Partners in Creation (and Infertility)

For those who struggle with infertility, the battle is one which is often waged in private, with very little support from family or friends, unless a choice is made to share the information. I don't think it is anyone's place to impose their advice or opinions (or to say such insensitive things like "So when are you guys going to have a baby?"), unless said advice or opinions are sought by those who struggle. While I certainly don't have answers beyond doing research, preparing the body with the proper nutrition and vitamins, and seeking out the best medical help possible, here is a religious approach that suggests there is more to what meets the eye than medical charts. 

Parshat Tazria

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Last week I quoted the Midrash Aggadah on “Yom HaShmini” who raised the possibility that one of the interpretations of Kohelet 11:2 which speaks of seven becoming eight, is that of Rabbi Yehuda bar Simone who said that "Seven" refers to the days of the Niddah period. If the laws of Niddah are followed (7), the Midrash suggests in the name of God, a child will be born who will be circumcised on the 8th day.

 Sounds like a pretty good guarantee.

 In another passage in the Midrash Aggadah on our parsha, we are reminded of how there are three partners in the creation of a human being: the father, the mother and God. This notion comes from the Talmud (Kiddushin 30b, Niddah 31a), and many homiletical teachings emerge from it.

 But perhaps the most profound thought, certainly one that crosses the mind of God-fearing parents when their children are born, is how clearly one can understand that God is in this world when one observes a newborn.

 Of course the initial passage above is a nice thought. But there are plenty of people who observe these laws meticulously and still struggle with infertility (as well as those who don't follow them, who have no problems). If only such a guarantee came with a warranty.

 Alas, as everyone knows, it’s not always so simple.

 In his Toldot Yitzchak, Rabbi Yitzchak Caro utilized a Talmudic teaching to explain how an expectant parent must pray for the fertilization to take root in the first three days, from day 3 to day 40 pray for a male child, from day 40 to the end of the first trimester pray that it shouldn’t be a miscarriage, from 3 months to 6 months pray that it should not be a stillborn, from 6 months pray that it should be born in peace.

 If so, he concludes, it seems that the health of the child and success of the pregnancy is dependent on prayer much more than on nature.

 With regard to the praying for a “male” child – well, this passage is on the segment that says “When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male.” (For those who like “The Godfather,” think of the blessing Luca Brasi gave Don Corleone at the Godfather’s daughter’s wedding.) [Of course there are people who "want" to have a boy. There are also people who "want" to have a girl. Most people are happy to have a child and gender does not matter.]

 Otherwise, the passage speaks for itself about prayer’s role in all of this.

 When I was in his class, Rabbi Moshe Tendler would often tell us that there are so many possible genetic mutations that could take place in the development of a fetus, it is a miracle that anyone is born without some kind of problem. Baruch Hashem.

In our world of science and rationalism, we tend to aim to find explanations for why things go right, and even moreso for when things go wrong.

 But maybe, just maybe, we don’t have all the answers because some causes and cases go beyond the realm of the natural world. An unhealthy woman gives birth to a completely healthy and normal baby. A healthy woman can’t carry a baby to term. What’s wrong with this picture?

 I don’t have the answers. But the Toldot Yitzchak did offer a suggestion, which I believe is only highlighted due to Rabbi Tendler’s insight about genetics. There is a need for prayer that goes far beyond our understanding, and enters the realm of the cosmos in terms of where it sits, lies and waits, and then returns to influence the world.

 Are following the laws of Niddah and committing to prayer guarantees that a child will be born, and in good health? Of course not. But as the old Jewish joke goes: a performer in a live show has a heart attack and dies on stage. As the stage manager comes out to give mouth-to-mouth, a woman in the audience yells out “Give him an enema! Give him an enema!” She is told, “This man is dead. An enema won’t help.” “Well, it wouldn’t hurt!”

While the punchline of the joke, "It can't hurt" is more than likely true with respect to prayer and Niddah observance, the other side of it, "That maybe it can really help" is certainly not worth dropping at the wayside.

 Let those who are struggling to have that child find fulfillment in a more dedicated commitment to the laws of Niddah and to prayer. Especially praying for someone else who has similar needs . Who knows? Maybe sooner than later, prayers will be answered.

 Amen. May it only be so for all of us.

Praying To God For Real - Being a Maamin (Believer)

Rosh Hashana 5775

by Rabbi Avi Billet

          Tuesday morning many of us awoke to the news that the Shabak – Israel’s FBI – did their due diligence, and the IDF finished the job on the barbarians who kidnapped and murdered 3 teens in Israel this summer. The perps were not arrested. They will never be freed in a prisoner exchange. Baruch Hashem.

          Were we to take a look back at the year that was 5774, many of us would probably look at the events of the summer in Israel, and the backlash that continues to send EuropeanJews to seek safer locations for their families, as the defining moments of the year for the Jewish people.

          The kidnapping of Naftali Frankel, Eyal Yifrach and Gilad Shaer, HYD, the weeks that followed their kidnapping, and the uncertainty of their safety, which culminated with the discovery that they had been dead all along, and of course the summertime war which followed – which while damaging to Hamas – cost Israel 67 soldiers and 5 civilians, as well as hundreds wounded.

          We were in camp, and it was actually visiting day when I started getting reports that the ground invasion had begun, and that 13 soldiers had already been killed. I had been looking forward to seeing people, but I was inconsolable. I am sure many here cried many times over the summer. Not just over the loss of Israel’s sons, brothers and fathers, but over how Israel was demonized in the media.

          And the Arab anti-Semitism that has emerged in Europe, as well as the noted hate-incidents recorded in this country and in Canada, also served our collective memory that Naziism is alive in Europe and around the world. But instead of being Aryan, the modern Nazis are primarily Arab, or just plain bigoted anti-Semites.

          And, of course, through it all, the memory of what seemed to be the catalyst for it all, the kidnapping and brutal murder of three innocent teenagers who got into the wrong car.

          בראש השנה יכתבון וביום צום כיפור יחתמון.

          It’s a message that cuts deeply into our thoughts and emotions. Was this all decreed on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur last year? Our liturgy, which reflects the Talmud, says so. Why couldn’t it be car accidents? A young man from Lakewood, Aaron Sofer, went missing in Yerushalayim during the conflict, feared kidnapped. Turns out he tragically died in a hiking accident. Is this kind of death any less a tragedy? No.

          But in our minds, while we always have questions, we have an easier time with the things we can relate to: accidents, illnesses, and of course old-age.

          And so it comes as such an incredibly shocking and surprising message when the mother of NaftaliFrankel appeared in an Aish.com video that many of us saw, declaring the lessons she takes from her son’s murder – of the incredible spirit of Am Yisrael, the unity, the Achdus, the power of Tefillah that rallied behind her son, Gilad and Eyal as a world-wide movement. About how this is the true Am Yisrael – a people who care about one another, who look out for one another, who are there for one another. And most importantly, of having אמונה, faith in God.

          How does this woman have faith in God? She lost her son in one of the most senseless crimes of the century! Isn’t God to blame for not protecting her son, and the boys that were with him?

          You see, Rachel Frankel understands very well that that is not how אמונה works. אמונה, real faith in God doesn’t get thrown out with the bath water the minute something goes wrong. Or in her case, tragically wrong.

          One thing you should know about Real Emunah. I found a great quote in ספר מבחר הפנינים א - שער החכמה – by Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Gabirol. He said, “Know the removal of שכל (intelligence, but sometimes translated as common sense) from Emunah is like removing a head from a body. When the head is removed, the body is lost or useless. And when Sechel is lost, Emunah is lost.”

          In other words, people who have real Emunah are not simpletons who have what the public calls Blind Faith. These are really really really really really really SMART people. They know Emunah – faith – by nature contains an element of doubt. But they also make a very intelligent choice to say, Who cares if there is a possibility that I am wrong? There is a much stronger possibility that I am so so right. This is what the Rambam at the beginning of Hilkhos Yesodei HaTorah calls ידיעה – knowing that God is there.

          Secondly, people who have Emunah don’t see things in black and white. There is a world of gray, sometimes unintelligible gray, but gray nonetheless. And that hazy gray suggests a metaphor of a world which is like a very large wheel with millions and billions of cogs – some that play a larger role, some whose role is far less significant, some whose roles are not apparent until many millions of cogs have made their revolutions. And that each of us is a cog, and we can’t always see the big picture of that wheel. Some cogs just loosen up and fall out. And the wheel keeps right on spinning.

          There are many great works of Jewish philosophy that define what Emunah is. But in the same book, Ibn Gabirol has a “Shaar Haemunah,” in which he articulates some of the fundamental tenets of what it means to be a Maamin. Humility, Reverence, and the Patience to explain to someone who has questions – who may even be antagonistic – but to be able to explain because the Maamin has clarity and confidence in how the world works and in Who is running the show.

          There are some people who endure the knocks of life better than others. The poor, the ill, and the diminished. These, says Ibn Gabirol, are the Maaminim.

          You want to know who went through the school of hard knocks? Chana did! We read it a few moments ago! She had a co-wife who made her life miserable! Her husband treated her royally, and yet she couldn’t eat – because he didn’t understand her, thinking his love for her was more meaningful than the child she yearned for. Peninah made her ANGRY that her womb was closed. Not sad. ANGRY! Can you imagine a woman who is made to feel like nothing by a seemingly heartless, mean and insensitive show-off? Chana could have walked away with her tail between her legs. But she was ANGRY!

          We all know Ka’as is a bad middah. But Ka’as, the Rambam says, has its place. While Rambam warns against anger, in Hilkhot Deot 1:4, he says that a person shouldn’t get angry, except over a big deal, so the issue won’t ever happen again.

          Chana got angry at Peninah. This WAS a big deal. But it STILL happened, year after year. So one year she decided to do something about it.

          We can analyze Chana’s story for hours. But today I think we need to focus on Chana the Maamina, and her relationship with God.

          First she prays to God, crying, bitter, and we are toldוַתִּתְפַּלֵּל עַל־יְקֹוָק . She lays it all out. She says God, “I need you to see my suffering. And remember me! Don’t forget me! You ARE IN MY LIFE! YOU ARE PART OF MY EXISTENCE! If I have a child, I will dedicate his life to serving you.”

          וַתִּתְפַּלֵּל עַל־יְקֹוָק     . She is in control. She is letting Hashem, כביכול, have it.

          But Eili gives her the business. She is praying in a way that is beyond his comprehension. And she lets him know he has misunderstood her. She tells him she is suffering. וָאֶשְׁפֹּךְ אֶת־נַפְשִׁי לִפְנֵי יְקֹוָק:.  Lifnei hashem. As she hashes it out, her relationship with God seems to change.

          And then she explains herself to Eili. כִּי־מֵרֹב שִׂיחִי וְכַעְסִי דִּבַּרְתִּי עַד־הֵנָּה: I’ve spoken this way and in this manner because of my ANGER. Rabbi David Fohrman pointed out that ANGER, at least in Chana’s case, is a demonstration of being real (we know this from the תלמוד בבלי מסכת עירובין דף סה עמוד ב  -  אמר רבי אילעאי: בשלשה דברים אדם ניכר: בכוסו, ובכיסו, ובכעסו.. ) She’s not putting on a show for God, she’s letting HIM see what she is really feeling. Because Peninah has abandoned her, her husband doesn’t seem to understand her, and Eili has just accused her of being a drunk – of being someone who pours in alcohol to escape a reality. But in fact, she was pouring OUT her soul, perhaps in anger somewhat, to REFLECT her Reality, to the only being who can hear her and understand her, and Who could connect with her in the deepest way.

          And now that it has come out, she is finally able to eat – a feat which has been inaccessible to her in all of her recent Temple-trips.

          Hashem remembers her  וַיִּזְכְּרֶהָ יְקֹוָק. She remembers Hashem when she names the child. Becauseמֵיְקֹוָק שְׁאִלְתִּיו:. She won’t go to visit the Mishkan until the child is readyוַהֲבִאֹתִיו וְנִרְאָה אֶת־פְּנֵי יְקֹוָק. And when she does come, she explains to Eili that I was the woman who stood here

           לְהִתְפַּלֵּל אֶל־יְקֹוָק:.  EL HASHEM. Not al (על), not Lifnei (לפני). El (אל). To. Close. Intimate. Face to face.  (כז) אֶל־הַנַּעַר הַזֶּה הִתְפַּלָּלְתִּי וַיִּתֵּן יְקֹוָק לִי אֶת־שְׁאֵלָתִי אֲשֶׁר שָׁאַלְתִּי מֵעִמּוֹ:

          I prayed for this child, and Hashem gave me the request I had asked of Him.

          DID YOU HEAR THAT? Chana prayed for the child. But she made a request of Hashem. The child was the afterthought – the REQUEST WAS – GOD I NEED YOU TO SEE MY SUFFERING! I NEED YOU TO SEE HOW ANGRY I AM ! I NEED YOU TO NOT FORGET ME!

          And then my על ה' becomes לפני ה', and then it turns, in retrospect to אל ה'. Intimate. Close. I davened אל ה. I davened אל הנער הזה. אל – to Hashem, אל – for this child. Maybe FOR HASHEM  to be in my life. FOR this child to grace my arms.

          Her thanksgiving Tefillah – even more profound. (ב) אֵין־קָדוֹשׁ כַּיקֹוָק כִּי אֵין בִּלְתֶּךָ וְאֵין צוּר כֵּאלֹהֵינוּ:

          Chana came to the realization – though perhaps she knew this before – that she couldn’t rely on her husband, and even Eili, who should not have judged her but did, was at first unhelpful. The only ONE she could rely on was her own Emunah, her own knowledge, that HKBH is out there, and that He listens.

          And this is why Rachel Frankel’s message is not just special in its own right. It is amazing because here is a woman who went to a similar school of hard knocks as Chana. Not comparing childlessness to losing a child in a horrific terrorist act. But here is a woman who has every right to be angry. Every right to question God. To question His motivation. To reject Him.

          And yet, she seems ever closer. She is able to smile. She is able to share her message of inspiration. I have no doubt in my mind that - if I can borrow a line from tomorrow's Haftorah -  רחל מבכה על בניה. But what she has demonstrated is that through all the tears and all the difficult moments, she sees a much bigger wheel. A much bigger picture. She understands the concept of being a cog, and that each cog has a role. And that the bigger picture of Achdut of Am Yisrael says so much more about who we are as a people than anything.

          She lost a son. And because of it, a woman with no previous platform has chosen to remind her people that HKBH reigns, and that our People, united, can always turn to Him.

          May we be blessed to pray the way Chana did. To express our anger, our frustrations, and to be real. To come על ה, but transition to praying לפני ה, and to finish speaking אל ה. We want to be as close to God as we can. And, hopefully we’ll be blessed to come to the same conclusion these amazing women have come to.

          (ב) אֵין־קָדוֹשׁ כַּיקֹוָק כִּי אֵין בִּלְתֶּךָ וְאֵין צוּר כֵּאלֹהֵינוּ

Captive Taken, Israel Unites As One

Parshat Chukat

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In the beginning of Chapter 21, the Torah tells a tale of how an encounter with the Canaanites of the Negev concluded with the capture of a single captive – which Rashi identifies as a maidservant.

            

While I generally try to shy away from attempts at identifying why this might have happened, Targum Yonatan and others focus on the recent death of Aharon, and the subsequent disappearance of the clouds, as the opening that provided the chance for a military encounter to go sour.

            

The Torah continues the tale explaining that Israel made a vow to God saying, “If you give this nation into my hands, I will turn their city into a ‘cherem’ (will forbid the taking of any booty).”

            

God, in turn, listened to the voice of Israel and allowed them to defeat the Canaanites.

            

Two questions come to mind. Why wouldn’t Moshe pray on behalf of the people, as he has so many times in the past? Why is the language of Israel praying written in the singular – isn’t the whole nation, millions of people, praying?

            

The Shakh explains why Moshe might not have prayed on behalf of the people. Following a line of thinking that appears in many places in the Midrash and Chazal, the Shakh suggests (based on the Yalkut Shimoni) that when the people saw Moshe descending from the mountain with Elazar, and without Aharon, they were suspicious that Moshe had killed his brother.

            

There were actually 3 groups – those who suspected Moshe of murder, those who suspected Elazar of murder, and those who believed Aharon had died a natural death. To squelch all the rumors, the people were given a vision of Aharon being accompanied by angels to the point that all understood that he had died naturally.

            

Two out of three groups were suspicious of murder rendering Moshe uninterested in praying on their behalf. Let them pray for themselves if after 40 years they could even conceive of such a notion that Moshe or Elazar killed their brother/father.

            

The singular language is more compelling of a question to me, but in light of recent events, I think nothing could be more clear as to why the people are depicted as praying in the singular, in the aftermath of one person being taken captive.

            

All I have read is that the country of Israel, as fractured as it sometimes is in times of peace, and when people have time to fight about things that, all told, are not that important, is a different country today than it was before Naftali, Eyal and Gilad were kidnapped. We could surely benefit from the prayer of Moshe at this time. But in the absence of a Moshe Rabbeinu, we are coming together to pray as one.

            

In ancient times all it took was one maidservant being taken captive, and the entire nation of Israel became one. “Israel took a vow (‘vayidar’ – in the singular), ‘If you place the Canaanites in MY hand, I will leave the city desolate (with the cherem).’”

            

The nation and the country of Israel understands this well. The nation as one has taken a vow to “bring our boys back.” As of this writing there was not much news or hopes to hang onto. But the nation of Israel seems united as one, to rid its land of the evil of Hamas, and to destroy the infrastructure that allows evil people to roam freely, to kidnap innocent children because they “are frustrated with the occupation.” And of course, to see the three boys returned to their homes in safety.

            

Most of us do things, and sometimes even regrettable things, when we are frustrated. But we don’t kill people, or kidnap children. Moshe would be very frustrated with even the suspicion of such.

            

That the world accepts the Palestinian narrative that terrorism, and kidnapping, and taking soldiers is a direct result of frustration just speaks volumes of how liberal thinking goes. “If it’s Jews, they can’t be right. They’ve brought it upon themselves. And the frustrated are justified.”

            

Maybe Israel – the nation and the country – can take a vow, using the Torah’s precedent, that if You, God, will help rid this pestilence from our land – whether through political means, relocation strategies, exile, etc, then we, united as one, will not take anything from the cherem, and we will not celebrate the emptiness of once occupied lands.

            

We, as one People, will celebrate that we live in peace, and that our youth need not fear when they hitchhike, because they know they are in a “medinah yehudit” (Jewish country) in which chesed is the guiding principle of Jews helping Jews, because of course the person behind the wheel is concerned only for your welfare.

"Holiness" does not equal "Spirituality"

Parshat Kedoshim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The parsha begins with the charge to the children of Israel to be “Kedoshim” – for I, God explains about Himself, am “Kadosh.”

 The words “Kedoshim” and “Kadosh” have several possible meanings. The Midrash focuses on the concept of separation (Rashi jumps on these coattails) – from immorality, from idolatry. Ramban focuses on the concept of separation, leading us to understand that the word “Kodesh” is meant to be demanding a higher ethic of the children of Israel.

 Many will look at the words and associate the concepts of sanctification and holiness with “Kedusha.” No matter what the words mean,

A Prayer Lesson from the Parah

Parshat Chukat


by Rabbi Avi Billet
When it comes to discussions about the Parah Adumah (red heifer), many look to its symbolism or try to find a message in the concept of a "chok" – which is typically defined as a "mitzvah without a reason." [Though I wrote about this being a Chok with a Reason for Parshat Parah this year.]  Some focus on the unique quality of how the Parah Adumah mixture was metaher temeim and metameh tehorim (purified those who were impure, and made the pure (the one doing the sprinkling) impure).

 In chassidic annals the general approach to this and other symbols is to find moral teachings and ethical lessons that adherents can adapt to their lifestyles.

With regard to the metameh tehorim (etc) idea, the Baal Shem Tov was asked about the paradox that comes with this mitzvah. "If every mitzvah can teach us something about how to serve God, please explain where parah adumah - which turns a person who is already tahor (pure) to be tameh (impure) - fits in. It seems to be working backwards, bringing someone further from the spiritual purity that is the best state in which to serve God. How does it bring one closer to God?"

 The Baal Shem Tov equated this quality [bringing a reverse status on an individual] with the middot of Gayvah (haughtiness) and Anavah (humility).  For a person who is distant from observance of mitzvot and a commitment to serving God, it is good for him to have a little more 'haughtiness' about his capabilities. Instead of saying, "Who am I that I could even conceive that my prayer has any clout, or that there's any hope for me to turn around from my habits?" - that person should have much more confidence. Education or background is unrelated to one's ability to connect with the Almighty.

 On the other hand, a person who feels very strong in one's commitment and dedication to God could use more than a dose of humility in a personal reminder that "You still haven't 'arrived,' and you always need a lot more work before you reach 'that' level."

Many people who are committed to Tefillah and are regular participants in tefillah – whether with a minyan or on an individual basis – get it. The Tehillim groups get it. Those who even take the "Shir Hamaalot" added to the end of davening (in many shuls) seriously, also get it.

Those who ask a Rabbi or a Rebbe to pray for them, but who do not pray for themselves, do not get it. Those who rely on the "power of others," and do not give credit to their own strengths, their own abilities, their own sincerity, do not get it. One does not need to be an observant Jew to feel close to God, to feel dedicated to God, to have a relationship with God. Or even to "influence" God.


One of the greatest models of prayer in the Bible is Chana (Samuel I, Chapters 1-2). According to the Talmud she was a prophetess – though the prophesy which is attributed to her are her prayers. But she was not a rabbi, and she did not serve anyone else, or pray on anyone's behalf other than for herself. Other than being the mother of the prophet Shmuel, her fame is on account of her prayers, and that's it. 


Some people certainly feel God never hears them or responds to their prayers. And there are some people who absolutely feel that God is always listening and they "know" that their prayers have been heard, received, and "now it's in God's hands." 


The message of the Baal Shem Tov is so important because we need to find relevance to our lives in mitzvot that we cannot practice today. There is a tremendous void in a Jewish existence which does not include the Temple in Jerusalem, which will not be rebuilt until the Messianic Era is upon us. When in practice, the Parah Adumah had a profound significance, and played a very important role in the lives of those wishing to visit the Temple. 


The Baal Shem Tov teaches us that the quality of the Parah Adumah is a model for all. Those who seem to have every right to feel haughty and high and mighty about their connection to God need to be reminded that they have much to work on. 


And those who feel that a connection can not be found with God because they are too far away from Him or have too much getting in the way of such a relationship need to take a long look in the mirror and realize that that relationship is not exclusive to anyone. It is there for the taking for those who are ready to grab it.


The Baal Shem Tov's answer is that the paradox is what makes life interesting. There isn't a black or a white – because when it comes to the Red Heifer ritual, "what's black is white and what's white is black," so to speak. But every person must realize that arriving at the opposite extreme of where one currently finds oneself [ie in that the humble needs to exert more confidence, and the very confident needs to find doses of humility] might be the ticket to a more fulfilling relationship with God.

Prayer's Purpose

Parshat Vayera

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The prophet Malachi presents a scenario when God-fearing people present their goodness to God, in contrast to the wicked who felt it was worthless to serve God. "At that time, the God-fearing people spoke to one another. God listened and heard, and a scroll of remembrance was written at His command concerning those who fear God and those who meditate on His Name." (Malachi 3:16)

            

Oddly enough, though the prophet records that a conversation took place, he does not record the conversation.

            

The Talmud (Brachot 6a) uses this passage as a foundation for the idea that two people who sit and share words of Torah merit to have the Divine Shechinah in their midst. The Gemara asks the question, "Why does the verse add the seemingly superfluous phrase regarding those who 'meditate on His name'? Is it not enough to speak of those who fear God?" The answer is offered by Rav Ashi who declares the teaching that "If a person thought to do a mitzvah and was prevented from doing so, he is given credit for having done the mitzvah."

In his "Darash Moshe", Rabbi Moshe Feinstein uses the background of these texts to ask why God found the need to tell Avraham about S'dom. Even if He knew Avraham would pray, He also knew that Avraham's prayer would have no effect. S'dom was doomed, and not even Avraham could save it. True, his nephew Lot could be saved in Avraham's merit, but this was apparently going to happen even without Avraham's intervention.

           

Rav Moshe answers that God wanted Avraham's prayers anyway. Avraham's prayers were powerful and needed to be brought to the earth for a purpose – a purpose and design other than to save the doomed city. In other words, Avraham thought to do a good deed, and even though it didn't work out, he received credit anyway.

            

To bring a similar example from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 44b), we are told that when Avraham prayed near the city of Ai (Bereshit 12:8), his prayers did nothing at the time, but prevented Yehoshua's army from being routed in the Battle of Ai (Yehoshua 7:5) around 465 years later.

This is one element of prayer that is beyond all of us. We simply do not know what our prayers do, what merit they serve to advocate for in our world.

When Nachshon Wachsman z"l, the Israeli soldier kidnapped and killed in 1994 (his yarzeit was this past Monday, 11/7, 10 Cheshvan), his family taught a very powerful lesson regarding prayer. "God always listens, but sometimes His answer is 'No.'" In essence, prayers are needed, but we don't always merit to see what purpose our prayers serve.

            

A few years ago, I was informed of a project taken on by a shul in New Jersey. Different members of the community wrote essays about what prayer means to them, and shared them with the membership. Though seemingly obvious, it turns out that every person brings their own personal experiences into how they view, understand, and relate to the act of "tefillah" – prayer.

            

A colleague shared one of the essays with me, in which the mother of a child-diagnosed-with-cancer had some very poignant insights. She said, "You don't know what prayer is until you find out your child will not outlive you." Most helpful, she said, was when a person who had gone through a similar trial confided in her saying, "There are times when you will be angry at God. You will not be able to pray. Don't worry. The rest of us will be praying for you."

            

These are powerful thoughts. It's not just that every individual has the ability to move mountains. It's that we are all in this together, looking out for one another, making a prayer-contribution because somewhere, somehow, it helps all of us. Perhaps in ways we could not even consider or imagine.

            

Let us make a commitment to consider that as much as the specific words we say may or may not be important, it is the fact that we prayed that is highly significant. Let us remember that not every day is the best of days – we don't always feel right, and we don't always feel it – but others are praying for us. And, of course, sometimes God's answer is "No."

            

Most of all, let us remind ourselves regularly that we're all in this together. If Avraham could pray, even though in the back of his mind he may have known that S'dom was doomed, how much moreso can we pray when we merely think things are grim and hopeless? Those we pray for are millions of times better than the people of S'dom. And we never have any right to think things are hopeless.

            

And in the event that our prayers seem to go unanswered, if we can only imagine that our prayers helped (or will help) someone, somewhere, in a way unbeknownst to us, our tefillah experiences will be exponentially more powerful and carry meaning beyond our wildest imagination!

Contrition Crying

Parshat Devarim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The first Tisha B'Av memory is the incident of the spies, which set in stone the concept of a"b'khiya l'dorot" – a date on which all future generations will have reason to cry. (Taanit 29a)

In the immediate aftermath of the spies debacle, a group of people realized the folly of their complaints and tried to save face through mounting an offensive which was thrown back by Emorites. When our parsha recalls that incident (Devarim 1:45), it is Moshe who recounts it to the people saying, "You returned [from the defeat at the hands of the Emorites] and wept before God; and He did not listen your voice, and did not give an ear to you."

In his commentary, Rabbi J.H. Hertz provides the most profound and poignant message. God did not listen "because their weeping was not the outcome of sorrow over sin; but of sorrow over the consequences of sin. This feeling the old theologians named 'attrition'; in contrast with the sincere penitence – the sorrow over sin itself – which they called contrition. There is all the difference in the world between a man who is contrite and one who is merely 'attrite.'"

Have you ever seen a defendant in court (even on TV) who is obviously guilty? Sometimes the defense lawyer can get the person off on a technicality. Some truly feel badly, but can justify their actions with 'self-defense' (which is generally a valid argument when true). Others have no remorse, but know the prosecution has no real case.

Through the trial and ordeal, they remain stone-faced, showing no emotion. Now the verdict comes in. "Innocent" – defendant is all smiles. "Guilty" – only now, when the realization that "I am going to pay dearly for my actions" sets in, does a person break down and cry. The latter case is 'attrition' – when the "consequences" of my actions cause my feelings of regret and remorse, whilst my actions don't move my stone-cold heart.

"Contrition"is the realization I come to on my own, irrespective of others, that the sin is a bad one, and that there is much work to be done to achieve any semblance of atonement.

We live in a time where "attrition" generally carries the day. I am always right. You are always wrong. There is nothing you can say to get me to change. I am the greatest gift to mankind, and if something comes along and proves I am wrong, that fact or person is lying.

It is only when someone kicks me in the pants real hard that I realize that I have fallen into the mud and that there's a lot of cleaning up that needs to take place before I can get back on my feet. And I only feel this way because I am dirty right now, and I need to look presentable right away.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik said (11/12/73), "Prayer is an art. We have totally forgotten this art. Today it is no more than a mechanical performance. True prayer is more than this. It is an attitude, a state of mind, creating a mood and temperament for the worshiper. It is an exciting experience and an adventure." (Rakeffet, "The Rav, Volume I", KTAV Publishers, p. 146)

In my own life, I have seen very few people who experience true prayer the way Rabbi Soloveitchik described it. I've come to a point that I no longer look at those who cry on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av and think "What's wrong with that guy?" Now I say, "What's wrong with me? How come I can't feel it? How come I can't connect to what I'm doing in such a manner? How come I can't speak to God with heartfelt sincerity? How come I am incapable of letting go, letting everything all out on the table, to ask God to help me, to forgive me, to guide me to the truth and His light?"

Truth be told, this is a lifelong struggle. Some spend a lifetime climbing to a goal, some never quite make it, and some give up along the way.

The question becomes one of attitude and focus. Will we be those who cry from attrition – no apologies, just distaste from the consequences of our actions? Or will we be the ones who are truly penitent, who can admit our mistakes and learn from them after we realize we've committed them? This is a great act of contrition.

As the years continue to bring us further and further from the destroyed Temples, we begin by taking the time to figure out why we are still mourning on Tisha B'Av. If we can pray sincerely, and cry on account of the moving Kinot, our contrition-inspired prayers will help us move mountains in our lifelong quest of getting closer to God.

Siddur and Hebrew class resumes

Tuesdays at the Young Israel of Hollywood - 7:30pm!

We will continue our exploration of common and uncommon prayers in the siddur (prayer book). We read together, and translate word for word and discuss the simple and/or deeper meanings of the texts we study together.

If you can read Hebrew and would like to:

• Practice reading with no pressure to keep an impossible pace
• Understand the prayers you are familiar or even unfamiliar reading
• Discuss topics of Jewish faith, thought, philosophy, in a friendly, non-pressured, intimate environment
• Have fun in the process

Please join us! We'd love to have you participate in our group learning.

See you tonight (and every Tuesday) at 7:30pm, upstairs in the Young Israel of Hollywood.

Taking off Our Tefillin Before Mussaf

I revisited this topic later - see here

At the Shacharis (morning) service of Rosh Chodesh, we take a seemingly out-of-place pause to take off our tefillin (see also here) before reciting the Mussaf service.

Normally, on days they are worn, the tefillin are left on until the end of the service. Why are they taken off early on a day when Mussaf is recited, such as Rosh Chodesh, and Chol Hamoed? [Most people who wear tefillin on Chol Hamoed take them off before Hallel.]

It seems there are a few reasons:
The main reason is recorded by Yosef Caro in his "Beis Yosef" (Tur O”C 25) (see also here for his biography). He says the reason for removing tefillin before Mussaf on Rosh Chodesh is because it is our custom to say the kedusha prayer of “Keter yitnu l’kha” – that God will be given a crown by the angels - and it is inappropriate for us to be wearing a crown (tefillin) when talking about God's crown.

Following this line of thinking, the Rama (Rabbi Moshe Isserlis) says the custom to take the tefillin off before Mussaf should only apply in a synagogue where the "Keter" kedusha is recited, ie. in a Nusach Sfard minyan. [The Ashkenazic community has a different kedusha which does not mention a crown.] However, the custom to remove the tefillin has become widespread and it is the practice everywhere.

Another reason for taking off the tefillin, even when not saying the kedusha of “keter” is because the recitation of Mussaf is akin to bringing sacrificial offerings, which remind us of holiday celebrations. Once we are reciting Mussaf, the day is like a holiday and tefillin are not worn . (Taamei Haminhagim)

When are they to be taken off?

Magen Avraham (Rabbi Avraham Gombiner) (s”k 30) says they are taken off after the Torah is returned to the Ark (he is assuming it is returned after Uva L’Zion, right before Mussaf, as is done on Shabbos and Yom Tov), which rejects the opinion of the L’vush to take the tefillin off before Torah reading. Magen Avraham's reason – it is merely a custom to remove them on Rosh Chodesh before Mussaf, but by no means a halakha (law), so it should be done as late as possible in the davening - but before Mussaf is actually recited.

Mishneh Brurah (s”k 59) records two opinions as to when to remove the tefillin.
a. Since in Ashkenazic synagogues the Torah is returned to the Ark right after the Torah reading (and not after Uva L’tzion or immediately before Mussaf is recited), the custom is to wait until after the kaddish before Mussaf, and then to remove the tefillin.
b. Eliyahu Rabba suggests the tefillin be removed towards the end of Uva L’tzion, but before the kaddish is recited, so as to avoid a hefsek (break) between kaddish and Mussaf.

Shaarei Teshuva (s”k 22) has a fascinating analysis over whether one needs to remove the tefillin at all, particularly in a rushed situation where there isn’t time to take them off. One might be able to move them to the side – off-center on the head – which is considered as if you’re not wearing them. If a person already prayed and put the tefillin back on for studying purposes or the like, and a second minyan is now praying, he need not remove the tefillin during kedusha, even if he says kedusha along with the later minyan. (Orchos Chaim says to cover the tefillin so they won't be visible.) He concludes quoting the Dvar Shmuel who mentions a custom not to remove the tefillin at all during Mussaf, neither on Rosh Chodesh or Chol Hamoed.

Point to Ponder

Mishneh Brurah (s”k 61) raises an interesting point. If the reason for removing the tefillin is to avoid saying “Keter” with tefillin on, then we should be removing the tefillin after the Silent Amidah in anticipation of when we’ll be saying kedusha, not before the silent Amidah. Nonetheless we remove the tefillin even for the silent Amidah. However, if a person forgot to remove the tefillin and is already praying the Mussaf Amidah, he need not pause to take off the tefillin, because taking off the tefillin for Mussaf is only a custom.

The Taz (s”k 16) quotes the Zohar (Kabbalistic work) who says wearing tefillin while saying “keter” is dangerous. There are, nonetheless, two schools of thought:

A. Those who without hesitation took the tefillin off, and

B. He mentions a “certain sage” who would not take his tefillin off for Mussaf, because it was not his custom to say “keter” in kedusha, and he justified his behavior saying he was not destroying a "minhag" because he can rely on the opinion that tefillin may remain on the person’s head.

– ps. Taamei Haminhagim concludes quoting the Zohar in Parshas Pinchas “Someone who prays Mussaf with tefillin on is worthy of death [“chayav mitah” – חייב מיתה]." I don't know what that means, but if taking off the tefillin is all I need to do to avoid such a culpability, I am happy to remove the tefillin before saying Mussaf.