I didn't know Aliza Shull. But I did know of her. That's because my friends Ezzie and Moshe both knew her.
I know that she is a woman of extraordinary courage who has suffered a battle against a cruel illness that has finally taken her from us. I know that Moshe marvelled at the way that she was, the way that she acted, even in the depths of that illness.
I know something else. It is that anyone who passes away during this week, during which we read the parsha of Shemini, is someone who is specifically chosen. That is because this week we read of the passing of Nadav and Avihu. And although many know the common interpretation that they passed away because they sinned, there is a much more beautiful explanation which states that they were chosen by God, that their very deaths were the way in which God chose to sanctify and inaugurate His Temple.
This is the way in which Moshe comforts Aharon. He speaks aloud and says: הוּא אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר יְ־הֹוָ־ה לֵאמֹר בִּקְרֹבַי אֶקָּדֵשׁ וְעַל פְּנֵי כָל הָעָם אֶכָּבֵד
Rashi explains this as follows:
הוא אשר דבר וגו': היכן דבר ונועדתי שמה לבני ישראל ונקדש בכבודי (שמות כט מג). אל תקרי בכבודי אלא במכובדי. אמר לו משה לאהרן אהרן אחי יודע הייתי שיתקדש הבית במיודעיו של מקום והייתי סבור או בי או בך, עכשיו רואה אני שהם גדולים ממני וממך:
This is what the Lord spoke: But when did He speak? [It was when He said], “And I will meet with the children of Israel, and it will be sanctified through My glory (בִּכְבוֹדִי) ” (Exod. 29:43). Do not read בִּכְבוֹדִי, “through My glory,” but בִּמְכֻבָּדַי, “through My honorable ones.” Moses said to Aaron, “Aaron, my brother! I knew that this House was to be sanctified through the beloved ones of the Omnipresent, but I thought it would be either through me or through you. Now I see that they [Nadab and Abihu] were greater than I or you!”- [Vayikra Rabbah 12:2]
Moshe believed that the House was to be sanctified through himself or Aharon, but in fact Nadav and Avihu were greater than he or his brother! And it was specifically because they were so close to God, so precious, that they were chosen by God to sanctify his Temple.
And so it seems to me that the fact that Aliza Shull has left us on this Shabbat is no coincidence. Aliza Shull was called away from us to join God- why? Because she was chosen, because she was one who was close to Him, and in this way she returned to Him; she passed away today, when God gathered the ones who were closest to Him in order to sanctify his House, and she too was gathered today...she too was chosen.
I do not suggest that this will comfort us, that this provides a reason, or an answer. But I believe it provides us with an understanding of this woman, who suffered so much, and like Aharon, was often silent despite that suffering, and who was chosen by God today to rejoin Him within his realm. It is a special person who merits to be taken by God because of his closeness to Him; Aliza Shull was such a person.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Biblical Tanur (Oven)
While we are on the subject of ovens (the oven of Aknai, for instance), let's discuss the Tanur, which is a biblical oven referenced in the Gemara. Tanur is also called tandur or tandoor. My mother is from Margilan in Uzbekistan; she's a Bukharian Sephardi Jew. She found an amazing youtube video which shows a woman using a modern version of the biblical Tanur (located in her backyard). My mother used to have a Tanur like that. You can see the video below. (If you don't want to hear the background music because of Sefirah, just mute it; you won't miss anything.)
In her house in Uzbekistan, my mother had a special area as part of her kitchen, with a partition, in which she had four Kirot and one big Tanur. Those who wanted to separate the meat from parve had two Tanurs, the smaller one for meat-baking and the larger one for parve-baking (my mother's family only made parve predominantly, which is why they did not bother with having two.) Her Tanur had steps leading up to it, but exactly as is shown here, it is an opening in one's wall, and one only begins to cook once the flame has died down (and you see in the video that the fire has died down; it is all grey.) The woman who is baking in this video begins by kneading and rolling individual portions of nan (bread), creating patterns using a tool called parak (which is a tool that creates floral patterns in the middle of the bread.) Before baking the bread, the woman puts droplets of water on each portion in order to ensure that it will stick to the sides of the oven but won't burn, then she uses a special mitt to put the bread on the side of the walls. My mother used that mitt starting from the age of 7, although she was not tall enough to reach inside the oven; she could only put her nan at the periphery. After the woman baker in the video has stuck her bread to the walls, she puts a wicker basket on top of the opening to the Tanur in order to ensure that it creates an environment that allows the bread to cook evenly, but will not allow it to burn. You wait 25 minutes and hurrah, you have your bread.
In her house in Uzbekistan, my mother had a special area as part of her kitchen, with a partition, in which she had four Kirot and one big Tanur. Those who wanted to separate the meat from parve had two Tanurs, the smaller one for meat-baking and the larger one for parve-baking (my mother's family only made parve predominantly, which is why they did not bother with having two.) Her Tanur had steps leading up to it, but exactly as is shown here, it is an opening in one's wall, and one only begins to cook once the flame has died down (and you see in the video that the fire has died down; it is all grey.) The woman who is baking in this video begins by kneading and rolling individual portions of nan (bread), creating patterns using a tool called parak (which is a tool that creates floral patterns in the middle of the bread.) Before baking the bread, the woman puts droplets of water on each portion in order to ensure that it will stick to the sides of the oven but won't burn, then she uses a special mitt to put the bread on the side of the walls. My mother used that mitt starting from the age of 7, although she was not tall enough to reach inside the oven; she could only put her nan at the periphery. After the woman baker in the video has stuck her bread to the walls, she puts a wicker basket on top of the opening to the Tanur in order to ensure that it creates an environment that allows the bread to cook evenly, but will not allow it to burn. You wait 25 minutes and hurrah, you have your bread.
The Oven of Aknai
Over Pesach I read Akiva by Dr. Marcus Lehmann. The book is amazing, both because it is so accessible to everyone, and more importantly for me, because I had known all these stories before, but had not understood how one flowed from the next. The book allowed me a context which enabled me to make sense of the stories.
One of the scenes referenced in the book is that of the Oven of Aknai. One thing I found interesting was that I had always thought that the actual miracles that occurred (the walls of the Beit Midrash caving in, for instance) had literally happened, but Lehmann cited a different understanding of these events (surely from a different source.) This excerpt I reproduce below.
~
There was a certain oven- called Achnai's oven- that these Sages differed about. Rabbi Eliezer considered that oven to be like a building, and held the halachic opinion that it was not susceptible to impurity. His colleagues however, considered it to be like an earthenware vessel, and thus they believed that it could become impure. It was a heated discussion, and although Rabbi Eliezer supported his view with a wealth of arguments and proofs, the other Rabbis refused to change their minds. At this point Rabbi Eliezer said, "If my authority is not enough for you, then let 'the Charuv' ('the Carob Tree') decide!"
"The Charuv" was a name which people used for Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa, who was one of the most renowned men of his time. He was so poor that he lived solely off the fruit of his carob tree (carob trees were quite common in Eretz Yisrael). He too had been a disciple of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai. He was a great tzaddik, and God had often answered his prayers in a miraculous manner. So highly esteemed was he that even his teacher, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, once asked him to pray for is son, who was very ill at the time. And God answered his prayer and RAbban Yochanan ben Zakkai's son recovered.
Now Rabbi Eliezer called for him, so that he should voice his opinion on the disputed matter. And the result was that the great and celebrated Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa agreed with Rabbi Eliezer! But Rabbi Eliezer's colleagues still held firmly to their view.
So Rabbi Eliezer said, "If our authority is insufficient, then let 'the Brook' decide!"
"The Brook" was the nickname of Rabbi Elazar ben Arach, one of the most distinguished Sages of his time. His teacher, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, had compared him to a powerful spring that gathers force and turns into a strong, flowing brook. He favored his sayings over those of all his other students. He also said of him, "If all of Israel's Sages were measured in greatness against Elazar ben Arach (even if Rabbi Eliezer ben Hurkanos would be counted among them), he would take first place over all of them."
When Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai died, Rabbi Elazar had moved to Emmaus. He expected all his companions to follow him there, but they did not. Then he thought of moving to Yavneh, but his wife, who was very proud of him, felt that it was beneath his dignity to do so if the other scholars had not followed him to Emmaus. Because they remained in Emmaus Rabbi Elazar hadn't participated in the study sessions in Yavneh for many years. Now Rabbi Eliezer called for him, and he too decided like Rabbi Eliezer. But the Sages still refused to accept Rabbi Eliezer's decision.
Rabbi Eliezer then proposed the following challenge: "If you really insist on the rule of the majority, then let 'the walls of the beis midrash decide!"
Who are "the walls of the beis midrash?" They are the pupils (the future teachers), who lend purpose and structure to the house of learning. So the pupils who were present stood up and they too confirmed Rabbi Eliezer's view. In reaction to this, Rabbi Yehoshua told them sharply, "My dear pupils, you are still too young and immature to join this debate!" So they remained silent. They no longer dared to take part in their elders' controversy.
Rabbi Eliezer now stood up and said, "So let it be decided from Above!"
And God accepted his appeal. Without delay He sent the Prophet Eliyahu, who said to the Sages: "Why are you fighting against Rabbi Eliezer? He is always right in his rulings!"
Rabbi Yehoshua stood up and replied, "It says in the Torah: 'The Torah is not in Heaven.' The Torah was given to us by God at Mount Sinai, and in it we find the precept that decisions shall be made according to majority rule!"
One of the scenes referenced in the book is that of the Oven of Aknai. One thing I found interesting was that I had always thought that the actual miracles that occurred (the walls of the Beit Midrash caving in, for instance) had literally happened, but Lehmann cited a different understanding of these events (surely from a different source.) This excerpt I reproduce below.
~
There was a certain oven- called Achnai's oven- that these Sages differed about. Rabbi Eliezer considered that oven to be like a building, and held the halachic opinion that it was not susceptible to impurity. His colleagues however, considered it to be like an earthenware vessel, and thus they believed that it could become impure. It was a heated discussion, and although Rabbi Eliezer supported his view with a wealth of arguments and proofs, the other Rabbis refused to change their minds. At this point Rabbi Eliezer said, "If my authority is not enough for you, then let 'the Charuv' ('the Carob Tree') decide!"
"The Charuv" was a name which people used for Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa, who was one of the most renowned men of his time. He was so poor that he lived solely off the fruit of his carob tree (carob trees were quite common in Eretz Yisrael). He too had been a disciple of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai. He was a great tzaddik, and God had often answered his prayers in a miraculous manner. So highly esteemed was he that even his teacher, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, once asked him to pray for is son, who was very ill at the time. And God answered his prayer and RAbban Yochanan ben Zakkai's son recovered.
Now Rabbi Eliezer called for him, so that he should voice his opinion on the disputed matter. And the result was that the great and celebrated Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa agreed with Rabbi Eliezer! But Rabbi Eliezer's colleagues still held firmly to their view.
So Rabbi Eliezer said, "If our authority is insufficient, then let 'the Brook' decide!"
"The Brook" was the nickname of Rabbi Elazar ben Arach, one of the most distinguished Sages of his time. His teacher, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, had compared him to a powerful spring that gathers force and turns into a strong, flowing brook. He favored his sayings over those of all his other students. He also said of him, "If all of Israel's Sages were measured in greatness against Elazar ben Arach (even if Rabbi Eliezer ben Hurkanos would be counted among them), he would take first place over all of them."
When Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai died, Rabbi Elazar had moved to Emmaus. He expected all his companions to follow him there, but they did not. Then he thought of moving to Yavneh, but his wife, who was very proud of him, felt that it was beneath his dignity to do so if the other scholars had not followed him to Emmaus. Because they remained in Emmaus Rabbi Elazar hadn't participated in the study sessions in Yavneh for many years. Now Rabbi Eliezer called for him, and he too decided like Rabbi Eliezer. But the Sages still refused to accept Rabbi Eliezer's decision.
Rabbi Eliezer then proposed the following challenge: "If you really insist on the rule of the majority, then let 'the walls of the beis midrash decide!"
Who are "the walls of the beis midrash?" They are the pupils (the future teachers), who lend purpose and structure to the house of learning. So the pupils who were present stood up and they too confirmed Rabbi Eliezer's view. In reaction to this, Rabbi Yehoshua told them sharply, "My dear pupils, you are still too young and immature to join this debate!" So they remained silent. They no longer dared to take part in their elders' controversy.
Rabbi Eliezer now stood up and said, "So let it be decided from Above!"
And God accepted his appeal. Without delay He sent the Prophet Eliyahu, who said to the Sages: "Why are you fighting against Rabbi Eliezer? He is always right in his rulings!"
Rabbi Yehoshua stood up and replied, "It says in the Torah: 'The Torah is not in Heaven.' The Torah was given to us by God at Mount Sinai, and in it we find the precept that decisions shall be made according to majority rule!"
~131-133
*
Even though I once had this story explained to me (regarding truth and how we derive truth and rules and suchlike, with the Ran and the Maharal), I still don't completely understand it. But I thought it was pretty interesting that the nature in the story (the brook, the carob tree, the walls) are actually titles for people, and symbolic in nature.
O Jerusalem!
Today I read the masterpiece O Jerusalem!, written by Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre. O Jerusalem! shocked me out of my complacency regarding the state of Israel. I believe that the idea of the state and the profound meaning behind Yom Ha'Atzmaut was not taught to me appropriately. In the schools I have attended, Yom Ha'Atzmaut was always regarded as a cultural celebration in which we were served blue-and-white donuts, got to ride on camels, made sand-art and ate falafel. The terrible price that was paid for the land, the men and women who fought for the country and held on to it with the skin of their teeth...this was never presented to me as vividly as it was today. There is one excerpt of the book that to me, symbolizes the entire idea behind the Jewish people and Jewish nationalism. I reproduce it below.
~
Two Haganah veterans of the British Army, Harry Jaffe and Bronislav Bar-Shemer, were assigned the job of organizing the convoys that would carry Joseph's supplies to Jerusalem. The Canadian told them they would need a minimum of three hundred trucks. After two days of scouring Tel Aviv's trucking firms, Bar-Shemer had managed to assemble barely sixty vehicles. To get the rest, he chose a simple expedient. He decided to hijack them.
"I took the Haganah boys from their training camps and sent them to the busy intersections," he later recalled. "They started stopping every truck that came along. I don't know who was more scared, the drivers or the soldiers pointing their guns at them, telling them to drive to a big empty field at Kiryat Meir."
Every time a score of trucks had collected in his playing field, Bar-Shemer formed their loudly protesting drivers into a convoy and, under the command of his teenage soldiers and their Sten guns, packed them off to the assembly point for the Nachshon convoys, an abandoned British Army camp called Kfar Bilu. The drivers were the most disgruntled group of human beings Bar-Shemer had ever seen. "They hated our guts," he remembered. "None of them had any idea of what was happening." Some of them, Bar-Shemer knew, "had wives who were giving birth and here we'd kidnapped them at high noon or in the middle of the night." Fortunately for Bar-Shemer, most of those drivers owned their trucks, and the vehicles represented their livelihood. They were not inclined to abandon them to Bar-Shemer, not even for a wife in childbirth.
Feeding his group of captive drivers soon became a serious problem. A firm believer in direct action, Bar-Shemer walked into one of the Tel Aviv's most popular restaurants, Chaskal's. "The Jewish nation needs you," he told its owner, Yecheskel Weinstein. In about three minutes' time Bar-Shemer explained what he required and placed a truck and a squad of soldiers at Weinstein's disposition. It was eleven o'clock in the morning. At five o'clock in the afternoon Weinstein was ladling out a hot meal to four hundred men at Kfar Bilu.
[...]
The former British Army camp of Kfar Bilu swarmed with Bronislav Bar-Shemer's kidnapped truck drivers, mechanics, Haganah men, all milling around the stocks of goods commandeered on Dov Joseph's orders from Tel Aviv's warehouses. To load them onto the waiting trucks, the Haganah had rounded up a team of Salonikan stevedores from the port of Tel Aviv. Squat, heavily muscled men whose leaders had ordered them a special diet of sardines, rice, apples and cheese, they set to work by the flickering glare of torches.
"It was like an automatic chain belt," the wondering Tel Aviv restaurateur Yecheskel Weinstein recalled. "Every five minutes they loaded a truck. Two young boys stood beside them playing a guitar while they worked. Greek music filled the night and those stevedores kept heaving crates and sacks of food to one another without a break in their rhythm."
Standing by the side of the road in the darkness, Bar-Shemer watched the trucks set off. There was an incredible variety of vehicles in that line passing before his eyes. There were vans from the Tnuvah dairy, Bedfords, Fords, factory trucks, delivery vans, heavy Mack dump trucks, open kibbutz farm trucks, White semitrailers, Rio hay wagons. They came in every size, shape and color imaginable, many of them splashed with posters advertising soap, baby food, a kosher butcher in Haifa, a brick kiln in Ramat Gan or a shoe factory in Tel Aviv. The light ones came first. The heavier, slower vehicles brought up the rear, each rigged out with a steel cable to take in tow the trucks that faltered along the way.
None of them had its lights on. Bar-Shemer had seen to that. His men had meticulously removed the bulbs from every headlight in the convoy so that no panicky flick of a light switch would illuminate the column for Arab snipers. Their escorts swung on board as they rolled past the kibbutz of Hulda. Iska Shadmi landed in a load of potatoes and quickly dug himself a foxhole.
Looking up at the sullen, fearful faces of those drivers his men had kidnapped a few days before, Bar-Shemer thought, "If looks could kill, I'd be dead." From his vantage point he followed their progress, a long column stretching out in the moonlight like an immense caterpillar. "The delicious odor of orange blossoms," he noted, "filled the night." Ahead, the road ran straight and flat for six miles up to a gentle hilltop rising on the left. There the steeple and the ochre facade of the Trappist Monastery of Latrun towered above a stand of olive trees. Then an easy arc to the right past the monastery's vineyards brought the column to the foothills marking the entry to Bab el Wad. Waiting for the last truck to leave Hulda so that he could fall in at the end of the convoy, Bar-Shemer noted far off in the distance the echo of sporadic rifle fire. "They're moving into Bab el Wad," he thought.
Riding at the head of the column, Harry Jaffe, the convoy commander, heard three of those rounds clang into the panel of his new blue 1947 Ford. He prayed that they were only the work of an isolated sniper. The trucks strung out behind him had none of the protective armor of the vehicles that had been used previously on the Jerusalem road. Huddled in his pile of potatoes, Iska Shadmi angrily scanned the dark forests above him for some sign of a foe. All the way up to Jerusalem, he would see only one human being in those pines, an old Arab with a white beard.
As Jaffe had hoped, apart from a few snipers there were no Arab forces in the hills. Shaking the night with the steady drone of their engines, the trucks ground slowly up the pass toward Jerusalem. Some lurched along with two or three fires flattened by sniper fire. From others, overheated by the long, slow trip, Jaffe saw jets of steam squirting into the air. All along the column, like huntsmen spurring on a pack of hounds, his men shouted, "Kadima, Kadima! Forward! Forward!" to the harried truckers.
In Jerusalem, the news that the convoy was coming rippled through the city. Hundreds of people ran down Jaffa Road to watch it come in: women in bathrobes and slippers and pincurlers, schoolchildren, religious Jews coming from morning service in the synagogues, their prayer shawls still draped over their shoulders. They hung out of windows, clambered onto rooftops and balconies, to watch in awe and gratitude. They sang and cheered and clapped as the convoy hove into sight. They were a desperate, hungry people existing that week on a ration of two ounces of margarine, a quarter of a pound of potatoes and a quarter of a pound of dried meat. For two weeks not a single vehicle had reached the city, and now they were rumbling forward in a steady stream as far back as the eye could see- dozens of trucks bumper to bumper, their swaying vans crammed with supplies.
Mature men watching them from the curb wept openly. Children scrambled up onto the trucks with flowers. Women sprang onto dashboards to kiss the drivers. In front of the Sephardic Home for the Aged an elderly woman embraced Yehuda Lash, and the young veteran of so many Jerusalem convoys sighed, "If only it could have been her daughter." Riding on his pile of potatoes, Iska Shadmi remembered all his lessons in the Palmach and the youth movement about "how, if we were strong, we would become a nation." Suddenly, seeing those grateful Jerusalemites, that theory became reality for Shadmi. Even the sullen truck drivers Bar-Shemer had forced to make this journey were transformed. Rolling down the corridor of ecstatic human beings, they understood they had saved a city.
Above all else, one memory would remain engraved upon the minds of those Jerusalemites watching the convoy stream down the streets of their city that happy April morning. It was the first glimpse many of them had of the convoy- the front bumper of the blue Ford of Harry Jaffe.
On it, Jaffe had painted six words: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem..."
~252-259 in the hardcover version of O Jerusalem!
~
This image, so brilliantly presented and seared into my mind, represents to me the tenacity, strength, kindness and resourcefulness of the nation that made Israel theirs, reclaiming the land given to them by God.
~
Two Haganah veterans of the British Army, Harry Jaffe and Bronislav Bar-Shemer, were assigned the job of organizing the convoys that would carry Joseph's supplies to Jerusalem. The Canadian told them they would need a minimum of three hundred trucks. After two days of scouring Tel Aviv's trucking firms, Bar-Shemer had managed to assemble barely sixty vehicles. To get the rest, he chose a simple expedient. He decided to hijack them.
"I took the Haganah boys from their training camps and sent them to the busy intersections," he later recalled. "They started stopping every truck that came along. I don't know who was more scared, the drivers or the soldiers pointing their guns at them, telling them to drive to a big empty field at Kiryat Meir."
Every time a score of trucks had collected in his playing field, Bar-Shemer formed their loudly protesting drivers into a convoy and, under the command of his teenage soldiers and their Sten guns, packed them off to the assembly point for the Nachshon convoys, an abandoned British Army camp called Kfar Bilu. The drivers were the most disgruntled group of human beings Bar-Shemer had ever seen. "They hated our guts," he remembered. "None of them had any idea of what was happening." Some of them, Bar-Shemer knew, "had wives who were giving birth and here we'd kidnapped them at high noon or in the middle of the night." Fortunately for Bar-Shemer, most of those drivers owned their trucks, and the vehicles represented their livelihood. They were not inclined to abandon them to Bar-Shemer, not even for a wife in childbirth.
Feeding his group of captive drivers soon became a serious problem. A firm believer in direct action, Bar-Shemer walked into one of the Tel Aviv's most popular restaurants, Chaskal's. "The Jewish nation needs you," he told its owner, Yecheskel Weinstein. In about three minutes' time Bar-Shemer explained what he required and placed a truck and a squad of soldiers at Weinstein's disposition. It was eleven o'clock in the morning. At five o'clock in the afternoon Weinstein was ladling out a hot meal to four hundred men at Kfar Bilu.
[...]
The former British Army camp of Kfar Bilu swarmed with Bronislav Bar-Shemer's kidnapped truck drivers, mechanics, Haganah men, all milling around the stocks of goods commandeered on Dov Joseph's orders from Tel Aviv's warehouses. To load them onto the waiting trucks, the Haganah had rounded up a team of Salonikan stevedores from the port of Tel Aviv. Squat, heavily muscled men whose leaders had ordered them a special diet of sardines, rice, apples and cheese, they set to work by the flickering glare of torches.
"It was like an automatic chain belt," the wondering Tel Aviv restaurateur Yecheskel Weinstein recalled. "Every five minutes they loaded a truck. Two young boys stood beside them playing a guitar while they worked. Greek music filled the night and those stevedores kept heaving crates and sacks of food to one another without a break in their rhythm."
Standing by the side of the road in the darkness, Bar-Shemer watched the trucks set off. There was an incredible variety of vehicles in that line passing before his eyes. There were vans from the Tnuvah dairy, Bedfords, Fords, factory trucks, delivery vans, heavy Mack dump trucks, open kibbutz farm trucks, White semitrailers, Rio hay wagons. They came in every size, shape and color imaginable, many of them splashed with posters advertising soap, baby food, a kosher butcher in Haifa, a brick kiln in Ramat Gan or a shoe factory in Tel Aviv. The light ones came first. The heavier, slower vehicles brought up the rear, each rigged out with a steel cable to take in tow the trucks that faltered along the way.
None of them had its lights on. Bar-Shemer had seen to that. His men had meticulously removed the bulbs from every headlight in the convoy so that no panicky flick of a light switch would illuminate the column for Arab snipers. Their escorts swung on board as they rolled past the kibbutz of Hulda. Iska Shadmi landed in a load of potatoes and quickly dug himself a foxhole.
Looking up at the sullen, fearful faces of those drivers his men had kidnapped a few days before, Bar-Shemer thought, "If looks could kill, I'd be dead." From his vantage point he followed their progress, a long column stretching out in the moonlight like an immense caterpillar. "The delicious odor of orange blossoms," he noted, "filled the night." Ahead, the road ran straight and flat for six miles up to a gentle hilltop rising on the left. There the steeple and the ochre facade of the Trappist Monastery of Latrun towered above a stand of olive trees. Then an easy arc to the right past the monastery's vineyards brought the column to the foothills marking the entry to Bab el Wad. Waiting for the last truck to leave Hulda so that he could fall in at the end of the convoy, Bar-Shemer noted far off in the distance the echo of sporadic rifle fire. "They're moving into Bab el Wad," he thought.
Riding at the head of the column, Harry Jaffe, the convoy commander, heard three of those rounds clang into the panel of his new blue 1947 Ford. He prayed that they were only the work of an isolated sniper. The trucks strung out behind him had none of the protective armor of the vehicles that had been used previously on the Jerusalem road. Huddled in his pile of potatoes, Iska Shadmi angrily scanned the dark forests above him for some sign of a foe. All the way up to Jerusalem, he would see only one human being in those pines, an old Arab with a white beard.
As Jaffe had hoped, apart from a few snipers there were no Arab forces in the hills. Shaking the night with the steady drone of their engines, the trucks ground slowly up the pass toward Jerusalem. Some lurched along with two or three fires flattened by sniper fire. From others, overheated by the long, slow trip, Jaffe saw jets of steam squirting into the air. All along the column, like huntsmen spurring on a pack of hounds, his men shouted, "Kadima, Kadima! Forward! Forward!" to the harried truckers.
In Jerusalem, the news that the convoy was coming rippled through the city. Hundreds of people ran down Jaffa Road to watch it come in: women in bathrobes and slippers and pincurlers, schoolchildren, religious Jews coming from morning service in the synagogues, their prayer shawls still draped over their shoulders. They hung out of windows, clambered onto rooftops and balconies, to watch in awe and gratitude. They sang and cheered and clapped as the convoy hove into sight. They were a desperate, hungry people existing that week on a ration of two ounces of margarine, a quarter of a pound of potatoes and a quarter of a pound of dried meat. For two weeks not a single vehicle had reached the city, and now they were rumbling forward in a steady stream as far back as the eye could see- dozens of trucks bumper to bumper, their swaying vans crammed with supplies.
Mature men watching them from the curb wept openly. Children scrambled up onto the trucks with flowers. Women sprang onto dashboards to kiss the drivers. In front of the Sephardic Home for the Aged an elderly woman embraced Yehuda Lash, and the young veteran of so many Jerusalem convoys sighed, "If only it could have been her daughter." Riding on his pile of potatoes, Iska Shadmi remembered all his lessons in the Palmach and the youth movement about "how, if we were strong, we would become a nation." Suddenly, seeing those grateful Jerusalemites, that theory became reality for Shadmi. Even the sullen truck drivers Bar-Shemer had forced to make this journey were transformed. Rolling down the corridor of ecstatic human beings, they understood they had saved a city.
Above all else, one memory would remain engraved upon the minds of those Jerusalemites watching the convoy stream down the streets of their city that happy April morning. It was the first glimpse many of them had of the convoy- the front bumper of the blue Ford of Harry Jaffe.
On it, Jaffe had painted six words: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem..."
~252-259 in the hardcover version of O Jerusalem!
~
This image, so brilliantly presented and seared into my mind, represents to me the tenacity, strength, kindness and resourcefulness of the nation that made Israel theirs, reclaiming the land given to them by God.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Let Me See You Stripped
Let me see you stripped
Down to the bone
Let me hear you speaking just for me
Let me see you stripped
Down to the bone
Let me hear you crying just for me
~ “Stripped” by Shiny Toy Guns
Down to the bone
Let me hear you speaking just for me
Let me see you stripped
Down to the bone
Let me hear you crying just for me
~ “Stripped” by Shiny Toy Guns
There’s a sick, aching kind of eroticism in this song that disturbs me. This is a song of two selfish people, each one of them wanting to see the other without any masks or coverings; the girl wants the man to sing and cry just for her. She doesn’t want him to exist outside herself. There’s something disturbing in that. At the same time, he is offering her an exit to an escape land that will only last for a few hours. Hence both of them exhibit their selfish tendencies. Despite this, there is an undercurrent of something more potent than lust in the song, and perhaps it is the very brokenness of the two protagonists that catches me. I listen to the song and find myself fascinated. I listen to it and picture two very broken people reaching out to one another, pretending that such reaching is pure, when it truth it is destructive.
The destructive tendency in a person is always harder to match when it is layered in leather and lace. A destructive tendency which results in a physical disturbance to the world generally leaves proof such as blood and gore spattered throughout a room. The inner destruction, of a person and their beliefs, leaves no such proof. It is therefore much more dangerous. Who knows how many times we selfishly reach for what we cannot have, should not have, what is not good for us? It is the kind of thing from which we do not learn; we cannot learn. It is a sickness that poisons us from the inside out, a dark rose that blossoms in the dead of night.
It reminds me a little of the supposed love story in the book Forever Amber. This book sickened me; it seemed nothing so much as an expose of the deadened, cruel world which was masked by the glittering realm of parties and escapades. It is Amber’s love interest who makes me most angry. Amber professes a love for Bruce which is disturbing due to his treatment of her. I would even venture to say that it is an emotionally abusive relationship. Amber herself is not a good person; she is even an evil person; the fascinating part of the book is the fact that despite her evil, one feels sorry for the fact that she cannot get Bruce to love her or respond to her. The biggest problem is that their love is built on absolutely nothing. Amber saw Bruce one day and presumably fell in love with him; he did not. There is nothing in them to love, no character traits, nothing of them. So I read the book and find it disgusting; it is a long, macabre, twisted recount of the evils to which two individuals will stoop in their mutual desire to allow the glittering coinage of the world slip through their fingers. Bruce is meant to be likeable, and yet, to me, he still appears as a monster, a cruel person. The two of them leave me with no feeling so much as horror.
There is something to that. It takes a skilled author to create a sense of horror in a person, to allow one to feel such utter disgust with the human being, and nevertheless to follow their fate with curiosity. Perhaps it is because, within that mirror, we nevertheless see ourselves, dark as the path is. Perhaps this is our way of self-punishment; we read so as to know what is coming to us, what we deserve. Perhaps we desire to be made aware so that we may stave it off before it actually happens.
What breaks a person? Since it is the brokenness of people that often leads to their not caring anymore, which allows them access to the darker parts of the personality, where we can commit such deeds as cannot be spoken of aloud. People often think that it is ambition that ruins a person, but even when it comes to ambition, every person has their price. And when it comes to righteousness, it is true that if one believes they are right they will not be swayed from their position, which permits evil for the sake of their righteousness. But true depravity occurs, not in the pursuit of pleasure, but in the pursuit of something to dull the pain. The truly depraved do not care; they taste of all the pleasures of the world and discard them. So what is it that breaks a person?
There are different points, I think, where we are tested in that way. A person becoming one who is broken depends upon whatever it was they cared about and lived for. With the loss of whatever it is that one is living for, there is no ability to care any longer; life becomes a long series in a set of dances to ease the pain. I shall try anything, anything to take it away from me. And on the way I shall expose others to the darkness that consumes me because I long for a companion in my misery, someone who will see the attractive properties of the ugliness that exists, who understands the fascination it has for me. And so the broken person walks through the world, inflicting pain and laughing into his palm. Every monstrosity created is more cause for rejoicing, and yet, somewhere within, another shard has crept into one’s heart, piercing it and allowing the blood to bead on the flesh, the palpitations allowing the blood to creep like jewels, forming a necklace that clutches at the muscle, strangling it.
Perhaps the most fascinating creature is the one drowning in darkness who nevertheless refuses to drag the others down. In that case, they are not broken; they believe in something still. It is for this reason that they shall struggle and overcome, that they shall not demand the selfish tears that exist just for them. They shall rid themselves of the black beast that rides them and sacrifice themselves within the black cauldron. And perhaps, in this way, they shall gain the atonement they so savagely seek, and with their death become what they longed to be in life.
But in the meantime they walk in a fog which clutches at their clothing, a howling wind that sings in their ears; their hair waves about them and their eyes, once entirely sharp, look like they have seen a vision which cannot be described. For them, the days are an increasing torment, and the pain is visible, before them in their waking hours, wrapped in their clothing, appearing in their eyes. To look ever upon a visible pain, to have no respite from it, to watch it come closer and be helpless against it; this is the struggle of a saint; this is why people turn mad. It is because of all they see, and cannot help but see.
The destructive tendency in a person is always harder to match when it is layered in leather and lace. A destructive tendency which results in a physical disturbance to the world generally leaves proof such as blood and gore spattered throughout a room. The inner destruction, of a person and their beliefs, leaves no such proof. It is therefore much more dangerous. Who knows how many times we selfishly reach for what we cannot have, should not have, what is not good for us? It is the kind of thing from which we do not learn; we cannot learn. It is a sickness that poisons us from the inside out, a dark rose that blossoms in the dead of night.
It reminds me a little of the supposed love story in the book Forever Amber. This book sickened me; it seemed nothing so much as an expose of the deadened, cruel world which was masked by the glittering realm of parties and escapades. It is Amber’s love interest who makes me most angry. Amber professes a love for Bruce which is disturbing due to his treatment of her. I would even venture to say that it is an emotionally abusive relationship. Amber herself is not a good person; she is even an evil person; the fascinating part of the book is the fact that despite her evil, one feels sorry for the fact that she cannot get Bruce to love her or respond to her. The biggest problem is that their love is built on absolutely nothing. Amber saw Bruce one day and presumably fell in love with him; he did not. There is nothing in them to love, no character traits, nothing of them. So I read the book and find it disgusting; it is a long, macabre, twisted recount of the evils to which two individuals will stoop in their mutual desire to allow the glittering coinage of the world slip through their fingers. Bruce is meant to be likeable, and yet, to me, he still appears as a monster, a cruel person. The two of them leave me with no feeling so much as horror.
There is something to that. It takes a skilled author to create a sense of horror in a person, to allow one to feel such utter disgust with the human being, and nevertheless to follow their fate with curiosity. Perhaps it is because, within that mirror, we nevertheless see ourselves, dark as the path is. Perhaps this is our way of self-punishment; we read so as to know what is coming to us, what we deserve. Perhaps we desire to be made aware so that we may stave it off before it actually happens.
What breaks a person? Since it is the brokenness of people that often leads to their not caring anymore, which allows them access to the darker parts of the personality, where we can commit such deeds as cannot be spoken of aloud. People often think that it is ambition that ruins a person, but even when it comes to ambition, every person has their price. And when it comes to righteousness, it is true that if one believes they are right they will not be swayed from their position, which permits evil for the sake of their righteousness. But true depravity occurs, not in the pursuit of pleasure, but in the pursuit of something to dull the pain. The truly depraved do not care; they taste of all the pleasures of the world and discard them. So what is it that breaks a person?
There are different points, I think, where we are tested in that way. A person becoming one who is broken depends upon whatever it was they cared about and lived for. With the loss of whatever it is that one is living for, there is no ability to care any longer; life becomes a long series in a set of dances to ease the pain. I shall try anything, anything to take it away from me. And on the way I shall expose others to the darkness that consumes me because I long for a companion in my misery, someone who will see the attractive properties of the ugliness that exists, who understands the fascination it has for me. And so the broken person walks through the world, inflicting pain and laughing into his palm. Every monstrosity created is more cause for rejoicing, and yet, somewhere within, another shard has crept into one’s heart, piercing it and allowing the blood to bead on the flesh, the palpitations allowing the blood to creep like jewels, forming a necklace that clutches at the muscle, strangling it.
Perhaps the most fascinating creature is the one drowning in darkness who nevertheless refuses to drag the others down. In that case, they are not broken; they believe in something still. It is for this reason that they shall struggle and overcome, that they shall not demand the selfish tears that exist just for them. They shall rid themselves of the black beast that rides them and sacrifice themselves within the black cauldron. And perhaps, in this way, they shall gain the atonement they so savagely seek, and with their death become what they longed to be in life.
But in the meantime they walk in a fog which clutches at their clothing, a howling wind that sings in their ears; their hair waves about them and their eyes, once entirely sharp, look like they have seen a vision which cannot be described. For them, the days are an increasing torment, and the pain is visible, before them in their waking hours, wrapped in their clothing, appearing in their eyes. To look ever upon a visible pain, to have no respite from it, to watch it come closer and be helpless against it; this is the struggle of a saint; this is why people turn mad. It is because of all they see, and cannot help but see.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
What Comes Naturally, Part 2
I once addressed these concepts here. This is the continuation.
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I am always impressed by people who are actually misers, who are stingy, who cannot give, who don't spend much money on themselves, but when it comes to charity, you feel their hands tremble, shake, for you feel the man experiences excruciating pain [from giving money], but still [he] gives...I like people who worked on themselves and conquered themselves. I don't like born saints. A person who is born a saint, who from early childhood walked on earth as a little saint, never appealed to me. But people who remade themselves [do].
~Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in The Rav: Thinking Aloud by David Holzer, pages 186-187
*
Great is not the man who did not falter in his loyalties, who never found himself in opposition to God. It is greater one who tripped, fell, and rose. One who feels that he never came into conflict with God, who lives under a delusion that he always worshipped and never fled, leads an unredeemed existence. You may call it self-righteousness. Woe to the moralist or religionist who gazes at himself in proud rapture, who boasts of his unstained, unwavering indebtedness and loyalty to God.
~Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in The Rav: Thinking Aloud by David Holzer, page 187
*
Or as I would put it, we do people a disservice if we claim they were born without any desire for sin. People choose goodness; everyone has their struggles. The impressive people are the ones who are dying to sin and choose to refrain even so.
*
I am always impressed by people who are actually misers, who are stingy, who cannot give, who don't spend much money on themselves, but when it comes to charity, you feel their hands tremble, shake, for you feel the man experiences excruciating pain [from giving money], but still [he] gives...I like people who worked on themselves and conquered themselves. I don't like born saints. A person who is born a saint, who from early childhood walked on earth as a little saint, never appealed to me. But people who remade themselves [do].
~Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in The Rav: Thinking Aloud by David Holzer, pages 186-187
*
Great is not the man who did not falter in his loyalties, who never found himself in opposition to God. It is greater one who tripped, fell, and rose. One who feels that he never came into conflict with God, who lives under a delusion that he always worshipped and never fled, leads an unredeemed existence. You may call it self-righteousness. Woe to the moralist or religionist who gazes at himself in proud rapture, who boasts of his unstained, unwavering indebtedness and loyalty to God.
~Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in The Rav: Thinking Aloud by David Holzer, page 187
*
Or as I would put it, we do people a disservice if we claim they were born without any desire for sin. People choose goodness; everyone has their struggles. The impressive people are the ones who are dying to sin and choose to refrain even so.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
דוד חיים יוסף בן צבי עקיבא ע"ה
Everyone else is happy today.
But there is one family who is desperately unhappy today, who has been plunged into sadness, into sorrow. This is the family of David Chaim Rottenstreich, who passed away today.
This is what I know about David Chaim.
I know that he was a Wilf Campus student at Yeshiva University who suffered from a severe case of MRSA, which is a very severe staphylococcal infection. I know he was my age.
But much more importantly, I know that he was loved.
I know this because when I was having my dance party in my room a couple days ago, a girl walked inside, her voice shaky, and she begged us to say Tehillim for David, whom she knew as a family friend. I know this because the Yeshiva University community has received student-wide emails, had signed up to say Tehillim and learn in his honor, because my friend Alana asked us to try to do good deeds in his merit. What I know is that everyone joined together to try to help David. There was an immense amount of unity created because of him, because of the love that people bear him, and the ways in which they wanted to help him.
It is the night before Birkat HaChama, the blessing on the new sun. What is this blessing? It's the blessing that we say because God has positioned the sun in the exact place it was at the time of Creation. But even more importantly, tonight is the night before Pesach, the holiday in which we remember God's actions towards us, for he passed over our houses and spared us, and God remembers our dedication to him, and the unleavened bread we made as we so quickly left Egypt.
And today, most of us are at home, enjoying spending time with our families, spending time preparing for the holiday. Most of us are happy, joyously squabbling, glad. But there is one family who is sad today, and that is David's family. Because today they lost their son, and tomorrow they are expected to celebrate. Today David has gone to walk with God, and tomorrow they must sit down at the Seder and praise God for having redeemed us from Egypt.
What is there to say? How can we think of this?
I have only a thought, and I mean it most humbly. But my thought is this. It cannot be coincidence that David passed away today. Today, before both the blessing of the new sun and the first night of Pesach. No, if David passed away today, there is a reason to it, a meaning in it. And my thought is this.
The Maggid of Dubno has a parable in which he speaks of the spirit of the Jew. He explains that every Jew has a flame within him which burns with the desire to grow close to God. Even those who are removed from Judaism have the glowing embers that lie within their hearts, which the Maggid of Dubno would attempt to fan into flame.
But beyond this flame, there is a special light granted to particular people. Moshe was a recipient of this light, and therefore hid his face. He glowed with the light of God, and masked himself because of it. In the time of the Messiah, we shall all walk the world, and our faces will be illuminated with the light of our Torah, whether it be the light of a Menorah, the Stars, the Moon, or the Sun.
David Chaim left this world, and he has passed beyond us. Yet he left us at a particular time, just before the rising of the new sun, the apportioning of light unto the world in the same exact place where that sun was on creation. And it occurs to me that a soul that was chosen to depart this earth before seeing this sun could only have done so because he himself was imbued with so much light that he would be able to help with this task, with this mitzvah, would be able to shed his light and glow just as the sun shall tomorrow. What, after all, are the Children of Israel compared to? We are the stars in the heavens and the earth of the world. David has returned to the earth which is our essence, and tomorrow he shall shine as the star that was promised Abraham. That soul that was David's, the light which he brought to us, the unity that allowed so many Jewish people to come together in an attempt to save him, was a special light. It was so special that the transformation from earth to star that all of us make, being compared to both, was not ordinary in his case. Rather, David's light is so bright that it is comparable to the greatest star of them all, the Sun itself.
What is tomorrow night? Tomorrow night we remember, nay, relive, the Exodus of Egypt. What was so special about this particular exodus? The fact that we walked out freely, not cowards, not slaves, but in the vast light of day. God lit up the night as though it were day, and that was how we exited Egypt, after having been begged to leave by Pharoah. We did not steal away in the darkness, in the cover of night, like a common thief. We left proudly; we left with a light as great as that of the sun.
David passed away today so that we would be able to remember him tomorrow, as the sun shines where it once did when God created the world, as he is transformed from dust to the greatest star, as the rays light the heavens just as they lit our way when God took us out of Egypt. Tomorrow, at 8:30 AM, it is David's levaya. Is this a coincidence? I think not. The light which imbues the entirety of tomorrow, the light of the sun and of our journey as we departed from Egypt, is the light which represents David, who he was, who he is, and the ways in which he has shaped our lives. I did not know David Rottenstreich. But I know that in Judaism we are honored with light, and that a man who merits to be remembered on so special a day has done something to deserve it.
May David rest in peace, and may his family find comfort among the mourners of Zion.
But there is one family who is desperately unhappy today, who has been plunged into sadness, into sorrow. This is the family of David Chaim Rottenstreich, who passed away today.
This is what I know about David Chaim.
I know that he was a Wilf Campus student at Yeshiva University who suffered from a severe case of MRSA, which is a very severe staphylococcal infection. I know he was my age.
But much more importantly, I know that he was loved.
I know this because when I was having my dance party in my room a couple days ago, a girl walked inside, her voice shaky, and she begged us to say Tehillim for David, whom she knew as a family friend. I know this because the Yeshiva University community has received student-wide emails, had signed up to say Tehillim and learn in his honor, because my friend Alana asked us to try to do good deeds in his merit. What I know is that everyone joined together to try to help David. There was an immense amount of unity created because of him, because of the love that people bear him, and the ways in which they wanted to help him.
It is the night before Birkat HaChama, the blessing on the new sun. What is this blessing? It's the blessing that we say because God has positioned the sun in the exact place it was at the time of Creation. But even more importantly, tonight is the night before Pesach, the holiday in which we remember God's actions towards us, for he passed over our houses and spared us, and God remembers our dedication to him, and the unleavened bread we made as we so quickly left Egypt.
And today, most of us are at home, enjoying spending time with our families, spending time preparing for the holiday. Most of us are happy, joyously squabbling, glad. But there is one family who is sad today, and that is David's family. Because today they lost their son, and tomorrow they are expected to celebrate. Today David has gone to walk with God, and tomorrow they must sit down at the Seder and praise God for having redeemed us from Egypt.
What is there to say? How can we think of this?
I have only a thought, and I mean it most humbly. But my thought is this. It cannot be coincidence that David passed away today. Today, before both the blessing of the new sun and the first night of Pesach. No, if David passed away today, there is a reason to it, a meaning in it. And my thought is this.
The Maggid of Dubno has a parable in which he speaks of the spirit of the Jew. He explains that every Jew has a flame within him which burns with the desire to grow close to God. Even those who are removed from Judaism have the glowing embers that lie within their hearts, which the Maggid of Dubno would attempt to fan into flame.
But beyond this flame, there is a special light granted to particular people. Moshe was a recipient of this light, and therefore hid his face. He glowed with the light of God, and masked himself because of it. In the time of the Messiah, we shall all walk the world, and our faces will be illuminated with the light of our Torah, whether it be the light of a Menorah, the Stars, the Moon, or the Sun.
David Chaim left this world, and he has passed beyond us. Yet he left us at a particular time, just before the rising of the new sun, the apportioning of light unto the world in the same exact place where that sun was on creation. And it occurs to me that a soul that was chosen to depart this earth before seeing this sun could only have done so because he himself was imbued with so much light that he would be able to help with this task, with this mitzvah, would be able to shed his light and glow just as the sun shall tomorrow. What, after all, are the Children of Israel compared to? We are the stars in the heavens and the earth of the world. David has returned to the earth which is our essence, and tomorrow he shall shine as the star that was promised Abraham. That soul that was David's, the light which he brought to us, the unity that allowed so many Jewish people to come together in an attempt to save him, was a special light. It was so special that the transformation from earth to star that all of us make, being compared to both, was not ordinary in his case. Rather, David's light is so bright that it is comparable to the greatest star of them all, the Sun itself.
What is tomorrow night? Tomorrow night we remember, nay, relive, the Exodus of Egypt. What was so special about this particular exodus? The fact that we walked out freely, not cowards, not slaves, but in the vast light of day. God lit up the night as though it were day, and that was how we exited Egypt, after having been begged to leave by Pharoah. We did not steal away in the darkness, in the cover of night, like a common thief. We left proudly; we left with a light as great as that of the sun.
David passed away today so that we would be able to remember him tomorrow, as the sun shines where it once did when God created the world, as he is transformed from dust to the greatest star, as the rays light the heavens just as they lit our way when God took us out of Egypt. Tomorrow, at 8:30 AM, it is David's levaya. Is this a coincidence? I think not. The light which imbues the entirety of tomorrow, the light of the sun and of our journey as we departed from Egypt, is the light which represents David, who he was, who he is, and the ways in which he has shaped our lives. I did not know David Rottenstreich. But I know that in Judaism we are honored with light, and that a man who merits to be remembered on so special a day has done something to deserve it.
May David rest in peace, and may his family find comfort among the mourners of Zion.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Friday, April 03, 2009
The Personalities of the Talmudic Scholars Part 1
In The Collected Writings of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, Volume V, R' Samson Raphael Hirsch addresses the Origin of the Oral Law, beginning, in Part One, to write "A Critical Examination of Dr. H. Graetz's History of the Jews From the Destruction of the Jewish State Until the Conclusion of the Talmud." It is necessary to read the entire work, but what I shall reproduce below is R' Hirsch's "Introduction," (pages 3-6) which will clearly demonstrate the point when it comes to attempting to sketch the personalities of the Talmudic scholars.
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Introduction
I once had a young friend who was a deaf-mute. He was a rather popular artist in one of the German provincial capitals. All his portraits looked very much alike, yet they were not truly alike. He had a habit- we called it a peculiarity- of painting all his pictures in colossal dimensions. All his paintings were much larger than life and therefore had a strange, spectral look. One could readily surmise that the subject had sat for the portrait, but one could not state with certainty that this was indeed the one. Recognition was not the result of a visual impression, but of reflection. The portrait hinted at the identity of the subject, but it was clear that the artist had not painted his subject in terms of objective reality. He had only captured the subjective impression made upon him by the personality of his subject.
When it comes to a human subject, the artist's eye is not his only medium of perception; the portraitist is influenced also by his emotions. Any contemplation of a human subject entails the conception of an intellectual personality. The subjective image of a subject, which is largely influenced by personal likes and dislikes, will unconsciously guide the brush in the artist's hand. Such an image may often be entirely inaccurate. In addition, it may be further influenced by accidental poses of the subject, or even by the subject's- or the artist's- momentary state of health or ill health.
This should explain the many portraits which, though they cannot be dismissed out of hand as "bad," show features so unlike the subject and are so much at variance with his true character, that those better acquainted with him- especially his closest friends and relations- will categorically reject the portrait. The artist has captured in his work a trait that is transient or accidental (and colored by the artist's own subjective impressions) as if it were a permanent aspect of his subject's personality. In fact, the portrait flagrantly contradicts the character of the person they know. Regarding our deaf-mute friend, it might be worthwhile to make a psychological study to establish whether deaf-mute artists see their human subjects in a light so basically different from normal portraitists that there must always be something unusual about any portrait painted by a deaf-mute.
Now imagine an artist whose natural angle of vision causes him to see his subjects not larger, but smaller than life. Imagine further that, over many years, this artist created portraits for which his subjects never sat. He based his work on some isolated trait in his subjects that may have come to his attention by accident and that, in addition, may have been distorted by the artist's hasty judgment or misinterpretation. This artist then brings his creative imagination into play, using this one traits as a basis for interpreting the personality of the subject as a whole. He portrays his subjects as he saw them once, in unguarded odds, positions or activities: the one in a playful mood, the other in a pensive state; the one laughing, the other weeping; the one angry, the other joking. Some of his subjects are made to appear indignant, arrogant or impudent, while others look depressed, anxious, humble or embarrassed. But in thus portraying a person, the artists has seized upon only one note in that person's whole range of emotions, a note which, in fact, may have been played only once in the person's lifetime, but which the artist has perpetuated as the keynote, the dominant character.
Now let us imagine that, years later, this artist presents to use these sketches as true-to-life portraits, committing the error of explaining the transient moods in which he painted his subjects as typical of their character. "Look," he says, "this one was always laughing; that one had an evil temper; this one was forever playing games; that one was always deep in thought." Even worse, he passes off these products of his imagination not only as authentic character sketches of his subjects but as prototypes of all their contemporaries; thus, "during this period, people were laughing all the time; during this other period, they tended to be depressed; this era was one of arrogance; that era was an age of anxiety and timidity."
Now let us say that, in reply to our look of disbelief, the artist cites ancient chronicles in support of his presentation: "During that year the cherries were sour; as a result, everyone alive at the time had a sour look on his face," or, "During this year the future looked bright; as a result, everyone was in an unusually friendly mood." Say, further, that this artists clings to his fancies as if they were absolute truth, so much so that wherever he needs a historical reference to authenticate his portrait he feels free to invent a reference to suit the portrait. Consider all these caprices of artistic fancy, and you have the History of the Jews by Dr. H. Graetz.
These lines were written to a friend who waned to hear my opinions of this History soon after its publication. They reflect the impression which the book made upon me after I read it through only once, without subjecting the author's views and descriptions to detailed tests in the light of of the data and the sources he cites int heir support. Even a superficial glance at this so-called "History of the Jews" should be sufficient for anyone with even a slight knowledge of the literature cited by the author as his source material to see that this work presents more fiction than fact.
Since then, I have examined this work in detail and checked it against the cited sources. Leaving aside the religious philosophy for which it is intended as an ideological basis and which its conclusions are meant to support, I have found it to be, even from a purely scientific point of view, a product of the most outrageous, irresponsible superficiality. I therefore consider it my sacred duty to present the results of my investigation to the public.
Let honest men of all factions judge the extent to which Graetz's History of the Jews has adhered to the elements of veracity and thoroughness that are the basic criteria for any scholarly endeavor. If these essentials are disregarded, the consequences are particularly pernicious, for we are not dealing merely with an examination of some long-buried antiquities. Graetz's study is intended to explain to the contemporary reader certain historic forces that are still at work today. These forces form the organic basis for all development of our nation's religious life through the ages, down to our own time.
As the author of this History has understood correctly, the true core of Jewish history is the history of Jewish literature. This core relates to the political history of Jewish sufferings only as the kernel relates to a bitter, outer shell. It is with this kernel that we are dealing here primarily, and so we will leave aside our author's observations on the political aspects of the Jewish past which are contained in this history text.
The volume of Graetz's history that is now before us deals with the Talmudic era. It contains character sketches of all the outstanding bearers of the Talmudic tradition. Through our author's characterization of these individuals, the history of Jewish Law is presented from a pragmatic viewpoint. He does not examine the teachings and teaching methods disseminated and handed down by these personalities in objective terms, i.e., against the background of the Law which they received and which they were to pass on to future generations. Rather, he interprets them subjectively, in terms of what he perceives to be the temperament, the psychological makeup, the hierarchic positions and the political aims of these teachers (who, however, the author concedes, were in no way motivated by selfish consideration).
He sees these personalities not as the bearers of the tradition but as its creators. To him, Talmudic Law, which through all the centuries of our exile has upheld the Jews and shaped every aspect of Jewish life, is merely the product of the temperamental and psychological characteristics of these eminent figures. We will leave it to our author's scholarly conscience to judge such a view of tradition, which is not a tradition that harks back to Mount Sinai.
The fact remains that, like any other work of this type, this history text, too, must stand up before the critical forum of scholarship. It must be able to demonstrate the accuracy and acceptability of the factual data on which it bases its characterizations of the personalities and the issues it discusses- in this case, the teachers and their teachings.
Let us, therefore, examine the portrait gallery of great Talmudic personalities that Graetz has set up for us, and let us see whether the portraits offered to us are historically accurate.
*
Introduction
I once had a young friend who was a deaf-mute. He was a rather popular artist in one of the German provincial capitals. All his portraits looked very much alike, yet they were not truly alike. He had a habit- we called it a peculiarity- of painting all his pictures in colossal dimensions. All his paintings were much larger than life and therefore had a strange, spectral look. One could readily surmise that the subject had sat for the portrait, but one could not state with certainty that this was indeed the one. Recognition was not the result of a visual impression, but of reflection. The portrait hinted at the identity of the subject, but it was clear that the artist had not painted his subject in terms of objective reality. He had only captured the subjective impression made upon him by the personality of his subject.
When it comes to a human subject, the artist's eye is not his only medium of perception; the portraitist is influenced also by his emotions. Any contemplation of a human subject entails the conception of an intellectual personality. The subjective image of a subject, which is largely influenced by personal likes and dislikes, will unconsciously guide the brush in the artist's hand. Such an image may often be entirely inaccurate. In addition, it may be further influenced by accidental poses of the subject, or even by the subject's- or the artist's- momentary state of health or ill health.
This should explain the many portraits which, though they cannot be dismissed out of hand as "bad," show features so unlike the subject and are so much at variance with his true character, that those better acquainted with him- especially his closest friends and relations- will categorically reject the portrait. The artist has captured in his work a trait that is transient or accidental (and colored by the artist's own subjective impressions) as if it were a permanent aspect of his subject's personality. In fact, the portrait flagrantly contradicts the character of the person they know. Regarding our deaf-mute friend, it might be worthwhile to make a psychological study to establish whether deaf-mute artists see their human subjects in a light so basically different from normal portraitists that there must always be something unusual about any portrait painted by a deaf-mute.
Now imagine an artist whose natural angle of vision causes him to see his subjects not larger, but smaller than life. Imagine further that, over many years, this artist created portraits for which his subjects never sat. He based his work on some isolated trait in his subjects that may have come to his attention by accident and that, in addition, may have been distorted by the artist's hasty judgment or misinterpretation. This artist then brings his creative imagination into play, using this one traits as a basis for interpreting the personality of the subject as a whole. He portrays his subjects as he saw them once, in unguarded odds, positions or activities: the one in a playful mood, the other in a pensive state; the one laughing, the other weeping; the one angry, the other joking. Some of his subjects are made to appear indignant, arrogant or impudent, while others look depressed, anxious, humble or embarrassed. But in thus portraying a person, the artists has seized upon only one note in that person's whole range of emotions, a note which, in fact, may have been played only once in the person's lifetime, but which the artist has perpetuated as the keynote, the dominant character.
Now let us imagine that, years later, this artist presents to use these sketches as true-to-life portraits, committing the error of explaining the transient moods in which he painted his subjects as typical of their character. "Look," he says, "this one was always laughing; that one had an evil temper; this one was forever playing games; that one was always deep in thought." Even worse, he passes off these products of his imagination not only as authentic character sketches of his subjects but as prototypes of all their contemporaries; thus, "during this period, people were laughing all the time; during this other period, they tended to be depressed; this era was one of arrogance; that era was an age of anxiety and timidity."
Now let us say that, in reply to our look of disbelief, the artist cites ancient chronicles in support of his presentation: "During that year the cherries were sour; as a result, everyone alive at the time had a sour look on his face," or, "During this year the future looked bright; as a result, everyone was in an unusually friendly mood." Say, further, that this artists clings to his fancies as if they were absolute truth, so much so that wherever he needs a historical reference to authenticate his portrait he feels free to invent a reference to suit the portrait. Consider all these caprices of artistic fancy, and you have the History of the Jews by Dr. H. Graetz.
These lines were written to a friend who waned to hear my opinions of this History soon after its publication. They reflect the impression which the book made upon me after I read it through only once, without subjecting the author's views and descriptions to detailed tests in the light of of the data and the sources he cites int heir support. Even a superficial glance at this so-called "History of the Jews" should be sufficient for anyone with even a slight knowledge of the literature cited by the author as his source material to see that this work presents more fiction than fact.
Since then, I have examined this work in detail and checked it against the cited sources. Leaving aside the religious philosophy for which it is intended as an ideological basis and which its conclusions are meant to support, I have found it to be, even from a purely scientific point of view, a product of the most outrageous, irresponsible superficiality. I therefore consider it my sacred duty to present the results of my investigation to the public.
Let honest men of all factions judge the extent to which Graetz's History of the Jews has adhered to the elements of veracity and thoroughness that are the basic criteria for any scholarly endeavor. If these essentials are disregarded, the consequences are particularly pernicious, for we are not dealing merely with an examination of some long-buried antiquities. Graetz's study is intended to explain to the contemporary reader certain historic forces that are still at work today. These forces form the organic basis for all development of our nation's religious life through the ages, down to our own time.
As the author of this History has understood correctly, the true core of Jewish history is the history of Jewish literature. This core relates to the political history of Jewish sufferings only as the kernel relates to a bitter, outer shell. It is with this kernel that we are dealing here primarily, and so we will leave aside our author's observations on the political aspects of the Jewish past which are contained in this history text.
The volume of Graetz's history that is now before us deals with the Talmudic era. It contains character sketches of all the outstanding bearers of the Talmudic tradition. Through our author's characterization of these individuals, the history of Jewish Law is presented from a pragmatic viewpoint. He does not examine the teachings and teaching methods disseminated and handed down by these personalities in objective terms, i.e., against the background of the Law which they received and which they were to pass on to future generations. Rather, he interprets them subjectively, in terms of what he perceives to be the temperament, the psychological makeup, the hierarchic positions and the political aims of these teachers (who, however, the author concedes, were in no way motivated by selfish consideration).
He sees these personalities not as the bearers of the tradition but as its creators. To him, Talmudic Law, which through all the centuries of our exile has upheld the Jews and shaped every aspect of Jewish life, is merely the product of the temperamental and psychological characteristics of these eminent figures. We will leave it to our author's scholarly conscience to judge such a view of tradition, which is not a tradition that harks back to Mount Sinai.
The fact remains that, like any other work of this type, this history text, too, must stand up before the critical forum of scholarship. It must be able to demonstrate the accuracy and acceptability of the factual data on which it bases its characterizations of the personalities and the issues it discusses- in this case, the teachers and their teachings.
Let us, therefore, examine the portrait gallery of great Talmudic personalities that Graetz has set up for us, and let us see whether the portraits offered to us are historically accurate.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
The Last Lions
Rabbi Hutner's continual ferment entailed an uncharacteristic submission to the authority of two figures- an approximation of his stance as a student in Europe, when he searched out mentors. One of the two represented an extension of Rabbi Hutner's past, the other, a deviation from it. The first, Rabbi Aaron Kotler (1892-1962), was the "ari shebahavurah," "the lion of the pack," the most talented, loyal extension of the talmudic scholarship and intensity of pietistic purpose of Slobodka. In matters of high policy, such as whether to open a college in which secular studies would be sanctioned, Rabbi Hutner bent to Rabbi Kotler's will (the school was not opened). A far different figure, the Hungarian anti-Zionist Satmar Rebbe (Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, 1888-1980), was, said Rabbi Hutner, royalty; and one honors royalty. Rabbi Hutner explained with reference to the midrash that states that Noah once was late in feeding the two lions in his Ark, and was clawed. Noah humbled himself in the service of his zoo: why did he deserve to be clawed? Because, said Rabbi Hutner, these were the last lions [emph mine]. One does not neglect the honor of a last, majestic leader of undifferentiated, communally cohesive, pre-Holocaust East European Jewry.
It delighted the protean Rabbi Hutner when representatives of two diametrically opposite faces of Orthodoxy- the arch Zionist Rabbi Kuk's son, Rabbi Zvi Judah, and the arch anti-Zionist Satmar ally Rabbi Amram Blau- once met uncomfortably in Rabbi Hutner's waiting room. Both sought counsel from the same person. That Rabbi Hutner grew apart from Rabbi Kuk's Zionist views is clear. That he retained the highest regard for his person and his erudition is also clear. How he squared that regard with his emergent homage to the Satmar Rebbe is an issue he never addressed. Did the dialectical tensions in his multihued prism find a welcome anchor, a stream of pure light, in monochramatic Satmar Hasidism? Or did the meeting of the two opponents in his waiting room signify that Rabbi Hutner had tugged their perspectives into a unity?
~Between Berlin and Slobodka: Jewish Transition Figures From Eastern Europe by Hillel Goldberg, 80
It delighted the protean Rabbi Hutner when representatives of two diametrically opposite faces of Orthodoxy- the arch Zionist Rabbi Kuk's son, Rabbi Zvi Judah, and the arch anti-Zionist Satmar ally Rabbi Amram Blau- once met uncomfortably in Rabbi Hutner's waiting room. Both sought counsel from the same person. That Rabbi Hutner grew apart from Rabbi Kuk's Zionist views is clear. That he retained the highest regard for his person and his erudition is also clear. How he squared that regard with his emergent homage to the Satmar Rebbe is an issue he never addressed. Did the dialectical tensions in his multihued prism find a welcome anchor, a stream of pure light, in monochramatic Satmar Hasidism? Or did the meeting of the two opponents in his waiting room signify that Rabbi Hutner had tugged their perspectives into a unity?
~Between Berlin and Slobodka: Jewish Transition Figures From Eastern Europe by Hillel Goldberg, 80
Monday, March 30, 2009
Rabbi Todros Miller on Pesach: The Poor Man, Hallel and Yetzias Mitzrayim
Yesterday I attended a shiur given by Rabbi Todros Miller, Vice Principal of Gateshead Seminary, in which he spoke about some ideas relating to Pesach and specifically relating to the Seder. The following are not exact notes (I did not bring a laptop) but rather, my summation of the shiur (I'm writing the words as though he spoke them.)
*
Now, when it comes to the Seder night, we all know of the mitzvah of reclining on the Seder night. And interestingly, even an ani she'b'Yisrael [a poor person who is a member of Bnei Yisrael] shouldn't eat unless he reclines! Tosfos asks: Well, isn't a poor person a Jew? This is obvious; of course he should recline! It's a mitzvah. But actually no, it's a chiddush [innovative idea.] Why? Because I'd have thought that reclining is an expression of freedom, and would have thought there was something hollow in a poor person's reclining while eating.
So let's inquire: Why should an ani recline? There is an amazing Rashi in Shoftim [the book of Judges] when it is discussing the scenario of Gideon in Judges 6:13.
Rashi states there that in fact, in that verse, Gideon is referring to last night because last night was the Seder; it was Pesach at that time, and last night Gideon's father had told over the Haggada and sang Hallel with him and now Gideon is questioning: where are these miracles that we discussed last night?
Now we have a question: Why would Gideon choose to reference Hallel as opposed to Maggid? And what if it had not been Seder night but a different night; would Gideon not still have been justified in asking where God's miracles were? And yet, the way it seems to be phrased, Gideon is saying something to the effect of, "Last night was Seder night and my father said Hallel, therefore I can say to You, where are all those miracles?!"
Now we must venture into a halakhic point; there is a fine halakhic point concerning the din of saying Hallel. It says Takanas Haneviim al kol perek v'perek v'kol tzarah v'tzarah. So there is a takana of the prophets that we say Hallel al kol perek v'perek and also kol tzarah v'tzarah.
R' Hai Gaon in the Ram clarifies that there are two situations where we would say Hallel:
1. Perek u'perek: Fixed dates. These are particular times of the year where it is fixed that we shall be saying Hallel.
2. Tzarah v'tzarah: If the Jews suffer a tzarah and experience a yeshua [they are saved], they must then say Hallel.
Now, these two Hallels are categorically different. The chiluk between the two is the din by perek v'perek is to read Hallel whereas tzarah v'tzarah is to be m'hallel, not to say Hallel! It's the difference between reading the defined entity we call Hallel (keria) and praising God! And to clarify that point, let's ask a question: Suppose you are reading Hallel, the defined entity, are you yotzei if you don't understand all the words? Yes! You've till read Hallel. But if the yesod ha'din is to be m'hallel not simply kerias Hallel, then if you don't know what you're saying you've not been m'hallel!
Another difference: do you make a bracha/ blessing? If it's keriah, then you make a blessing l'kro es ha'Hallel. If it is just that you are being m'hallel, and you are not saying a defined entity, it's very specific that you don't make a bracha. A bracha is a hillul so you don't make a bracha on a bracha.
Also, can you be mafsik [pause/ stop] in the middle? By kerias ha'Megillah, for instance, you cannot be (that's keriah) but if it's not a specific mitzvah of keriah, then it's not a problem.
So these distinctions we've been making are nafkaminos.
Let us now turn our attention to Hallel on the Seder night. Which one is it? On Seder night we are mesaper sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim. R' Chaim Brisker asks: Mah nishtana ha'layla ha'zeh? Every night we mention Yetzias Mitzrayim; what's the difference on this night?
Ah, but there is a categorical difference!
There is a Rambam which the achronim grapple with; there is a mitzvah to be mesaper on Yetzias Mitzrayim "K'Moshe ne'emar zachor es yom ha'Shabbos l'kadsho" (Like Moshe said, Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.) Now, normally "zachor"- remember- is speaking of the past. Remember something that happened in the past. But zachor es yom ha'Shabbos l'kadsho is remember that now, today, it is Shabbos.
Similarly, on Seder night, you are not remembering Yetzias Mitzrayim once upon a time but you went out of Egypt now; we're going out of Mitzrayim today! You should have the experience of being redeemed right now; you are not merely remembering something that happened once upon a time.
Well, but how do you do that? It's not just pretending; it means that this is actually happening in reality! There is no pretend as if something were to happen; that is a child's game, but you grow out of it.
Now where do you see the imperative to remember b'chol dor v'dor- now, where do you see that by Pesach? You see b'chol shana v'shana [every single year]. The reason is because we had b'chol dor v'dor in V'hi she'amdah...she'b'chol dor v'dor omdim aleinu l'chaloseinu- and God saves us from their hands.
When God took the Jews out of Egypt, he took them out for a cheirus olam - an eternal freedom! Yetzias Mitzrayim is a concept, a promise given to the Jews that no matter the situation we have a koach called Yetzias Mitzrayim given to us eternally. We are guaranteed by Yetzias Mitzrayim we have a cheirus olam. "Lo es avoseinu b'lvad," we say, "not our forefathers alone." Today we have to tell the story because we have experienced Yetzias Mitzrayim.
There is a famous essay of Mark Twain on the Jews:
R' Yaakov Emden in his siddur writes: People say that if only we were to see some miracles...chein (chay?) nafshi! That when I think about the survival o fthe Jews and how they survive with utter resilience and the ability to rebound, the very existence of the Jewish people is a greater miracle than Mitzrayim, and the longer it goes on it is even a greater miracle.
So let us return to our question: Hallel on Seder night. Which one is it? Tzarah b'tzarah! That is why there is no bracha on Seder night, we are mafsik (we have an entire meal); we even say in the Haggada "Lefichach anachnu chayavim l'hodos u'lhallel shira chadasha halleluyah." Shira Chadasha- a new Hallel!
Rashi explains that when Gideon was speaking to God, he was speaking about the fact that Midian was overwhelmingly more powerful than Bnei Yisrael and therefore they were lost. The Jews were miserable and indeed, they had a right to be miserable; they were impoverished; the Midianites stole from them...And so the prophet says "God is with you" and Gideon says, "God is with you?! Where are his miracles?"
And that is the spirit answers God, per Rashi- with that argument you can save kelal Yisrael. We see here the lomdus of Gideon. Last night, he explained, we said Hallel on this generation's miracles because Yetzias Mitzrayim is an ongoing event- so where's the b'chol dor v'dor? You gave us the right to remember and claim Yetzias Mitzrayim so there has to be a Yetzias Mitzrayim in this generation! Then I can argue/ make a claim/ a taina that God owes it to us, as it were.
So God answers: "You come with your emunah in Yetzias Mitzrayim- then you can claim it has to be b'chol dor v'dor," and therefore God does create a yeshua for them.
So let's go back to the very beginning, where we stated, "Afilu ani she'b'yisrael- even a poor person in Israel has an obligation to recline because he still has cheirus." And we see now that he does, that he has God's promise to him of a communal, national yeshua with the koach of Yetzias Mitzrayim.
The world has made Seder night into a universal social event with the Bubbes and Zeides and Aunties and Uncles and the whole family, but we should raise ourselves above that and strengthen ourselves with the recognition that we have been granted a cheirus olam, an eternal freedom. It happens now as well! They don't want us around.
Utzu eitzah v'sufar...dabru davar v'lo yakum: They may try to plan for our destruction, but it does not succeed.
In the Gemara, it says musmach geulah l'tefilah- R' Yonah in Brachos explains: What gives us the ability to daven for anything? Yetzias Mitzrayim! There are the meitzarim (pains) of Mitzrayim, but also a Yetzias Mitzrayim.
~
Rebbetzin Fink then thanked R' Miller for speaking and mentioned that we had been his first stop off the plane (which is remarkable.) I went up to him later because I had a question; this was my question:
"This idea presupposes that Gideon has total emunah in God, to the point where he is making this claim that because God promised an eternal cheirus, He must fulfill his promise. Assuming that is true, and especially assuming that the true proof/ miracle which is greater than all other miracles, per R' Emden, is the very fact that we Jewish people are alive, why is it that Gideon would then go on to test God with all these seemingly little, paltry tests? Why the need for the dew on the fleece, for it to be dry on the fleece, for God to reassure him by letting him go down to the camp and hear the dream about the barley bread? Such tests suggest that Gideon's belief was not so great, for he needed it to be solidified with tests and proofs."
So R' Miller said "I hear," and then he addressed the point I made regarding R' Emden saying that the greatest miracle is the fact that we are alive, and said that in our time, that is the miracle that we see, but in Gideon's time, open miracles were still a way of life, and so Gideon was continuing the discussion with God by requesting the miracles; it was part of their dialogue. But to me this still doesn't make so much sense. If you want to look at the comparable story by Moses, which is in Exodus 4, Moshe declares that the Jews will not believe him and then God grants him signs- his leprous hand, the staff that turns to a snake- but God is the one giving him the signs; Moshe is not asking for them. So if it were really to be a continuation of the discussion, God ought to be the one offering signs (which works with the barley bread case), rather than Gideon testing God in an attempt to prove He's really there/ really going to help out.
Then again, the idea as a whole seems difficult to me, because after all, Gideon's father was an idol worshipper, with his Ba'al and Asheira; it seems odd that he of all people would be mehalel to praise God for an eternal cheirus (although not necessarily impossible, true, especially since later on Gideon saves his son by declaring that the Baal should fight his son/ fight his own battles.)
But the shiur as a beautiful idea that is taken out of context of the Gideon story/ is a derash reading of the Gideon story is something I very much appreciate. It's really very clever and I enjoyed it. Also, R' Miller is a very nice man who says "we should hear good tidings by you" after you speak to him, which is sweet.
*
Now, when it comes to the Seder night, we all know of the mitzvah of reclining on the Seder night. And interestingly, even an ani she'b'Yisrael [a poor person who is a member of Bnei Yisrael] shouldn't eat unless he reclines! Tosfos asks: Well, isn't a poor person a Jew? This is obvious; of course he should recline! It's a mitzvah. But actually no, it's a chiddush [innovative idea.] Why? Because I'd have thought that reclining is an expression of freedom, and would have thought there was something hollow in a poor person's reclining while eating.
So let's inquire: Why should an ani recline? There is an amazing Rashi in Shoftim [the book of Judges] when it is discussing the scenario of Gideon in Judges 6:13.
- יב וַיֵּרָא אֵלָיו, מַלְאַךְ יְהוָה; וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו, יְהוָה עִמְּךָ גִּבּוֹר הֶחָיִל.
12 And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him, and said unto him: 'The LORD is with thee, thou mighty man of valour.'
יג וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו גִּדְעוֹן, בִּי אֲדֹנִי, וְיֵשׁ יְהוָה עִמָּנוּ, וְלָמָּה מְצָאַתְנוּ כָּל-זֹאת; וְאַיֵּה כָל-נִפְלְאֹתָיו אֲשֶׁר סִפְּרוּ-לָנוּ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ לֵאמֹר, הֲלֹא מִמִּצְרַיִם הֶעֱלָנוּ יְהוָה, וְעַתָּה נְטָשָׁנוּ יְהוָה, וַיִּתְּנֵנוּ בְּכַף-מִדְיָן.
13 And Gideon said unto him: 'Oh, my lord, if the LORD be with us, why then is all this befallen us? and where are all His wondrous works which our fathers told us of, saying: Did not the LORD bring us up from Egypt? but now the LORD hath cast us off, and delivered us into the hand of Midian.'
Rashi states there that in fact, in that verse, Gideon is referring to last night because last night was the Seder; it was Pesach at that time, and last night Gideon's father had told over the Haggada and sang Hallel with him and now Gideon is questioning: where are these miracles that we discussed last night?
Now we have a question: Why would Gideon choose to reference Hallel as opposed to Maggid? And what if it had not been Seder night but a different night; would Gideon not still have been justified in asking where God's miracles were? And yet, the way it seems to be phrased, Gideon is saying something to the effect of, "Last night was Seder night and my father said Hallel, therefore I can say to You, where are all those miracles?!"
Now we must venture into a halakhic point; there is a fine halakhic point concerning the din of saying Hallel. It says Takanas Haneviim al kol perek v'perek v'kol tzarah v'tzarah. So there is a takana of the prophets that we say Hallel al kol perek v'perek and also kol tzarah v'tzarah.
R' Hai Gaon in the Ram clarifies that there are two situations where we would say Hallel:
1. Perek u'perek: Fixed dates. These are particular times of the year where it is fixed that we shall be saying Hallel.
2. Tzarah v'tzarah: If the Jews suffer a tzarah and experience a yeshua [they are saved], they must then say Hallel.
Now, these two Hallels are categorically different. The chiluk between the two is the din by perek v'perek is to read Hallel whereas tzarah v'tzarah is to be m'hallel, not to say Hallel! It's the difference between reading the defined entity we call Hallel (keria) and praising God! And to clarify that point, let's ask a question: Suppose you are reading Hallel, the defined entity, are you yotzei if you don't understand all the words? Yes! You've till read Hallel. But if the yesod ha'din is to be m'hallel not simply kerias Hallel, then if you don't know what you're saying you've not been m'hallel!
Another difference: do you make a bracha/ blessing? If it's keriah, then you make a blessing l'kro es ha'Hallel. If it is just that you are being m'hallel, and you are not saying a defined entity, it's very specific that you don't make a bracha. A bracha is a hillul so you don't make a bracha on a bracha.
Also, can you be mafsik [pause/ stop] in the middle? By kerias ha'Megillah, for instance, you cannot be (that's keriah) but if it's not a specific mitzvah of keriah, then it's not a problem.
So these distinctions we've been making are nafkaminos.
Let us now turn our attention to Hallel on the Seder night. Which one is it? On Seder night we are mesaper sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim. R' Chaim Brisker asks: Mah nishtana ha'layla ha'zeh? Every night we mention Yetzias Mitzrayim; what's the difference on this night?
Ah, but there is a categorical difference!
There is a Rambam which the achronim grapple with; there is a mitzvah to be mesaper on Yetzias Mitzrayim "K'Moshe ne'emar zachor es yom ha'Shabbos l'kadsho" (Like Moshe said, Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.) Now, normally "zachor"- remember- is speaking of the past. Remember something that happened in the past. But zachor es yom ha'Shabbos l'kadsho is remember that now, today, it is Shabbos.
Similarly, on Seder night, you are not remembering Yetzias Mitzrayim once upon a time but you went out of Egypt now; we're going out of Mitzrayim today! You should have the experience of being redeemed right now; you are not merely remembering something that happened once upon a time.
Well, but how do you do that? It's not just pretending; it means that this is actually happening in reality! There is no pretend as if something were to happen; that is a child's game, but you grow out of it.
Now where do you see the imperative to remember b'chol dor v'dor- now, where do you see that by Pesach? You see b'chol shana v'shana [every single year]. The reason is because we had b'chol dor v'dor in V'hi she'amdah...she'b'chol dor v'dor omdim aleinu l'chaloseinu- and God saves us from their hands.
When God took the Jews out of Egypt, he took them out for a cheirus olam - an eternal freedom! Yetzias Mitzrayim is a concept, a promise given to the Jews that no matter the situation we have a koach called Yetzias Mitzrayim given to us eternally. We are guaranteed by Yetzias Mitzrayim we have a cheirus olam. "Lo es avoseinu b'lvad," we say, "not our forefathers alone." Today we have to tell the story because we have experienced Yetzias Mitzrayim.
There is a famous essay of Mark Twain on the Jews:
- The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; The Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other
peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished.
The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and agressive mind.
All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains.
What is the secret of his immortality?
~Concerning the Jews in Harpers, 1899
R' Yaakov Emden in his siddur writes: People say that if only we were to see some miracles...chein (chay?) nafshi! That when I think about the survival o fthe Jews and how they survive with utter resilience and the ability to rebound, the very existence of the Jewish people is a greater miracle than Mitzrayim, and the longer it goes on it is even a greater miracle.
So let us return to our question: Hallel on Seder night. Which one is it? Tzarah b'tzarah! That is why there is no bracha on Seder night, we are mafsik (we have an entire meal); we even say in the Haggada "Lefichach anachnu chayavim l'hodos u'lhallel shira chadasha halleluyah." Shira Chadasha- a new Hallel!
Rashi explains that when Gideon was speaking to God, he was speaking about the fact that Midian was overwhelmingly more powerful than Bnei Yisrael and therefore they were lost. The Jews were miserable and indeed, they had a right to be miserable; they were impoverished; the Midianites stole from them...And so the prophet says "God is with you" and Gideon says, "God is with you?! Where are his miracles?"
And that is the spirit answers God, per Rashi- with that argument you can save kelal Yisrael. We see here the lomdus of Gideon. Last night, he explained, we said Hallel on this generation's miracles because Yetzias Mitzrayim is an ongoing event- so where's the b'chol dor v'dor? You gave us the right to remember and claim Yetzias Mitzrayim so there has to be a Yetzias Mitzrayim in this generation! Then I can argue/ make a claim/ a taina that God owes it to us, as it were.
So God answers: "You come with your emunah in Yetzias Mitzrayim- then you can claim it has to be b'chol dor v'dor," and therefore God does create a yeshua for them.
So let's go back to the very beginning, where we stated, "Afilu ani she'b'yisrael- even a poor person in Israel has an obligation to recline because he still has cheirus." And we see now that he does, that he has God's promise to him of a communal, national yeshua with the koach of Yetzias Mitzrayim.
The world has made Seder night into a universal social event with the Bubbes and Zeides and Aunties and Uncles and the whole family, but we should raise ourselves above that and strengthen ourselves with the recognition that we have been granted a cheirus olam, an eternal freedom. It happens now as well! They don't want us around.
Utzu eitzah v'sufar...dabru davar v'lo yakum: They may try to plan for our destruction, but it does not succeed.
In the Gemara, it says musmach geulah l'tefilah- R' Yonah in Brachos explains: What gives us the ability to daven for anything? Yetzias Mitzrayim! There are the meitzarim (pains) of Mitzrayim, but also a Yetzias Mitzrayim.
~
Rebbetzin Fink then thanked R' Miller for speaking and mentioned that we had been his first stop off the plane (which is remarkable.) I went up to him later because I had a question; this was my question:
"This idea presupposes that Gideon has total emunah in God, to the point where he is making this claim that because God promised an eternal cheirus, He must fulfill his promise. Assuming that is true, and especially assuming that the true proof/ miracle which is greater than all other miracles, per R' Emden, is the very fact that we Jewish people are alive, why is it that Gideon would then go on to test God with all these seemingly little, paltry tests? Why the need for the dew on the fleece, for it to be dry on the fleece, for God to reassure him by letting him go down to the camp and hear the dream about the barley bread? Such tests suggest that Gideon's belief was not so great, for he needed it to be solidified with tests and proofs."
So R' Miller said "I hear," and then he addressed the point I made regarding R' Emden saying that the greatest miracle is the fact that we are alive, and said that in our time, that is the miracle that we see, but in Gideon's time, open miracles were still a way of life, and so Gideon was continuing the discussion with God by requesting the miracles; it was part of their dialogue. But to me this still doesn't make so much sense. If you want to look at the comparable story by Moses, which is in Exodus 4, Moshe declares that the Jews will not believe him and then God grants him signs- his leprous hand, the staff that turns to a snake- but God is the one giving him the signs; Moshe is not asking for them. So if it were really to be a continuation of the discussion, God ought to be the one offering signs (which works with the barley bread case), rather than Gideon testing God in an attempt to prove He's really there/ really going to help out.
Then again, the idea as a whole seems difficult to me, because after all, Gideon's father was an idol worshipper, with his Ba'al and Asheira; it seems odd that he of all people would be mehalel to praise God for an eternal cheirus (although not necessarily impossible, true, especially since later on Gideon saves his son by declaring that the Baal should fight his son/ fight his own battles.)
But the shiur as a beautiful idea that is taken out of context of the Gideon story/ is a derash reading of the Gideon story is something I very much appreciate. It's really very clever and I enjoyed it. Also, R' Miller is a very nice man who says "we should hear good tidings by you" after you speak to him, which is sweet.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Surrendering Our Minds To God
Countless times I have cited or quoted from the Rav's essay, "Surrendering Our Minds to God" as found in Reflections of the Rav. I have also cited from his essay about Korah's Common-Sense Rebellion. These are essays that have always resonated with me.
From "Surrendering Our Minds to God:"
He is explicating the idea that on Purim, men are told to drink ad d'lo yada, until they cannot distinguish between "blessed is Mordechai" and "cursed is Haman." He explains that this seems to be an extremely peculiar mitzvah, especially in light of the fact that Purim is comparable to Yom Kippur; how then is this mitzvah to be understood? He then segues into what initially may seem an unrelated catalogue of examples of places where people's sins were not forgiven, even though it would seem as though they should have been forgiven.
1. Moshe was punished for hitting the rock as opposed to speaking to it
2. The Meraglim (spies) were sent into the land with the best of intentions, and yet returned with evil tidings, which could only have happened if something was amiss in the original plan
3. Saul was faulted for not having killed Agag, and as a result lost the monarchy. The Gemara notes that David erred twice and yet did not lose the monarchy, whereas Saul erred once and lost it; why such severity by Saul?
Explains R' Chaim Shmulevitz, in fact, the key to these sins which seemed relatively minor and yet were not forgiven lies in a dialogue held between Isaiah and Chizkiyahu.
R' Chaim also references a discourse in Sanhedrin 100a:
From "Surrendering Our Minds to God:"
- The religious Jew accepts the entire Torah as a hok, both in regard
to its immutability and also its unintellegibility....To be a loyal
Jew is to be heroic, and heroes commit themselves without intellectual
reservations. Only one who lacks the courage of commitment will
belabor the "why"....
Why the Divine Imperative for Mishpatim? We have spoken heretofore
primarily of the hok, the inexplicable precept. In fact, we perform
all mishpatim (mostly social laws) in the same manner as the hukkim.
The Torah does not assign separate sections to the hukkim and
mishpatim respectively; they are interspersed throughout Scripture. We
make no distinctions between the two as regards the quality and
totality of our commitment. Why, we may ask, is it not enough for the
mishaptim to be intellectually motivated? Why the need to add a hok, a
non- logos dimension, to social laws which conscience itself dictates?
Apparently, reason is not a reliable guide even with respect to
mishpatim. There are borderline situations which confuse the mind, and
consequently it finds itself helpless in applying its moral norms.
Since our intellect must weigh pros and cons and is slow and deliberate
in deciding, society starts to nibble away at the edges of marginal,
borderline problems. Life must be lived; before our logic can
formulate an opinion, society will already have weakened all
restraints. Permissiveness will have replaced orderliness and the
amoral in man will have emerged triumphant.
For example, the mind certainly condemns murder. This is particularly
true of the killing of a young working mother who leaves behind
orphaned children. But does the abhorrence of murder also apply when
the victim is an old, cruel, miserly woman who in the eyes of society
was a parisitic wretch, as in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment ? May
we murder her in order to save a young girl from the clutches of
degradation? May euthanasia be practiced to relieve the elderly or
terminally ill of further suffering? Here the logos hesitates, is
uncertain, and imparts no decisive guidance. We can easily rationalize
in either direction and no external norm is compelling. As a mishpat,
a social norm, murder may at times be tolerated; as a hok, the
prohibition against murder is clear and absolute.....
We have assumed that mishpatim are prompted by reason. Yet, in our
modern world, there is hardly a mishpat which has not been repudiated.
Stealing and corruption are the accepted norms in many spheres of
life; adultery and general promiscuity find support in respectable
circles; and even murder, medical and germ experiments have been
conducted with governmental complicity. The logos has shown itself in
our time to be incapable of supporting the most basic of moral
inhibitions.
The Torah, therefore, insists that a mishpat be accepted as a hok; our
commitment must be unshakable, universally applicable, and upheld even
when our logos is confused. Without hok, every social and moral law
can be rationalized away, leaving hte world a sophisticated jungle of
instincts and impulses...."
~Reflections of the Rav, 103-105
He is explicating the idea that on Purim, men are told to drink ad d'lo yada, until they cannot distinguish between "blessed is Mordechai" and "cursed is Haman." He explains that this seems to be an extremely peculiar mitzvah, especially in light of the fact that Purim is comparable to Yom Kippur; how then is this mitzvah to be understood? He then segues into what initially may seem an unrelated catalogue of examples of places where people's sins were not forgiven, even though it would seem as though they should have been forgiven.
1. Moshe was punished for hitting the rock as opposed to speaking to it
2. The Meraglim (spies) were sent into the land with the best of intentions, and yet returned with evil tidings, which could only have happened if something was amiss in the original plan
3. Saul was faulted for not having killed Agag, and as a result lost the monarchy. The Gemara notes that David erred twice and yet did not lose the monarchy, whereas Saul erred once and lost it; why such severity by Saul?
Explains R' Chaim Shmulevitz, in fact, the key to these sins which seemed relatively minor and yet were not forgiven lies in a dialogue held between Isaiah and Chizkiyahu.
- In those days was Hezekiah sick unto death. And Isaiah the prophet, son of Amoz, came to him and said unto him, Thus saith the Lord, Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die and not live34 etc. What is the meaning of 'thou shalt die and not live'? Thou shalt die in this world and not live in the world to come. He said to him: Why so bad? He replied: Because you did not try to have children. He said: The reason was because I saw by the holy spirit that the children issuing from me would not be virtuous. He said to him: What have you to do with the secrets of the All-Merciful? You should have done what you were commanded, and let the Holy One, blessed be He, do that which pleases Him.
- ~Berakoth 10a
- The Gemara teaches us a new dimension of sin. Chizkiyahu was not accused solely of not begetting children: that transgression is not punishable by death. The sin lay principally in the use of his own reasoning to disobey the Divine command. One's attitude in doing mitzvos should be that of a servant to a master- he does as he is told, leaving aside his own reasoning. Trying to use one's own logic to qualify or bypass the Divine command is a breach in the relationship between Creator and creature, Master and servant.
This is the essence of the aforementioned incidents. The unforgivable sin of Moshe Rabbeinu was not that he had disobeyed Hashem's directive; it was that he had used reasoning and logic to reinterpret it. [Chazal explain that the motive for Moshe striking the rock and not speaking to it was in order to enhance kiddush Hashem, sanctification of the Divine Name (see Bamidbar Rabbah 19:5)].
The spies, too, were sent on the basis of Israel's own reasoning which did not stem from complete faith in God. This ultimately led to their slanderous report about Eretz Yisrael.
With this we can understand the dimensions of Saul's sin. David sinned terribly, but the transgression was self contained. Nothing was disrupted in the basic relationship between Hashem and David. Not so Shaul, who neglected to kill Agag because he felt that it was not in keeping with the Divine emphasis on the sanctity of life. This constitutes rebellion against the Divine command. There too, Shaul disobeyed Shmuel by dint of his own reasoning. That is why they are considered one sin, for essentially, they are one.
This ability to totally subjugate oneself to the Divine will, forgoing even one's rational conclusions, is the hallmark of Israel's men of greatness.
~Reb Chaim's Discourses, 141-142
R' Chaim also references a discourse in Sanhedrin 100a:
- R. Johanan was sitting and teaching: The Holy One, blessed be He, will bring jewels and precious stones, each thirty cubits long, and thirty cubits high, and make an engraving in them, ten by twenty cubits, and set them up as the gates of Jerusalem, for it is written, And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles.12 A certain disciple derided him saying, 'We do not find a jewel even as large as a dove's egg, yet such huge ones are to exist!' Some time later he took a sea journey and saw the ministering angels cutting precious stones and pearls. He said unto them: 'For what are these?' They replied: 'The Holy One, blessed be He, will set them up as the gates of Jerusalem.' On his return, he found R. Johanan sitting and teaching. He said to him: 'Expound, O Master, and it is indeed fitting for you to expound, for even as you did say, so did I myself see.' 'Wretch!' he exclaimed, 'had you not seen, you would not have believed! You deride the words of the Sages!' He set his eyes upon him, and he turned in to a heap of bones.13
- This story requires clarification. At the onset when his disciple mocked him, R' Yochanan did not respond nor punish him. It was only after he returned and admitted the veracity of R' Yochanan's statement that R' Yochanan was incensed. The reason is that as long as R' Yochanan's discourse was beyond his disciple's comprehension, he was not to be blamed for his disbelief. It was only after he had seen it, understood it and still persisted in emphasizing the role of his rational faculties that R' Yochanan became angry. At this point, emunah, faith in God, was called for; anything less was apikursus, heresy.
Having explained the uses and limitations of reason in the Divine service, we can begin to understand the essence of Purim. Reason is used year-round as a means to emunah. Once a year, on Purim, we strip away all traces of reasong (ad d'lo yada) and serve God with our faith alone.
~Reb Chaim's Discourses, 144
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I Am Superwoman
Otherwise known as...productive days make my blood race. And that makes me happy. We like to squeeze out the dregs of the day.
Things I Did Today
1. Attended class from 9:00-10:15 AM
2. Met someone in a lovely hotel to discuss arrangements for a project we are working on
3. Went to Brooklyn on the Q train
4. Stopped by the little old man at Isaac's Bake Shop, whom I consider a particular friend of mine, to purchase a cookie and chat with him, then inquire as to where Eichlers is at
5. Bought birthday presents from Eichlers, called up the family and inquired as to what they wanted, and then bought more birthday presents from Oh Nuts!
6. Stopped by Mendy's for $6 bowl of chicken soup (ridiculously overpriced)
7. Took the Q train back to Manhattan, then managed to severely disable my shoe and almost break it
8. Watched "Gossip Girl" and "24"
9. Ate dinner
10. Held a meeting about living arrangements for next year, then emailed the world regarding living arrangements next year and happily, have some responses
11. Dropped off birthday present 1 at Brookdale
12. Went uptown to Washington Heights to drop off birthday present 2, then chatted politely with people in the caf store
13. Returned from uptown and was victorious in a battle against my yetzer hara. Therefore studied with a friend for 2 and 1/2 hours for our Malbim test (which is why I am now up at 2:50 AM.)
~
In another fun announcement, I love the song "I Can Make You Feel It" by Home Video which was played on the most recent episode of "Gossip Girl."
Things I Did Today
1. Attended class from 9:00-10:15 AM
2. Met someone in a lovely hotel to discuss arrangements for a project we are working on
3. Went to Brooklyn on the Q train
4. Stopped by the little old man at Isaac's Bake Shop, whom I consider a particular friend of mine, to purchase a cookie and chat with him, then inquire as to where Eichlers is at
5. Bought birthday presents from Eichlers, called up the family and inquired as to what they wanted, and then bought more birthday presents from Oh Nuts!
6. Stopped by Mendy's for $6 bowl of chicken soup (ridiculously overpriced)
7. Took the Q train back to Manhattan, then managed to severely disable my shoe and almost break it
8. Watched "Gossip Girl" and "24"
9. Ate dinner
10. Held a meeting about living arrangements for next year, then emailed the world regarding living arrangements next year and happily, have some responses
11. Dropped off birthday present 1 at Brookdale
12. Went uptown to Washington Heights to drop off birthday present 2, then chatted politely with people in the caf store
13. Returned from uptown and was victorious in a battle against my yetzer hara. Therefore studied with a friend for 2 and 1/2 hours for our Malbim test (which is why I am now up at 2:50 AM.)
~
In another fun announcement, I love the song "I Can Make You Feel It" by Home Video which was played on the most recent episode of "Gossip Girl."
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Star Maiden
I decided everyone should know who Istahar is. She was always one of my favorite characters from The Diamond Tree by Howard Schwartz. This writeup is from Tree of Souls. I like the version in The Diamond Tree better because she actually tricks the angel into giving her his wings. (That version is found in Bet Ha-Midrash 5:156).
~
581. The Star Maiden
When the generation of the Flood went astray, God began to regret having created humans. Then two angels, Shemhazai and Azazel, reminded God that they had opposed the creation of humans, saying, What is man, that You have been mindful of him? (Ps. 8:5). God replied: "Those who dwell on earth are subject to the Evil Inclination. Even you would be overpowered by it." But the angels protested, saying: "Let us descend to the world of humans, and let us show You how we will sanctify Your name." And God said: "Go down and dwell among them."
So the two angels descended to earth, where they were certain they could resist the power of the Evil Inclination. But as soon as they saw how beautiful were the daughters of men, they forgot their vows and took lovers from among them, even though they were defiling their own pure essence. So too did they teach them secrets of how to entice men, as well as the dark arts of sorcery, incantations, and the divining of roots.
Then the two angels decided to select brides for themselves from among the daughters of men. Azazel desired Na'amah, the sister of Tubal-Cain, the most beautiful woman on earth. But there was another beautiful maiden, Istahar, the last of the virgins, whom Shemhazai desired, and she refused him. This made him want her all the more.
"I am an angel," he revealed to her, "you cannot refuse me."
"I will not give in to you," Istahar replied, "unless you teach me God's Ineffable Name."
"That I cannot do," Shemhazai replied, "for it is a secret of heaven."
"Why should I believe you?" said Istahar. "Perhaps you don't know it at all. Perhaps you are not really an angel."
"Of course I know it," said Shemhazai, and he revealed God's Name.
Now, as soon as she heard the holy Name, Istahar pronounced it and flew up into the heavens, escaping the angel. And when God saw this, He said: "Because she removed herself from sin, let Istahar be set among the stars." And Istahar was transformed into a star, one of the brightest in the sky. And when Shemhazai saw this, he recognized God's rebuke of his sin and repented, hanging himself upside down between heaven and earth. But Azazel refused to repent, and God hung him upside down in a canyon, bound in chains, where he remains to this day. That is why a scapegoat is sent to Azazel on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, bearing the sins of Israel.
Others say that when the two angels, Shemhazai and Azazel, came down to earth, they were still innocent. But they were corrupted by the demonesses Na'amah and Lilith. The children they bore were the giants of old, known as the Nefilim, or Fallen Ones. They bore six children at each birth, and in that very hour their offspring stood up, spoke the holy language, and danced before them like sheep. There were said to be sixty in all. These giants had such great appetites that God rained manna on them in many different flavors, so that they might not eat flesh. But the Fallen Ones rejected the manna, slaughtered animals, and even dined on human flesh.
Still others say that the offspring of the fallen angels were tall and handsome, and had greater strength than all the children of men. Because of the heavenly origin of their fathers, they are referred to as "the children of heaven."
Sources: Targum Pseudo-Yonathan on Genesis 6:1-4; Yalkut Shimoni, Bereshi 44, Midrash Avkir in Beit ha-Midrash, 4:127-128; The Book of Jubilees 4:15, 4:22, 5:1-3; 1 Enoch 6:14; Bereshit Rabbati 29-30; Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 22; Zohar 1:37a; Zohar Hadash, Ruth 81a; IFA 10856.
~
581. The Star Maiden
When the generation of the Flood went astray, God began to regret having created humans. Then two angels, Shemhazai and Azazel, reminded God that they had opposed the creation of humans, saying, What is man, that You have been mindful of him? (Ps. 8:5). God replied: "Those who dwell on earth are subject to the Evil Inclination. Even you would be overpowered by it." But the angels protested, saying: "Let us descend to the world of humans, and let us show You how we will sanctify Your name." And God said: "Go down and dwell among them."
So the two angels descended to earth, where they were certain they could resist the power of the Evil Inclination. But as soon as they saw how beautiful were the daughters of men, they forgot their vows and took lovers from among them, even though they were defiling their own pure essence. So too did they teach them secrets of how to entice men, as well as the dark arts of sorcery, incantations, and the divining of roots.
Then the two angels decided to select brides for themselves from among the daughters of men. Azazel desired Na'amah, the sister of Tubal-Cain, the most beautiful woman on earth. But there was another beautiful maiden, Istahar, the last of the virgins, whom Shemhazai desired, and she refused him. This made him want her all the more.
"I am an angel," he revealed to her, "you cannot refuse me."
"I will not give in to you," Istahar replied, "unless you teach me God's Ineffable Name."
"That I cannot do," Shemhazai replied, "for it is a secret of heaven."
"Why should I believe you?" said Istahar. "Perhaps you don't know it at all. Perhaps you are not really an angel."
"Of course I know it," said Shemhazai, and he revealed God's Name.
Now, as soon as she heard the holy Name, Istahar pronounced it and flew up into the heavens, escaping the angel. And when God saw this, He said: "Because she removed herself from sin, let Istahar be set among the stars." And Istahar was transformed into a star, one of the brightest in the sky. And when Shemhazai saw this, he recognized God's rebuke of his sin and repented, hanging himself upside down between heaven and earth. But Azazel refused to repent, and God hung him upside down in a canyon, bound in chains, where he remains to this day. That is why a scapegoat is sent to Azazel on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, bearing the sins of Israel.
Others say that when the two angels, Shemhazai and Azazel, came down to earth, they were still innocent. But they were corrupted by the demonesses Na'amah and Lilith. The children they bore were the giants of old, known as the Nefilim, or Fallen Ones. They bore six children at each birth, and in that very hour their offspring stood up, spoke the holy language, and danced before them like sheep. There were said to be sixty in all. These giants had such great appetites that God rained manna on them in many different flavors, so that they might not eat flesh. But the Fallen Ones rejected the manna, slaughtered animals, and even dined on human flesh.
Still others say that the offspring of the fallen angels were tall and handsome, and had greater strength than all the children of men. Because of the heavenly origin of their fathers, they are referred to as "the children of heaven."
Sources: Targum Pseudo-Yonathan on Genesis 6:1-4; Yalkut Shimoni, Bereshi 44, Midrash Avkir in Beit ha-Midrash, 4:127-128; The Book of Jubilees 4:15, 4:22, 5:1-3; 1 Enoch 6:14; Bereshit Rabbati 29-30; Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 22; Zohar 1:37a; Zohar Hadash, Ruth 81a; IFA 10856.
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