What Yaakov Feared

Last year I addressed the difference between the names Yisrael and Yaakov and their usage in the Torah. I don't know if there is a fool-proof difference between them. In this article, they are used interchangeably simply because the Torah uses them in this fashion in the verses discussed.

Parshat Vayigash

Were one to examine Yisrael's attitude towards going to Egypt, it would be hard to convince us that he was apprehensive about the trip. When he heard Yosef was alive and was convinced by the sight of the wagons that he would be reunited with his favorite son, "His spirit became alive. He said, '... I will go and see him before I die.'" (45:27-28)

And yet, three verses later, after a stopover in Beer Shava to bring offerings to God, Yisrael has a vision in which God tells him, "I am the God of your father. Don't be afraid to go to Egypt, for it is there that I will make you into a great nation. I will go to Egypt with you, and I will also bring you back again..." (46:3-4)

There is no indication that he is afraid of Egypt! What is God talking about?

There are different kinds of fear: fear of the unknown, fear of possible outcomes – especially for one's children, fear of an undesired destination or destiny. One can fear other people, or what the other people might be capable of doing.

Many of the commentators raise the idea that Yaakov was aware that with this journey to Egypt the years of bondage that Avraham had been promised in Bereishit 15 would commence. The Chizkuni, for example, says that God's words after "Don't be afraid" are to assure Yaakov that just as the bondage element of the promise to Avraham would be fulfilled, so would the exodus and the becoming a great nation promises be fulfilled.

Others focus on the fears Yaakov harbored over his and his family's spiritual future. In addition to the fear that he was beginning the exile that had been promised to Avraham, Or HaChaim also mentions Yaakov's fear that he'd be buried in the impure land. God's immediate response is the promise that he personally would not be enslaved, nor buried there. "Perhaps Yaakov had designs on going back to Canaan when the famine was over and the trouble passed… this is why he is told not to fear 'for even the relatively short amount of time you think you're going to be there,' because your family will become a great nation in that place."

Along similar lines, the Beis HaLevi puts Yaakov's fear in terms of his children not being able to be in Egypt and maintain their "kedushah" (holiness). Maybe they'll become so entrenched in the tumah (impurity) of Egypt, they would not be worthy of being redeemed. God therefore told him not to fear, because He would not let them become completely lost, and if need be He would take them out before their time was up.

It is the Seforno, however, who writes what I find to be the most compelling concern. "Don't be afraid to go down to Egypt. Were your children to stay here in Canaan, they would end up marrying the Canaanites and assimilating with them. But in Egypt this will never take place because the Egyptians have their own rules against intermingling with you."

Right after this exchange with God, the Torah lists for us the names of the descendants of Yaakov. The Torah does not tell us much about the wives of the sons of Yaakov. One midrashic thought suggests each of the tribes was born with a twin sister who became a wife to one of the tribes. A different line of thinking posits the wives were Canaanite women who embraced the ways of the family of Yaakov – and listing his children here (46:5-27) would alleviate the fear of a family breakdown as it would serve as a strong indicator that this family unit will remain intact.

If the latter approach is correct, moving the family to Egypt, away from Canaanite grandparents and relatives might actually be the best thing to happen to Yaakov and his family. Creating their own homogeneous environment that will not be influenced by "distance relatives" or Egypt's "live and let live, but we will not mingle with you" attitude could, in the end, become the strongest bond in the effort to stem a tide of assimilation and have everyone in the family remain close-by-design in the Goshen area they will soon occupy.

Consider this statistic: by 1927 (14 years into the Weimar Republic), more than 44% of Jews in Germany married non-Jews (Martin Gilbert, "Final Journey" p.11). (The Nazis counted them all as Jews anyway, but nonetheless, it is a staggering number for early 20^th century stats, versus current US figures where the number wavers in the 50-plus percent range.)

Being in a place like Egypt, therefore, where Egyptian law allowed for engaging in commerce and neighborliness but prohibited assimilating with the Hebrews – wining, dining, and marrying – was a reminder Yaakov desperately needed, and an answer that assuaged his number one fear.

The fear of the silent destruction brought on by the loving environment of assimilation is one Yaakov did not need to express. It is constantly in the mind of every parent, and was Avraham's first concern when he was promised the land (see Seforno, Bereishit 15:8).

At First Sight

Parshat Miketz

by Rabbi Avi Billet


There are a number of mitzvoth which appear in the Torah multiple times: Shabbat, holidays, kosher animals, Shmittah (Sabbatical year), Eved Ivri (Hebrew servant), not to "cook a kid in its mother's milk." Even bris milah, tzitzis and tefillin each appear at least twice. Sometimes there are differences in the repetition, and the repetition usually serves a purpose.

When it comes to narrative, however, the Torah rarely repeats a story. Last week we read the story of Yosef and Potiphar's wife, and when she told her husband the tale, we are told "She said, 'This is what he did to me,'" (39:19) and as the text does not elaborate, we can assume she embellished the details. We need not know what she said, as all we need to know is that Yosef ended up in prision.

After Moshe is given the signs of the snake, the whitened hand, and to pour water from the river to turn it to blood before the people, he does so – the Torah does not repeat the details (Shmot 4:30)

But the two most blatant examples of repeated narrative are the story of Eliezer finding Rivkah (Chapter 24) and Pharaoh's dream here in Chapter 41.

In Eliezer's retelling of his own story, he changes some details to make the story and the setup more palatable to Rivkah's family. He achieves his goal: he convinces them of the divine hand in his trip, they agree to let Rivkah go with him, and Rivkah the wife for Yitzchak whom Eliezer was appointed to find.

But in our narrative, Pharaoh's dream is told to us, and then he repeats it to Yosef for interpretation with a few changes as well.

In his dream Pharaoh was standing "on the river," the first cows were "y'fot mareh," the second cows are "raot mareh v'dakot basar" and they stand next to the first cows. The cows who were "raot mareh v'dakot basar" ate the cows that were "y'fot hamareh."

In his retell Pharaoh stands "on the edge of the river," the first cows are "y'fot toar," the second cows are "dalot, v'raot toar m'od, v'rakot basar," and Pharaoh adds "I have never seen such bad looking cows in Egypt". The cows who were "rakot and raot" ate the first cows. The cows were completely swallowed, but it was not detectable because they looked as they had before [this last sentence is entirely new and was unapparent from the dream itself.]

In the second dream, the stalks are "briyot v'tovot" (healthy and good). The second stalks are described as thin and scorched by the east wind. They consumed the "healthy and full" stalks.

In the retell they are "m'layot v'tovot" (full and good). The second stalks are described as thin and scorched by the east wind, but are also "tz'numot" (shriveled). They consumed the "good" stalks.

Why the differences? Unlike Eliezer, Pharaoh isn't trying to convince Yosef of anything.

Or is he?

The Midrash Sechel Tov suggests Pharaoh dreamt the interpretation to the dream along with the dream, but forgot it. How else could he know that Yosef's interpretation was the correct one? Surely others tried interpreting it for him. Once he heard Yosef's interpretations, however, it triggered the memory, and he knew it was correct.

This line of thinking makes a lot of sense when we consider that Yosef's interpretation should have ended with verse 41:32 when he said "The reason that Pharaoh had the same dream twice is because the process has already been set in motion by God, and God is rushing to do it." But Yosef continued and said, "Now Pharaoh must seek out a man with insight and wisdom, and place him in charge of Egypt."

How did he get away with this bold statement?

Because when Pharaoh first laid eyes on Yosef, a memory was triggered that told him "This is the man who will interpret, this is the man I must keep close to me."

In other words, Pharaoh wanted Yosef to interpret correctly and to suggest a man be appointed, and Pharaoh presented the dreams with his own commentary in order to help Yosef produce the interpretation Pharaoh could not pull out of his subconscious mind.

First impressions are very powerful. Sometimes you meet someone for the first time and feel kinship, or feel this person is a person you'd like to get to know better. And sometimes there's a feeling you can't put your finger on that tells you this person will be a lifelong friend. There are many married couples who will tell you "they knew" when they first met, even if they did not hear bells and whistles or experience what Hollywood calls "love at first sight" (a concept I don't believe in).

Because Pharaoh wanted this encounter to work out (as he immediately set in motion in 41:38-35), he took the steps he needed to in order to give Yosef the chance to "earn" being close to him, the reward he carried for the rest of their days.

Another Reason For 8 Days of Chanukah?

For an expanded version on this subject, built on the idea of the following, see here

One of the questions that comes up each year is "If there was enough oil to last 1 day, and it lasted 8 days, the miracle was really for 7 days. The first day was not a miracle. So why do we have EIGHT DAYS of Chanukah?"
There are many answers to this question. Most of the answers aim to answer the related question of "How do we view the first day as a miracle as well?" Answers to a different related question would also suffice: "Is there a significance to the number eight that fits into this story?"

Two of the more known answers to the latter question are:
1. The rededication of the Temple was meant to emulate the original dedication of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, which was an Eight-Day-Celebration.
2. On account of the war, the Maccabees were unable to adequately celebrate the holiday of Sukkot. As such, upon the rededication of the Temple, they created a make-up for the holiday they missed. Since Biblically speaking the holiday of Sukkot + Shmini Atzeret is an eight-day period, this served as the model for the Chanukah time span.

Here I offer another possibility. I do not base this in any historical document or anything I found. But a unique connection came to me as I reviewed the decrees that traditionally accepted view of history offers as the background to the rebellion of the few against the many.

The Greeks aimed to destroy three fundamental tenets of Jewish life:
1. Shabbos
2. Rosh Chodesh
3. Bris Milah

Being a mohel, this simple (yet, I feel, profound) connection was staring me straight in the face.

There are all kinds of reasons suggested for why a bris takes place on the eighth day of life. One of them focuses on the idea that the baby will certainly experience a shabbos before he has his bris.

Chanukah goes for eight days, therefore, to remind us the eight-day period that leads up to a bris.
An Eight-day holiday will certainly contain a shabbos.
The fact that Chanukah begins towards the end of Kislev, on the 25th of the month, assures that Rosh Chodesh Tevet will always be observed during Chanukah.

Military celebrations alone are typically celebrated for one day. Think V-E Day (May 8) V-J Day (Sept 2), Purim (14 Adar). By all rights, Chanukah should have been a 1-day holiday.

But Chanukah is meant to be more than just a tribute to a specific date. It is a highly symbolic holiday that represents a victory over assimilation, a commitment to Jewish tradition, mitzvot, and heritage, a reemergence of a "fighting Jew," and the return of Jewish autonomy to our ancient homeland.

And if, in the background, the dates and length of the celebration can serve as a reminder to what we overcame from the perspective of those who made decrees threatening our way of life - what could be wrong with it? It gives us a constant reminder of the test that challenged our people, and the lifestyle the victorious Maccabess sought to preserve.

Right, Wrong, and Moral Justifications

Parshat Vayeshev


by Rabbi Avi Billet

A poignant Midrash in Ruth Rabba (5:6) argues that had Reuven, Aharon and Boaz known that certain minor kindnesses they performed would be recorded in the Bible for posterity, they might have done things differently. Instead of "planning" to save Yosef, Reuven would have carried Yosef home on his shoulders. Instead of coming alone to greet Moshe on his return from Midian, Aharon would have greeted him with a band. Instead of feeding Ruth enough [grain] until she was satisfied, Boaz would have fed her fattened calves.

Perhaps we can argue that had Yehuda (Bereishit Chapter 38) and King David (Shmuel II 11-12) been aware that their bedroom faux-pas would be recorded for posterity, they would have been more discreet and might not have even succumbed to the evil temptation that caused them to sin.

Yehuda's (unbeknownst) rendezvous with his daughter-in-law Tamar is such a scandal on so many levels, yet there is nonetheless a significant attempt by Chazal (the Rabbis of yesteryear) to whitewash it. The Artscroll Chumash commentary, for example, begins this section with the title, "The moral basis for the story of the union of Tamar and Yehuda."

Suffice it to say, objectively the only moral basis for the events "at the moment they transpired" can be found in Kabbalistic works. In many respects, Tamar's role, unseemly as it looks, is given a lot more credit than Yehuda's role. Yehuda only emerges positively at the end, when he admits Tamar's righteousness, and his own error which caused her to pursue her desperate measures.

Long term, the Tanakh (Bible) vindicates the downsides of the story. Yehuda achieves kingship for his tribe, as the older child born of his union with Tamar, Peretz, continues the line to King David, the eternal father of the royal family, and of the Messiah.

Why does the Torah tell us this story, then, if it takes hundreds of years for us, the readers, to see that everything, in the long term, is really OK?

Because there is a difference between destiny and the here and now. Because there is a difference between right and wrong. And because the Torah does not hide from the truth – sometimes the truth teaches us a model lesson, and sometimes the truth teaches us what not to do.

The story of the deaths of Yehuda's sons, while tragic, informs us that the patriarchs knew of the concept of yibum (the levirate marriage). That Yehuda withheld his third son, Shelah, from wedding Tamar, may reflect negatively or positively on Yehuda, depending on one's perspective. That Tamar felt the need to have Yehuda perform the yibum may also reflect negatively or positively on her, depending on one's perspective.

Last week, one of the publications of students of Yeshiva University posted a short story online that caused quite a stir. As the plot of the story did not jive with the values of the institution, many found it offensive, and wrong to appear under the name of Yeshiva University. Some argued that "freedom of expression" should allow for objectionable content to appear. I am of the opinion that students can write what they want, but should find different venues to print particular pieces that might reflect poorly on the institution – we are, after all, referring to a Yeshiva, and an institution that represents Torah and a commitment to halakhic Judaism.

One comment on the online posting of the story in question said, "I don't understand why people are so upset. I can find much more graphic sexual activity in the tanach and that may I remind you was written by God."

This is the problem. Because "God wrote about it" means everyone has a free pass to write about these kinds of outside-of-marriage encounters? "God writing about it," so to speak, is an example of the Divine using unique judgment to share what we need to know about, and to avoid sharing the stories we need not know about.

The difference between the Torah's tales and creative writing is that the human heroes of the Bible recognized their errors, felt shame even before they were caught, and even admitted their mistakes in a public forum.

People today who engage in the sins of this variety may or may not recognize their errors, or feel shame before being caught, and rarely admit publicly that they made a mistake (the author of the story in question is "Anonymous"). Even if they personally feel they've made a mistake, they might keep it between themselves and God for the rest of their lives.

Yehuda didn't excuse his behavior either, neither blaming it on his society, culture, or even the fact that he felt lonely after the death of his wife.

Without going through moral justifications, some of the lessons that come out of the story include: the need to be truthful, to follow up on a promise, not to embarrass someone (Bava Metzia 59a), to look out for yourself, to create your own destiny, to admit your mistakes. You hope God will justify your choices in good time, but in the here and now, we must make every effort to do what's right the first time.

But the Children...

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Towards the end of the conversation Yaakov has with Eisav about their future, Yaakov's final insistence that he cannot accompany Eisav to Seir puts the blame where most of us might put it.

'My lord,' replied Jacob, 'you know that the children are weak, and I have responsibility for the nursing sheep and cattle. If they are driven hard for even one day, all the sheep will die. Please go ahead of me, my lord. I will lead my group slowly, following the pace of the work that I have ahead of me, and the pace of the children. I will eventually come to [you], my lord, in Seir.'

When he describes the "regel ha'yladim" (the feet (pace) of the children) as the culprit for his having to move much slower, Ibn Ezra, Seforno and Ramban believe he is referring to his own children, "the oldest of whom is 12 and a few days" (Ibn Ezra). This could be supported by the verse that opens the chapter, in which Yaakov's children are referred to as "y'ladim" twice.

Others, however, believe Yaakov is referring to the children of his adult sheep who are weak and unable to be pushed hard to travel. Chizkuni (33:13), for example, points out that Yaakov placed his wives and children on camels (referring to 31:17), implying that their (the children's) inability to walk would be a non-factor.

A number of Midrashim take the reference to the weak children as a metaphor for a different time and place. It either refers to Moshe and Aharon, with the sheep being the Israelite nation who might have died in the days of Andaryanus were it not for the mercy of God, or to David and Shlomo, with the sheep again referring to the Israelite nation who might have died in the days of Haman were it not for God's mercy (Bereshit Raba Vayishlach 78).

The Medrash Agada puts a different spin on what it is the children can't handle: the burden of Gehinnom. If you push them too hard one day, they'll have no hope.

Yalkut Shimoni has two accounts which include the children metaphor referring to Chananya, Mishael and Azarya on the one hand, and the Messiah on the other hand.

The Chizkuni's interpretation is most sensible to me. One has to imagine that wealthy Yaakov's children were riding on camels, and that there is no way he would force them to walk to the point that they would not be able to continue. Sheep, on the other hand, would be afforded no such luxury.

And, as compelling as the midrashic interpretations are, I can't imagine Yaakov really had such images in mind when addressing his brother Eisav.

If Yaakov's children were riding on camels, why then did Yaakov blame his intent not to join Eisav on his small children? It may be true, as the Midrash Sechel Tov points out, that their age demanded much attention. But why couldn't Yaakov just be up front with Eisav? Why couldn't he say, "I don't think your place is the right environment for me"? His kids might not have cared where they ended up! Why blame them, when it is Yaakov who wants no part of it?

Because, as many of us well know, the most important decisions we make in our lives are heavily influenced by our children and their needs.

I know one family who chose to raise their children in a small town close to where the specific Orthodox day school they admired was located. I know of families that have specifically sought jobs in larger Jewish communities - even though they preferred a smaller or "out of town" environment - where the special education needs of one of their children could be met.

I am sure you can think of countless examples when you or your parents made important life choices that were heavily influenced by the effect and impact it would have on children.

On the flip side, there are sacrifices we make on account of our children. Sometimes we come late to or miss events we would have liked to attend because "something came up." It may be a medical emergency, or a meltdown, or a tough night at the negotiating table (ie "you are going to bed right now, or else...").

In our society, when the "detained on account of child" excuse is real, we always hope those who were offended could be forgiving and understanding.

On the other hand, there may be times when people overuse the "child" excuse to the point they are no longer believed.

Was Yaakov being truthful in his blaming his inability to continue the journey on his children? Maybe yes, maybe no. But Yaakov knew that with the right person, and presented in the right way, it is hard to refute a fallback excuse that includes the words "My kids are small and incapable of making the journey."

This is one of the shared elements of the human condition – once we have children, our lives become inexorably linked to their immediate needs when duty calls.

When to Name a Jewish Child

I dedicate this week's dvar torah to the memory of a friend, Jason Botnick, (see here), who tragically passed away this past weekend (In November 2011) after losing his battle with Leukemia. 

Parshat Vayetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

The Torah never addresses when a newborn is to be named; just about every Biblical figure who is introduced at birth is named right away. This would not come as much of a shock in a pre-Avraham and pre-Bris era. But the fact that Yitzchak, Yaakov, Eisav, and all of Yaakov's sons (chapters 29-30) (perhaps with the exception of Binyamin's second name in 35:18) are named the moment they are born (or so it seems) stands to leave open the idea that in Biblical times, boys were named before the bris.

In a pre-Sinai world, certainly girls were not named when the new father received an aliyah to the Torah – Dinah, for example, seems to be named at her birth.

Why do we name our children when we do: the boy at the bris, and the girl at a Torah reading? Is there significance to the public display of naming a baby?

Avram received his new name after his bris, yet Yitzchak received his name the minute he was born, if not before he was born. Yitzchak's circumstance can be taken off the table, however, because his name was given to him by God, before he was even conceived. But Yitzchak's sons and Yaakov's sons are still an argument pro pre-bris naming.

Yossele Weisberg z"l, one of the most prominent mohels in Jerusalem until his passing around 10 years ago, dedicated a chapter of his magnum opus on the laws and practices of the Bris Milah experience, "Otzar Habris," to the customs surrounding when we name both boys and girls.

He records 4 reasons for why a boy is named at his bris:

1. At the time we are involved in blessing the child (ie. we say a "mi sheberach" after the bris), it is appropriate to refer to him by name. This would imply that the bris is the latest we can name a boy.
2. Until his bris, he carries the name of an "arel" ערל (uncircumcised), which must be changed to a proper Jewish name as soon as possible after his circumcision.
3. When we give the name with the formula of "Kayem" קיים את הילד הזה לאביו ולאמו ויקרא שמו בישראל... (establish this baby to his mother and father with the following Jewish name…), we are asking for the name to carry with it "God's approval," which would surely be most forthcoming once the child is circumcised.
4. Once he is circumcised, and has arrived at his personal physical "completion" (shlemut), it is the right time for him to be given his name.

The book Matamim, which explains the reasons for many customs, includes an explanation that focuses on the verse in Bereshit 2:19 – וכל אשר יקרא לו האדם נפש חיה הוא שמו - "Whatever the man called each living thing [would] remain its name." He quotes a thought from the book Toras Emes who points out that an acronym of the first five words of this phrase are the letters of the name Eliyahu/Elijah - אליהו. The first letters of the next three words, Nun, Chet and Heh have a numerical value of 63 (50+8+5), which is the same value as the word Navi – נביא – prophet.  The last word is "Sh'mo" (it's name), Thus, when Elijah the Prophet is present, that is when "his name" [the child's, that is] is proclaimed. The only problem with this teaching is that the verse pre-dates any practice of including Elijah at the bris. As nice as it is, it can not be used in practical terms to explain why the baby is named at his bris, and not before his bris.

When it comes to naming girls, Yossele Weisberg records 6 different customs as to when it could be done: 1. the day she is born, 2. on the first Torah-reading day closest to her birth, 3. the Shabbos immediately after her birth, 4. to wait at least five days from her birth (unless her 3^rd or 4^th day is Shabbos), 5. on the 2^nd Shabbos of her life, 6. 30 days after her birth.

Rabbi Shabtai Lipschitz of Orsziwa (Galicia) wrote a book called Bris Avos, in which he explains this last custom (waiting a month) based on a known connection women have to the moon and Rosh Chodesh. Just as the moon has a monthly cycle, women have a monthly cycle. The Rosh Chodesh connection is deeper, but no one suggests she be named specifically on Rosh Chodesh.

Rabbi Lipschitz's final point is that just as the father provides the name of his son to the one who announces it at the bris, he should verbally say his daughter's name to whomever (Rabbi, gabbai, chazzan, etc) will be announcing it along with a "Mi Sheberach."

There might be room to suggest Yaakov's sons were named after they were circumcised, but in the end, it does not matter whether they were or were not. Giving a name to a child is a significant event in and of itself. So significant, in fact, that Rabbi Jacob Emden declared "it is a mitzvah to rejoice and have a celebratory meal at the time one names his newborn daughter."

It would seem, therefore, that the naming of a boy at his bris, and a girl on a Torah reading day, particularly on Shabbos, would become a matter of convenience. The significance of the naming itself is a cause for celebration – so our tacking it onto a party we're making in honor of a bris, or in honor of Shabbos (or even any Torah-reading day) makes sense from a practical point of view – have one major expense at a time we'd be celebrating anyway.

May our children grow to fulfill our dreams and wishes for them, no matter when they are named. And may we merit to help them realize their potential in the best possible way.

ps. In the event that a baby's bris is delayed for a significant period of time on account of health concerns, most authorities recommend naming the child (some say to name him even before his eighth day - when his bris might have otherwise taken place) so prayers can be offered on his behalf in the proper fashion: utilizing his Jewish name.

Beer ShEva or Beer ShAva? Symbolic or Irrelevant?

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

This may seem trivial. And to be honest, I may be completely wrong. But I can't help thinking there's something deeper behind the names Avraham and Yitzchak seem to give to the city where they each forge a treaty with Avimelekh.

Before we proceed with the evidence, we begin with a disclaimer: I am aware that there are words whose vowels change when they land on the cantillation marks of "Etnachta" and "Sof Pasuk." The change usually involves a segol (the "eh" sound) or a patach (the "ah" sound) becoming a kamatz (more like an "uh" sound). Names, such as "Yefet/Yafet" and "Peleg/Paleg" are prime examples of the former, while Canaan and Mitzrayim (Egypt) are classics in the latter category.

In Chapter 21:28-31, Avraham gave 7 sheep to Avimelekh in exchange for peace (don't we wish it were that easy today?), then he called the name of the place "Beer ShAva, because they both swore (nish'b'oo) to one another." Note, of course, that the word "Shava" has an "Etnachta" mark under it. But was the city named for the seven sheep, or for the swear? If the former, it should be Beer Sheva (7). But if it's for the swear, it should be Beer Shava (on account of the swear).

It seems the jury is out on this one. Targum Yonatan thinks the city was named for the seven sheep. The Malbim and Alshikh say it was named for the swear (Alshikh even raises this discussion!). And Radak thinks both events were included in the city's name calculation.

In Yitzchak's case, Avimelekh similarly makes an agreement with Yitzchak, which they swear to maintain (26:31). After Yitzchak sends Avimelekh and Fichol on their merry way, Yitzchak's servants inform him that they've found a well – from all indications, it is the seventh well in Yitzchak's arsenal.

They call the well "Shivah..." (26:33) Rashi claims the well is thus named because of the swear. Seforno claims the well is thus named because it is the seventh well. Chizkuni argues that the well was named for the city they were in – the one that had been named by Avraham.

The verse continues, "Therefore the name of the city is Beer Sheva until this day." (26:33) Is it named for the name of the well, or the fact that there are seven wells? Or is it named for the swear? Whether it is called Beer Sheva for the name of the well or in honor of seven wells seems to be irrelevant. The city is given a name which includes the number seven: "Beer Sheva."

Meshekh Hokhmah argues most sensibly that Avimelekh broke his treaty with Avraham when he threw Yitzchak out of Gerar. Therefore, one of the reasons posited for why Yitzchak has to name the city Beer Sheva is to follow his father's footsteps, on account of the new treaty. The difference is that Avraham never named the city Beer Sheva – only Beer Shava.

It could be that the names Avraham and Yitzchak gave to the city (or cities) were the same, and that coincidence has Avraham's city always having an Etnachta or Sof Pasuk under it when it appears in the Torah, so it appears as Beer Shava.

On the other hand, it is interesting to note that after Yitzchak names the city, the only other person in the Torah connected with Beer Shava is Yaakov – the only person in the Torah that bears two identifying names at the same time.

Is there significance to this connection?

Chizkuni in 21:31 says it wasn't called "Beer Sheva" until Yitzchak's days, while Rashbam (26:33) argues that there are two separate cities with the same name. [In the Neviim books, the phrase "From Dan to Beer Sheva/Shava," identifying the Northern and Southern borders of tribal Israel, seems to interchange Sheva and Shava freely.]

The Chizkuni's notion is very compelling in light of the comparison to the notion of Yaakov's name change. Yaakov had his name changed to Israel later in life, and yet he never lost his original identity.

Whatever Yitzchak's reason for calling the city Beer Sheva, the fact is that his experience mimicked his father's but was not exactly the same. That a city's name could be inspired by two different promises (one broken), and different variations on the number seven (a significant number in the Torah), stands to reason that the city itself will stand for different things to different people.

The subtlety might otherwise only be noticed by the postal service (though in Israel, they don't usually vowelize their words, so it's a non issue). Like Yaakov, however, two names represent a local and national identity. One was for the times and reasons our forefathers lived there, and the other is as a symbol of the eternal borders of the homeland of our people – a symbol of the everlasting connection of our people to the heartland of Israel.  

Shidduch Resumes

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I've heard it said a number of times that were Yitzchak and Rivkah alive today, there is no way they'd get married.

One can only imagine the report Avraham, "the gadol hador," would receive from his servant, the shadchan (matchmaker), after he interviewed Rivkah for the first time. "Family: Unrepentant idolators (father tried to kill me during our meeting), incorrigible brother; Girl: Very confident, thinks for herself, knows what she wants, a little on the young side."

For Yitzchak, it might read something like this: "Family: Mother dead, Father very old. Very God-fearing. Boy: 40 years old, still lives at home (possibly lives in the Negev), not very talkative, no real-world experience except for the time his father almost offered him as a sacrifice."

Rivkah resembled the very confident women I sometimes read about, who are so intimidating in their self-awareness that they never marry. Some women like this were married before they became what they are – following the advice of my grandmother who believes people should get married younger, before they become too smart for themselves.

To be fair, I know of a few successful, professional, "frum" women who were unable to find spouses (not that they didn't try), who opted to have a child through IVF in their mid to late 30s. This decision comes about after a thought process that includes, "I am not going to give up my chance of having a baby, just because I was unable to find a husband."

I will not pass judgment on either type. All kinds of permutations play into the lives people live and the choices they make (and this applies to men too – except they don't have the opportunity to give birth).

But I think Rivkah's choice to go with Avraham's servant was a coda to a wonderful first impression she gave him. And, in a sense, the timing was perfect for her to go to marry Yitzchak, because as confident and self-aware as she was, she was young enough to recognize that marriage was something she wanted, and that the opportunity she had before her may have been a once-in-a-lifetime chance to leave her surroundings and join what would undoubtedly become a great nation. In 24:49, the servant said if she wouldn't come, he would look elsewhere.

In Rivkah's case, the situation played out poetically. Avraham's servant felt that after her father and brother said "This is from God" (24:50) it was a done deal. All he needed to do was go. And so he was a bit surprised at the hesitation on the part of her family when he begged permission to leave with Rivkah.

Her brother and mother replied, '[At least] let the girl remain with us for another year or ten [months]. Then she can go.' (24:55)

He persisted that he must be on his way.

They replied "Let's call the girl and ask her personally." They summoned Rivkah and said to her, 'Do you want to go with this man?' 'I will go,' she replied. (24:57-58)

The implications of these comments are compelling.

The Alshikh claims they only agreed to let her go because they assumed they would be rewarded handsomely. As soon as they were merely given "migdanot" (mere gifts, or fruits), they tried their delay tactics. They didn't say "You can take her." They said "She'll go" (24:51) – implying "When she's ready, but not with you." They tried to demean him by asking Rivkah "Will you go with this man" as if he's a man undeserving of respect.

The Ta"Z adds that they were asking in a pejorative manner "Do you really want to go with this guy?" to suggest a wonder over how she might even entertain the notion. Had they been asking her opinion, they would have added the words "Im lo" (or not) as if presenting both sides of the question. Her answering "I will go" implies that she was going of her own accord, even if they did not want her to go – as Rashi suggsted.

Rashbam says they tried to suggest to her to wait a while in case a different man may come along to capture her attention. Radak posits they were even trying to be on the up-and-up when they offered to ask her in front of the servant, "…Lest you think we convinced her to stay without allowing her to share her own feelings," because they thought she wouldn't go.

Rivkah proved that one's actions and feelings and personal accomplishments are more important than any question of pedigree and "yichus."

Every couple has the right to choose how they want to live their Jewish lives, and personal journeys can play as much of a role in determining what that will look like as does their upbringing. Rivkah's qualities and personality were a good counter to the more passive Yitzchak, and served her son Yaakov well for his own dealings with Eisav and Lavan.

If my grandmother is right about young people, then I am glad Rivkah met Yitzchak at the young age she did, because had she waited… who knows if Yitzchak would have been good enough for her?

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!

Washing Before or After Kiddush?

After I published this to the web, I found a more elaborate (and scholarly) discussion of the topic on hirhurim.blogspot.com - similar conclusions, though the directions bringing us there are very different.


Having eaten at the homes of a number of "Yekkes" on shabbos, my wife and I have always admired the German custom to wash before the Kiddush, to allow for Kiddush to flow straight into the Hamotzi and the eating of bread. "Typical yekkes, find a way to be efficient in these meals by cutting corners." It's true. How many people finally figure out where everyone is going to sit, only to have everyone get up again to wash for the bread? A little bit of frustration is easily removed through there being only one "general seating."

I hadn't looked up the law in a while, so I opened up the Shulchan Arukh to find this [I left the notes that link to the comments I record below in bold, underlined]:

שולחן ערוך אורח חיים הלכות שבת סימן רעא

סעיף יב

(נח) אחר שקידש על כוס, נוטל ידיו ומברך ענט"י ואם נטל ידיו קודם קידוש גלי דעתיה דריפתא חביבא ליה, לא יקדש על  היין אלא על הפת.

הגה: (סא) כז וי"א דלכתחלה יש ליטול ידיו קודם הקידוש ולקדש על היין (הרא"ש ומרדכי פרק ע"פ (ורשב"א) והגה"מ פכ"ט, והטור). וכן המנהג פשוט במדינות אלו (סב) ואין לשנות רק בליל פסח, כמו שיתבאר סי' תע"ג.

The Mechaber (Rabbi Yosef Karo) writes: (58) After one has said the Kiddush over [the wine], one washes the hands and recites the blessing over the washing of the hands. If he washes his hands before the Kiddush, he is giving a clear indication that he prefers bread over wine, and he should make the Kiddush over the bread instead of over the wine
Rama: (61) 27 There are those that say that in the first place (l'khatchila) one should wash the hands before Kiddush, then make the Kiddush on the wine [presumably followed by the blessing on the bread]. And this is the obvious custom in these lands, (62) and one should not change except on the eve of Passover [at the seder, when we say the Kiddush first and wash for the matzah considerably later].

מגן אברהם סימן רעא ס"ק כז

כז וי"א דלכתחל' וכו' – דס"ל דאין הקידוש מקרי הפסק כיון דצורך סעודה היא ולכ"ע אסור למזוג הכוס בחמין כמ"ש סי' קס"ו ולמ"ד שם דאסור להפסי' אפי' לשפוך מהקנקן לכוס אסור אחר נטילה:

Magen Avraham 27 According to the Rama, the Kiddush is not considered an interruption (in one's concentration connecting the washing of hands to eating bread) because it is all part of the meal. The wine should be poured before people wash.

משנה ברורה סימן רעא ס"ק נח

(נח) אחר שקידש וכו' - ולא קודם [נח] כדי שלא יפסיק בהקידוש בין נט"י להמוציא [נט] אבל בני ביתו שאינם מקדשין בעצמן אלא יוצאין בשמיעתן מבעה"ב יוכלו ליטול ידיהם קודם:

Mishneh Brurah 58 Should wash after Kiddush – and not before [Kiddush] in order for the Kiddush not to be an interruption between the washing and the hamotzi blessing. But the members of his household, who do not recite Kiddush by themselves and fulfill their obligation through his recitation, they can wash their hands before the Kiddush.

(סא) וי"א דלכתחלה וכו' - דס"ל דאין הקידוש מקרי הפסק כיון שהוא צורך סעודה ולכך יקדש על היין וישתה הכוס ואח"כ יברך המוציא ויבצע הפת וכיון דאינו הפסק ס"ל לרמ"א דטוב לנהוג כן לכתחלה משום דכשאין לו יין ומקדש על הפת בע"כ צריך ליטול ידיו קודם הקידוש [סא] וע"כ טוב לנהוג כן תמיד באופן אחד. ולמזוג את הכוס בחמין אחר הנטילה קודם המוציא ודאי אין לעשות כן לכו"ע כיון דצריך לדקדק יפה שימזוג כדרכו שלא יחסר ושלא יותיר הוי היסח הדעת:

Mishneh Brurah 61 There are those that say that in the first place (l'khatchila) one should wash the hands before Kiddush – because in their opinion, Kiddush is not considered an "interruption" because it is part of the meal. Therefore [one will have washed, then] make Kiddush over the wine, then say the blessing on the bread, and break the bread. And since this is not considered an interruption, it is the opinion of the Rama that this a good practice l'khatchila. For when he does not have wine and he is saying Kiddush on bread, he also has to wash before saying the Kiddush. And it is therefore good to be consistent in one's practice [– ie to always wash before saying the Kiddush]. But pouring hot drinks before Hamotzi should not be done, because checking if you've done it properly and poured the right amount is definitely an interruption.

(סב) ואין לשנות - [סב] וכמה אחרונים כתבו דטפי עדיף לכתחלה לקדש על היין קודם נט"י וכדעת המחבר דבזה יוצא מדינא לכל הדעות ובכמה מקומות נהגו כדבריהם [סג] מיהו אם כבר נטל ידיו קודם קידוש בזה יש לעשות כהרמ"א דאעפ"כ יקדש על יין:

Mishneh Brurah 62 One should not change from this custom [of washing before the Kiddush] – Many Acharonim have written that it is preferred to say Kiddush on the wine before the washing of the hands, following the M'chaber's opinion, because through this one fulfills one's obligation according to all opinions. In some places they followed such an approach. However, if one washed the hands before Kiddush, one should certainly follow the Rama and make the Kiddush over wine [followed by the blessing on the bread].

Summary
Following the snippets as provided, there are 2 ways to go about having the recitation of Kiddush flow straight into Hamotzi.
1. Everyone except the person reciting Kiddush and Hamotzi washes and sits down. Then, after he says Kiddush, he quickly washes – waiting for one person is not considered a 'hefsek'/interruption.
2. Everyone washes first (including the one saying the blessings), and the Kiddush is not considered a hefsek because it is part of the meal.

I like the argument that since Kiddush over bread would also require a washing before Kiddush (in the uncommon circumstance that a person has no wine or grape juice, this is standard procedure), one ought to be consistent and always wash first.

At the same time, there is certainly much to say for the argument that "Kiddush gets its own time" and that "washing and Hamotzi get their own time." In other words, say the Kiddush, then wash – as is the practice in most homes that I have visited – followed by Hamotzi.

Can we change our minhag? Without insulting our parents? I think the answer is YES, as long as we become consistent about it.

Beating the Vultures

Parshat Lekh Lekha

The first of the two significant covenants that were forged between Avraham and God was the Brit Bein Habtarim (Covenant Between the Pieces). In exchange for a promise that he'll have children, that they'll be enslaved for 400 years, but that they'll ultimately inherit the land of Canaan, God asks of Avraham (still Avram at that time) to "Bring for Me a prime heifer, a prime goat, a prime ram, a dove and a young pigeon." (15:9)

The Torah describes what Avram did: "He brought all these for Him. He split them in half, and placed one half opposite the other. The birds, however, he did not split."

Once he set up the halved animals and the whole birds, he was faced with a real problem: "Vultures descended on the carcasses, but Avram drove them away." (15:11)

Between the vision of the stars in which this encounter began, and concluding with the trance that came upon Avram as the sun set (15:12) , it seems that the Brit Bein Habtarim was minimally a 20-hour experience.

What took so long?

Perhaps the verse describing Avram's encounter with the vultures may have taken a lot more time than its press coverage might indicate.

The rabbinic interpretation of the vultures' descent paints a metaphor of Avraham's descendants fighting against those who want to break apart our Covenant with God. But perhaps there is room to interpret the events more literally.

In an interpretation that is difficult to understand literally, the Midrash Hagadol posits that when the vultures came, Avram put the split carcasses next to each other and they returned to life to frighten away their would-be attackers. More in line with the actual wording of the verse, Radak suggests that the vultures only descended on the dead birds (complete carcasses) and not on the animals that were split in half.

Getting into the trenches with Avram, Chizkuni suggests that Avram was literally running back and forth to cover the animals with a sheet – protecting them from the hungry vultures – as he lay in wait for the divine presence to pass between the pieces so the covenant could be set in motion.

There is no question that the vultures coming down were meant to serve as symbolism to Avram for the struggles his descendants would have to go through. The Artscroll Chumash includes a summary of three approaches of what the birds represent: King David, who will be driven away by God before Messiah comes, nations trying to destroy Israel, and nations trying to prevent Israel from serving God.

But I think that the literal interpretation, for a change, perhaps, carries the most profound lesson of all.

When God gives you instructions which are easy enough to carry out, when you do your part it stands to reason that everything else will flow and fall into place. But you can't just expect everything to be perfect. If the task is to cut animals in half, vultures will want to eat the animals before the Covenant is complete.

If the task is to show our children how to daven in shul, someone will talk to you in shul, or the davening won't be conducive to the education you want to provide.

If the task is to learn Torah with our children or to set time to learn with a study partner, all kinds of obstacles and distractions will stand in the way of our doing that which we know we need to do.

If the task is to dedicate time to a worthy cause, every excuse in the world will stand in the way of allowing us to participate in the way we might like.

If the task is to bring guests into our homes, maybe the plumbing will go and the heating or air conditioning will stop working, or they'll overstay their welcome.

No matter the task, everything comes with its own challenges. The lesson we learn from our forefather is one of patience. With perseverance and with the attitude that "If I could just see myself past this obstacle everything will be OK," we can attain the goals we set for ourselves.

Avraham needed to chase away hungry birds. And it may have taken him the better part of the day to get them to give up their attempts at the dead animals. But he stuck with it, received the covenantal promise, and his children did leave, to inherit the Torah and the Land of Israel.

And we're still here today.

Was it worth the annoyance of vultures for a few hours? I am sure our forefather Avraham would respond with a resounding "Yes!"

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.