this grudging which is so superbly rebuked throughout the Book, and most of all in the final chapter, which must rightly be considered the climax of the story."

Explaining how this book fits naturally into the theme of Yom Kippur, Rabbi Hertz continues to elucidate its important lessons: "It is impossible to run away from God's presence, God takes pity on all His creatures, He is ever willing to accept true repentance."

For us, one ironic aspect of the tale is that there are two significant groups of people who recognize God's role in their lives, and commit to a level of repentance that saves their lives – and neither group consists of any Jews. The former is the group of sailors on the ship that threw Yonah overboard, and the latter are the people of Nineveh.

The lone Jew in the story, the prophet himself, seems to make a mistake at every turn. Even though he eventually follows God's bidding, he still walks out of tale as the recipient of one final rebuke from God.

First he is told to go to Nineveh, but he runs to Tarshish. When everyone on his ship is working like mad to save themselves from the storm, Yonah is dreaming away in lala-land. After he is thrown overboard, he wallows for three days in the belly of a large fish until he realizes "I better do what God told me to do." He gives the message to the Ninevites, gets really depressed over their repentance, and asks God to kill him. God helps him forget his worries through the growth of a shade-giving-kikayon, but the quick demise of the kikayon puts Yonah into even further depression, when he again wants to die, until God points out Yonah's flaw in reasoning as to the merits of sparing Nineveh from destruction.

God's message is simple. Humans and animals are My creatures too – no matter where they come from and where they seem to be heading. There is always room for people to change their ways – they just need to want to change, and to recognize that changing is a long-term process that has to start somewhere.

The classic interpretation is that the fish really was summoned to swallow Yonah. On the other hand, the Daat Mikra commentary on Yonah records a possible interpretation, suggested by Rabbi Yosef Kaspi, that the big fish story was really just a big fish story – that the first two chapters of the book of Yonah were really a prophesy, and that Yonah dreamt of the city of Nineveh, whose Akkadian symbol was a fish in a house (the word "Nin" means "fish", and neveh means "city") – and that Yonah envisioned himself trapped in a fish for three days in lieu of going to Nineveh which was a three day journey (compare 2:1 and 3:3).

I like this latter possibility because it removes the part of the tale that almost paints Yonah as a bumbling prophet, and puts his choices in terms of a subconscious vision that can be filled with mistakes he might have made had he been awake – but are merely reflections of what he "might" have wanted to do, even though, as a prophet, of course he is going to do God's bidding right away.

Perhaps Hertz's comment about not begrudging Gentiles of God's love, which seems somewhat anachronistic, is meant to be a message to our non-Jewish neighbors that on our holiest day, we are thinking of their welfare as well. In the face of doom, the sailors and Ninevites returned to God on their own terms, through the influence of the story's lone Jew.

Since we believe that all of humanity are judged on this day, we want anyone who might be interested in "seeing what the Jews are thinking about today" to know that we believe everyone in the world has the capacity for good and the capability to return to God in whatever way they deem appropriate - with choices that benefit one another and humankind as a whole.

            

I also believe this passage is meant to show one more lesson. There is one time when the Torah declares straight out that "God loves you." It is Devarim 23:6, which reads, "Of course, God did not consent to listen to Bilaam, and God your Lord transformed the curse into a blessing for you, since God your Lord loves you."

            

Peace in the world and peace between neighbors of different faiths can only come about when leaders, or prophets such as Bilaam and Yonah respectively, ultimately do what God asks of them – bless or guide the [perhaps detested] foreigners for whom they may have personally harbored contempt, so "the other" can survive and thrive on this earth, left alone by outsiders who do not know what is best for them. This is not to suggest Yonah hated the people of Nineveh (though it is clear Bilaam hated the Jewish people), but it is clear that he felt telling Nineveh to repent would reflect badly on his own people who were unrepentant.

            

In the end, we are all God's creatures, and He would like us to find a way to live in harmony in this world, no matter how we might personally feel about "others." This prophesy is no "big fish story." It is the tale of all tales "when the wolf and lamb live together in harmony" (Isaiah 11:6). May we all live to see such a prophesy fulfilled speedily in our days.