There are two kinds of schools within Judaism, two types of Beth Midrash: The Beth Midrash of Moshe Rabenu and the Beth Midrash of Avraham Avinu. Although both of them are an integral part of Judaism, the difference between them is critical.
Rambam, in Hilchoth Avodath Kochavim (1:1-3), states that Avraham Avinu started a movement of “emunah” (religious faith). While Rambam sees Avraham’s discovery of God as the result of philosophical contemplation, other interpretations do not believe that this was a purely intellectual discovery, but rather the result of an existential encounter with God. What Avraham discovered is not so much that God exists but that “God is of no importance, unless He is of supreme importance.” (Abraham Joshua Heschel)
This discovery touched Avraham’s entire personality and transformed him into a different human being. It infused him with a great amount of wonder for all existence and deep concern for the wellbeing of mankind. This was not just a matter of the mind but of the heart. As such he became the driving force behind a movement which turned the world on its head. An irresistible movement in which “emunah” (in this instance, deep religious faith), and “chesed” (kindness), became the central pillars. “Emunah” filtered through his very personality and initiated him into an, until then, unknown world. The far-reaching effect of this transformation becomes clear when we remind ourselves of Rashi’s comment that Avraham was able to “convert” many of his contemporaries. Why was he so successful in doing so? Was it because of his great intellect? Surely this must have played a role, but there is little doubt that it was mainly due to the kind of personality he had become. Those who are touched by God do not just add another dimension to their personality but are completely transformed into different people, whilst maintaining their own individuality. Consequently such people are able to connect with others in ways that are not available to those who do not share that experience of God.
To illustrate this transformation, we are reminded of a comment made by Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the founder of the Mussar movement in the nineteenth century, and a man of tremendous spiritual stature, who was once asked, which teacher had influenced him the most, turning his life around. After he answered that the famous tzaddik Rabbi Zundel of Salant was his teacher, he was asked how many years he studied under him, to which Rabbi Yisrael Salanter surprisingly replied that he had never learned under him, but “Ich hobe ihm a mohl gesehen..” (I just saw him once.) That one encounter was enough to set Rabbi Yisrael Salanter on a spiritual path, which led to a movement that inspired tens of thousands of Jews. The personality of Rabbi Zundel of Salant was so deeply affected by his ongoing experience with the reality of God that His presence was ingrained in every aspect of his being. Once Rabbi Salanter discovered this, he became Rabbi Zundel of Salant’s most committed student without a word having been spoken.
This may illustrate Avraham's impact on his surroundings. Confronted by the kind of personality he was, the world around him stood re-created, trembling in a new light, radiating a new spectrum of colors.
Abraham Joshua Heschel’s once observed that we do not need more text books but rather more “text people.” The difference between a student and a disciple is that the student studies the text while a disciple studies the teacher. It is the “middoth tovoth” (the exalted characteristics), the integrity and sensitivity that are the central components to teaching a religious tradition. This is the “grundnorm”, the foundation, on which the Beth Midrash of Avraham Avinu stands, to teach so as to transform and inspire an upheaval in the soul. It is here that we find the roots of Judaism in their most essential form. What we have to understand is that Judaism started as an existential movement in which all that man does, thinks, feels and says is touched by the spirit of God.
We must therefore realize that Judaism did not start as a halachic tradition, as we know it today. It took hundreds of years before the Sinai revelation, with all its halachic implications, became possible. Much had to happen prior to such an exalted moment. Halacha had to grow out of the Abrahamic experience. It is only then that the Beth Midrash of Moshe Rabenu became possible. It is the Beth Midrash of halachic discussion and halachic decision- making. But such a Beth Midrash must first of all be grounded in the existential “emunah” orientated Beth Midrash of Avraham Avinu.
It took hundreds of years before there was a possibility for the Sinai revelation to make any impact. There had to be an incubation time in which concepts of “emunah” took shape and in which the spiritual foundations of Judaism could grow. The grandeur of the Jewish traditional “weltanschauung” had to first grow into maturity and find its way through actual faith experiences before it could transform into a halachic way of living. The Sinai revelation can therefore only be seen as the result of the Beth Midrash of Avraham Avinu, which found its solidification in the halachic foundation of Sinai. It is here that the faith experiences of the generations before Sinai, starting with Avraham were transposed into a practical spiritual way of living.
Purim
MEGILLA
There is a halacha that one must read/hear the Megilla in order. Why? We have all heard the reason why Hashem’s name isn’t mentioned in the Megilla – to show that in reality He was behind every action and that it the miracle was that the different events happened ‘by chance’ in an order by which the Jews managed to survive.
But what of the Jews living through the story? Did they know what was going on? Did they know they were living through the Megilla or did they just think that the events were a series of random events?
This point should make us ask ourselves the same question: do we know that today, in 5768, we are possibly living through the final period of exile culminating in the ultimate geula? Do we see events as unconnected or are we seeing a Megilla unfold before our eyes (note the word Megilla means a scroll and the word ‘megaleh’ means to reveal’).
Crucially, are we seeing the world and its events from the perspective of man (looking at a small piece of a tapestry from the bottom)? Or do we see Hashem’s perspective – the tapestry in all its beauty.
AD D’LO YADA
There is a strange halacha that one should become drunk on Purim so much so as not to know the difference between ‘Blessed is Mordechai’ and ‘Cursed is Haman’. However it is widely known – and experienced - that this level of drunkenness is fairly extreme. Furthermore, we are also expected to daven the ma’ariv service after the Purim seudah and we also know that if one is too drunk to speak before a King, one should not daven.
In order to unravel this mystery we need to understand the message of the Purim story. Let’s analyse the various characters and groups involved in the Purim story and ask whether the following question: did they get the message? Did they know what was actually going on? Let’s see…
Achashverosh: One of the storylines in the Megilla is how the king in the Purim story appears to wield control but in reality, does not. Achashverosh never makes decisions without consulting his ministers, be it Haman or later, Mordechai. He is happy to let a foreigner, Haman the Agagite, to run the country and is seemingly shocked when Esther reveals to him that Haman was plotting to kill the Jews – you’d think he’d know!
Esther: The turning point of the Megilla is when Mordechai tries to convince Esther to save the Jews once Haman’s decree became public. This dialogue in Chapter 4 is very interesting because Esther appears not to be overly bothered with saving the Jewish people. After Mordechai informs her of all the events – just in case those in the palace didn’t know – she still makes excuses for not doing anything i.e. that she would die if she approached the King. Although she is eventually persuaded, at first she didn’t know what was going on.
The Jews: Happily living a life in Persia, the Jews did not seem bothered to heed the call to return to the land of Israel and rebuild the Temple. And there are plenty of midrashim that reflect this theme, for instance the ones which talk about the Jews happily drinking from non-kosher vessels in Achashverosh’s feast. They also seemed happy to bow down to Haman.
Mordechai: At last, someone who understands what is going on: From the start Mordechai would not bow down to Haman – he would not compromise his faith. As soon as he heard the news of Haman’s decree, he tore his clothes and cried out in the center of Shushan. Mordechai was a man of action and through his deeds, managed to save the Jewish people.
Haman: The person who had the plan from the start, Haman understood the situation. He describes the Jews as “one people; scattered and dispersed among the peoples…and the laws of the King they do not observe…” (Esther 3:8). We learn that when the Megilla uses the word King, it really means G-d, and this brings Haman’s statement to a new light: that he understood that the Jews were not united and not serving G-d, which led him to conclude that now would be a good time to attempt to destroy them.
We now realize that the only people who really understood the spiritual messages throughout the Purim story were Mordechai and Haman. Both knew that the Jewish people were not united, in the wrong country and not observant. Whereas Haman used this knowledge to try and destroy the Jews, Mordechai used to save them.
The reason we drink on Purim is because after we are drunk (to a reasonable extent!), we can often have great clarity and the words we speak are usually what we really think. And the main task during the Purim Seudah is to understand the message of the Megilla and the way we do that is to drink ‘until one doesn’t know the difference between ‘Blessed is Mordechai’ and ‘Cursed is Haman’’. This means that we need to understand that in reality, there is no difference between the two of them!
On Purim we need to get to a level where we know that the message of the Purim story is that the Jews should be ‘Am Yisrael, b’eretz Yisrael al pi Torat Yisrael’ (a united people in the land of Israel living according to the Torah). Once we have attained such a level, it is almost arbitrary to differentiate between Mordechai and Haman – both were part of Hashem’s master plan to bring about the eternal redemption of the Jewish people.
NETZACH
We are told that when Mashiach comes, the Jewish year will change and many chagim will no longer be relevant – but Purim will never be nullified. Why is this?
Most chagim celebrate an event in time, for instance Pesach celebrates the Exodus from Egypt and Shavuot celebrates the giving of the Torah. Many people will say that Purim also celebrates such an event. However upon closer examination, you will find that Purim marks an event that never happened.
The central theme of Purim is Haman’s attempt to destroy the Jewish people and his ultimate failure. It is important to understand that this attempt took place in the month of Nisan when the decree was proclaimed - within a short period of time, Haman was hanged. The next 11 months then became a ‘waiting game’ for the Jewish people in which they continued to live normal lives knowing that next spring, there was a day in which it was legal to kill Jews. Mordechai and Esther did manage to obtain a counter-decree permitting the Jews to fight back but Persian law could not prevent the reality of a planned civil war for 13th Adar.
When the day came, there was fighting and the Jews won but the danger was not nearly as much as it would have been had Haman been alive. The main danger had clearly passed with Haman’s death. Therefore, what we are actually celebrating is the non-event of Purim: Haman’s lots did not work and the Jews won.
This victory is more than just a simple ‘good beats bad’ war: since the challenge to the Jewish people was total destruction, the fact that the Jews survived and everything was turned around (as the Megilla says: V’nahafoch Hu – Esther 9:1) meant that a total victory was achieved. And this total victory, though it might be celebrated on Purim, is really a chag for eternity – indeed the story of Purim spread over 11 months in the calendar and the fact that the main events took place on Pesach, a month after the day of Purim in Adar, is not coincidental.
Chagim like Pesach, which celebrates freedom and the miracles done for our forefathers in Egypt, will be surpassed in the future when Mashiach comes. But the concept of Purim will always be relevant at it celebrates the very essence of the eternity (netzach) of the Jewish people as G-d’s chosen nation.
There is a halacha that one must read/hear the Megilla in order. Why? We have all heard the reason why Hashem’s name isn’t mentioned in the Megilla – to show that in reality He was behind every action and that it the miracle was that the different events happened ‘by chance’ in an order by which the Jews managed to survive.
But what of the Jews living through the story? Did they know what was going on? Did they know they were living through the Megilla or did they just think that the events were a series of random events?
This point should make us ask ourselves the same question: do we know that today, in 5768, we are possibly living through the final period of exile culminating in the ultimate geula? Do we see events as unconnected or are we seeing a Megilla unfold before our eyes (note the word Megilla means a scroll and the word ‘megaleh’ means to reveal’).
Crucially, are we seeing the world and its events from the perspective of man (looking at a small piece of a tapestry from the bottom)? Or do we see Hashem’s perspective – the tapestry in all its beauty.
AD D’LO YADA
There is a strange halacha that one should become drunk on Purim so much so as not to know the difference between ‘Blessed is Mordechai’ and ‘Cursed is Haman’. However it is widely known – and experienced - that this level of drunkenness is fairly extreme. Furthermore, we are also expected to daven the ma’ariv service after the Purim seudah and we also know that if one is too drunk to speak before a King, one should not daven.
In order to unravel this mystery we need to understand the message of the Purim story. Let’s analyse the various characters and groups involved in the Purim story and ask whether the following question: did they get the message? Did they know what was actually going on? Let’s see…
Achashverosh: One of the storylines in the Megilla is how the king in the Purim story appears to wield control but in reality, does not. Achashverosh never makes decisions without consulting his ministers, be it Haman or later, Mordechai. He is happy to let a foreigner, Haman the Agagite, to run the country and is seemingly shocked when Esther reveals to him that Haman was plotting to kill the Jews – you’d think he’d know!
Esther: The turning point of the Megilla is when Mordechai tries to convince Esther to save the Jews once Haman’s decree became public. This dialogue in Chapter 4 is very interesting because Esther appears not to be overly bothered with saving the Jewish people. After Mordechai informs her of all the events – just in case those in the palace didn’t know – she still makes excuses for not doing anything i.e. that she would die if she approached the King. Although she is eventually persuaded, at first she didn’t know what was going on.
The Jews: Happily living a life in Persia, the Jews did not seem bothered to heed the call to return to the land of Israel and rebuild the Temple. And there are plenty of midrashim that reflect this theme, for instance the ones which talk about the Jews happily drinking from non-kosher vessels in Achashverosh’s feast. They also seemed happy to bow down to Haman.
Mordechai: At last, someone who understands what is going on: From the start Mordechai would not bow down to Haman – he would not compromise his faith. As soon as he heard the news of Haman’s decree, he tore his clothes and cried out in the center of Shushan. Mordechai was a man of action and through his deeds, managed to save the Jewish people.
Haman: The person who had the plan from the start, Haman understood the situation. He describes the Jews as “one people; scattered and dispersed among the peoples…and the laws of the King they do not observe…” (Esther 3:8). We learn that when the Megilla uses the word King, it really means G-d, and this brings Haman’s statement to a new light: that he understood that the Jews were not united and not serving G-d, which led him to conclude that now would be a good time to attempt to destroy them.
We now realize that the only people who really understood the spiritual messages throughout the Purim story were Mordechai and Haman. Both knew that the Jewish people were not united, in the wrong country and not observant. Whereas Haman used this knowledge to try and destroy the Jews, Mordechai used to save them.
The reason we drink on Purim is because after we are drunk (to a reasonable extent!), we can often have great clarity and the words we speak are usually what we really think. And the main task during the Purim Seudah is to understand the message of the Megilla and the way we do that is to drink ‘until one doesn’t know the difference between ‘Blessed is Mordechai’ and ‘Cursed is Haman’’. This means that we need to understand that in reality, there is no difference between the two of them!
On Purim we need to get to a level where we know that the message of the Purim story is that the Jews should be ‘Am Yisrael, b’eretz Yisrael al pi Torat Yisrael’ (a united people in the land of Israel living according to the Torah). Once we have attained such a level, it is almost arbitrary to differentiate between Mordechai and Haman – both were part of Hashem’s master plan to bring about the eternal redemption of the Jewish people.
NETZACH
We are told that when Mashiach comes, the Jewish year will change and many chagim will no longer be relevant – but Purim will never be nullified. Why is this?
Most chagim celebrate an event in time, for instance Pesach celebrates the Exodus from Egypt and Shavuot celebrates the giving of the Torah. Many people will say that Purim also celebrates such an event. However upon closer examination, you will find that Purim marks an event that never happened.
The central theme of Purim is Haman’s attempt to destroy the Jewish people and his ultimate failure. It is important to understand that this attempt took place in the month of Nisan when the decree was proclaimed - within a short period of time, Haman was hanged. The next 11 months then became a ‘waiting game’ for the Jewish people in which they continued to live normal lives knowing that next spring, there was a day in which it was legal to kill Jews. Mordechai and Esther did manage to obtain a counter-decree permitting the Jews to fight back but Persian law could not prevent the reality of a planned civil war for 13th Adar.
When the day came, there was fighting and the Jews won but the danger was not nearly as much as it would have been had Haman been alive. The main danger had clearly passed with Haman’s death. Therefore, what we are actually celebrating is the non-event of Purim: Haman’s lots did not work and the Jews won.
This victory is more than just a simple ‘good beats bad’ war: since the challenge to the Jewish people was total destruction, the fact that the Jews survived and everything was turned around (as the Megilla says: V’nahafoch Hu – Esther 9:1) meant that a total victory was achieved. And this total victory, though it might be celebrated on Purim, is really a chag for eternity – indeed the story of Purim spread over 11 months in the calendar and the fact that the main events took place on Pesach, a month after the day of Purim in Adar, is not coincidental.
Chagim like Pesach, which celebrates freedom and the miracles done for our forefathers in Egypt, will be surpassed in the future when Mashiach comes. But the concept of Purim will always be relevant at it celebrates the very essence of the eternity (netzach) of the Jewish people as G-d’s chosen nation.
“Hello, it’s the Rabbi…Could you help make up a minyan?”
Depending on our mood, whether we have done other good deeds that day, what’s on TV tonight, whether our football team is playing or not and what’s for supper, we may get in the car, drive off and be the most popular man in the Shul or just stay at home.
A minyan is an intriguing concept. If we really value the Amidah, the silent meditation, as the central point of Tefillah (prayer), why do we have to do it with 9 other people? We can concentrate much better on our own surely? No one to talk to, nothing to look at and no need to worry who’s going to take the services, what kind of voice he has and how long it will take?
Firstly, let us understand the seriousness of what we are doing. To stand upright in front of a King and make our requests (and not just any old requests – we ask for big things like full health, rebuilding of the Temple and peace to Israel!!) is an awesome responsibility. If we just did it on our own, how can we, with all our faults, be taken seriously?
Davening alongside other people allows us to bypass this problem. We aren’t seen as individuals with our merits and failures, which could influence whether our prayers will be accepted; rather we all blend into one community. We learn from Avraham’s attempt to find 10 men in Sodom that that is the minimum number for a community.
But one of the most beautiful concepts of a minyan is that however devoted you are as a Jew, you can never fulfil your obligation to pray to Hashem in full unless you have 9 other willing men to do it with. Even though when you have a minyan you can reach your own personal heights of spirituality and become close with Hashem by concentrating on your Amidah; as long as there is no minyan, you do not have the same ability. This leads to possibly one of the greatest concepts about Judaism: Each person has their own unique potential but it can only be realised within a community.
This fits into a wider concept of ‘Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh LaZeh’ (all Israel are guarantors for one another). This principle is behind the halacha that one can say kiddush for someone who has not heard it yet even after he has said it for himself. In fact, one could say kiddush 100 times on Friday night as long as you are fulfilling other people’s obligations!!
However, you might ask, that’s not fair! Why is it that I don’t get to fulfil my obligation just because someone else isn’t helping me out? The answer is simple: the mission statement of the Jewish people is not to be a nation of individuals with some better or more devoted than others. Rather it is to be a single nation with a single purpose, which is to reflect the oneness of Hashem and His ways onto the world through the study and practice of the Torah to make it a better place.
Which is why next time, when it’s the choice between watching the football or being part of G-d’s plan for the world, helping us to become better people, sensitive to the needs of those around us, we know what to choose!
A minyan is an intriguing concept. If we really value the Amidah, the silent meditation, as the central point of Tefillah (prayer), why do we have to do it with 9 other people? We can concentrate much better on our own surely? No one to talk to, nothing to look at and no need to worry who’s going to take the services, what kind of voice he has and how long it will take?
Firstly, let us understand the seriousness of what we are doing. To stand upright in front of a King and make our requests (and not just any old requests – we ask for big things like full health, rebuilding of the Temple and peace to Israel!!) is an awesome responsibility. If we just did it on our own, how can we, with all our faults, be taken seriously?
Davening alongside other people allows us to bypass this problem. We aren’t seen as individuals with our merits and failures, which could influence whether our prayers will be accepted; rather we all blend into one community. We learn from Avraham’s attempt to find 10 men in Sodom that that is the minimum number for a community.
But one of the most beautiful concepts of a minyan is that however devoted you are as a Jew, you can never fulfil your obligation to pray to Hashem in full unless you have 9 other willing men to do it with. Even though when you have a minyan you can reach your own personal heights of spirituality and become close with Hashem by concentrating on your Amidah; as long as there is no minyan, you do not have the same ability. This leads to possibly one of the greatest concepts about Judaism: Each person has their own unique potential but it can only be realised within a community.
This fits into a wider concept of ‘Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh LaZeh’ (all Israel are guarantors for one another). This principle is behind the halacha that one can say kiddush for someone who has not heard it yet even after he has said it for himself. In fact, one could say kiddush 100 times on Friday night as long as you are fulfilling other people’s obligations!!
However, you might ask, that’s not fair! Why is it that I don’t get to fulfil my obligation just because someone else isn’t helping me out? The answer is simple: the mission statement of the Jewish people is not to be a nation of individuals with some better or more devoted than others. Rather it is to be a single nation with a single purpose, which is to reflect the oneness of Hashem and His ways onto the world through the study and practice of the Torah to make it a better place.
Which is why next time, when it’s the choice between watching the football or being part of G-d’s plan for the world, helping us to become better people, sensitive to the needs of those around us, we know what to choose!
Frumkeit
Nowadays, there are many frum people. In fact, it is quite fashionable to be frum. Being frum often means wearing certain clothes: kippot, black hats, pe’ot, white shirts, black suits. There are frum places, frum phrases and frum pronounciation of Hebrew.
But what does frum mean? In Yiddish, it means ‘pious’ or someone who keeps Mitzvot. However in modern terminology it is a word often used to describe someone who is outwardly observant, or at least more observant than the observer. There has developed a frum culture, which naturally results in the labelling of other things as ‘not frum’.
Another aspect of ‘frumkeit’ is the performing of ‘chumrot’, translated as stringencies, in Jewish law. As opposed to just doing a mitzva (commandment) or keeping a halacha (Jewish law), a chumra can show that a person wants to go beyond the letter of the law and beautify G-d. One notable example in which practically the whole Jewish world does this is at Chanuka, when all one technically needs to do is light one candle each night – yet everyone does more.
However there are times when the chumra can sometimes be taken out of context so much so that the point of why the mitzvah or halacha is done in the first place is forgotten. For instance, a person could refuse to bentsch in front of a woman without her hair covered. In this situation, the person is being very strict on the bentsching side (he could easily just avert his eyes rather than make a big deal out of it) but is at the same time potentially causing embarrassment to the woman in question, something which is a serious sin in Judaism.
The major factor that has been ignored in the mad rush to take on chumrot is that sometimes, by being ‘machmir’ (stringent) in one area, one becomes automatically ‘mekel’ (lenient) in another area. In the above example, the person was machmir on ensuring that he doesn’t even come close to bentsching whilst seeing a woman’s hair (which is forbidden). However he was being mekel on the mitzvah of loving one’s neighbour as oneself. This means that the person has effectively weighed up the situation and decided: I am more concerned to ensure my bentsching is hazard-free than the mitzva of loving my fellow and it makes sense to be lenient on that.
The tragedy in the religious world today is that this analysis is often not carried out and many situations result in a ‘Chilul Hashem’ (desecration of Hashem’s name), which is one of the most serious sins a Jew can do. This can have knock-on effects with secular people viewing the actions of religious Jew as warped and hypocritical.
Another instance of this problem occurring is in the ‘Ba’alei Teshuva’ world. Ba’alei Teshuva is the name for people who have returned to their Jewish roots and have become observant. Whilst this is a beautiful movement consisting of many genuine people’s decisions to lead a Jewish life, it should not be ignored that there are some whose religious growth is predominantly external as opposed to internal. It is all very well changing one’s clothes, name, speech and commitment to mitzvot such as Shabbat and Kashrut – but if the person acts in a ‘holier than thou’ manner, thus deterring others from following his path, it is a travesty for the Jewish people and in particular, the Ba’al Teshuva himself, for he is missing the point of the religion he professes.
Our mission is to ensure that we don’t look to ‘be frum’. Rather we must always be searching for the truth and what G-d really wants us to do. For some, this means taking on mitzvot and becoming a ‘Ba’al Teshuva’ and for others it means evaluating one’s current religious actions and working out whether they are motivated for the right reasons or just to look frum, or frummer than others. For most people, the mission requires both paths; a commitment to grow religiously without leaving others behind; a commitment to be as machmir on the laws of Shabbat as on Ahavat Yisrael, loving fellow Jews; and finally, a commitment to look at life as much as possible with perspective, rather than the narrow perceptions of our desires.
But what does frum mean? In Yiddish, it means ‘pious’ or someone who keeps Mitzvot. However in modern terminology it is a word often used to describe someone who is outwardly observant, or at least more observant than the observer. There has developed a frum culture, which naturally results in the labelling of other things as ‘not frum’.
Another aspect of ‘frumkeit’ is the performing of ‘chumrot’, translated as stringencies, in Jewish law. As opposed to just doing a mitzva (commandment) or keeping a halacha (Jewish law), a chumra can show that a person wants to go beyond the letter of the law and beautify G-d. One notable example in which practically the whole Jewish world does this is at Chanuka, when all one technically needs to do is light one candle each night – yet everyone does more.
However there are times when the chumra can sometimes be taken out of context so much so that the point of why the mitzvah or halacha is done in the first place is forgotten. For instance, a person could refuse to bentsch in front of a woman without her hair covered. In this situation, the person is being very strict on the bentsching side (he could easily just avert his eyes rather than make a big deal out of it) but is at the same time potentially causing embarrassment to the woman in question, something which is a serious sin in Judaism.
The major factor that has been ignored in the mad rush to take on chumrot is that sometimes, by being ‘machmir’ (stringent) in one area, one becomes automatically ‘mekel’ (lenient) in another area. In the above example, the person was machmir on ensuring that he doesn’t even come close to bentsching whilst seeing a woman’s hair (which is forbidden). However he was being mekel on the mitzvah of loving one’s neighbour as oneself. This means that the person has effectively weighed up the situation and decided: I am more concerned to ensure my bentsching is hazard-free than the mitzva of loving my fellow and it makes sense to be lenient on that.
The tragedy in the religious world today is that this analysis is often not carried out and many situations result in a ‘Chilul Hashem’ (desecration of Hashem’s name), which is one of the most serious sins a Jew can do. This can have knock-on effects with secular people viewing the actions of religious Jew as warped and hypocritical.
Another instance of this problem occurring is in the ‘Ba’alei Teshuva’ world. Ba’alei Teshuva is the name for people who have returned to their Jewish roots and have become observant. Whilst this is a beautiful movement consisting of many genuine people’s decisions to lead a Jewish life, it should not be ignored that there are some whose religious growth is predominantly external as opposed to internal. It is all very well changing one’s clothes, name, speech and commitment to mitzvot such as Shabbat and Kashrut – but if the person acts in a ‘holier than thou’ manner, thus deterring others from following his path, it is a travesty for the Jewish people and in particular, the Ba’al Teshuva himself, for he is missing the point of the religion he professes.
Our mission is to ensure that we don’t look to ‘be frum’. Rather we must always be searching for the truth and what G-d really wants us to do. For some, this means taking on mitzvot and becoming a ‘Ba’al Teshuva’ and for others it means evaluating one’s current religious actions and working out whether they are motivated for the right reasons or just to look frum, or frummer than others. For most people, the mission requires both paths; a commitment to grow religiously without leaving others behind; a commitment to be as machmir on the laws of Shabbat as on Ahavat Yisrael, loving fellow Jews; and finally, a commitment to look at life as much as possible with perspective, rather than the narrow perceptions of our desires.
Missing the Point
There was once a man who walked into a shul. He didn’t have any background in Judaism; in fact he had never even contemplated the thought of doing anything Jewish. But he decides to try it one day and goes to Shul on Yom Kippur. He sees the masses of people, anticipates what could be so interesting and walks into the main hall, sees a friend and says hello, when suddenly – “STOP, how dare you! You can’t talk during the Amidah!” The man realises that this is not a place where he wants to be and promptly walks out, back to his everyday existence. He eventually marries and has children, who don’t even know they are Jewish. Fifty years later, he has many grandchildren, some of whom aren’t even halachically Jewish anymore – but no-one knows or cares.
What’s more important? Preventing one person from talking during the Amidah or a potential lifetime of involvement in Judaism plus the added benefit of keeping generations of Jews within the fold?
If there is one principle that underlies Judaism, it is Achdut – unity between all Jews. You can look frum, talk frum, daven frum but if you have just ONE broygus with any Jew, you still have work to do.
This time of the year is very appropriate for working on this particular issue. The mitzvot of Purim and Pesach are geared towards bringing Jews closer together: Mishloach Manot, Seder night with the family and tzedaka at both Purim & Pesach. The stories of Purim and Pesach both discuss the transformation from a group of individuals to a Jewish nation. We start the special 4 Parshiot which occur in Adar and Nisan with Parshat Shekalim, where we record the half shekel that every Jew had to donate – not a whole shekel, to show that no-one is more important than anyone else – we are only a half, we need others to make us whole.
Our challenge then is to think about what we say and always be welcoming at all times. As representatives of the Jewish people, we have the ability to enthuse the man in the above story with how amazingly rich Jewish life is – or we can criticise him for a ‘crime’ that he didn’t even know was wrong. We have the power to change lives in major ways. All we need is a little perspective…
As a postscript, I should add that I know at least two families who were nearly scared away from Orthodox shuls: one because they were told off for not keeping Shabbat; the other because someone was rude to them in Shul. B’H, both those families didn’t leave and have contributed so much to Jewish life; made up thousands of minyanim; educated adults and children alike in the love of Torah; set up Jewish continuity organisations; given Shabbat hospitality; the list is endless. The sad fact is, that for these two families that stayed, there are probably twenty that didn’t. It’s our responsibility to change that for the future.
What’s more important? Preventing one person from talking during the Amidah or a potential lifetime of involvement in Judaism plus the added benefit of keeping generations of Jews within the fold?
If there is one principle that underlies Judaism, it is Achdut – unity between all Jews. You can look frum, talk frum, daven frum but if you have just ONE broygus with any Jew, you still have work to do.
This time of the year is very appropriate for working on this particular issue. The mitzvot of Purim and Pesach are geared towards bringing Jews closer together: Mishloach Manot, Seder night with the family and tzedaka at both Purim & Pesach. The stories of Purim and Pesach both discuss the transformation from a group of individuals to a Jewish nation. We start the special 4 Parshiot which occur in Adar and Nisan with Parshat Shekalim, where we record the half shekel that every Jew had to donate – not a whole shekel, to show that no-one is more important than anyone else – we are only a half, we need others to make us whole.
Our challenge then is to think about what we say and always be welcoming at all times. As representatives of the Jewish people, we have the ability to enthuse the man in the above story with how amazingly rich Jewish life is – or we can criticise him for a ‘crime’ that he didn’t even know was wrong. We have the power to change lives in major ways. All we need is a little perspective…
As a postscript, I should add that I know at least two families who were nearly scared away from Orthodox shuls: one because they were told off for not keeping Shabbat; the other because someone was rude to them in Shul. B’H, both those families didn’t leave and have contributed so much to Jewish life; made up thousands of minyanim; educated adults and children alike in the love of Torah; set up Jewish continuity organisations; given Shabbat hospitality; the list is endless. The sad fact is, that for these two families that stayed, there are probably twenty that didn’t. It’s our responsibility to change that for the future.
Optimism & Judging Everything Favourably (JEF!)
There is a famous Jewish concept from Pirkei Avot (1:6) that one should judge all of mankind favourably. Rav Bartenura explains this mishna as the requirement to give the benefit of the doubt to a person who has done a questionable act and whose reputation hangs in the balance between being righteous or not. Another explanation comes from the Sfat Emet, who says that even if you know a person’s action is bad in one instance, you should still judge the person (the mishna uses the expression ‘ha’adam’ implying the whole person) favourably, when you consider his other merits and deeds. In addition to all this, Pirkei Avot also enjoins us to learn from all people (4:1) as well as not to be disdainful of anyone or anything (4:3).
We see from here that the Torah’s perspective is always an optimistic one: one should view a person as innocent, whenever possible and sensible to do so. The Torah’s legal system employed by the Sanhedrin in ancient times worked in such a way and it was often hard to find someone guilty.
If we extend this principle one step further, the Torah does not just view people in a positive way, but also all aspects of life for example situations. The prime example of this was Rabbi Nachum Ish Gam Zu, who was so-named because of his tendency to describe every situation as ‘gam zu l’tova’ (also this is for good). Notably, he was one of the teachers of Rabbi Akiva, who continually laughed where others cried in anguish; not because he didn’t care but rather because he could see the good in each situation.
In our modern era we must truthfully evaluate ourselves and ask whether we look at people and situations favourably. Instead of seeing the glass half-empty do we try and see it half-full? I once met a Rabbi who was extremely passionate about saving the assimilation problem facing Jewry today – he would always hope that one more person ‘brought back to the fold’ would swing the balance. But when it came to the State of Israel, he viewed it as a disaster from start to finish; ignoring the enormous impact it has had on Jewish pride, culture, learning, activism and many more areas. Is that a consistent policy?
As Jews, we should always be looking at life through the Torah’s perspective, aiming to view things as much as possible through a positive light. Whether this means viewing technology as potential rather than evil, the State of Israel as work in progress rather than a faulty notion or a fellow person as acting in good faith rather than bad, we should always strive to take the path of optimism.
We see from here that the Torah’s perspective is always an optimistic one: one should view a person as innocent, whenever possible and sensible to do so. The Torah’s legal system employed by the Sanhedrin in ancient times worked in such a way and it was often hard to find someone guilty.
If we extend this principle one step further, the Torah does not just view people in a positive way, but also all aspects of life for example situations. The prime example of this was Rabbi Nachum Ish Gam Zu, who was so-named because of his tendency to describe every situation as ‘gam zu l’tova’ (also this is for good). Notably, he was one of the teachers of Rabbi Akiva, who continually laughed where others cried in anguish; not because he didn’t care but rather because he could see the good in each situation.
In our modern era we must truthfully evaluate ourselves and ask whether we look at people and situations favourably. Instead of seeing the glass half-empty do we try and see it half-full? I once met a Rabbi who was extremely passionate about saving the assimilation problem facing Jewry today – he would always hope that one more person ‘brought back to the fold’ would swing the balance. But when it came to the State of Israel, he viewed it as a disaster from start to finish; ignoring the enormous impact it has had on Jewish pride, culture, learning, activism and many more areas. Is that a consistent policy?
As Jews, we should always be looking at life through the Torah’s perspective, aiming to view things as much as possible through a positive light. Whether this means viewing technology as potential rather than evil, the State of Israel as work in progress rather than a faulty notion or a fellow person as acting in good faith rather than bad, we should always strive to take the path of optimism.
The Greatest Jew: Avraham v Moshe
There is a modern fascination with finding the number one, whether it be in gameshows, reality TV shows, rich lists or ‘top 100’ lists. In a survey to find the greatest ever Jew, names such as King David, Rabbi Akiva and Rambam may be challenging but the top two places would surely be occupied by Avraham and Moshe:
Avraham has a pretty good claim: he was the first ‘Jew’, that is to say that the children of Israel come from him. He was the archetypal servant of Hashem – tested ten times yet always equal to the task of meeting whatever challenge he was set. Avraham was famous for his chesed, making his home open to all and helping people to realise the truth of one G-d in the world.
On the other hand, Moshe literally saw Hashem ‘face-to-face’ and spent months in His presence, unlike any other human being that has lived. Moshe gave us the Torah, which is called in his name (Torat Moshe), and was the ultimate leader of our people, taking Am Yisrael from a nation of slaves in Egypt to an army of conquest on the periphery of Eretz Yisrael.
However in trying to find out who is ‘the greater’, we would be missing the point. Aside from the fact that the Torah does not portray any person as perfect, for each had their faults, in order to understand how to truthfully relate to Hashem, we can only consider the qualities of Avraham and Moshe together.
The union of Avraham and Moshe is best exemplified in the concept of ‘Derech Eretz’, translated as the way of the world. The Midrash in Vayikra Rabba 9:3 explains that Derech Eretz preceded the Torah by twenty-six generations. This means that although the laws and statutes of Judaism were given at Mount Sinai, the path of how to lead a good life was already practised by many previously. The expression of ‘Derech Eretz kadma (precedes) l’Torah’ has become a way of saying that ‘before learning Torah, one needs to be a mensch (a good person)’. The two concepts of Derech Eretz and Torah must both be practised: it is not good enough to just be a nice person and not care about the various Jewish laws; nor is it acceptable to be ‘makpid’ (particular) about every halacha if one doesn’t have respect for others.
Avraham represents the idea of Derech Eretz, for he did not teach us laws, rather he is the best example we have of a person who achieved so much good in his life by giving to others and by listening to Hashem. Moshe is the exact opposite: he is the archetypal teacher of the Jewish people and every single mitzvah came through his mouth. Indeed, we often come across the phrase in the Talmud ‘Halacha Moshe m’Sinai’, indicating its source as from Moshe.
These two paradigms are expressed in the titles we give to them: Avraham is called ‘Avinu’ (our father), for we learn how to act from a young age from our parents. Moshe is called ‘Rabbeinu’ (our teacher), because it is his responsibility to give us rules and ensure we learn what we should be learning.
Now we understand the interlinking qualities of Avraham and Moshe we can answer the first question asked by Rashi on the Torah, in the name of Rav Yitzchak: ‘Why does the Torah begin with Bereshit rather than the first mitzvah given to the Jewish people?’ Evidently, the Torah is more than just a rulebook; otherwise it would have simply listed mitzvot. Sefer Bereshit is there to employ this principle, that ‘Derech Eretz kadma l’Torah’. There are fourteen parashot before we have a direct commandment to the Jewish people! Anyone who skips out Sefer Bereshit and wants to move on to the nitty-gritty of laws and statutes in Sefer Shemot does not really understand the message of Judaism.
In modern times, there are too many Jews who are lacking this holistic perspective of what Hashem wants us to strive for. Many Jews think that you do not have to be ‘religious’ to be a good person, rather concentrate on just being nice to others, giving charity etc. These Jews have internalised Stage 1 of the Torah: the level of Avraham Avinu, Sefer Bereshit and concept of ‘Mitzvot ben adam l’chaveiro (mitzvot between man and his fellow)’ but fail to realise the need to keep the ‘Mitzvot bein adam l’Makom (mitzvot between man and G-d)’.
However there are also many Jews who only concentrate on fulfilling the obligations to Hashem whilst forgetting their duty to be a good person. This type of Jew, who has in essence missed Stage 1 in a rush to achieve Stage 2, the level of Moshe Rabbeinu and Sefer Shemot, is not only missing the point but is crucially misinforming others as to the true nature of Judaism. For outwardly religious people to openly disregard Derech Eretz, such as throwing stones at non-Shabbat observers, is an example of a ‘Chilul Hashem’, a desecration of Hashem’s name – one of the worst possible actions to do.
Our job is to change people’s perspective to integrate the lessons of both Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu. We must make clear that the way of Torah and Mitzvot is the correct path to follow but at the same time make equally clear that any religious observance must be predicated upon Derech Eretz, or else it is meaningless. Only then can we continue on our journey in order to become the greatest Jew that we can be.
Avraham has a pretty good claim: he was the first ‘Jew’, that is to say that the children of Israel come from him. He was the archetypal servant of Hashem – tested ten times yet always equal to the task of meeting whatever challenge he was set. Avraham was famous for his chesed, making his home open to all and helping people to realise the truth of one G-d in the world.
On the other hand, Moshe literally saw Hashem ‘face-to-face’ and spent months in His presence, unlike any other human being that has lived. Moshe gave us the Torah, which is called in his name (Torat Moshe), and was the ultimate leader of our people, taking Am Yisrael from a nation of slaves in Egypt to an army of conquest on the periphery of Eretz Yisrael.
However in trying to find out who is ‘the greater’, we would be missing the point. Aside from the fact that the Torah does not portray any person as perfect, for each had their faults, in order to understand how to truthfully relate to Hashem, we can only consider the qualities of Avraham and Moshe together.
The union of Avraham and Moshe is best exemplified in the concept of ‘Derech Eretz’, translated as the way of the world. The Midrash in Vayikra Rabba 9:3 explains that Derech Eretz preceded the Torah by twenty-six generations. This means that although the laws and statutes of Judaism were given at Mount Sinai, the path of how to lead a good life was already practised by many previously. The expression of ‘Derech Eretz kadma (precedes) l’Torah’ has become a way of saying that ‘before learning Torah, one needs to be a mensch (a good person)’. The two concepts of Derech Eretz and Torah must both be practised: it is not good enough to just be a nice person and not care about the various Jewish laws; nor is it acceptable to be ‘makpid’ (particular) about every halacha if one doesn’t have respect for others.
Avraham represents the idea of Derech Eretz, for he did not teach us laws, rather he is the best example we have of a person who achieved so much good in his life by giving to others and by listening to Hashem. Moshe is the exact opposite: he is the archetypal teacher of the Jewish people and every single mitzvah came through his mouth. Indeed, we often come across the phrase in the Talmud ‘Halacha Moshe m’Sinai’, indicating its source as from Moshe.
These two paradigms are expressed in the titles we give to them: Avraham is called ‘Avinu’ (our father), for we learn how to act from a young age from our parents. Moshe is called ‘Rabbeinu’ (our teacher), because it is his responsibility to give us rules and ensure we learn what we should be learning.
Now we understand the interlinking qualities of Avraham and Moshe we can answer the first question asked by Rashi on the Torah, in the name of Rav Yitzchak: ‘Why does the Torah begin with Bereshit rather than the first mitzvah given to the Jewish people?’ Evidently, the Torah is more than just a rulebook; otherwise it would have simply listed mitzvot. Sefer Bereshit is there to employ this principle, that ‘Derech Eretz kadma l’Torah’. There are fourteen parashot before we have a direct commandment to the Jewish people! Anyone who skips out Sefer Bereshit and wants to move on to the nitty-gritty of laws and statutes in Sefer Shemot does not really understand the message of Judaism.
In modern times, there are too many Jews who are lacking this holistic perspective of what Hashem wants us to strive for. Many Jews think that you do not have to be ‘religious’ to be a good person, rather concentrate on just being nice to others, giving charity etc. These Jews have internalised Stage 1 of the Torah: the level of Avraham Avinu, Sefer Bereshit and concept of ‘Mitzvot ben adam l’chaveiro (mitzvot between man and his fellow)’ but fail to realise the need to keep the ‘Mitzvot bein adam l’Makom (mitzvot between man and G-d)’.
However there are also many Jews who only concentrate on fulfilling the obligations to Hashem whilst forgetting their duty to be a good person. This type of Jew, who has in essence missed Stage 1 in a rush to achieve Stage 2, the level of Moshe Rabbeinu and Sefer Shemot, is not only missing the point but is crucially misinforming others as to the true nature of Judaism. For outwardly religious people to openly disregard Derech Eretz, such as throwing stones at non-Shabbat observers, is an example of a ‘Chilul Hashem’, a desecration of Hashem’s name – one of the worst possible actions to do.
Our job is to change people’s perspective to integrate the lessons of both Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu. We must make clear that the way of Torah and Mitzvot is the correct path to follow but at the same time make equally clear that any religious observance must be predicated upon Derech Eretz, or else it is meaningless. Only then can we continue on our journey in order to become the greatest Jew that we can be.
Rabbi Akiva’s students & Omer
The strangest time of the Jewish year is the period of mourning during the Omer. It is also the most confusing, as many people do not know why they do what they do, apart from the vague answer that 24,000 of Rabbi Akiva’s students died a long time ago. But if we analyse this properly, this is a bit bizarre, for a few reasons:
1. There have been many tragedies in Judaism – why do we have around a month of mourning for this tragedy?
2. Why can’t we mourn the loss of the students on a recognised fast day e.g. Tisha B’Av?
3. Why does this sadness override the happy period of the Omer between Pesach-Shavuot?
To answer, let’s look at the source of the mourning. The Gemara in Yevamot 62b states that Rabbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of students and they died in the same period because they didn’t treat each other with respect. Most people just quote this Gemara and take it for granted that the students just started dropping dead. However, like many other instances, the Talmud does not always relate historical facts like in a history book – on the contrary, the Talmud, like Tenach, aims to illuminate G-d’s hand in history and to explain why bad things happened. Rav Sherira Gaon helps out by explaining that there was a shmada (religious persecution) on the students. So let’s do a bit of historical research…
We know that Rabbi Akiva was involved in, or at least supported, the Bar Cochba rebellion (132-135 CE) against the Romans. The Emperor at the time was Hadrian, who apart from building a ‘security fence’ between Scotland and England, persecuted the Jews by banning brit milah, Torah observance, the Jewish calendar, ploughing over the Temple site and renaming Jeruslaem ‘Aelia Capitolina’. He also was responsible for killing the ’10 Martyrs’ that we read about on Tisha B’Av, one of which was Rabbi Akiva.
So if Rabbi Akiva supported the war, it would make sense that his students fought in the war and that was the background behind their deaths. Also, Rav Nachman tells us in the Gemara that their death was by asphyxiation, and this accords with our knowledge of how the fighters were eventually killed by the Romans.
One insight, quoted in the Pniei Halacha, is that the fact that the Talmud tells us that there were 2 sets of 12,000 students is obviously teaching us something (it could have just said 24,000). It is that there were 2 different ideologies amongst the students with regard to the rebellion. Some said that they should all fight and defeat the Romans whereas some decided that the best course of action would be to continue learning Torah in Yeshiva. This, however, was not the problem – because they are both valid opinions. The problem was that, to quote the Gemara, ‘they didn’t respect one another’. Instead of saying ‘I have my hashkafa but I respect what you are doing’ there was hatred on both sides. Sound familiar? Are we, as supporters of involvement with the IDF and believers of Hesder, which combines Yeshiva & Army, tolerant of the other side? Do the Charedim praise the balance of the Hesder movement despite not doing it themselves? Now we see why we need the period of mourning for Rabbi Akiva’s students more than ever before!
Although this isn’t the time to go into the reasons for the mourning period in the Omer, one notable point is that the reason why European Ashkenazim have made the period into such a sad time when it is technically a happy time (there’s a midrash that the Omer is Chol Hamoed between Pesach and Shavuot!). This is because of the Crusades, when Jews were massacred at this time of year (this makes sense because otherwise why get progressively more machmir to such an extent that it’s like the 3 Weeks?).
However with the advent of the State of Israel we can once again appreciate the mourning for Rabbi Akiva’s students, which for centuries took a back seat. We now have a dedicated period of time, which isn’t a high level of mourning but rather a time to question whether we have internalised the reason why Rabbi Akiva’s students died. And what better time than between Pesach and Shavuot, the first of which is a Chag of National Redemption and the second is Spiritual Redemption. And what better time than at the time of Yom Ha’atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, which are undoubtedly significant days but which also cause much strife and disunity amongst the Orthodox world.
The lesson here is not to say that everyone should have one hashkafa because everyone should serve Hashem in the way that is the most Emet for them (70 faces to the Torah) – even though we know that our hashkafa of RZ makes so much sense, as explained at the end of K8. As believers of celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut etc in a certain way, we shouldn’t acquiesce to the views of those against it; rather we should stay strong and continue on our derech.
But the lesson here IS to say that the aforementioned ideas should be done with Ahavat Yisrael and full respect and tolerance for other views and hashkafas. Otherwise we are repeating the story of Rabbi Akiva’s students all over again! And if we do this, we will truly have the correct perspective. On Tisha B’Av when all Jews are united in mourning, let’s take this lesson and apply it to those times of year where we aren’t so united. The Temple was destroyed due to Sinat Chinam and will only be rebuilt with true Ahavat Chinam. And who was the main teacher of the idea of Ahavat Yisrael as the primary point in Judaism? Rabbi Akiva.
1. There have been many tragedies in Judaism – why do we have around a month of mourning for this tragedy?
2. Why can’t we mourn the loss of the students on a recognised fast day e.g. Tisha B’Av?
3. Why does this sadness override the happy period of the Omer between Pesach-Shavuot?
To answer, let’s look at the source of the mourning. The Gemara in Yevamot 62b states that Rabbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of students and they died in the same period because they didn’t treat each other with respect. Most people just quote this Gemara and take it for granted that the students just started dropping dead. However, like many other instances, the Talmud does not always relate historical facts like in a history book – on the contrary, the Talmud, like Tenach, aims to illuminate G-d’s hand in history and to explain why bad things happened. Rav Sherira Gaon helps out by explaining that there was a shmada (religious persecution) on the students. So let’s do a bit of historical research…
We know that Rabbi Akiva was involved in, or at least supported, the Bar Cochba rebellion (132-135 CE) against the Romans. The Emperor at the time was Hadrian, who apart from building a ‘security fence’ between Scotland and England, persecuted the Jews by banning brit milah, Torah observance, the Jewish calendar, ploughing over the Temple site and renaming Jeruslaem ‘Aelia Capitolina’. He also was responsible for killing the ’10 Martyrs’ that we read about on Tisha B’Av, one of which was Rabbi Akiva.
So if Rabbi Akiva supported the war, it would make sense that his students fought in the war and that was the background behind their deaths. Also, Rav Nachman tells us in the Gemara that their death was by asphyxiation, and this accords with our knowledge of how the fighters were eventually killed by the Romans.
One insight, quoted in the Pniei Halacha, is that the fact that the Talmud tells us that there were 2 sets of 12,000 students is obviously teaching us something (it could have just said 24,000). It is that there were 2 different ideologies amongst the students with regard to the rebellion. Some said that they should all fight and defeat the Romans whereas some decided that the best course of action would be to continue learning Torah in Yeshiva. This, however, was not the problem – because they are both valid opinions. The problem was that, to quote the Gemara, ‘they didn’t respect one another’. Instead of saying ‘I have my hashkafa but I respect what you are doing’ there was hatred on both sides. Sound familiar? Are we, as supporters of involvement with the IDF and believers of Hesder, which combines Yeshiva & Army, tolerant of the other side? Do the Charedim praise the balance of the Hesder movement despite not doing it themselves? Now we see why we need the period of mourning for Rabbi Akiva’s students more than ever before!
Although this isn’t the time to go into the reasons for the mourning period in the Omer, one notable point is that the reason why European Ashkenazim have made the period into such a sad time when it is technically a happy time (there’s a midrash that the Omer is Chol Hamoed between Pesach and Shavuot!). This is because of the Crusades, when Jews were massacred at this time of year (this makes sense because otherwise why get progressively more machmir to such an extent that it’s like the 3 Weeks?).
However with the advent of the State of Israel we can once again appreciate the mourning for Rabbi Akiva’s students, which for centuries took a back seat. We now have a dedicated period of time, which isn’t a high level of mourning but rather a time to question whether we have internalised the reason why Rabbi Akiva’s students died. And what better time than between Pesach and Shavuot, the first of which is a Chag of National Redemption and the second is Spiritual Redemption. And what better time than at the time of Yom Ha’atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, which are undoubtedly significant days but which also cause much strife and disunity amongst the Orthodox world.
The lesson here is not to say that everyone should have one hashkafa because everyone should serve Hashem in the way that is the most Emet for them (70 faces to the Torah) – even though we know that our hashkafa of RZ makes so much sense, as explained at the end of K8. As believers of celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut etc in a certain way, we shouldn’t acquiesce to the views of those against it; rather we should stay strong and continue on our derech.
But the lesson here IS to say that the aforementioned ideas should be done with Ahavat Yisrael and full respect and tolerance for other views and hashkafas. Otherwise we are repeating the story of Rabbi Akiva’s students all over again! And if we do this, we will truly have the correct perspective. On Tisha B’Av when all Jews are united in mourning, let’s take this lesson and apply it to those times of year where we aren’t so united. The Temple was destroyed due to Sinat Chinam and will only be rebuilt with true Ahavat Chinam. And who was the main teacher of the idea of Ahavat Yisrael as the primary point in Judaism? Rabbi Akiva.
What is a Chosen People? (Excerpt from the Faith Lectures 2001)
Yael Simon: Chief Rabbi, we use the term 'the chosen people' but yet, in our vocabulary, we effortlessly use the words 'Jew' and 'non-Jew' suggesting perhaps that there is 'Jew' and then everyone else is almost a negative identity as a 'non-Jew'. How can you address this?
Chief Rabbi: I just did. It took me 75 minutes. I really tried so hard tonight to turn our conventional understanding upside-down in all sorts of ways. I said at the end of my book Radical Then, Radical Now that Jews did not write Shakespeare's sonnets. We didn't write Mozart's symphonies. We did not design the formal perfection of a Japanese garden. I admire all those things. I am enlarged by them. I don't believe a people secure in its own identity need ever negate or put down anyone else's identity. I've really been fighting against what I think is a laziness of mind which has developed over the last hundred or two hundred years. And it comes in two shapes and sizes, which appear to be opposite to one another but actually are two sides of the same coin.
One is a sense of Jewish inferiority and the other is a sense of Jewish superiority. They are both bad news. And I have been trying to explain how neither has a place in Jewish thought if we really wrestle with Jewish thought.
When I finish this glass of water I am going to make a bracha. Do you know what the bracha is? Boreh nefashot rabot - it begins - vechesronan. Now this is a very strange blessing. It means: God who creates many kinds of being - vechesronan - which means? Their 'lacks'. Their inadequacies. It is the only blessing I know in which we thank God for giving us inadequacy. It is a very odd thing to thank God for. Why do we thank God for it? I'll tell you: very simple. If I had no inadequacies (somebody would remind me otherwise) - if I had no inadequacies, I would never need anyone else. There would never be human society. It is the fact that I have hesronot - inadequacies. But the fact that God created nefashot rabot - many different kinds of human beings - that tells me that somebody else has what I lack. And somebody else lacks what I have. And that is why our coming together in friendship generates a win-win scenario. It's good for both of us. That is why human society exists. And I wish we could understand this, because I've got to tell you: it is so rare a message in the history of world religions. It is a very rare message. It's a deeply Jewish message.
And what I have been trying to do in these lectures is to go back to the very basics of Jewish thought as I think Jewish thought has been encrusted, distorted, by all sorts of loose thinking. And it is horrendous that Jews should think - and, you know, some religious Jews think this - that secular Jews are somehow morally inferior to them. One of the besetting risks of any faith - and we are not short of it - is self-righteousness. And that is very bad news. As a famous chassidic saying says: 'In the name of the Almighty I prefer a rosho who knows he's a rosho - I prefer a wicked person who knows he's a wicked person - to a tzaddik who thinks he's a tzaddik."
Are you with me? So what I've really been trying to is that I know exactly what you mean and I really have been fighting it for the course of this lecture. Because it is bad for us and bad for the world. I think that if we are true to ourselves, we will learn all sorts of things from other people. But we will never abandon our own heritage which is unique to us. Ok?
Chief Rabbi: I just did. It took me 75 minutes. I really tried so hard tonight to turn our conventional understanding upside-down in all sorts of ways. I said at the end of my book Radical Then, Radical Now that Jews did not write Shakespeare's sonnets. We didn't write Mozart's symphonies. We did not design the formal perfection of a Japanese garden. I admire all those things. I am enlarged by them. I don't believe a people secure in its own identity need ever negate or put down anyone else's identity. I've really been fighting against what I think is a laziness of mind which has developed over the last hundred or two hundred years. And it comes in two shapes and sizes, which appear to be opposite to one another but actually are two sides of the same coin.
One is a sense of Jewish inferiority and the other is a sense of Jewish superiority. They are both bad news. And I have been trying to explain how neither has a place in Jewish thought if we really wrestle with Jewish thought.
When I finish this glass of water I am going to make a bracha. Do you know what the bracha is? Boreh nefashot rabot - it begins - vechesronan. Now this is a very strange blessing. It means: God who creates many kinds of being - vechesronan - which means? Their 'lacks'. Their inadequacies. It is the only blessing I know in which we thank God for giving us inadequacy. It is a very odd thing to thank God for. Why do we thank God for it? I'll tell you: very simple. If I had no inadequacies (somebody would remind me otherwise) - if I had no inadequacies, I would never need anyone else. There would never be human society. It is the fact that I have hesronot - inadequacies. But the fact that God created nefashot rabot - many different kinds of human beings - that tells me that somebody else has what I lack. And somebody else lacks what I have. And that is why our coming together in friendship generates a win-win scenario. It's good for both of us. That is why human society exists. And I wish we could understand this, because I've got to tell you: it is so rare a message in the history of world religions. It is a very rare message. It's a deeply Jewish message.
And what I have been trying to do in these lectures is to go back to the very basics of Jewish thought as I think Jewish thought has been encrusted, distorted, by all sorts of loose thinking. And it is horrendous that Jews should think - and, you know, some religious Jews think this - that secular Jews are somehow morally inferior to them. One of the besetting risks of any faith - and we are not short of it - is self-righteousness. And that is very bad news. As a famous chassidic saying says: 'In the name of the Almighty I prefer a rosho who knows he's a rosho - I prefer a wicked person who knows he's a wicked person - to a tzaddik who thinks he's a tzaddik."
Are you with me? So what I've really been trying to is that I know exactly what you mean and I really have been fighting it for the course of this lecture. Because it is bad for us and bad for the world. I think that if we are true to ourselves, we will learn all sorts of things from other people. But we will never abandon our own heritage which is unique to us. Ok?
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