From Living Torah (Volume 39, Episode 154) http://www.livingtorah.org | <>>
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From Living Torah (Volume 39, Episode 154) http://www.livingtorah.org | <>>
Posted at 03:37 PM in Images, for the heart... | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Posted at 04:52 PM in Looking Around | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
"Next week Arnold Eisen will be officially installed as the seventh chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Conservative Judaism’s flagship educational institution. While Eisen’s appointment as Conservative Judaism’s new de facto head has sparked a great deal of excitement, he will be inheriting a movement widely perceived as being adrift.
Is Conservative Judaism suffering from malaise? If so, what is the nature of the problem? And how should Conservative Jews steer their ship into the future? The Forward invited prominent Conservative leaders and some outside observers to weigh in on these questions. "
from www.forward.com/articles/11511/
...here are some observations from an uninvited outside observer:
Is Conservative Judaism suffering from malaise?
Yes, it is, because its theology has not moved from the 19th century while the world has moved far past it. Put simply, Conservatism is no longer in sync with either Torah or modernity. Why should Jews be proud to belong to it? Its world class scholars are gone, its rabbis don't know how to learn or what to believe, and its laity is less observant then ever before. Without a spiritual core, it is declining and will continue to decline, whatever the residual numbers at this point.
If so, what is the nature of the problem?
1. No inspiration
2. No high-class Torah scholarship
3.Warped sense of tradition
4. A sense of inferiority to Orthodoxy
5.Outflanked on the left by Reform, on the right by Modern Orthodox, on the bottom by ambivalence and apathy, and on top by Jewish Renewal.
6.Learning turns into a" How I feel about this text". Ignorance is widespread and guided by neither critical sense nor fidelity to texts.
7.Worship is theater and not a profound self altering experience, never, not even once.
And how should Conservative Jews steer their ship into the future?
You need a consolidation or friendly takeover. Consider this:
1.Allying with the radical left of Orthodoxy, if they would have you. You need an infusion of learning and passion.
2.Make overtures to Chabad but be careful - they will run curcles around you.
3.Tempt world-class scholars to JTS but you don't have the money (or committment) to grow or develop it.
4.Jettison historical-critical approaches. Instead, say - I don't know but this is what the tradition teaches.
5.Get Federaton to build more Solomon Schechters and staff them with Orhodox teachers but your curriculum. The more you blur between orthodox and conservative, the more you will co-opt Orthodoxy''s success.
6.Your closest allies can be the Jewish Renewal Movement. Invite them in and balance their contibution with re-emphasizing the rational basis of Conservative Movement in the Historico-Postive school.
7.... would you consider reversing the homosexual rabbis psak? This is a boundary that many potential allies will not cross...
Posted at 12:44 PM in Foreign Fields | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
The Melitzer Rebbe dances with his grandson Itamar Leiffer, the son of the Bistiner Rebbe of Petach Tikva, at the "sheva brachos" celebration in Ashdod on 8 Adar, 5767. Itamar married the granddaughter of Rav Meir Bransdorfer, senior Dayan of the Eda Haredis Rabbinical Court in Jerusalem. |
Posted at 05:18 PM in Chassidic Thought | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
The distinction between Rishonim and Acharonim is axiomatic to Talmudic study and, really, to all of Judaism. One does not argue with Rishonim. Rishonim, we often think, are above criticism or rejection; they cannot be disproved. Thus, one can say, "A shvere Rambam", but not, "Rambam erred". Acharonim, on the other hand, can be questioned and rejected, or at least so goes the usually accepted view (see here for a discussion, http://www.avakesh.com/2006/11/r_boruch_ber_le.html .)
But who is a Rishon? You could say that anyone who lived during a particular historical period is a rishon; however, this ignores distinctions between commentators, halachists, philosophers, exegetes and poets. It also goes against our experience of variations in the quality of the work of different authors of that era. Was Yehuda Halevi a rishon? I would say yes. What about Ibn Ezra, Abarbanel, R. Bachya? How about Ephodi, Maharil or ShemTov ibn Shem Tov? You see the problem!?
Here is how Mechy Frankel expressed it in an Avodah post. "Does contemporaneity invest all members of a generation
with an equivalent halakhic authority -- asked in that way, I would assume
the answer is trivially, no. thus to call r. chasdai crescas -- remembered
for matters other than halokhic contributions -- in the same breath that
calls rambam or rabbeinu tam rishonim seems to blur some important distinction
that needs to be made. This question more usually lurks just underneath
-- and occasionally just above -- the horizon when the traditionalist
contemplates the ibn ezra, who at least was an exegete of note but had
not distinguished himself as a ba'al talmud -- few traditionalists have
much compunction blowing off the ibn ezra's opinion of things, even in
matters of poroshonus, or even speaking of him with borderline disrespect,
in a way they would never do for one of his ba'alei tosofos contemporaries
-- but yet preople, somewhat schizophrenically, account the ibn ezra a
rishon. I'm not sure that many would grant r. crescas even the same
grudging period acknowledgement granted ibn ezra. Then too, there is
the other issue of rishonic era dating. While I would acknowledge r.
crescas to fall, barely, within the rishonic period, that's only because
he was a sefaradi and we would want to acknowledge the nimuqei yosef,
rivash, and rashbetz as rishonim even in the early 1400s.
I will forebear repeating here the reasons which I had previously remarked,
and are presumably exhumable in old mail jewish or avodah archives, that
-- despite popular published time line posters and various artscroll
pubs, ashqenazi rishonim have disappea red by the mid 1300s and everybody
else from then on -- specifically including such as maharil and t'rumas
had'deshen, are already acharonim. As for Abarbanel, even considering
the more extended sefaradi rishonic period, and the fact that he may
have been barely born while the last of the sefaradi rishonim were yet
living, he is an acharon."
Please note - I cite this only in order to express the problem. My own view is as follows.
Here is what I think:
The status of a Rishon is established by originality and consistency. What I mean by this is that the classic rishonim always display "makoriyut"; that is, what they say is basic, foundational, incontrovertible (even if arguable) and carries a stamp of deep thought, consideration of all aspects of a topic, familiarity with the entire rabbinic corpus, and fidelity to the topic. They are also consistent. Every shtickel of Rashbo, Rashi, Rambam possesses this characteristics. Not so with Acharonim. Some to a greater degree and others to a lesser degree, their writings contain forced interpretations, stretches, unappealing svoros and, rarely, actual errors. This is why one can argue on an achaaron but never on a rishon.
Lehavdil, compare Shakespeare or Homer and Robert Frost/ They all wrote some sublime poetry. But, everything that the former wrote is classic; there is not a passage of the Bard's writing, for example, that is subprime. Not so Frost, some of his stuff is sublime and some is plainly tedious and yeoman's work.
What lead me to this view. I was trying to understand a statement that "Ibn Ezra is not a rishon" ( I heard it in the name of a great man but later the person who told it to me denied saying so). Ruminating about this brought me to a realization that Ibn Ezra's commentary, full as it is of profound and remarkable thoughts, clearly possesses this characteristic of the Torah of acharonim, whereas Ramban's or Rashi's commentary does not.
Posted at 05:14 PM in Talmudic Spirituality | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBack (0)
Posted at 11:39 PM in Images, for the heart... | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
This week I came across addtional sources to a previous post. I previously wrote the following:
R. Shmuel Bar Nachman said” Cursed be the wicked. In reference to Potiphar’s wife it say, “and she said, ‘lie with me”, like an animal, but of Ruth it says, “and spread your wing over your handmaid (Genesis Rabbah 87,4).
This comparison between Ruth and Potiphar's wife calls to mind an important idea explicated so beautifully by R. Tsadok Hakohen in Likuttei Amarim 80b. He writes that every element seeks to join itself with what is like it. If a woman on a low spiritual level seeks out an elevated man it is either a sign that something within him still requires correction or, that an element of goodness within her is crying out for redemption. The impure does not desire to attach itself to the pure, if not for one of these two reasons. Why would a Gentile jet-setter, a woman like the wife of Pharaoh’s chief executioner desire to attach herself to a completely pious Jewish man? It must be a desperate cry for meaning and redemption. This is why Joseph was initially tempted somewhat by his master’s wife, for he understood that she could not be attracted to him unless they shared something on a deeper level. So happens, it turned out to be her daughter Asnat, who ultimately married Joseph. The comparison between Potiphar’s wife and Ruth emphasizes that Ruth wanted Boaz solely for his goodness and righteousness. She was motivated by pure and religious motives and he instinctively sensed that. Ruth throws back to Boaz the same words that he said to her at their first meeting: “HaShem recompense your work, and be your reward complete from HaShem, the G-d of Israel, under whose wings you came to take refuge.' (Ruth 2:14). She asks that Boaz spread his wing over her, meaning his outer four-fringed garment (as many still spread a Tallis to constitute a Chuppah), alluding to the commandment of Tsitsit and its power to guard against temptation (see Malbim here, and Rashash to Kiddushin 18b). When a man spreads his garment over a woman he symbolozes that this man and this woman are now wearing the same cloak and face the world under the same cover. Ruth was prepared to cloak herself in the garments of the Sage of Israel with everything that it entailed.
So intermarriage is not, perhaps, something that is bereft of spiritual component. Rather, like all things, it is misdirected spirtuality, a kernel of goodness that is hijacked by impure forces, or it is a call to teshuvah. At times, it is redeemed later, when the non-Jewish partner takes interest in Judasim and ultimately converts. Often, however, the sparks remains trapped in exile, to the tragedy the Jewish people and the entire world.
New sources:
..through this you will understand the concept of "Yaffas Toar". ...it is known that those who went out to the optional war were righteous, to the extent of not speaking in between prayers. How then is it possible for such great saints to be affected by the desire to defile themselves with a foreign woman? This is why the Torah informed us that is he longs for her, this is nothing more than a spark of holiness that is intermixed in that nation, it is found in that non- Jewish woman - specifically, a spark that is related to the soul of this man is in this woman - therefore he desired her. So the Torah permitted that he come unto her and through that spirit that he injects into her at the time of intimacy, as is known, perhaps the good within her will overcome and push away the bad, and that woman will enter into holiness and convert. Even so, a rebellious son comes out of her, for it is not possible that some impurities do not remain mixed into her (Likuttim of Ari, Ki Teitsei).
A similar but shorter comment is found in Likkutei Torah of the Ari, regarding Shechem and Dinah. Shechem desired to uplift his spark of holiness and it led him to Dinah and to agree to circumcision. Once he elevated this spark through circumcising himself, the remnant was destroyed by Yakov's sons.
Posted at 12:33 AM in Kabbala | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
How do you lain that again?
Some midrashic passages are nigh incomprehensible. It is tempting to approach them with pilpulistic machinations or to try to explain them into an allegories. In fact, that is how such passages have often been approached in the past.[1] With greater sophistication in understanding the methodology of various medieval exegetical methods over the past 100+ years, we have now another way. The 360 degree exegetical review that we have described in the past provides an excellent approach to difficult Midrashic passages.
As you may recall, a 360 degree review consists of carefully considering all interpretative issues in a particular verse, referring to the approaches of classic commentators to these issues, and then reconsidering the midrash to see how it deals with the identified problem. Let us see how it works itself out in regard to a comment of the Sifri in the beginning of our parsha.
And you shall respond and say: Arami oved avi, and he descended to Egypt to reside there and he became there a great nation (Devarim 26,5).
Arami oved avi - this teaches that he (Yakov) did not descend to Aram but only in order to be lost[2] and it (the verse) considers it for Lavan as if he did make him lost (in the sense of 'destroyed').[3]
What in the world does this mean?
Let's do a 360 degree review.
We begin with the Passover Haggada which interprets this passage to mean that Lavan desired to destroy our forefather Yakov. He is not the only one; in every generation ill-wishers arise against us but the Holy One Blessed Be he saves us from their clutches. This interpretation is so familiar to us form childhood that we overlook considerable exegetical difficulty that it engenders. Quite simply, as Ibn Ezra points out, the word oved is always intransitive; as such it cannot mean destroy, for that is a transitive verb.[4] An intransitive present tense verb that follows a noun can have only one meaning in classical Hebrew - it must serve as an adjective. The meaning therefore would have to be - a lost Aramean was my father.[5]
Apparently the Sifri and the Haggada cannot accept this explanation, for it entail calling our forefather Yakov a lost Aramean, a term both disrespectful and not quite true, for Yakov was never an Aramean as he merely sojourned in Aram and always expected to return. Neither was he lost; rather he went purposefully to Aram. To solve this problem, the Sifri violaed the rules of grammar in order to salvage the meaning of the verse.
We have here, therefore, a very common situation in regard to Biblical exegesis: two very different interpretations, with one suffering from logical and theological disadvantage and the other deficient from a grammatical or idiomatic standpoint.
We might expect that some sources may attempt to express or reconcile both of these interpretations and we would be right. Targum Yonasan, for example, translates as following: "In the beginning our forefather Yakov went down to Aram and desired to destroy him..." The Targum deliberately commingles the two interpretations of the word 'oved' and at the same time introduces the ambiguity about who sought to destroy him. Was it Lavan, who is not mentioned at all in this passage, or was it Yakov himself who let himself into a situation where he could be lost?
The Sifri likewise plays up the two possible meanings of the word 'oved'. Was it Yakov who was lost or was it Lavan who tried to make him lost, on other words, to destroy him? The Sifri presents both interpretations.
Arami oved avi -
1.this teaches that he (Yakov) did not descend to Aram but only in order to be lost
2.and it (the verse) considers it for Lavan as if he did make him lost (in the sense of 'destroyed').
Parenthetically, the trop as we have it reflects the traditional interpretation that we know from the Haggada. By putting a separating ta'am pashta over the word arami, the trop separates 'arami' from 'oved', discouraging an interpretation in which 'oved' is an adjective of 'arami'.
R. Mordechi Breuer in his Ta'ame Hamikra (Chorev, Yerushalaim, 1989, p.370) suggests that the two interpretations reflect two historical realities. Both were in evidence in the lives of the patriarchs and in the Egyptial exile. Exile is being outside of one's own land but it need not necessarily be accompanied by oppressions and servitude. The Torah in this parsha includes both experiences in its short review of Jewish history - the declaration of first fruits. In the First Temple era, the confident declaration of the pilgrim bringing first fruits resounded with the optimism and pride of national accomplishment, despite humble beginnings as a wandering Aramean. This is the meaning that the trop favors. After the experience of enslavement, reconstruction and disappointments of the Second Temple period, the destiny of Jews among the nations did not look quite as bright. When it looked toward its beginnings, it saw Anti-Semitism and oppression. Not only Lavan but in every generations they rise against us to destroy us. It is that understanding of Jewish history that informed the interpretation of the Haggada and the trop.
Here we have a good example of a situation in which careful consideration of easily accessible exegetical issues leads us to a straightforward understanding of an otherwise hard to fathom Midrashic passage.[6]
1 See the beginning of the recently published dialogue version of Mesillas Yeshorim (Gizberg manuscript), where this method of midrash study is not only definitively described but also considered equal in importance to the study of Talmud and practical Halacha.
2 As per Vilna Gaon's emendation.
3 Rashi to this verse explains that although Lavan did not succeed, his evil intention is considered as if he did succeed. This is the principle that applies to the nations of the world - evil thought is considered as if it was an action.
4 A transitive verb is one like 'teach', the action going outside the subject to an object. An intransitive verb is such one as 'sleep'. A verb like that can only modify the subject and not anything or anyone outside of the sleeper. One cannot 'sleep' others (unless he is a train compartment) but one can and does teach others.
5 This interpretation is also offered by the Rashbam and the Sipurno.
6 This interpretation of Targum Yonasan and the Sifri is suggested by Simcha Kogut, in Hamikra bein ta'amim l'parashanut, Mangus, T'SH'N'V, p. 65
Posted at 12:16 AM in On Chumash | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)