Grapes & Their Issues (Operation: Cheer Up A Sick Chana)

It was a dark and rainy night. Tonight, actually. I was sitting on an accordion bus, my eyes limping across the outfits and objects of the people sitting across from me. My nose was red and runny; I was sad and sick. I saw a black man who reminded me of the Shepherd Book character in "Firefly." He was holding a book called 'Grapes and their Issues.'

"Grapes and their issues?" I thought indignantly. "What the hell, man? Who are grapes to complain? I mean, here I sit, having been told to leave my workplace by wellmeaning colleagues, my nose shot to hell, dripping like a leaky faucet, my eyes glazed over, my head feeling dull and foggy- and grapes have issues? I've just waited in the wet for a half an hour, the bus didn't come on time, and I narrowly escaped being drenched in a rainstorm... tell me, I ask, what kinds of issues do grapes have, exactly? It's like those Grapes of Wrath- I mean, whoever heard of wrathful grapes? What kind of ridiculous title for a book is that, anyway?"

I then reread the title. It said: 'Graphs and their Uses.'

Oh.

~

(If you enjoyed this post, please post a potential issue that a grape might have in the comments.) 

I Was A Very Strong Woman

There's a book I love called A Ring of Endless Light. I love it because I understand the characters, I value and respect them, and I appreciate the relationships between them.

There's this one scene where Vicky is talking to her grandfather about Zachary. I wrote up the scene here (click for link). 

"The thing is- he needs me," Vicky says, as she talks about Zachary. Zachary's needing her is the siren song that can pull her away from everything else she might love and might hold dear. And Grandfather cautions her that that is not healthy. He doesn't caution her with those words- he doesn't see it in terms of health. As a Christian, he instead puts into perspective based on vanity and the vanity a person has in thinking that they can bear the burdens that are meant for others.

Today I was home sick, so I decided to devote some time to watching TED Talks. I watched one given by Leslie Morgan Steiner entitled "Why Domestic Violence Victims Don't Leave." You can watch it below:



There was something she said that struck me- struck me and made me shiver. I felt resonance because what she said made sense to me. It's something I think, too. (For clarification's sake, not about my husband. But it's an attitude I understand.)

She said "I never once thought of myself as a battered wife. Instead, I 

was a very strong woman in love with a very troubled man. And I 

was the only person on earth who could help Connor face his 

demons."

We provide context and narrative to the situations in which we find ourselves. We either internalize or externalize. Leslie didn't want to say, "My husband is doing things that are harmful and dangerous. He is threatening my life. I may love him, but I need to leave him." Instead, she wanted to say, "My husband is a troubled man, but it is my duty to prove my fidelity to him. I will stand by him, through thick and thin. I will be there for him, because I am the only one who has the key to him- the only one who will be able to help him heal. This is my special task, and I must fulfill it." 

There is an idea that especially those of us who have been rejected, who have felt ourselves to be outcasts, hold ourselves to. The idea is this: We will never reject anyone. We will not leave them behind. We will remain loyal, no matter what. Even if the person isn't showing us proper respect or kindness. Even if the person treats us badly. We will stay, until that person makes us leave. Or, until we find the courage to leave, depending on how bad the situation is. 

We cannot bear to see in ourselves the slightest shadow of the attitudes that hurt us so deeply, so profoundly. Therefore, we leap away from these choices. We need to be better people, in our minds, to ourselves, than the people who hurt us. But because of this, we limit our options. The only role that we can play is that of savior, and we must put up with hurtful or harmful behavior because to challenge it is to reject others, which is something we must not do. We can't see both sides to the story. The only story that we can be part of is one where in the end, it will all come right. We will be loyal until that loyalty is rewarded. We will be strong. We will be Beauty saving the Beast. We will love our partners back to health, and all will be well.

Except for the times it doesn't work out that way. The times where we need help in realizing that despite denial, that narrative isn't the only way things could work out. The times where we need to be told that it is not strength that keeps us with this person, but a simple inability to conceive of any other options. To us, there is no other choice. Because leaving is admitting failure- and we cannot bear to fail. Leaving is rejecting someone we care about- and we cannot bear to reject them. Leaving hurts us- and we cannot bear the pain. 

Until the time comes when we learn why we cannot bear to stay.

And by then, it's usually too late.

The Problem With Contemporary YA Fantasy

Many of you are aware that I read a lot of Young Adult Fiction & Fantasy. I read it because I like it, and also because I like to know what my students are reading. I've read many amazing books, but I'm troubled because I feel like the genre as a whole is missing something integral and vital. 

They're missing reality.

Here's what I mean by this. YA fiction & fantasy fall into one of two categories.

Category 1: Adventurous hero or heroine battle demons, angels or other supernatural beings in order to save the world, right a wrong, and on the way, fall in love with one another. Their epic love story is usually star-crossed, and both hero and heroine and friends feel intensely during their battle. 

Category 2: Main protagonist has to deal with life in a really crummy situation- whether it's them or their friend who is dealing with mental health issues, drugs, an eating disorder, cancer and so on. They are a wry, interesting, irascible or spiritual character who pulls the reader in. 

Here's the problem. These two categories don't cross over in a meaningful way. Let me offer an example.

An example of a Category 1 book is Cassandra Clare's The Mortal Instruments trilogy. Clary, Jace and Simon, alongside Isabelle, Alec, Magnus and others battle all sorts of difficult creatures and situations, but all of their feelings and issues revolve around love. Yes, Jace is a little messed up because of his father (who raised him to think that love is a weakness, and that loving would break him), but it's nothing a little love from Clary can't fix. These characters don't have to deal with their issues or emotions in a real way. They don't have real-life reactions to the situations they face (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, depression, other mental health issues) and they don't have to deal with them in real ways (therapy, for instance).

An example of a Category 2 book is The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. This moving and hilarious book makes cancer funny. It explores the lives of two people battling cancer, one of whom makes it and one of whom doesn't. The friendships read as real, the issues (whether dealing with the cancer, trying to avoid dealing with the cancer, or wanting to find love) read as real. 

What troubles me is that the real life issues that are faced in books like Speak, The Fault in Our Stars, Hush and so on are not addressed in fantasy novels. Now, I can understand why that is. Most fantasy writers like to make completely separate worlds where the issues are fully external (or internal at times, but overcome by a little love). But I think this actually weakens the fantasy world. In a true fantasy world, people love, grieve, and are impacted by the events that occur. People are not just cold-blooded killers who never have to deal with PTSD or deal with phantom limb pain or who have flashbacks after being raped. Making reality converge with fantasy would actually, in my opinion, make the fantasy book stronger. 

An author who does this really well is Madeline L'Engle. Her book A Wrinkle in Time is a masterpiece because she weaves science fiction together with a real life heroine who is insecure, does not feel pretty and ends up having a real, complicated relationship with Calvin O' Keefe (not just one brimming with sexual tension where the two of them must end up in bed together and that solves all their problems). Susan Cooper also does this well in her series The Dark is Rising. But both of these authors have been largely replaced by contemporary, and to the large part, shoddy, fantasy writing. 

Even Harry Potter, which everyone read and was dazzled by due to its 'realness'- an actual ministry, laws, shady newspaper reporters, a seemingly unloved child- never allowed any of its characters to struggle with an actual diagnosed condition. Harry didn't suffer from depression. He didn't have to see a therapist. He was in the nurse's wing or the hospital pretty frequently, but problems with his mental state? Never. Even after everything he had gone through, all the loss he had suffered. Even after living his whole life with a person whose mission it was to kill him. Tip top mental shape.

If fantasy is, as many authors espouse, their way to enable students and children to interact with the world and find solutions for the monsters that threaten, it isn't enough to equip characters with otherworldly talents, traits or supernatural abilities. These characters should be real in every way, including the toll their actions take on them, including their mental health status and the actions they need to take to be healthy. If YA fantasy wants to aid the battle to help young people feel normal, it needs to focus on more than just gay characters or bullying. It needs to focus on making young people feel like it is okay to seek help when they struggle with their mental states. Otherwise, fantasy just joins the ranks of role models for people that says 'If they could get through all of this and be perfectly fine, no sweat, no therapy, no struggling, just a soulmate who loved them back to health, then I should be able to do it, too.' That message is unhelpful and even dangerous. 

So YA Fantasy authors, be brave. Take the next step. Start making your characters real.

Our kids will thank you for it.

Zero Dark Thirty

I saw "Zero Dark Thirty" tonight. The movie was a cerebral experience for me rather than an emotional one. It reminded me a lot of "Munich."

I found the film to be extremely impressive and very powerful. The message that I walked out with was how appreciative I need to be of my country and of my military.

Back when Obama was running his reelection campaign, he was making much of the fact that he gave the kill order on Osama Bin Laden. I, alongside many other Americans, I would wager, didn't really understand why that was such a big deal. Of course you would give the kill order on a man like that. What's the big deal?

But this film illustrates exactly why that was a big deal. According to the film (and assuming this is true), there was no positive confirmation Osama was even in that compound. It could have been someone high up in Al Quaida, but there was no definitive visual or voacal proof that it was Osama himself. If the operation had gone badly, it could have been publicly embarrassing for America. But Obama gave the kill order even though there wasn't that proof.

For me, the film also showed why we need to value our military. I'm sure a lot of us thought, "Well, it's about time" when they finally caught Osama 10 years later. But what we didn't realize is that there were so many leads, and so many tips, and people who needed to track them all down. People who lost loved ones in the process. People who got burnt out. People who didn't eat or sleep without thinking about this mission, this goal. All kinds of intricate people who were involved in the process until we finally got to the place where we could execute this man.

A lot of people are talking about this film in order to discuss torture and whether or not torture ought to be used. I think that misses the point. Yes, that is one aspect of the film. But that is not the film. The film shows the labyrinth that is created, the intricate ways in which the government worked to piece together the final data as to where Osama was living and how to take him down. Something interesting that one of the main characters pointed out was that they could have taken out the compound with a bomb, but instead they sent in SEALs. People had to risk their lives in order to kill this man- it wasn't just drop-a-bomb-and-be-done.

I was thinking, as I was watching the film, that a movie like this needs to be made about molestation. The Nechemya Weberman case especially came to mind. I can imagine a brilliant screenplay that takes the same concept as this film, which is the number of people needed to fulfill a mission, and uses it to talk about molestation. The film could begin with the girl in counseling at her new high school, her therapist treating her for PTSD. Finally, the girl confesses she was molested and runs out of the room. We then see the girl being evaluated by three separate analysts, each of whom grill her in order to make sure she is telling the truth and not lying. We see the girl decide to accuse Weberman. We see Weberman's supporters threaten the family; we see the repercussions as her family members are kicked out of school. We see the fundraiser held in order to defray Weberman's legal expenses. We see the prosecutor in the case, working tirelessly to try to ensure that this girl's story is heard. We hear the audio of the Satmar Rebbe talking about Dinah and low women. We see the girl in the courtroom, on the stand, see her called up, see the jury's faces, see Weberman's face. We hear from bloggers and news reporters who are covering the case and who have very disparate views. The movie closes after the 'Guilty' verdict, with the girl's face, an expression of triumph and relief. But wait- it's not over yet- there's one more scene where we hear the community talking about how it's anti-Semitism that this verdict got passed, we see the Vaad HaTznius still standing there and we realize nothing has truly changed.

If someone were to make a film like this about molestation, then the audience would finally see what it means to accuse someone, take it all the way to trial, and then get the guilty verdict. They would realize how difficult it is- as difficult, in its own way, as hunting down Osama Bin Laden. They would see the price that is paid, the casualties of daring to make the accusation. And they would walk out of the film changed people, in the same way that I am now so much more appreciative of our military. They would see the strength of the victim, not just the way in which she was harmed. That's what we need to give the viewers- the ability to see how complicated these trials are, in the same way the search for this evil man was.

Video Editing Downloadable/ Cloud-Based Software

I'm hoping Techy people can help me.

I want to assign my students to make a video mashup. But: it's not just resplicing some video clips and adding a song in the background (for example, the way the "Scary Mary" trailer is). I want them to be able to cut and paste different clips from different videos together while blanking out the video's sound, adding in snippets of conversation as audio and also a track/ song in the background.

So in terms of layers we have:

1. Video Layer
2. Audio of numerous different people speaking, all taken from different mp4s or mp3s
3. Different background music tracks that play while all this is going

So far, none of the video platforms that I've seen do this- and I've looked at WeVideo.com and DragOnTape.com and Mozilla Popcorn Maker. Does anyone have any leads about something that could do this and that is relatively intuitive to use?

Religion's Role In Conflating Issues & Labels

Disclaimer: This post is not comprised of personal experiences. I am lucky to have a great husband. The examples provided are drawn from life, but not my life.

Those of you who have studied psychology may be familiar with the terms 'black-and-white-thinking', 'all-or-nothing-thinking' or 'splitting.' The hallmark of this type of thinking is when a person can only see events in their life as wholly a virtue or wholly a vice, wholly good or wholly bad. People who have trouble with this type of thinking will often resort to 'You always' or 'You never' statements. Sometimes these statements have more to do with how the person is feeling at the time than the actual situation.

This is a particular challenge of mine. I have realized over time that I often conflate issues with labels. An issue refers to a particular behavior. A label is a judgement one has made about the behavior and a motivation one has ascribed to the action. It admits for no doubt and is generally immovable and unshakable. 

Suppose you have a loving husband and wife. The wife grew up always seeing her father do the dishes. She comes home from work, where she had a terrible day. She sees her husband sitting at his computer and notes that the dishes are not done. In an exasperated voice she says, "You never do the dishes. This shows me you don't care about me. You're irresponsible and you don't love me."

In that scenario, the wife has:

1) Resorted to black-and-white thinking. She claims the husband never does the dishes.

2) Assumed a motivation. Clearly the reason the husband doesn't do the dishes is because he doesn't really care about her.

3) Given him a label. She's labelled him as 'irresponsible.'

4) Come to a conclusion. Her conclusion is that he doesn't love her.

The question, of course, is whether any of these claims are true. What the wife needs to consider is:

1) Is it true he never does the dishes?

2) Why has he not done the dishes? What is his motivation?

3) Labeling is unhelpful.

4) You can't come to a conclusion until you examine the evidence, and you can't do that until you have a discussion with your spouse.

So in an alternate scenario, the wife might come home and say. "I had a bad day at work today and I am feeling very irritated. I notice that you have not done the dishes. Could you please tell me why you haven't done them?" 

At this point, the wife might be surprised by the answer. It could be that the husband truly is irresponsible or inconsiderate and simply didn't do the dishes because he didn't feel like it. But it could also be that he had a very pressing matter that had to be taken care of right then, and he was planning to do the dishes afterwards. Or maybe he was unaware that this was an expectation that she had of him in the first place. 

Only once the wife understands what has led to this behavior/ issue, can he and she together tackle the root of the problem.

All of this seems very straightforward when you lay it out this way, but to someone who struggles with this, it doesn't come naturally. It takes effort and time to learn how to see from this perspective. Some may be able to accomplish it on their own, and others may benefit from having a life coach or therapist to assist them in learning how to see from this angle.

What I have realized lately is that certain aspects of our community (specifically Orthodox Judaism) do not lead to a healthy separation between issues and labels. Indeed, they even encourage us to conflate them.

I attended a Bais Yaakov. It was not a good experience for me. At that school, we were given a very narrow, limited model of what made for a 'good girl.' A good girl wanted to grow up to support her husband in Kollel. She was completely tznius at all times, didn't talk to boys and didn't ask difficult questions about religion. 

At the same time, we were given a very narrow, limited model of a 'good boy.' A good boy was the top boy. You were looking for someone who was an absolutely brilliant Talmid Chacham. He prefers to spend his time in Beis Midrash, coming up with incredible raayos and chiddushim. He never misses minyan. He goes out of his way to learn with chavrusas and to be kovea itim. If he doesn't fit this model, then perhaps second-best is someone who still always davens with a minyan, is a big baal-chesed and otherwise devotes most of his time to community projects. 

Here's the difficulty. Imagine that you marry someone, and that person has a specific difficulty or issue. To give a simple example, suppose the man you married has difficulty getting up on time for Shacharis. He often misses minyan. If you're a typically raised Bais Yaakov girl, the thought that might flash in your mind is the following: He always misses minyan. This shows me that he doesn't really care about Hashem or Judaism. He also doesn't care about me, because it's embarrassing to me to have a husband who misses minyan. If he really loved me, he would get there on time.

Even worse, Bais Yaakov girls are taught that their sechar (heavenly reward) is directly tied up in ensuring that a man fulfills his heavenly duties. So the girl may think that her husband missing minyan is directly related to her and her well-being. She may at first try sweetly, then slightly more irritatedly and finally angrily to get her husband to daven on time. She may not be interested in the root of the issue or behavior, which may be important when it comes to trying to fix it, but instead simply decides to label him.

Let's say the husband is legitimately struggling with his penchant to be late to minyan. Having a wife who is nagging you and who then ultimately decides that you are worthless because your missing minyan is equivalent to not having true love or fear of God may not only be disheartening but crushing. You may respond to it in a variety of ways, many of them not positive. For example, in order to avoid her negativity, you may start lying to your wife and saying you went to minyan on time when you really didn't. Your wife will find out and will feel betrayed/ hurt. Everything may go downhill from there, because you now have a serious breach of trust.

All this because the wife decided to label rather than addressing the issue. The conversation that really needs to be had is, "I see that getting to minyan is a struggle for you. Can we talk about why?" or alternatively, if you know why, the next question might be, "How can I be helpful to you in this struggle? What do you need to succeed?" But not everyone realizes that an issue or a behavior is not necessarily related to the motivation one thinks it is related to, and thus the label one might ascribe. 

Obviously, the partners need to both be invested in working on problematic behaviors or issues. If something your partner is doing is really not compatible with your value system, and if the person is unwilling to change or to work on the behavior, that can lead to problems in the marriage, as marriages in our community are based on shared values. So it might not be acceptable to you to be married to a man who consistently misses minyan and who sees nothing wrong with this, or who is not interested in working on changing his behavior. But that is different from making the assumption that because someone is struggling with a behavior they therefore deserve a certain label. A person can be a 'good boy' or 'good girl' who has love and fear of God but has some behaviors, habits or issues that need to be worked on. The behavior is not always (possibly even not often) indicative of a greater meaning or statement about the person. 

Honey Love

All my life, I felt like there were invisible rules about life. These were rules I could not quite make out, and that I was afraid of breaking. If I broke them, knowingly or not, bad things would happen. I would fail at life. I would be seen as socially inept. People would find me or my behavior unattractive. In short, there would be major consequences for breaking the invisible rules.

Lately, I've been questioning the invisible rules. The one I've been thinking most about is the rules of love.

As an English major, I've read a lot about love. I've read about dark, possessive, selfish love, like that of Othello or Heathcliff. I've read Lord Byron's poetry, where he puts the woman who walks in beauty on a pedestal; she is untouchable. I've seen teenagers go gaga about the love between Katniss and Peeta in The Hunger Games. I've seen films and TV shows with love scenes that touch me and thrill me. And what I've always done is compared myself to all of it.

Love, I thought, should be a violent, all-encompassing feeling that leaves me wounded and wanting more. It needs to be a love for the ages, a love that devils my mind. It needs to be a love to match all the love scenes in all the books I've ever read. It needs to be a love that sparkles and rages- a love filled with fire, that encompasses the color of desire and that will hold me up if I fall. It needs to be unbreakable and impossible. It needs to grab me by the neck and almost choke me.

If it's not love like that, I thought dismissively, it isn't love. It isn't worthwhile.

So I went searching for that love. I went looking for the violent, feverish, impossible, thrilling love. I wanted the love where I felt bound so tightly that I could never break away.

And I found it. Or at least, I found pieces of it. It colored me, cut me up and spun me out. I was left as fragile as shattered glass in a mirror, spiderwebs of silver pieces that one touch can dislodge.

I looked for love that moved me and I found it. In the way a child looks at its protector. In a person who does a completely selfless act. In people who want to help others grow. That love touched me, but it was like honey spreading through me, slow. It was golden; it was warm. It wasn't the love I wanted; the love I thought I should want.

When I married, I tied myself to a golden love, not a raging love. I found a love that was playful, kind, nurturing and growth-oriented. It was honeyed. And it was frightening. It wasn't what the invisible rules, as I understood them, said I should look for. I was afraid it wouldn't be right, or that I would miss the raging love too much and it would get in my way. I was also afraid that other people on the outside looking in would see me, my marriage and my life and judge it. I was concerned about their perspective.

Sometimes, I'm still afraid. But more often, I realize there are no shoulds. I do not need to live searching for the love I should want, but rather, for the love that works for me. Who I am as a wife and a person need be bound by no shoulds other than the ones my husband and I create. And when I stop a moment and look at my life through another's eyes, I realize some illuminating things.

For one, people see my husband as very romantic. They see our engagement, with his focus on my love for Belle and books, as being the pinnacle of romance. The way my husband celebrates my anniversary and birthday are also, through other people's eyes, very romantic. Some have even used the word 'fairytale' to describe our story. So if I am concerned about other people's perspectives, I need not be.

For another, the only person who could help me grow properly would be a person who understands my many needs: for quiet spaces at times, for time to write, my love of books, my love of children. My husband knows all my loves and encourages them. He also knows the difference between a need and a preference, so he does not need to be afraid to voice his own.

Also, marriages take work. Love is not stagnant. It does not just come and stay; it needs to be built, maintained, recreated at times.

All these things come to my mind when a friend of mine tells me, "The only thing I want is to marry someone who I am really in love with."

What does that mean? I wonder. What does it mean to be really in love with someone? Per my own rules, it only refers to the raging love, in which case, I would not have qualified. Perhaps part of what at least some of us need to work on is discovering the many meanings of love, meanings beyond the conventional, beyond the typical. Meanings that refer, not to society's idea of the femme fatale, the glamorous woman in stilettos and sexy dresses, but to secret, honey love that tucks blankets around the hidden corners of your soul.

Perhaps I'm becoming a bit Nietzschean - or I'm referring to Plato's Forms. All I know is that the words we have, and the images we associate with them, are not enough. There are no shoulds. There are rarely definitions. And we need to create our own meanings for these words, meanings that go beyond those that our culture or society offer us.

The Moonlit Glade: My 24th Birthday Masquerade

It is time for my yearly birthday masquerade. The song this time is "Black Masquerade" by Rainbow (lyrics here). Enjoy.

I am turning....24.



That time of year has come again...
It is my Birthday Masquerade!
That secret night of shadows
Where the hidden things parade
And twirl, and dance, and flit about
Like innumerable Pucks in merry rout

You are invited, one and all
and welcomed to my hidden ball.

To attend, just comment below
And enjoy the lightly scattered snow.
Is it starlight you fancy, or maybe red wine?
Allow me to welcome you and invite you to dine.

We have curious fancies and delicate mixtures
Of gilded candies and chocolate liqueurs.
Tonight we celebrate my birth...
With joy, gladness and much mirth.

Walk in the garden with me, I pray...
Delightful things occur when you lose your way.

Last year's entertainment can be found  here.

The rules, as always, require you to devise an anonymous handle for yourself (comment under an assumed name, not your real one and not that of your blog), create a costume and offer me a gift. The gift does not have to be tangible. Your costumes and gifts should be creative and expressive of various aspects of your personality.

Good Evening, Ladies & Gentlemen. This evening's entertainment takes place in a moonlit glen. The glade is blanketed with velvety grass, and there are little archways, garden walks and pavilions filled with curiosities from around the world. Enjoy your wanderings. The beverages served this evening consist of pressed starlight, raspberry cordial and sparkling pressed lantern-grapes (the kind that are lit with little silver lights from within). The food consists of delicious chocolate brownies, golden apples and a cake that is made out of sugar spun by none other than the Lady of Shallot. Enjoy yourselves...and collect the little golden baubles that sparkle as a souvenir.

Threatening Encounters With Angels

I was learning with my husband and I happened upon an interesting realization. Both Yaakov and Moshe encounter angels in threatening situations, but what transpires is obviously different.

First, let's look at the texts (because, as my husband correctly notes, this is a stretch- the wording is not similar).

Text 1- Jacob

כה  וַיִּוָּתֵר יַעֲקֹב, לְבַדּוֹ; וַיֵּאָבֵק אִישׁ עִמּוֹ, עַד עֲלוֹת הַשָּׁחַר.	25 And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.
כו  וַיַּרְא, כִּי לֹא יָכֹל לוֹ, וַיִּגַּע, בְּכַף-יְרֵכוֹ; וַתֵּקַע כַּף-יֶרֶךְ יַעֲקֹב, בְּהֵאָבְקוֹ עִמּוֹ.	26 And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was strained, as he wrestled with him.
כז  וַיֹּאמֶר שַׁלְּחֵנִי, כִּי עָלָה הַשָּׁחַר; וַיֹּאמֶר לֹא אֲשַׁלֵּחֲךָ, כִּי אִם-בֵּרַכְתָּנִי.	27 And he said: 'Let me go, for the day breaketh.' And he said: 'I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.'
כח  וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו, מַה-שְּׁמֶךָ; וַיֹּאמֶר, יַעֲקֹב.	28 And he said unto him: 'What is thy name?' And he said: 'Jacob.'
כט  וַיֹּאמֶר, לֹא יַעֲקֹב יֵאָמֵר עוֹד שִׁמְךָ--כִּי, אִם-יִשְׂרָאֵל:  כִּי-שָׂרִיתָ עִם-אֱלֹהִים וְעִם-אֲנָשִׁים, וַתּוּכָל.	29 And he said: 'Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel; for thou hast striven with God and with men, and hast prevailed.'
ל  וַיִּשְׁאַל יַעֲקֹב, וַיֹּאמֶר הַגִּידָה-נָּא שְׁמֶךָ, וַיֹּאמֶר, לָמָּה זֶּה תִּשְׁאַל לִשְׁמִי; וַיְבָרֶךְ אֹתוֹ, שָׁם.	30 And Jacob asked him, and said: 'Tell me, I pray thee, thy name.' And he said: 'Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name?' And he blessed him there.

Text 2- Moshe

כד  וַיְהִי בַדֶּרֶךְ, בַּמָּלוֹן; וַיִּפְגְּשֵׁהוּ יְהוָה, וַיְבַקֵּשׁ הֲמִיתוֹ.	24 And it came to pass on the way at the lodging-place, that the LORD met him, and sought to kill him.
כה  וַתִּקַּח צִפֹּרָה צֹר, וַתִּכְרֹת אֶת-עָרְלַת בְּנָהּ, וַתַּגַּע, לְרַגְלָיו; וַתֹּאמֶר, כִּי חֲתַן-דָּמִים אַתָּה לִי.	25 Then Zipporah took a flint, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet; and she said: 'Surely a bridegroom of blood art thou to me.'
כו  וַיִּרֶף, מִמֶּנּוּ; אָז, אָמְרָה, חֲתַן דָּמִים, לַמּוּלֹת.  {פ}	26 So He let him alone. Then she said: 'A bridegroom of blood in regard of the circumcision.' {P}

This is very obviously not an exact match or parallel, because the wording is not the same. Elokim is the name of God (or the name that connotes the angel) by Yaakov, whereas Shem Havaya is used by Moshe. But if you look at it beyond the text, not as an exact literary parallel or even as an echo, but as an encounter with an angel that is threatening, it's still very interesting.

Similarities between the Encounters	Differences between the Encounters
*Both Yaakov and Moshe are making their way back to the place they were born from a place where they have stayed-over and acquired a wife (Laban's house/ Yisro's house) *Both Yaakov and Moshe have their wives and families with them *In both scenarios, a threatening angel appears *In both scenarios, the presence of the angel causes something transformative to occur (Yaakov to Yisrael, uncircumcised child to circumcised child) *In both scenarios, the original object of the attack (Yaakov/ Moshe) departs with their life *Per the commentaries, each encounter transpires because the protagonist failed to fulfill his responsibilities. Yaakov did not tithe appropriately and Moshe did not circumcise his child when he stopped over at the hotel.	*In Yaakov's case, he is left alone with his family safe on the other side of the river; in Moshe's case, his wife and child are with him *In one scenario, the angel is only struggling with Yaakov; in the other, the angel desires to kill Moshe * The first transformation takes place because Yaakov requests a blessing; the second transformation takes place because Tzipporah recognizes this angel can only be appeased by the milah taking place *However, Yaakov's thigh is harmed (Gid HaNasheh)

What I find very interesting is that the major difference between the encounters seems to occur due to who is accompanying the protagonist. In Yaakov's case, where he is left alone, he struggles with the angel and prevails, but not totally unharmed. His thigh is touched; he is changed. From then on, he limps.

In contrast to this, because Moshe's wife was with him when this encounter occurred, he had someone else upon whom to rely, someone to help him face the foe. Tzipporah's quick-thinking and understanding of why the angel had come allowed her to save her husband's life. Moshe departs totally unscathed.

Perhaps this is the idea of an ezer k'negdo in action; when the wife appears with her husband, she is able to save him. When she is not with him, even if it is for a good reason (Yaakov wanted to protect his wives and children and therefore made sure they were all safely in camp before returning to the other side of the river), he does not have his quick-thinking other half to aid him in discerning what the angel wants and how to disarm it.

Why did the angel touch Yaakov's thigh vs any other part of his body?

I haven't researched this, but I wonder if perhaps it is an allusion to (as the commentators say) the promise that Yaakov had not fulfilled to tithe his property. In Genesis 24:9 we read:

ט  וַיָּשֶׂם הָעֶבֶד אֶת-יָדוֹ, תַּחַת יֶרֶךְ אַבְרָהָם אֲדֹנָיו; וַיִּשָּׁבַע לוֹ, עַל-הַדָּבָר הַזֶּה.

9 And the servant put his hand under the thigh of Abraham his master, and swore to him concerning this matter.

We generally understand this to mean that the servant swore on a sacred object (in the same way that we take oaths and swear on the Bible), Avraham's milah.

I wonder if perhaps the angel touching Yaakov's thigh was an allusion to promises made and not kept? (Obviously, this doesn't entirely work, because then it would be more appropriate for the angel to have touched Yaakov's milah rather than his thigh).

What I was thinking, though, was that perhaps if Yaakov's wife had been with him, she would have been able to discern the fact that the angel was there because Yaakov had not fulfilled the tithe, could have informed the angel that they would do it right then and perhaps Yaakov's thigh would not have to be harmed. I don't have textual support for this idea, but just thought it might be interesting.

Red & Cerulean Badge of Courage

Today's a DSBD (Damn Sexy Blood Donor) day! I've got a red badge with a cerulean bow gauzing up my arm.

Had an awesome phlebotomist named Nate and an equally awesome screener named Michael, both of whom were entertaining. Michael explained to me that you can't freeze blood because then the cells would burst. It sounded very interesting.

It was a good day.

My Life is Happy!

My sister is engaged to the best guy ever! Mazel Tov, World. *smiles*

Literary Foils: Pairs in Shmuel Aleph

Today I was learning Shmuel with a student when I came to a realization. It gives new meaning to the phrase, "Right in front of my nose."

Elkanah is married to Peninah and Chana.
Eli has two sons, Pinchas and Chofni.

Coincidence that the names start with the same letters? I don't think so! 

These two pairs are literary foils for one another.

This also answers the question asked by a particularly astute student of mine. She was confused as to why the following pasuk shows up in Perek Aleph, when we never hear about these two again until Perek Bet:

ג  וְעָלָה הָאִישׁ הַהוּא מֵעִירוֹ מִיָּמִים יָמִימָה, לְהִשְׁתַּחֲו‍ֹת וְלִזְבֹּחַ לַיהוָה צְבָאוֹת בְּשִׁלֹה; וְשָׁם שְׁנֵי בְנֵי-עֵלִי, חָפְנִי וּפִנְחָס, כֹּהֲנִים, לַיהוָה.

3 And this man went up out of his city from year to year to worship and to sacrifice unto the LORD of hosts in Shiloh. And the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were there priests unto the LORD.

At the time, I just told her that this information is simply there as foreshadowing. It happens to be that Eli goes up to the Mishkan each year, and while he is there, interacts with the two sons of Eli, who are Kohanim. We will hear more about them in the following perek.

But if you understand these two pairs to serve as literary foils to one another, it all makes so much more sense.

To quote Wikipedia, simply for its accessibility, "in fiction, a foil is a character who contrasts with another character (usually the protagonist) in order to highlight particular qualities of the other character. A foil's complementary role may be emphasized by physical characteristics. A foil usually either differs drastically or is extremely similar but with a key difference setting them apart."

In this case, the main distinction that is highlighted has to do with each one of these pairs' relationship to God. But let's look at them a bit more superficially first.

Peninah and Chana	Pinchas and Chofni
* Each receives a portion of meat; Chana receives a double portion *Elkanah does not seem to see what is going on in terms of Peninah's tormenting of Chana; he tries to comfort Chana by saying "Am I not better to you than ten sons?" but does not address the situation *Elkanah does not rebuke Peninah for her behavior towards Chana, possibly because he does not know about it *Chana tells Eli that he should not consider her to be a Bat Belial  *Peninah is eventually punished for her behavior; "the many-sonned woman is bleak and/or childless while the barren woman bears seven" *Per Midrash, Peninah recognizes that she is being punished and begs Chana to pray to save her last remaining two children	* Each receives a portion of meat; they instruct the Na'ar HaKohen to get them triple portions (and/or to take the meat with 3-pronged fork) *Eli does not see the sins of his sons (whether they be the taking of the meat or  the 'sleeping' with the women assembled at the Tent of Meeting); he eventually hears about them *Eli does not rebuke Pinchas & Chofni for their behavior towards Bnei Yisrael (he asks them why they are doing these things, but does not impose actual consequences) *Chofni & Pinchas are considered to be Bnei Belial  *Chofni & Pinchas are eventually punished for their behavior; they die in the same day *Pinchas' wife recognizes they are being punished and names her child Ichabod to represent the fact that once the Aron was stolen, the "glory is departed from Israel"

In these scenarios, the standout role is given to Chana. When Pinchas & Chofni feel like they are not being given their due in the Mishkan, their response is to ignore God (indeed, they are described as 'not knowing God') and to simply take what they want for themselves, whether that means taking more than they are permitted, taking too early or sleeping with women/ delaying the women's sacrifices. Similarly, when Peninah feels that Chana is not acting appropriately, rather than sitting her down and having a conversation with her to that effect, she decides to take matters into her own hands, flaunting her children in front of her and tormenting her, in order to get her to pray (per Midrash).

In contrast to all these people who are taking matters into their own hands, Chana does not take matters into her own hands. She does not start tormenting Peninah back, or play tattletale and tell on her to her husband. Rather, she goes to speak to God. She tells God about all the pain and suffering in her heart, makes Him a promise and implores that He hear her. She is misjudged by Eli, but rather than firing back with venom (as she could have done, having been tutored in this skill by Peninah), she responds by defending herself and explaining that she is not what he thinks, a Bat Belial. Despite all the suffering that she has experienced, she has kept her faith in God and trusts in Him to deliver her and to grant her the child she so desires.

In contrast to everyone else in the narrative, Chana is the one who surrenders to the Almighty. She does not say, as is stated in Deuteronomy 8:17-

יז  וְאָמַרְתָּ, בִּלְבָבֶךָ:  כֹּחִי וְעֹצֶם יָדִי, עָשָׂה לִי אֶת-הַחַיִל הַזֶּה.

17 and thou say in thy heart: 'My power and the might of my hand hath gotten me this wealth.'

Chana understands that the source of children is ultimately not her, but God. Unlike Pinchas and Chofni, who do not understand that the source of their power as Kohanim ultimately stems from God, or Peninah, who does not understand that her children are not hers to keep but can be kept or taken away by God, Chana is the only one who truly understands the concept of the source. Hence her prayer-poem which directly addresses this concept, the concept of the source and the need to surrender to and to turn to that Source for all blessing.

Because Peninah tormented Chana by flaunting her children, she loses them (they die per the Midrash). Because Chofni and Pinchas abused their position as Kohanim, they lose their position (and ultimately die). But because Chana did not do any of this, did not decide to take matters into her own hands by sinking to her rival's level, by becoming a torturer, by giving up her faith in God, or by stealing someone else's child or otherwise doing something forbidden- because she recognized the source- she becomes mother to Shmuel.

It is interesting that both Peninah and Pinchas' wife are the ones mentioned as the ones who learn their lessons too late and who mourn. Peninah loses her children, and Pinchas' wife loses her husband and father-in-law. These two women are clearly meant to parallel one another.

I just think it's so interesting that despite having learned this perek many times, I never saw the fact that the names are deliberately similar until today.

The People Who Forgot Their Roots

It fascinates me that when it comes to fiction or literature, we love 'chosen' people. Harry Potter is 'The Chosen One.' Katniss Everdeen is the 'Mockingjay.' Tris Prior & Four are 'Divergent.' Clary and Jace are 'Shadowhunters.'

And yet, when it comes to real life, we do anything we can to try to suggest that we are not special, are not different, are not chosen.

I'm talking about us in terms of the Jewish people. The Jewish people is chosen by God. We are given a difficult, holy, incredible responsibility. We are chosen, not for what we innately are but for what we have the power to become. We have special talents and special responsibilities. That is what it means, what we mean, when we say we are chosen.

But so many people I know feel like they must apologize for being chosen. Moreover, they must apologize for caring for their family, for their people, for their nation. As Jews, we are one people, we are one nation; our hearts beat as one and we bleed together. Sanctified through the ashes of the crematoria, consecrated through our shared beliefs and the suffering our people has been dealt, all of us who are born as Jews are connected, in an intricate and multifaceted web.

It is shocking to me that gay people have a 'gay pride parade' where they stand up, loud and proud, and announce to the world that they love their identity, but we as Jews are ashamed, cowering and hiding, afraid to say that we either have an identity or that we are proud of it.

To believe I am chosen is not to say that you do not have an important role to play, an important place in this wonderful world. It is to believe that I have a responsibility to my nation, to my people, to God, that you do not necessarily share, a burden that is not yours. Frodo Baggins was the one who had to bear the ring, but in the end, it was Samwise Gamgee who carried Frodo. Those of you who are not Jewish, you are important in my life and I care deeply for you; I believe that you have your own unique role to play in this world, but it is not the same as mine.

And for this I do not apologize.

I do not apologize for caring deep, passionately, unashamedly about my brethren, my family, my nation, the Jews and the Israelis who are currently under fire.

I do not apologize for caring more for them and for their safety than for the evil Hamas terrorists or the people who support them.

And of course I am sorry for those Palestinians who have good hearts and who are caught up in this mess through no fault of their own. But do I feel equally for them? Are they the same to me as my family members, as my brothers and sisters, as my nation? Of course not. Of course I love my father and mother more than I love the average human on the street, even though I do love them. Of course I love Jews and Israelis more. They are my people. They are my nation.

The Palestinians are not.

So to suggest that everything I say must be laced through a carefully politically correct prism and spectrum where the struggling and suffering of Palestinians is equal to that of my Jewish brethren, that I must care equally about both of them- no, that is not my role. Yes, God made every man in His image, and so He cares equally for them all, and so do I, on some level. On some level, but not on the deepest level; if I saw my sister and a neighbor and both were about to be hit by a car, I would save my sister first and I don't apologize for that; she is my sister, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh and I love her most. Not only- but most.

God has called us and commanded us; He has told us over and over that we are His people, His treasure, His chosen ones, His nation. He has promised that He will comfort us, raise us up, rescue us.

As God says in Isaiah 51-

יב  אָנֹכִי אָנֹכִי הוּא, מְנַחֶמְכֶם; מִי-אַתְּ וַתִּירְאִי מֵאֱנוֹשׁ יָמוּת, וּמִבֶּן-אָדָם חָצִיר יִנָּתֵן.

12 I, even I, am He that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou art afraid of man that shall die, and of the son of man that shall be made as grass;

What are you afraid of, o' Israel? Are you afraid of men, who will judge you because you are not politically correct and do not pretend to care for every Palestinian with the same degree of love that you feel towards your Jewish brethren?

Are you afraid of man, whose life is like "the wind that blows, like the flower that fades, like the passing shadow?"

What are you afraid of? Storm the heavenly gates! Cry out for your people, who are sitting in bomb shelters, who are running from rockets! Acknowledge that you are a Jew and that you care for your fellow Jews! Know who you are, know what you stand for and rise up, rise up and say, "I am a Jew and I stand with my fellow Jews; I will pray for them, stand with them and care for them with every breath in my body. I will live with them and die with them and I will not suffer to hear their names uttered in the same sentence with those who live to kill them. I will not have mercy for the murderers and for the victims; we have been baptized in rocket fire, and our cause is righteous. Tzedek, tzedek tirdof, sayeth the Lord."

It is God who has designated us thus; it is God who made us chosen, made us family and it is our job to cry out for and support our family. Let us ensure that we know who we are, that we do not forget who we are, and that we work to protect those we love.

Anna Karenina

I just walked out of the theater, where I went to see the 2012 adaptation of "Anna Karenina" directed by Joe Wright.

This adaptation is extremely disappointing. In fact, it is terrible. It boasts beautiful cinematography, gorgeous costumes, and an overly clever, almost gimmicky storytelling device, but its characters lack depth or realism, and the person who draws me in the most is, of all people, Karenin!

To be fair, I am a purist. My mother brought me up with Russian literature from the time that I was a little girl, and I learned to love it, breathe it and find meaning in it. This film version renders one of Tolstoy's greatest works superficial, conventional and cliche. I would hardly find it possible to imagine it thus, except it was.

The greatest problem with this adaptation was the gimmicky story-telling device. The audience sees "Anna Karenina" as a drama performing at a theater, complete with dances and ballets, so there are curtains rising, falling, beginnings of scenes, ends of scenes, a section of the theater that reflects the stage, the wings and so forth. This serves to distance the audience from the feelings and emotions that should be rendered on the screen rather than bringing them closer. It continuously cut into my experience of the film, reminding me again that I am removed from it rather than peeking into the characters' lives as they are lived before me.

The time that this idea worked most advantageously was at the ball with Kitty & Anna. It was almost as though this scene was taken out of 'Swan Lake' with Kitty cast as Odette, Anna as Odile and Vronsky as the prince. The music, the dancing and the choreography worked brilliantly here, and it was one of the few places in the film where I felt compelled to sit up and pay attention. My heart fluttered; I was moved.

But after that, it disintegrates. The scene in which Karenin forgives Vronsky because Anna is on her deathbed is awfully maudlin. There needed to be a bit more gravity, a bit more severity, before that forgiveness came; it seemed almost like an interrupted menage a trois - the only problematic element was the tears. Levin & Kitty's love, at least, seems more authentic.

I think the problem is in the casting. Kiera Knightley, as much as I love her, does not make a believable Anna. She does not have the gravity, the seriousness; whenever she speaks of love, she seems only to be speaking of lust. She seems silly and playful, taken in by a young fop, and while that is one reading of the book, it is not my reading of it. Anna in my reading is deeply unhappy; Karenin is old and ugly and frigid; he does not understand her, and she reaches out to try to preserve her youth, in hope of love. She is not silly; she is a woman of deep feeling, a conflicted woman, and none of that came across.

In fact, I found myself far more captivated by Michelle Dockery's acting, during the few moments that she was onscreen. I think she would have made a much better Anna.

In short, this version is a disappointment; it has no feeling, only sentimentality, and the deep and enduring pain that it should cause the viewer to feel is lost. I felt little; in fact, I sympathized with Karenin. Where is the Anna that came to life in my mind when I read the book? That Anna is lost; she does not exist in this film.

The Sated & the Hungry

My incredibly creative, incredibly talented student came up with the most fascinating idea in his essay on Perek Bet.

He was writing about the connections between the Tefillat Chana poem that starts off the perek and what actually ends up happening in the remainder of the Perek.

He made the following connection. In the poem, Chana says:

שְׂבֵעִים בַּלֶּחֶם נִשְׂכָּרוּ, וּרְעֵבִים חָדֵלּוּ

This means: "The sated have hired themselves out for bread, and they that were hungry have ceased."

My student came up with the following statement:

"This type of change is hinted at in Chana’s poem when it talks about how not by might will a man prevail, that not by force will Kohanim rule and that the common people who care about how the ritual takes place will rise, and when it says the sated will be hungry and the hungry will become fulfilled. That the Kohanim who are growing fat from all the meat that they are eating will be defied by people who do not care just about food, but about the word of God, and that that will fulfill them."

I immediately thought of Deuteronomy 8:3.

ג  וַיְעַנְּךָ, וַיַּרְעִבֶךָ, וַיַּאֲכִלְךָ אֶת-הַמָּן אֲשֶׁר לֹא-יָדַעְתָּ, וְלֹא יָדְעוּן אֲבֹתֶיךָ:  לְמַעַן הוֹדִיעֲךָ, כִּי לֹא עַל-הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם--כִּי עַל-כָּל-מוֹצָא פִי-יְהוָה, יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם.

3 And He afflicted thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know; that He might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every thing that proceedeth out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live.

My student's realization here is that when it says "the sated have hired themselves out for bread/ and they that were hungry have ceased" it can have more than one meaning. The Kohanim who are fattening themselves on meat must, at the end of this chapter, beg for a mere loaf of bread, while the hungry have ceased. Which hungry have ceased? The ones who were hungry for the word of God, for as we know, man does not live by bread alone. He lives by the word of God. Once these Kohanim are demoted, those who were hungry for the word of God, such as the man who plaintively requests that he get the chance to offer up the Chelev first, will be sated. They will again be able to follow God's law.

A Reform Rabbi's Thoughts on Gender & Judaism

I had the pleasure of hearing a Reform rabbi speak to us at our school recently. She gave a presentation on Gender & Judaism, with a specific emphasis on feminism. I found her presentation interesting, first, because it explained to me why many people who are Jewish feminists think the way they do, and second, because it illuminated to me the differences in our starting premises that explain why I do not think this way.

She began her presentation by asking three questions, but I can only remember the first one, which was: "To what extent has your gender impacted your experience of Judaism, and your Judaism impacted your gender?" I liked this question very much, as there is no question that my experience of Judaism has been greatly impacted due to my being a woman.

After raising the three questions, she explained that per her point of view, there is no such thing as "just" Judaism. Judaism has been created through the lens of men, with rituals that work for men, and with a halakhic system that favors men. Thus, the Judaism that we have been practicing is not "just" Judaism; it is male-defined and created Judaism. She was careful not to place a value judgement on this- it is not necessarily good or bad, but simply, from her perspective, a fact.

Then she touched on the binary process in Judaism, which she referred to as "the sanctity of separation." In Judaism, objects, times or events are made holy via the "sanctity of separation." There is a binary process in which we have (and there is obviously a longer list than these provided):

kosher/treif
pure/impure
holy/profane

She explained that current research explains that women favor connectivity in their relationships, living within shades of grey. This may be based on the difference in their very biology; they are the ones who are capable of birthing a child, a connective experience if ever there was one. Thus, this very binary separation between different items may not work for women; they may not experience it as holy. How can we (or should we) change Judaism in order to create holiness that works for women as well?

Gender issues in Judaism can run the gamut from our liturgy (in the Orthodox siddur, men thank God for not having created them female) to our Torah (notice that Sarah is not mentioned in the story of the Akedah; her absence is meaningful; had she been there, the story might have ended differently) to our very language. Hebrew is a gendered language; nouns, verbs and so on can be classified as either 'male' or 'female.' In her speech, our presenter brought up an anecdote about a woman named Norma who is the wife of an Orthodox rabbi and who told her husband she found it hurtful that every day he thanks God for not making him like his wife or his daughters. (Does anyone happen to know who this person is?)

In addition, our presenter challenged us to think about where women's mitzvot traditionally take place. Women's mitzvot generally take place within the home or in private places: consider mitzvot such as lighting Shabbat candles, going to the mikvah or counting days of niddah. She suggested that this might not be satisfying anymore.

She also noted that it is inappropriate to think of objects themselves as being gendered. A pink tallit, for instance, is thought of as a female tallit. But that is not ideal. The tallit itself ought not to have an identity as either female or male, or specifically feminine or masculine. Rather, it should simply be an object unto itself, and males or females or anyone of any gender identity should be able to purchase it without it being understood to be a "women's" tallit.

When it comes to feminism in Judaism, feminism has gone through various stages. It started out with the "language of permission," which refers to the use of the word can. It is almost as though women were knocking at the door, so to speak. Can we learn Talmud? Can we don a tallit? Can we wear tefillin? Can we count in a minyan? Women, per our presenter, were still asking permission of men to take on these rituals.

Then we got to the point where women determined that they did not need to ask, but could simply appropriate whichever rituals they felt comfortable with. Women decided they had the right to do this. Today, we can go further- women can create new rituals, should they so desire, for their needs, such as lactation, menopause and so forth. Today, we also have female rabbis and women who lead services in shul. Unfortunately, part of the pushback with that is that in services where women are very involved, male participants tend to flee. This is an issue that needs to be addressed/ discussed.

Our presenter did not like the idea of special "Women's Tefillah" group or "Women's Week," because if that one week in your synagogue is "Women's Week", then what were all the other weeks? Women ought to be a vibrant, participating part of the service every week, not only during special weeks.

To conclude, our presenter urged us to consider why gender is so important, anyway. Why is it that the moment a baby is born, the first thing parents want to know is "Is it a boy or a girl?" Why must we ascribe gender designations and labels to this little child when it is barely an hour old? Why is this our greatest concern?

~

I found this speech very interesting, particularly because it clarified to me some of the major places in which our premises differ.

1. I do not see Torah, Talmud or Halakha as a male-dominated system that privileges males. I believe that our Tannaim and Amoraim were vessels for the halakha rather than the creators of it; thus, they carried and passed on a tradition rather than creating it based on their own biases and prejudices. (See more on this by clicking this link).

2. I see Judaism as something that I strive to live up to, not something that I can change because it is not working for me. Thus, the idea that research points to women focusing more on connectivity and thus needing a type of holiness that doesn't center around separation doesn't hold weight for me. Judaism for me is the standard; I am not the standard. It's the same way that my father taught me to learn Rashi. I was never to say "Rashi is wrong," rather, I was to say "I do not yet understand Rashi."

3. Much of this presentation focuses on the idea of rights vs. obligations. The idea here is that women deserve rights. They deserve equal rights to participate in Judaism, and participation in this regard refers to their being able to count in a minyan, don tefillin, do public mitzvot, not only private mitzvot, etc. This reminds me of the sentence, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." The way in which I approach Judaism is "Ask not what your religion (Judaism) can do for you, but what you can do for your religion (Judaism)." Judaism for me obligates me in certain ideas and actions; it is not a system in which I can really speak about my rights so much as about my duties. This is a fundamental difference, not only in this regard, but in medical ethics as well. Secular society will talk about abortion within the framework of a woman's right to choose; religious Jews understand abortion as a question of what are my obligations to the fetus. (More on this if you click this link).

4. Longtime readers of this blog know that Heshy & I are huge fans of Heschel. Heschel writes about aggada & halakha and how/ why the two of them must remain in a symbiotic relationship, where we cannot detach one from the other. I think that dissolving traditional divides between the gender roles and discarding mitzvot that women do not find meaningful to them does away with the halakhic approach, to the aggadic approach's detriment. We are, in fact, doing away with the concept of making an effort to do something that is unfamiliar to us, and that is not ideal. (More on this if you click this link.)

Rabbi Israel Meir Lau: A Brand Plucked From the Fire

I finished reading Out of the Depths: The Story of a Child of Buchenwald Who Returned Home at Last by Chief Rabbi Israel Meir Lau last week. I've been thinking about it since then, as reading the book was a spiritual experience. What struck me most was how deeply human Rabbi Lau is, and how his humanity came across in the book in a very beautiful way. I decided the best way to experience the book is simply to reproduce some excerpts below.

~

Excerpt 1

As we were boarding the train, the Gestapo commandant in charge fixed his eye on me, the little boy, although I tried to keep close to Naphtali. He thrust his stick into my face, grabbed me by the nape of my neck, and shouted, "Children with the mothers!" Then he threw me into a group of about fifty women and a few children. They had arrived from other camps near Czestochowa and were crowding into the first train car behind the engine. At a certain point, Naphtali realized, this car was to be detached from the other train cars, which held only men, and sent to another camp. Later, my brother told me that the last thing he saw, after I had already completely disappeared inside the car of women and children, was the loaf of bread. I grasped it determinedly, holding my two hands above my head, guarding with my life the precious food I had been entrusted with. This is how Naphtali saw our separation.

Of the train car into which I was thrown, I recall mainly horrible smells, screams, and the sound of children crying. We often hear about the victims of the Nazi Aktions, but rarely do we hear about the days and nights, the hours and seconds, in which people drew their last breaths inside suffocating cattle cars, without water or bathrooms. These trains were in no way suitable for human beings. The souls of many women and children in that car returned to their Maker as a result of the inhuman conditions.

As I was being thrown into the first car, Naphtali was pushed along with the other men into one of the last cars of the same train. Thus we were on the same train, but at a great distance from each other. Naphtali was worried; he had no idea how many cars separated us, and the promise he had made to Father echoed through his head. In the stairwell of our home in Piotrkow, he had sworn not to let me out of his sight, and to do anything in order to continue our family dynasty.

The train set out on its way, and Naphtali had an idea. He and two friends, who had been with him the whole way from Piotrkow, began to manipulate the handle of the door of their train car until they managed to open it. But the train continued on its journey, and the open door did not advance the effort to rescue me at all. At the train's first stop, Naphtali and his friends slowly opened the door and looked around. Then Naphtali lowered himself underneath the car, aligned himself between the tracks, and crawled forward on his elbows to the door of the next car. He pounded on it and shouted my name: "Lulek! Lulek!" Meanwhile, the train whistled and shrieked, signaling that it was just about to move. Naphtali quickly crawled back to the car he had just left. Because he had returned empty-handed, he repeated this operation at the next station, and the one after it, and so forth, four times, each time returning disappointed. He ignored those who complained of the freezing cold that penetrated the car through the open door, and insisted on continuing his mission to rescue me.

His next attempt was a success. When he reached the seventh car, the one just behind the engine, again he shouted my name. I was inside the car, wearing Mother's giant pillow and holding the bread, which had since hardened. One of the women had sprinkled a few fine sugar crystals on the bread, but they had slid off, scattering on the floor of the car, which was packed with bodies. I busied myself hunting for them, so longing to put something sweet into my mouth! Suddenly, as I was searching for the grains of sugar, I heard my name. I thought I was dreaming, but still, I moved in the direction of the voice. I climbed over and between the bodies, forging a path between the women and children, until I fell into the arms of my brother, Naphtali. He had managed to open the train car door using a pin he had modified.

I wanted to hug and kiss him, but he stopped me, demanding that I keep silent. He pulled me down under the car, and again signaled silence with his fingers over his mouth, in case a guard was posted on the roofs of the cars, or in case someone in the engine car noticed the movement on the tracks. It was night; thick darkness surrounded us and I could see only his eyes, but I understood the significance of what we were doing. behaving with extreme caution, I imitated Naphtali's movements, crawling rhythmically on my elbows and knees. He counted seven cars, then stuck out his head, pulling me after him. Two pairs of hands pulled him inside, and he pulled and lifted me into the car.

I remember his wisdom and common sense: a second before we squeezed into the car, he filled his hat with snow so that we could drink the pure water when it melted. Only after the two friends from Piotrkow had closed the door did we allow ourselves to embrace each other tightly, with heartbreaking cries. After a seemingly final separation that we had thought impossible to overcome, we were together again.

In a few hours, Naphtali's intuition proved justified. At a certain point along the way, the train cars separated. The women and children's car continued to Bergen-Belsen or to Ravensbruck, I am not sure which, while we continued on a very long trip with countless stops. Quite a few of the men died in those freight cars. Those who survived the long journey found themselves, three days later, at the entrance to the Buchenwald concentration camp.

-Pages 37-39

~~~

Excerpt 2

"Now I ask you," continued Rabbi Frankel, "really, why does the Torah emphasize the negative side of this- Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother? We understand the importance of the positive statement, and shall cleave to his wife- to establish a home and family. But why does the Torah use the verb to leave regarding the parents? For twenty years, the parents invest in their child. They can't sleep at night while he burns with fever, they work overtime in order to support him, they take care of his every need. And after twenty years, he leaves his father and mother. What is this- a divorce from the parents? What did they do to deserve this? Why does the Torah have to say, to leave?"

I listened carefully, and thought that this was indeed a fascinating question, but was this why I had come to the rabbi's house? I wanted to hear what he thought about my proposed marriage to his daughter! Was this, in fact, a parting meal? He wines and dines me, and then all of a sudden poses a question from the Torah, putting me on the spot? I had no answers.

Thinking quickly, I admitted to the rabbi that I had never thought about that verse. I told him that I had heard many homilies from my friends about engagement and the seven wedding blessings, but none of them had addressed his question. Rabbi Frankel was not surprised. When I finished, he said in a fatherly manner, "I tell you what I think. Sometimes I stand under the chuppah before a bride and a groom whom I don't know. Often, I ask myself whether this match will last. After all, these are two different worlds we're talking about. How can they possibly cleave to one another? I ask myself, 'Yitzchak Yedidya, what can you say at the wedding ceremony of these two worlds?' But on second thought, I think to myself that there, standing on either side of the couple, are the parents. Twenty or thirty years ago, they stood in the exact same position, excited brides and grooms at their own weddings. They also were not born in the same mold, but the connection between them has held. Now they're marrying off the next generation. In other words, when we look at the parents' home, when we see the father respecting the mother and vice versa, and we see that they live in a home of peace and love, this is a personal example for the chain of generations to follow."

At this point, Rabbi Frankel stopped speaking for a moment. Then he continued, "Israel, the verb to leave does not have to be understood literally. That same word, whose Hebrew root is ayin-zayin-bet, can also mean 'inheritance,' as in the word i-za-von, whose root is also ayin-zayin-bet. There is material inheritance, which parents bequeath to their children after a long life, and there is spiritual inheritance, which they grant their son or daughter the day the child leaves home and gets married. Leaving one's father and mother means one should inherit their example. The Torah presents this as a condition: only if a man leaves his father and mother will he have a true chance of cleaving to his wife. That is how they will succeed in raising a family."

He thought for a moment, giving me a chance to digest his words. Then he continued: "I have heard of you and your reputation for some time. My daughter has received marriage proposals from around the country and beyond, but your name has come up repeatedly." Rabbi Frankel named those who had suggested me for hsi daughter, including his friend from the yeshiva in Warsaw, Rabbi David Weissbrod-Halachmi, and my brother Shiko's brother-in-law, Israel Mintzer. "I have considered you and asked about you. I have heard of your talents and distinguished qualities, and I have no doubt about any of them. But one thing bothers me: where is your 'leaving'? You have no home, you have no parents to leave, as the verse says, and you have no spiritual inheritance."

I felt tears choking my throat. His words were like a eulogy for me and my destroyed family. Rabbi Frankel was telling me, in fact, that because of my personal history as a Holocaust survivor and orphan who had no home, because I did not grow up with a mother and father and had no example to follow, it would be difficult for me to build a Jewish home and family. He said, "I recall the speeches of your father, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Lau. But you did not grow up in his shadow and did not know what family life is like. You have spent almost your entire life in institutions, dormitories and yeshivas. This is what bothers me about placing my daughter in your hands. Still, after checking into your background, talking with all your rabbis and friends in Jerusalem and Bnei Brak, I learned something about your brother."

At that time, Naphtali was an editor in the She'arim newspaper of Po'alei Agudath Israel, to which Rabbi Frankel contributed a column on halacha every Friday. Rabbi Frankel said, "I have noted the behavior of your brother, who came to the big city of Tel Aviv but remained an observant Jew. Of everything I have heard about you, I believe and hope that this one worry I have will prove unfounded. It doesn't interest me one bit," he added, "that you have no money, or that there is no father-in-law to share expenses with me. Believe me that my daughter has had offers from wealthy men, but they do not interest me. I also came to Eretz Israel with nothing, with two babies, one about a year, the other just two months old. I taught school and to this day, I live in a rented apartment. I am only interested in the groom's personality."

Rabbi Frankel lived in Tel Aviv for fifty-one years. He was chief rabbi of that city for fourteen of those years, but he never owned his own apartment or car, and the material side of life did not interest him at all. But he feared the scars I might have from lack of family. He was worried that I did not know the meaning of affection, generosity or compromise. That was why Rabbi Frankel made sure to have private conversations with my roommates at the yeshiva. He wanted to know how I got along with others, and whether orphanhood had taken its toll on my interpersonal relations.

At the end of that long, private conversation, Rabbi Frankel declared, 'if for your part you are willing, then we are willing to accept you as part of our family. Welcome." I felt overwhelming joy, along with a piercing sadness that my father and mother could not be with me at this happy moment. Meanwhile, Mrs. Frankel and her daughter had returned home, and Rabbi Frankel told them about our conversation. That week, in early June 1959, we invited my two brothers, Yehoshua and Naphtali, and my cousin Shmuel Yitzchak Lau, who had acted as matchmaker, to a meeting with Rabbi Frankel's four sons, and we toasted le-chaim at the vort, the signing of the engagement agreement. The engagement ceremony was held a few weeks later, on my birthday, 22 Sivan 5719 (June 28, 1959). Eight months later, in February 1960, we were married in Tel Aviv.

~Pages 215-218

~

Excerpt 3

By definition, a chief rabbi must fulfill two roles. For the first five years of his term, he serves as presiding judge of the supreme rabbinical court and president of the chief rabbinical council. In the latter position, he is responsible for the religious matters in the state: kashrut, Shabbat, religious councils, burials, and examinations for rabbinical ordination. In the second five years, he acts as president of the supreme rabbinic court and head of the religious judiciary system. But the law does not define what the chief rabbi does with the rest of his time- i.e., the events at which he appears or the audiences to whom he speaks. Every person who holds the job can use his time as he sees fit, after first implementing his role as a teacher of Torah and a halachic arbiter.

I decided to focus on an area that I considered of top importance, a mitzvah as well as a mission: social welfare activities related to illness and grief, especially visiting the sick and comforting mourners. My sensitivity to this matter and the special place it held in my world, both personally and as a chief rabbi, stemmed, I think, from the influence of the Holocaust on my life and how it remains with me in all I do. I often recalled the image of myself as a small child, sick with the measles and lying alone in isolation. At the time, Naphtali had typhus and was also in isolation in the Buchenwald hospital, so not a living soul came to visit me to ask how I was feeling or hold my hand. This childhood memory is deeply embedded in my consciousness. This is what compels me to visit hospitals all over Israel, offering words of encouragement to those suffering in pain. this is what leads me to houses of mourning, to comfort the grieving with the few words one can say in trying times.

I saw it as my responsibility to be present at the hospitals for every dedication of a wing or department, to say a few words to encourage and strengthen those doing the work. Another issue I took upon myself, as a rabbinical judge, was to visit the homes of battered women and the families of women murdered by their husbands, attempting to understand how a couple could descend to such an abyss in their relationship, and trying to learn from these tragedies how to help couples in distress.

-pages 264-265

Gay Marriage

If you've ever studied CBT, you're familiar with the term all-or-nothing thinking (otherwise referred to as splitting or black-and-white thinking). It troubles me that when it comes to personal health, everyone agrees this is problematic, but when it comes to national health, our national discourse is filled with this. Either you are for gay marriage or you are automatically homophobic and hate all gays. Why can there not be a place for people who believe in God, believe God does not desire for people to be gay or act on their gay impulses, but who would still never do anything deliberately cruel or hurtful to people who identify as gay? Why is there no middle ground? Why am I consistently made to feel marginalized, being told that I must be an ally or I am an evil person? I do NOT support gay marriage; I will not support gay marriage; I do not think this makes me evil. Feel free to discuss.

We Must Not Spurn God's Gifts

I am reading Out of the Depths: The Story of a Child of Buchenwald Who Returned Home at Last by Chief Rabbi Israel Meir Lau. The book is extremely moving, and I thank Marc, who recommended it to me. (Heshy says my parents also told me to read it, but clearly that fell on deaf ears at the time). I came across a passage in the book that really caught my imagination.

~

Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach once spoke to Israel Meir and asked him about the story of King Ahab and Naboth. He questioned, "What happens to Elijah is clear, and what happens to Ahab is clear, but the question is, why did all this happen to Naboth? He has a vineyard in the Jezreel Valley that the king desires, but he refuses to sell it, because it is the heritage of his ancestors. Far be it from me before the Lord that I should give you my ancestors' heritage, Naboth protests. Why was he punished? Why was he condemned to death?"

In explanation, the rabbi told Israel Meir a midrash about Naboth's punishment:

God endowed Naboth with the most beautiful singing voice of his generation. Three times a year, when the Israelites would make their pilgrimage to Jerusalem, Naboth would sing on the Temple Mount, and all the pilgrims enjoyed the beauty of his son. Then one day, pride went to his head; he was swayed by the admiration of the crowds. The next time he went to Jerusalem, he refused to sing until the people begged and pleaded with him. He agreed only after the entreaties of ministers and leaders, and finally he stopped singing altogether. Said the Holy One, blessed be He, to Naboth, "You had a role in this world, and it was to bring joy to other living creatures. I gave you that talent. I placed this melodious bell in your throat, so that you would ring it and your voice would carry afar. But you are withholding from my creatures what they deserve to enjoy, not what you deserve to have. Do not withhold a good thing from its proper owner. I am bringing you back to me, because you have no more goal in life. You have not fulfilled the mission for which I designated you."

"Israel Meir," Rabbi Shlomo Zalman continued after a short pause, "God gave you the power of speech. You have a mission in life- you take after your father. We must not spurn God's gifts; we should not turn our backs on Him. I don't know whether this is what grabbed you by the hair and pulled you out of the piles of ashes in Europe. I won't try to understand the reckoning of the Master of the Universe. But one thing is clear to me; you must dedicate yourself to your studies, learning more an dmore, so that when the time comes, you will ring this bell and make it heard afar."

This was one of the most important conversations of my [Israel Meir's] life. At every moment of my life since then, it has shaped and influenced me.

(This is found on pages 164-165).

This passage reminded me of another I had read in Abraham's Journey: Reflections on the Life of the Founding Patriarch by Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. There, he says (on page xiii):

The imperative of teaching flows not just from hesed, but from true scholarship and knowledge of God:

To know God also means to have a desire to share one's knowledge with others, to have a longing to teach people, to bring the message to the ignorant and insensitive or to those unfortunate ones who have not had the opportunity to learn and to study. A man who is happy and does not want to teach others is not necessarily cruel and selfish. But he is not a scholar. A real scholar cannot contain what he knows within himself; he explodes. Knowledge entails a dynamic element; the knower becomes restless, the truth cries out from the inner recesses of his personality, and he must tell others. 

~

When God bequeaths a talent to a person, whether it is a talent for public speaking, for accumulating knowledge, for learning and so on, it is not there for the sake of the person, although it certainly enhances their life. It is there because with that talent, the person is meant to serve- to serve the world, his fellow man and God. As the motto of my high school went, "Live and Serve!" If one is so lucky as to be chosen, to be gifted, it is not ever solely a gift; it is always also a means to a path of service. The most beloved man of God was called His servant, and so too do we all aspire to be.

more thoughts on shmuel

I am now learning Perek Gimmel of Shmuel with my students. I noticed some interesting things.

1. Perek Gimmel opens with some gorgeous poetry.


; וּדְבַר-יְהוָה, הָיָה יָקָר בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם--אֵין חָזוֹן, נִפְרָץ
 וְעֵלִי שֹׁכֵב בִּמְקוֹמוֹ; וְעֵינָו הֵחֵלּוּ כֵהוֹת


Loosely translated, this means:
And the word of God was precious in those days/ There were no widespread visions
And Eli slept in his place/ And his eyes were dimmed

I realized that on the literal level, Eli is blind. But on the metaphorical level, the reason the word 'chazon' is used here rather than the word 'nevuah' is because of the poetry. "There were no widespread visions/ Eli's eyes were dimmed." The suggestion is that Eli used to have prophecy but now his eyes have dimmed; his prophecy is gone. This sets up the perek beautifully for Shmuel's induction as a prophet.

2. In Perek Bet, the sons of Eli are described in the following manner:

וּבְנֵי עֵלִי, בְּנֵי בְלִיָּעַל:  לֹא יָדְעוּ, אֶת-יְהוָה

Imagine my surprise when I saw Shmuel described in the following way in Perek Gimmel:

 וּשְׁמוּאֵל, טֶרֶם יָדַע אֶת-יְהוָה; וְטֶרֶם יִגָּלֶה אֵלָיו, דְּבַר-יְהוָה

There's the obvious distinction that the word 'terem' is used in context of Shmuel. Shmuel did not yet know the Lord, but he was soon to know him. Still, it seems odd language to echo. The sons of Eli did not know the Lord and Shmuel did not yet know the Lord.

Rashi must have seen this, because he immediately explains that this is referring to the fact that Shmuel had not yet experienced the phenomenon of prophecy, and this is what it refers to.

But I think this also speaks to a difference in attitude. The sons of Eli did not know the Lord in a sense that was utterly final. They had not encountered Him, despite their service, and they were not open to encountering Him. In contrast, Shmuel did not yet know the Lord. He too had not encountered God, but he was open to it. He would welcome God when he found Him, not push him away.

We too need to remember to be open to the hand of God in our lives. When we approach life with an attitude that things are not final, they are simply not yet, we are able to live with that sense of hope and wonder that characterized our greatest leaders.