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Posted at 11:04 PM in Lectures of Faith | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
One of the dilemmas of chareidi chinuch is how to respond when our children bring home facts that are patently wrong, attitudes with which we cannot agree or statements that morally confound. Sometimes they are matters of hashkafah from a wing or a group that we do not share, at other times a clear misinterpretation of Torah passages or opinions that masquerade as hashkafa but that no one would support. Of course non-chareidim experince these things alsout in the chareidi framework, respect for the authotrity and tradition is the defining values, not to be lighlty tampered with.
Please do not misunderstand. Chareidi chinuch is generally, wholesome, full of meaning and spiritually uplifting. Most mechanchim are committed and self-sacrificing and seek only to teach Torah and to develop their students. There are, of course, bad apples in every bunch but they are, fortunately rare.
However, not all mehanchim are thinkers and some can teach but are not exceptional tamidei chachamim. Sometimes they make mistakes.
There is an argument to be made that every error should be corrected. Chazal advise us to only teach children from a scroll that has been proof-read. This is because, Rovo says, an error (in childhood), once it enters, it enters: in other words, what a child learns at a young age is very difficult to correct later on. (Pesachim 112a). However, like always, one needs to apply this statement in a wise and discriminating manner.
My personal approach is not to take issue with misinterpretations or defensible hashkafic positions. After all, it is more important for our children to trust and respect their rebbeim and receive with confidence what they are imparting than to be "right". It is injurious and short-sighted to leave our kids with a message that their rebbi does not understand something or, worse, is a simpleton who believes in unreasonable things. Young children are not good at making distinctions and older children need certainty and trust to develop spiritually. Disrespect for the carriers of the tradition easily can extend to distrust of all received truth and turn into cynicism and denial. On the other hand, morally unacceptable (racist, unnecessarily exclusionary or insulting ) statements should be rejected with all force.
A friend recently presented me with an a situation that startled me with the sheer beauty of the dilemma. His little son came home from school with a list of the things that happended on Shiva Asar B'Tamuz and that his truly wonderful rebbi, a master educator in all respects, taught him by heart. Among them was that Menashe set up a cross in the mikdash (Temple).
At first, this threw me. After all, the cross as a religious symbol postdates Menashe by some 600 years. On second thought I realized that, in the language of the Mishna in Taanis, Menashe set up a "tseilem bamikdash". This word means "image" in Hebrew but for an Yiddish speaker, it means first and foremost, a "cross". Hence, if you are a native Yiddish speaker and never focused on this word, you may understand that the Mishna is teaching that Menashe set up a cross in the Temple.Lacking historical awareness, this understanding makes plenty of sense. Are not the Christians, Romans, and the Pope is in Rome, the ones who so greviously persecuted the Jews for millenia. They must also somehow be connected to the destruction of the (first) Temple. This appears to be common misreading, by the way. It is not the first time that I heard this translation coming from those who learn in Yiddish.
Should we treat it a simple error, which it, of course is? Or, is it an attitude, and if so, does it call for a correction, or is this attitude of some value for children's chinuch.
I advised him to let it pass; what would you do?
Posted at 04:18 PM in Looking Around | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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The solution is supervised surfing. Belz representatives recently signed a contract with Rimon Internet, which provides various surfing packages at different levels of "openness," according to the client's requirements.
Comment:Finally, a solution! This approach is very different than Ger, see here I was always intrigued by the changes that Belz had undergone since the holocaust. For example, in Europe, Belz strongly opposed vocational training and Tchortkover network of vocational schools (information on both can be found in the Artscroll biographies on Tchortkov and Belz) but nowadays, Belz encourages vocational study for the majority who will not stay in learning. I discussed this with someone who is close to the current Rebbe and he said, "The War changed many things". It is now time for each community to begin to come up with its own solutions to the scourge and the promise of the internet. I have personal knowledge of cases where it has wrecked unimagined destruction and others in which it brought Torah to people and people to Torah.We abandoned or responsibility. We allowed the most powerful tool of modern communication to stomp and damage in the courtyards of our communities; it is time to bind it and to make it serve us. The Belz solution is only one possible solution; there are, I am certain, many others. What must be done, is to bring a variety of kosher solutions to the market, so that each group adopts and fine-tunes one of them. Ultimately, the approach with the best balance of openness and control will triumph, for each group to adjust to its needs and worldview. It is time to stop wringing our hands and start acting, to tame the beast and to bring its power in line with our religious goals.
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Posted at 12:12 PM in Chassidic Thought | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
"Peyes swing from under Yankees caps, and players sling Yiddish jeers from the outfield, when the Stormers take the hardtop for their Sunday games at Brooklyn’s McCarren Park. The teams of Brooklyn’s Greenpoint Softball League reflect the boro’s inimitable patchwork of cultures, and the Stormers — with a hardworking 3-23 record — represent Williamsburg’s sizable but insular Satmar Hasidic community.
The Stormers are a ragtag band of yeshiva students in their late teens and early 20s who report to the field in tailored day clothes and disappear briskly after games. ....To some, the Hasidic ballplayers seem to have stepped from the famous opening passage of “The Chosen,” Chaim Potok’s novel about boys from pious families of Brooklyn’s Williamsburg who struggle with their parents over the draws of assimilation, including long afternoons on the baseball diamond."
Posted at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
The three weeks that lead up to the Ninth of Av are not only a time of sorrow and remembrance, they are also a period in which we reflect and contemplate the relationship between God and the Jewish people. The rest of the year we bask in the security and warmth of knowing that Hashem always accepts and loves his people and that the bond between the Master of the World and his children is forever and will never be broken. At such times we have the luxury of being philosophers and pontificating about Immanence and Transcendence. During the Three Weeks, on the other hand, we need consolation more than anything else. There are questions. How is God's love and acceptance affirmed in the times of trouble, persecution and exile? How is our difficult history integrated into the terms of the Covenant? How is simple faith, reliance on God and trust reconciled to the darkness, despair and darkness that envelope us during this period of time? Religious tenets and painful experience must be brought together so that from this encounter a mature faith emerges. The solution lies not in philosophy but in poetry that speaks to the heart. The tension between religious optimism and naiveté and the burden of Jewish history is subject to Midrashic reconciliation and not to philosophic reflection. There is of course place for the latter and I do not argue for crude anthropomorphism as religious ideal. It is just that the heart has its own language and it is not the language of philosophy. A complete religious personality must be able to simultaneously incorporate both conceptions and languages, of philosophy and of poetry, as both real and true.
An interesting passage in Petichta to Eicha Rabbati 24 considers "where was God during the destruction?"[1]. In a long and moving segment it tells the story of Divine displeasure and reconciliation with Israel … but in radically earthly imagery. That tells us that the answer to teh problem of suffering cannot be encompassed in simple formulations and that the ability to simultaneously perceive concurrent and overlaying realities is in itself part of the solution.
The Midrash is very long and cannot be reproduced here. Instead I will schematically summarize its constituent parts. It starts with the die having been cast, the decision having already been made. God's anger demands that He avert His eyes and withdraw from His people. Initially it seems to be simply a pragmatic step - enemies cannot triumph while He dwells in the Temple, so He must leave . Paradoxically, however, after He withdraws, He becomes even closer. He returns to the site of the destroyed Temple in order to weep over it. Here Hashem recalls what led Him to order the destruction. New characters appear at God's bequest and belatedly argue for his Mercy. Their intercessions are not successful until Rachel, who was not initially invited to the deliberations, forces her way into the proceedings and accuses God, essentially, of jealousy. He responds by promising the eventual redemption.
Hashem appears to oscillate between firmness and pity, Justice and Mercy. At times He seems unaware of what He himself decreed or "felt" before. The complexity of this narrative is poetic and not philosophical. As we said, no metaphysical discussion has ever consoled a mourner or comforted one who suffers. The decision to bring Hashem into an active dialogue with mortals and to ascribe compassion, uncertainty and pity to Him may confuse the philosophically minded but it brings solace and consolation to those who mourn. As such, the decision to combine the un-combinable must be seen as a deliberate act of inspired religious genius. The reader is reminded why the destruction was deserved but not by a testament of a judgmental and unsympathetic Master but through a conversation within the family, all members of which have lost and suffered. Hashem is also a part of this family, He is right there with us. He also suffers and regrets, and through this philosophically faulty but personally meaningful device, the Covenant is restated and Love is reaffirmed.
Here is the schematic representation of this passage:
I end with pointing out that philosophical issues are certainly important and have their place within Torah study. The reason for religion, however, is to touch the heart. The writers of the Midrash understood that better than anyone else. They were not afraid to employ anthropomorphic ideas and expressions, knowing full well that they were philosophically imprecise and inadequate, for their first and perhaps only concern was to inspire and reconcile Israel to their Father in Heaven.
1 I first became aware of this Midrash while reading David Stern. Midrash and Theory, Northwestern University Press, Evanston , 1996, pp.80-88; however, this series takes a very different approach than he does to explicating this passage.
2 The highest angel. In kabbalistic literature he is a symbol of Shekhina or the sefira of Malchus. Once the Shkhina was withdrawn from the Beis Hamikdash, Metatron can no longer enter there.
Posted at 10:52 PM in On Chumash | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
A teacher must never see the flaw of his student. One who gives to another must see only his "whole", his receiving side. This is what Chazal said (Rosh Hasana 32): "The sun never saw the flaw of the moon".
Baal Shem Tov, quoted in Nesivos Hachinuch.
Comment: This saying is drawing upon and referencing the following gemara: ""The countenance of Moshe was like that of the sun; the countenance of Yehoshua was like that of the moon." (Bava Basra 75a)
Posted at 07:39 PM in Chassidic Thought | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
A kiss is a momentary connection between two souls, a blowing in of one spirit into another. So Naomi gave Orpah a kiss as Orpah was to return back "to her people and her gods". But Orpah wanted no part of Naomi and her God, and so, she gave it back - she kissed Naomi in return.
"The Song of Songs" - this is the clinging of body to body. "Kiss me from the kissses of your mouth" - this is clinging of spirit to spirit (Zohar Chadash, Shir Hashirim 1, See Tanya 45).
(Note: This is the external meaning. The inner meaning of this passage is that Chibbuk precedes Nishuk (precedes Zivug). (see Pardes Shaar 8.)
For those listening during the times when music is not permitted, please turn sound off before starting this video.
Posted at 12:01 AM in Chassidic Thought | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
A bad date.
Posted at 10:35 PM in Sundry Comments | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)