National Scholar Updates

What Is Jewish Education?

All parents who identify strongly with being Jewish will agree that they would like their children to have a Jewish education. Jewish education is very important in helping to keep children frum. Now, if you were to ask several people to write down on a piece of paper what a Jewish education means to them, there will be a large variety of ideas. Almost everyone has a different definition of what they feel is a Jewish education. One hundred Jewish parents from different backgrounds and communities may produce one hundred different definitions.

At one of the Jewish Day Schools where I taught, a large percentage of Jewish studies was comprised of the history of modern Israel—along with its political, geographical and environmental studies—and the Hebrew language. They also placed a strong emphasis on various sections of Tanakh. In contrast, during my schooling years, I studied at a number of different Jewish schools and yeshivas where studies went from early morning to late at night, but never did these studies include the Hebrew language or anything to do with modern Israel. And aside for some small sections studied in grades three and four, little Tanakh was taught.

A Lubavitcher (Lubavitch Chassid) will want Tanya and Shulchan Oruch Harav included in a school curriculum. Litvish (black-hat Yeshiva crowd): Mesilas Yesharim and Chayei Odam. A Breslov Chassid: Tshuvas Haran or Likutei Moharan. And then there are religious Zionists who may want Rav Kook’s Torah views studied. Some Sephardic groups will insist on the Ben Ish Chai. The Yiddishists will want to read the works of Sholom Aleichem. There are Orthodox people who would like girls to study Talmud, and then there are Conservative Jews who would also like girls to study Talmud, but they may have different reasons.

Jewish education is a complex issue if no one can agree with each other on what exactly constitutes Jewish education. The next time you hear people say that they want their child to have a good Jewish education, ask them to describe what would be a good education versus a bad education. Does it match with the ideas that you hold?

I recently visited one of my younger sisters. She married a Canadian man, and they are now living in Jerusalem. Over dinner one night, I asked about their future plans. They said they would like to continue living in Israel for a few years, but once they have kids, they want to move back to Canada. They said, “There are too many problems with the religious education in Israel and it is better not to bring up kids here.”

I spoke to a number of other North American young, yeshivish couples living in Israel. Like my sister and her husband, they said, “We cannot see bringing up our children in Israel, and we plan to return to North America after a few years here.”

This intrigues me because I feel the opposite. If I had to choose one ideal place to bring up Jewish children, it would be Israel.

On to the second issue: How do we define success?

If a child can read, write, and speak English, then he has received an English language education. If one can add, subtract, divide, and multiply numbers, then she has received a basic math education. However, when it comes to Judaism, things are far more complicated. Because some parents will be happy if their child has learned one book of Mishnah and another parent will feel that they should have learned two. Then there is a third parent, who feels that they should no longer be learning Mishnah, but it is time for them to be learning Talmud. Yet a fourth parent may feel that they should learn more Tanakh, and so on.

Many Jewish schools do have solid curricula. But what happens when the child receives excellent marks in Talmud but shows no sign of Yiras Shomayim? Academically the child is doing well, but is this a Jewish education that you would be happy with?

It gets more complicated in the Yeshiva world, where there tends to be very little outlined curriculum, if any. I have seen boys go through 20 years of Yeshiva schools and they barely know a thing! In many large Yeshivas, a boy can sleep through almost every shiur and talk nonsense during his partner-study time. He will come out at the end of the year with very little knowledge. The boy may feel he can get away with this because most Yeshivas will not expel a student for not gaining in knowledge. In a university system, when students fail a bunch of classes, they are not permitted to continue; in the Yeshiva system, there is not really a concept of failing a course. There are generally few, if any, mandatory written exams in Yeshiva, and though there may be some sort of oral exam, perhaps once every term, if a student is unable to answer very much, he will usually still continue with his classes.

There are other factors that are also part of the Jewish educational system. Do the male students at the school need to wear kippot? If so, what color, size or material must they be?

A boy in my class who used to bus to school with me, would get on the bus wearing a suede leather kippah. When we got off the bus near the school, he would switch the kippah for a black velvet one. Another friend did the same thing, by switching a knitted one for a velvet one, and a third friend would take off a baseball cap and put on a kippah. We were at a Yeshiva where we were only permitted to wear a black velvet yarmulke. If you did not, you would get in trouble with the principal.

When I was teaching at a large Modern Orthodox school in Australia, I had to fight with kids to even get them to put on a kippah, despite the fact that a kippah was a mandatory part of the school uniform.

If a child was not wearing a kippah in school, there was probably a good chance that his father did not wear one either. (There were, however, students who came from religious families who took off their kippot in school because they wanted to fit in with the “cool” guys.) I would be wasting my time complaining to a father that his child did not wear a kippah when the father himself did not wear one—more so if the father did not even place any importance on the wearing of one.

If you knew a child who came from a religious family, where family members wear kippot all the time, and you found out that the child was not wearing a kippah around school but he was getting good grades in all Jewish subjects, would you be happy with the child’s Jewish education?

Home vs. School

Jewish education, and for that matter, any education, starts from the time a person takes her first breath until she takes her last. A parent’s responsibility and a parent’s influence on his child’s education is a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week task. However, there is a slight difference between Jewish and secular education. After parents have seen their child achieve a certain academic level, they may, if they choose, kick back and say, “Job well done.”

But Jewish education never stops.

One of the biggest problems we face occurs when parents assume that the school is responsible for educating the child. A parent’s job is to educate the child. The school’s job is to fill in a particular agreed-upon gap.

As for secular studies in a Jewish school, I see them as just a combination of tools that are being given to the student. You do not have time to teach your kid math, and you are happy to pay someone to do it for you. What you want a school to teach a child is only the stuff that you cannot, or do not have the time to teach them yourselves.

Understandably you may not have the time or the skills to teach a child how to learn Talmud. This is fine, and you can find many good schools that will do an excellent job in teaching Talmud. However, if you do not have the time or the skills to teach your child Yiras Shomayim, ahavas Yisroel (love for a fellow Jew), and basic Jewish values, make the time and get the skills. If you leave this to be taught by a teacher from school, you may end up with the child having fear of the teacher instead of fear of God.

Having worked in Jewish communities and Jewish schools around the world, my take is that Jewish education can be divided into two parts:

1) Intellectual study and pursuit of knowledge
2) Developing Jewish values

What can make choosing a Jewish school complicated is that one will often find a clash between what is being taught intellectually—i.e., as in course material—and the values that are highlighted and expressed. You can have an Orthodox school that is academically excellent in Jewish studies, but does not have the Chassidish values particular to your group that you may want. And then there is a school that needs to improve in everything, but has excellent Chassidish values. Or if you have very strong Zionistic feelings, you may find an excellent Yeshiva, but without the Zionistic values.
If there are any “value” contradictions, or conflict between what is being taught at school and what is being taught at home, the child may grow up confused—more so if the child knows that the parent holds the school in high esteem.

If you feel that the school is in breach of one of your values, you need to talk with the child. Explain that this is a good school where the child can learn lots of Torah, or whatever the positive points are, but some things are not so good. It is perfectly okay for the kid to understand that no single institution will be perfect. But you need to make it clear to them what you feel is good at the school and what is not.

Parent vs. School

Many adults have the tendency to place their children in a school and then spend the next 20 years kvetching (complaining) about and putting down the school and its teachers. Many take it a step further and try to change the school. For some, it is about implementing a small change; but others want to redo the entire curriculum, change the principal, change all the teachers, and even move the school to a different location. If you are a parent who finds yourself trying to redo the system, perhaps it would be best to find a different school or try to re-examine the way you think about the current institution. Parents can successfully implement change in schools to a certain degree, but do not think that you will easily rewrite the curriculum.

In small communities it is understandable that parents may try to make changes. They do not have the luxury of numerous places to choose from to send their kids. However, in larger communities, there is often a choice to send the child to a better school, yet the parent does not take it. Perhaps due to logistical or financial reasons or travel time, or perhaps because of what the neighbors will think, and/or, the parents’ concern for their status.

For some reason that I do not totally understand, it seems to be human nature to try to find problems. If the educational part of the school were perfect, we would find problems with the school cafeteria. There is no end. Of course, sometimes parents do have legitimate issues with the school, and these should be addressed.

Perhaps it is in our blood to complain and look for problems. When the Israelites left Egypt, there they were, totally free from slavery, and they started complaining, “Remember the cucumbers that we used to eat in Egypt!”

Here we are, experiencing freedom from slavery, witnessing the most incredible miracle performance—and kvetching about cucumbers?

If you do want to change something at a school, ask yourself why you want this change and whether you are being fair and realistic. I have seen parents trying to get programs implemented that would conflict with the curriculum already being taught. I have also seen parents place their children in a co-ed school and complain about every co-ed activity that goes on. Forget complaining; it is a waste of time. If you choose to send your kid to a co-ed school, do not fight the school because they have co-ed activities, and certainly do not make it a big issue so the child feels unsure of which side to take. Often in these situations of “home vs. school” conflict, a child will develop negative feelings toward Judaism.

One of the worst things I see parents doing very often is putting down the school, the teacher, and/or the principal. This is terrible. If you need to voice your dissatisfaction, never do so in front of your child. Not even as a joke. There is only one occasion when I would advocate complaining in front of a child, and that is if there has been a breach in values. You need to explain to the child that you are unhappy about what a teacher has done or about something the school has done, but not by discrediting the school. We can all make mistakes and schools and teachers are no exception. None of us is perfect, and it is not impossible for a teacher or the school to make a mistake—of course, within reason.

Most problems that parents have with schools tend to be value-based—a parent disagreeing with something related to the ethos, i.e., hashkafa, of the school. When this happens, one needs to ask oneself, “Am I right to have this complaint?” I believe that it is fine to have a problem regarding hashkafa if it falls within the boundaries of what the school stands for, but too often, parents have problems with the hashkafa of a school when their complaint is not part of the school’s hashkafa to begin with; for instance, having a problem with co-ed activities when the school is co-ed to begin with, or that the school does not celebrate Israel independence day, when the hashkafa of the school is not to celebrate.

If you send the child to a school that follows a different hashkafa from your own, do not complain. The only exception is when a school does not follow its own hashkafa—then, you should protest. But, as I mentioned earlier, the main objective of the school is to educate the child intellectually. If the kid also turns out with good middot and a hashkafa that matches with your own, take it as an extra benefit. But the responsibility to instill Jewish values, middot, and hashkafa is on the parent.

The Teacher

A good rabbi or teacher will play a strong role in affecting a child’s positive attitude toward Judaism, whereas a bad educator may contribute to a child’s going off the derekh. It is crucial to have top-quality educators.

A good rabbi or teacher is someone who can care for his or her students as if they were his or her own children. Without this level of dedication, the children will suffer. Someone who has spent a few years learning in kollel or someone married to the Rosh Yeshiva’s son or daughter will not necessarily be a good teacher. Being knowledgeable in a subject does not mean that one has the skills or the sensitivity to teach it.

I have met some brilliant teachers around the world who are born naturals. Their classes are full of fun and enthusiasm, and their students love them. On the other hand, there are some teachers who are not naturals, but with proper dedication and hard work, they do a good job. And then there are teachers who could get a PhD in education and still not be able to teach anything. Teaching done right is very hard. I have taught at different schools over the years—it is not easy.

Many good teachers are not attracted to teaching because of the low pay and general feeling of not being appreciated or valued. Highly motivated, creative individuals who know what they are doing in a classroom will usually find something else to put their talents into, and it will usually also pay better. Perhaps we should learn from the Chinese and the Japanese, in whose cultures a teacher is one of the most respected positions! This should be the same in all factions of Judaism.

A teacher, like everyone, needs to be able to make mistakes. The teacher needs to realize this, and a parent who is dealing with a teacher needs to realize this.
A 13-year-old boy in one of my classes, who was a well-known trouble maker, was interrupting continuously. Perhaps I did not sleep well or perhaps I was having a stressful day or week, but I said something wrong to the kid that embarrassed him greatly in front of the class. It drove the kid to tears and he cried silently for the remainder of the period. I felt sick. Not because I had done something wrong—I am sure that most teachers would have sided with me and would have told me what I said under the circumstances was okay—but I felt sick because I had hurt a young boy’s feelings and made him cry. I found the boy during break and gave him the most sincere apology. He was in shock, as he thought I was coming to give him a detention or get him in trouble. He had so much respect for me after this incident and he became one of the best students in the class.

I was his Jewish studies teacher and with this came an extreme responsibility. I have noticed an interesting thing: If a chemistry teacher causes emotional hurt to a student, it is generally unlikely that the student will harbor ill feelings for the rest of her life toward chemistry. The student in such a situation tends to separate the subject from the person. Tomorrow the same teacher may be teaching math or some other subject. Also, this teacher is not teaching his or her own belief system, but rather, exposing the child only to an idea. However, when it comes to teaching Judaism, the teacher cannot be separated from the subject, because they are fused as one. A Jewish studies teacher or rabbi is interested in more than just teaching a few lines of Torah. People in these professions generally want to show the child how to live and act in every moment. Because of this, when a Jewish studies teacher does something wrong, it tends to reflect on the child’s relationship with Judaism as a whole.

Where to Educate

(I first wrote this chapter in 2003.)

I started really thinking about this on my last trip to Thailand. I have been to Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand a few times and enjoy the slow-paced life. I came to the realization that I could live there and support a wife and two children on $500 per month. This would include a nice apartment, healthy food, and money to buy the basics of living. I can earn this $500 working online a few hours here and there throughout the month. This would mean that I could enjoy my life there. I could exercise every day, spend a few hours a day studying Torah, eat healthy, natural food, and—the most important part—I would have lots of time for my kids.

Whenever I tell this to anyone in the Jewish community, I’m usually met with, “What about Jewish education, community, and kosher food?”
I reply by asking, “Can you recommend a place with good Jewish education and kosher food?”

Most people I meet do not sing praise about the schools in their communities, but perhaps I have not visited enough. Though I will say that, in my travels around the world, I have met some incredible Jewish communities, unfortunately, the vast majority of communities that I have encountered are not places I would want to raise a family.
Community plays a strong role in a child’s education. But if the community is rife with arrogance, hypocrisy, and lack of humility, then it is almost certain to have a negative impact on the child. These three character traits are too often found in the religious world, and the people going off the derekh see it. True, these problems are not unique to the Jewish world; however, why should one stay in a system that seems no better than anyone else? But again, I have been through a few places where I found the communities beautiful and inspiring. Where there is love and harmony, the Jewish schools are functioning, hessed groups are organized to help each other, and there is an overall feeling of peace and unity. Unfortunately I find that these communities are the exceptions.

What about kosher food?

In my six years of living in Sydney, Australia, where there is a population of 40,000 Jews, there were usually only one to two functioning kosher restaurants. In North Thailand, there is one Chabad house with a kosher restaurant for a population of a few Jews where the rabbi himself does the shehita (ritual slaughter), and I’d feel better eating the meat there than in a big place like Monsey, New York, where the meat could be coming from anywhere.

When I grew up in Montreal, surrounded by kosher food, nothing seemed to be kosher. One day a kosher-certified product was okay, and the next day it wasn’t. Many fruits at one point were not kosher because they were coated with treif wax. Perhaps it was okay if you peeled it. Tuna was often not kosher because there could be dolphin or octopus mixed in, and a wide range of other foods may have had a real problem with bugs or a problem thought up by someone who thought they saw a bug, so those products, too, were not kosher.

In Chiang Mai it is easy to keep kosher. There is one kosher restaurant, one hashgaha, one shohet, and I can go to the market and purchase rice and raw fruits and vegetables.

The next issue is community: In Chiang Mai there is one shul with a beautiful minyan every Shabbos, a communal Friday night dinner and Shabbos morning lunch with lots of high-spirited Israeli travelers singing and sharing stories. I can also practice speaking Hebrew, something I do not get to do when I am in Israel, where everyone speaks English to me.

Shabbos meals and davening are beautiful. Sometimes there can be up to 200 travelers davening and singing together. I like the sense of community and look forward to going to shul there every Shabbos. Also, in this community, no one cares what your profession is; it is the real person you are that is important. I like this feeling of truth that bonds us together. I would struggle to live in a community where life is all about what your job is and, unfortunately, this is the case in many communities.

When I am in Sydney, New York, or Montreal, I have a choice of half a dozen shuls that are within walking distance. It usually takes me a long time to decide where to go. It depends on my mood; how much do I want to daven, who do I want to talk to, am I relying on a Kiddush for my dinner or lunch, do I want to listen to a hazzan and choir, and if so, which hazzan and which choir? Which rabbi do I not want to hear give a sermon, which rabbi will talk for too long, which shul starts late, and which shul finishes early, at which shul will the people not have a problem with the color of my tie, or perhaps the lack of tie? Where will I get evil looks because I am not wearing a black hat? After a few minutes of this, I end up with “analysis paralysis” and do not want to go to any shul. I usually do not want to go to any of them to begin with and grudgingly end up having to choose the best of the worst. Most people seem to have at least one shul that they will not go to, and I, being more complicated than most, have more than one!
And what about the need for Jewish education, when living in some far-out place? Where can you educate your kids in Thailand?

People I meet seem to complain and kvetch about the state of poor Jewish education that exists in their communities, from New York to Sydney, Australia. I do not recall anyone ever raving about how wonderful and brilliant the Jewish education was in their community. On second thought, perhaps once every few months, I will meet someone who speaks wonders about the Jewish education in their community, but for most, it is either too frum or not frum enough, too strict or not strict enough, too many Jewish students or not enough Jewish students. Too much secular studies, or too much religious studies, and on goes the list.

Living in Chiang Mai and having lots of free time would mean that I could give my children the proper attention needed, whereas if I were caught in a big-city rat race, paying large-city bills and working large-city hours, making time for children would be a challenge. I would also have more time for my wife and personal Torah study. And to get a good charge of Jewish religiosity, I would fly us to spend Tishrei and Pesach in Israel.
So is this a good Jewish education? Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe this whole Chiang Mai thing is just an interesting fantasy?

My purpose here is not to convince you to pack up your bags and move to Chiang Mai. My purpose is to get you thinking about how you do things and why you do them. If all the “conventional” systems that we have in place are not working well, perhaps we need to be a little “unconventional.”

To our members and friends,

It is gratifying that my collection of essays, entitled Increasing Peace Through Balanced Torah Study, will appear in January as Conversations issue 27. Thanks to several generous co-sponsors, we look forward to distributing this issue throughout the country as I speak and promote the values of the Institute. We hope that the volume contributes to disseminating our work in a tangible way to the thousands of people we reach each year.

By now we also are in full gear with our of classes and programs through the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. Here is a brief summary of upcoming December-January offerings:

Navigating Through Nach: A Survey of the Prophets

Although Tanakh lies at the heart of the vision of Judaism and has influenced billions of people worldwide, many often lack access to these eternal works. The best of traditional and contemporary scholarship will be employed as we study the central themes of each book. This year we will study the Twelve Prophets and the books of the Writings (Ketuvim). The course is taught at a high scholarly level but is accessible to people of all levels of Jewish learning. Newcomers always welcome. Free and open to the public.

Wednesdays from 7:00-8:00pm, at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun, 125 East 85th Street (between Park and Lexington Avenue) in Manhattan.

Remaining classes for the fall session (Twelve Prophets, Psalms) December 7, 14, 21. Winter session will resume on February 1.

If you would like to hear the twenty classes I gave last year in this survey course, and the first few classes of the new season, they are available at our Online Learning section of our website: https://www.jewishideas.org//online-learning

I also have begun a three-part History at Home series at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun on Great Biblical Scandals. The next class will be on Saturday night, December 17: “King David and Bat Sheva: An Affair to Remember.”

The third and final class of this series will be on Saturday night, January 14: “King Ahab: Did He Do Something Right?”

Co-sponsored by the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals and Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun.

Saturday nights from 8:30-9:30pm, at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun,
125 East 85th Street (between Park and Lexington Avenue) in Manhattan.

Throughout the year, I will be speaking at the Sephardic Minyan at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun (125 East 85^th Street, between Park and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan). It is a warm, welcoming, vibrant community. Aside from Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, when holiday tickets are required (please contact the synagogue office at 212-774-5600 for details), everyone always is invited to attend.

On Sunday January 15, 3:45-4:35 pm, I will be speaking at the Orthodox Union National Convention at CitiField, on “Eradicating Amalek & The Seven Nations: Is Biblical Judaism a Religion of Violence?”

All of our classes and publications revolve around the eternal relevance of the Torah as a moral guidebook able to sensitively confront serious ethical issues of the present through an evaluation of our classical sources and contemporary thinkers.

I am grateful to the members and supporters of the Institute for making all of our programs, publications, and classes a priority in the development of American Jewish religious and communal life. Thank you,

Rabbi Hayyim Angel

National Scholar

THE INSTITUTE FOR JEWISH IDEAS AND IDEALS NEEDS YOU!  Thank you for your support and encouragement. You have helped the Institute in its work to foster an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism. PLEASE KEEP THE INSTITUTE IN MIND WHEN YOU MAKE YOUR END-OF-YEAR CHARITABLE CONTRIBUTIONS.

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RESPOND TODAY TO CREATE A BETTER TOMORROW.

""...and by thy seed shall all the nations of the earth bless themselves" (Bereishith 26:4).

In this week's Torah portion, God assures Yitzhak that the nations of the earth will find blessing in his descendants. God had made a similar statement to Yitzhak's father, Abraham; and later makes this statement to Yitzhak's son, Yaacov. The children of Abraham, Yitzhak and Yaacov--the people of Israel--have a special destiny. They live not only for themselves and their immediate families; rather, they live for the benefit of all humankind.

In many ways, this promise of God has been fulfilled throughout history. The people of Israel--the Jews--have made incredible contributions to humanity and have been a genuine blessing to countless human beings over the centuries. The Bible has been a powerful force in shaping Western civilization. Jewish prophets, sages and poets have had a profound positive influence on innumerable people. In the modern period, Jewish individuals have made incredible contributions in the arts and sciences. The State of Israel, in spite of its enemies and detractors, has been a beacon of justice and democracy in a part of the world characterized by tyranny and lack of freedom.

Some perceptive non-Jews have recognized the blessings given to humanity by the Jews. The historian, Paul Johnson, in his History of the Jews, has written: "Certainly the world without the Jews would have been a radically different place....To them we owe the idea of equality before the law, both divine and human; of the sanctity of life and the dignity of the human person; of the individual conscience and so of personal redemption; of the collective conscience and so of social responsibility; of peace as an abstract ideal and love as the foundation of justice, and many other items which constitute the basic moral furniture of the human mind. Without the Jews it might have been a much emptier place."

While Paul Johnson and many others have expressed appreciation for the Jews' blessings to humanity, much of humanity has not been as forthcoming. Indeed, Jews have suffered--and continue to suffer--under a burden of anti-Semitism, anti-Judaism, anti-Israel progaganda etc. Enemies of Jews seem predisposed only to find fault in the Jewish people, and not to see the virtues and blessings of the Jews.

God assured Abraham, Yitzhak and Yaacov that the nations of the earth would find blessing in the people of Israel; and assuredly, the nations of the earth have received many blessings through the Jewish people and through individual Jews. Yet, there is a long way to go before God's promises are truly fulfilled. The Jews have so much more to contribute to the betterment of humanity, and will continue to strive to be a light unto the nations.

But God's promises will not really be fulfilled until the nations of the world openly and lovingly acknowledge the unique positive contributions of the people of Israel to the human family, until they rid themselves of the scourge of anti-Semitism, until they relate to Jews and to the Jewish State with respect and appreciation.

Jews are eternal optimists. We believe confidently that we will live up to God's expectations and that the nations of the world will find blessing in us--and will acknowledge these blessings lovingly. When God makes a promise, He will keep it.

(This opinion piece was published by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, November 21, 2016)

Let us begin with the facts: Converts whose conversions were conducted according to halachah, or Jewish law, are 100 percent Jewish.

In the eyes of God and Torah, they are full Jews, just as Jewish as any born Jews. Their Jewishness is not contingent on the Israeli Chief Rabbinate or anyone else. Halachic converts are Jewish, their children are Jewish, they are obligated to fulfill the mitzvot like all other Jews.

Anyone who casts aspersions on the Jewish status of these converts is in violation of one of the most important laws in the Torah: not to oppress the convert.

Yet there are those who raise doubts about halachic converts. With a heavy heart, we note that modern Orthodoxy’s Rabbinical Council of America is doing just that. (The RCA is a national organization that includes in its ranks several hundred synagogue rabbis.) Indeed, new information that has come before us leads us to believe that Jews who were converted by RCA rabbis prior to its institution of a centralized conversion system in 2008 known as GPS (Geirus Policies and Standards) should beware – their conversions are now being questioned by the RCA itself. This affects not only them but their progeny as well.

Let us explain:

Prior to GPS, members of the RCA routinely convened a beth din, or Jewish court, and performed conversions. Converts who desired to marry in Israel would turn to the Chief Rabbinate there, through which all Israeli marriages are performed. To assure that an RCA rabbi’s conversion was valid, the Israeli Rabbinate would consult the RCA leadership to ascertain the conversion’s validity. The leadership of the RCA would pro forma verify that the RCA rabbis who performed the conversions were members in good standing, knowledgeable and reliable.

This would be good enough for the Israeli Chief Rabbinate. In America, too, when leaders of synagogues and day schools were unfamiliar with the converting rabbi, they would seek similar confirmation from the RCA.

As rabbis of large synagogues for many decades, scores of our conversions were approved over the years by RCA leadership. We know firsthand that there are countless other rabbis whose conversions were similarly approved.

This longstanding process was shattered when the Israeli Chief Rabbinate proclaimed in 2006 that even if an RCA rabbi’s conversion was confirmed by the RCA leadership, it would not be sufficient.

A few of us urged the RCA to challenge this decision. We urged the RCA to uphold the honor and integrity of its members and, more importantly, affirm the validity of their conversions. Regrettably, the RCA chose to “make peace” with the Chief Rabbinate by establishing the GPS system of centralized rabbinical courts in 2008. No longer would the RCA vouch for conversions performed by its members. Only those conducted by rabbis from the newly formed courts would be approved by the RCA.

In an article we wrote here in March 2008, we argued that the new system would raise questions concerning conversions done prior to GPS. It read: “What is most troubling is that conversions, done years ago with the informal backing of the RCA, are now being scrutinized. This, we believe, strikes at the very ethical fabric of halachah. Over the years, thousands of people have been halachically converted, and now they and their children, and for that matter their marriages, will all be questioned. The pain that this will cause the convert, a person whom the Torah commands to love, will be unbearable.”

The RCA, clearly stung by this criticism, responded a day later, dismissing our concerns.

“Public written statements over the last few days have raised questions regarding the status of conversions performed by RCA rabbis in the past, and whether all such converts would be subject to special re-evaluation or scrutiny by the RCA or by Israel’s Chief Rabbinate,” the organization wrote in a statement. “There is nothing in the RCA/GPS protocol for conversions that implies or states such a thing, and there was and is no intention to review or scrutinize, much less nullify, previous conversions. All conversions performed by RCA member rabbis that were considered valid in the past will continue to be considered valid in the future.” (Emphasis added.)

Therefore, it was with deep pain that we read a statement issued recently by the current chairman of the GPS conversion program responding to media reports that the Chief Rabbinate of Israel had rejected several conversions done by leading Orthodox rabbis associated with the RCA beth din. The chairman explained that the RCA had an understanding with the Chief Rabbinate that all GPS conversions were valid. The conversions in question were performed prior to the creation of the GPS system, concerning which the Beth Din of America issued a ishur, a legal attestation, confirming their validity.

The statement went on to say that the RCA was taking “affirmative steps … in consultation with the office of the Chief Rabbinate in Israel to provide greater assurances to those who converted outside of the GPS network of Batei Din and received ishurim from the Beth Din of America.”

Summing up the RCA position, the chairman wrote: “The Rabbinical Council of America stands behind every GPS conversion as well as every ishur issued to converts by the Beth Din of America, and recognizes all such converts and their children to be an integral part of the Jewish people, no less than every other Jewish person, including the community of RCA Rabbis and our families.”

This statement makes the position of the RCA clear: It will not stand behind the conversions performed by its members prior to the establishment of the GPS system unless those conversions receive an ishur by the heads of the Beth Din of America.

This is a major deflection from the RCA’s prior promise. Conversions done prior to the GPS system never involved the RCA Beth Din. Now an ishur from the Beth Din of America is required. For the RCA, this ishur will not only be necessary to prove the bona fides of conversions for the Israeli Rabbinate, but for Orthodox synagogues and schools in America, as well.

One wonders what the Beth Din of America will require from the rabbi to issue the ishur. Will it investigate the religious bona fides — as they now define them — of every converting rabbi? How far will the court go back and how deep will it dig? There were RCA rabbis in the 1950s whose synagogues hosted mixed dances. There were rabbis who were sent by Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, the era’s revered leader of modern Orthodoxy, to mixed-seating congregations in the ’60s and ’70s. Will all of these conversions be invalidated?

And how about the convert? Will non-observance nullify the conversion retroactively? Suppose the convert seeking the ishur is no longer observant. Or suppose the convert’s grandson or granddaughter who is not observant is seeking the ishur. The RCA has a responsibility to be fully transparent and answer these questions.

Unfortunately, the concerns we expressed in 2008 were entirely valid. Any pre-GPS convert will not be pro forma accepted as a valid convert. If the Beth Din of America feels the convert does not meet its standards, for whatever reason, the ishur will not be issued.

With this development, many thousands of people who were converted by RCA rabbis and are fully halachic Jews are now having their status as Jews thrown into doubt. This is a great travesty. Converts with whom we have had contact feel betrayed.

Even RCA rabbis who support the GPS system should stand up with courage and vigorously demand that those who converted with RCA rabbis prior to the GPS system be recognized as the halachic Jews that they are – without an ishur from the beth din. Applying GPS standards to pre-GPS conversions that had previously been accepted is immoral. Members of the RCA must let their leadership know how disappointed and outraged they are by the RCA’s change of policy.

It must also be added that not only is the RCA casting doubt on conversions done prior to GPS, it is also sending a message that conversions done today by modern Orthodox rabbis outside of GPS are questionable. This is precisely what happened in the recent case of the highly respected Rabbi Haskel Lookstein of New York, when a conversion he performed outside of GPS was turned down by the Israeli Rabbinate, resulting in grave anguish not only to one of the great modern Orthodox rabbis of our time, but to the convert herself.

By invalidating halachic conversions, the Israeli Chief Rabbinate continues on the path of alienating the masses of Jews in Israel. In linking itself to the Chief Rabbinate, the RCA undermines its credibility as an honest broker relative to conversions, placing power politics ahead of its responsibility to the Jewish people.

(Rabbis Avi Weiss and Marc Angel are co-founders of the International Rabbinic Fellowship. Angel is rabbi emeritus of the Spanish-Portuguese Synagogue and founder of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. He is also a past president of the RCA. Weiss is the founding rabbi of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale and founder of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and Yeshivat Maharat.)

Writing in the 5761 (2001) issue of the journal Techumin, Rabbi Yehuda Zoldan addressed a question that confronted the increasing number of Orthodox Jews who had entered the Israeli Foreign Service: Were there any ways in which some of the halakhic strictures normally imposed on those having contacts with non-Jews could be mitigated in the interests of service to the State?

Since the article’s appearance, the issue has become a salient one for American Orthodox Jews as well. Practicing Jews can now be found in the uppermost levels of the U.S. Government, including the national security departments—State, Defense, Treasury—as well as the National Security Council and the Intelligence Community, not to mention Senator Joseph Lieberman, whose tenure included membership in both the Armed Services and Homeland Security Committees, serving as chairman of the latter.

For many, if not all of these Jewish national security officials, questions arise beyond those confronting their Israeli counterparts, for whom allowances are made by foreign countries precisely because they are not citizens of those countries. To what extent does halakha permit a Jewish official to sidestep normative rabbinic law and tradition? Is there any latitude with respect to biblical laws (d’Oraita)? Moreover, there is, in fact, a prior set of questions that must be examined: Who exactly qualifies as a government official? After all, not all officials are Secretaries or serve as sub-cabinet officers. Indeed, some private citizens serve as Special Government Employees, whereby they receive no salary but are considered subject to certain government rules and regulations. Should halakha treat SGE’s, as they are called, as it would full-time officials? Yet another question arises from the intersection of policy and halakha. Specifically, what, if anything, does halakha say about Jewish officials participating in formulation of American policy toward the State of Israel, especially if that policy is opposed by that country’s government? Does halakha prescribe that a Jew “recuse” him or herself from policy issues affecting Israel’s national security? If so, which issues? And, again, which officials should be so disqualified? “Action officers” who essentially carry out others’ orders? Mid-level officials? Senior officials? Finally, for officials serving in the national security community, there is the additional question of pikuah nefesh, protection of life. Leading halakhic decisors grant greater halakhic flexibility in matters of pikuah nefesh, whether the lives at stake are Jewish or non-Jewish. The question, though, is what exactly determines the boundaries of pikuah nefesh? As Donald Rumsfeld once said to me, “Life is always in danger in the Department of Defense,” meaning that America has troops in harm’s way somewhere, all the time. Does Rumsfeld’s definition of life in danger apply to attendance at Pentagon meetings on Shabbat?

I found myself confronting most, if not all, of these questions during my two periods of service as a senior official in the Pentagon, and during both the intervening years and subsequent to my full-time service as a Special Government Employee. I have also been consulted on the question of an official’s halakhic status by others entering government service at various levels in various Administrations. What follows are some personal observations, hopefully consistent with both halakha and the sworn duty of all American officials to serve the Nation without qualification, proviso, or reservation of any kind. Exemptions from Rabbinic Law for Karov Lemalkhut The first recorded Jewish official in a non-Jewish government was, of course, Joseph.

The Torah described Joseph as the shalit in Egypt, that is, the ruler. Pharaoh tells him that apart from himself, Joseph was that country’s most powerful individual. His position appears to have been greater than that of a chief minister or a grand vizier. Rather, it might be described as akin to that of Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, the right-hand man of Augustus Caesar, who for all practical purposes ruled Rome’s eastern provinces, which comprised virtually half the Empire. Joseph clearly took on many of the characteristics of the ruling elite. He had a “secular” name, tzafenat panei’ah. He married an Egyptian woman.[1] His appearance was that of an Egyptian, to the degree that his brothers did not recognize who he actually was. Perhaps because his activities pre-dated the giving of the Torah, however, Joseph does not serve as a prototype for the rabbinically sanctioned behavior of later Jewish officials serving non-Jewish masters. That role has fallen to Esther, who her eponymous book tells us was elevated to Queen of the Persian Empire; Mordecai, who served as Grand Vizier during Esther’s reign; and especially Nehemiah, cupbearer to the Emperor Artaxerxes Longimanus of Persia. There are few explicit textual details about Esther’s role as queen, other than the parties she hosted,[2] her revelation of Haman’s plot to murder the Jews,[3] and the indirect references to her sharing a bed with King Ahasueros.[4] (The Talmud and the Midrash are full of speculation about Esther’s activities in particular.[5] ) Similarly, the Book of Esther says little about Mordecai’s activities as chief minister, other than the letters and instructions that he and Esther jointly sent to the Jewish community.[6] On the other hand, the Book of Nehemiah is a memoir that details Nehemiah’s proximity to the Persian king in his role as cupbearer, which made him one of the most powerful officials in the Empire. Indeed, what we know of other similar officials is that they acted as a sort of senior court advisor. [7] Nehemiah’s formal role was to taste wine before the king did, so as to ensure that it was not poisoned.[8] The rabbis prohibited the tasting of all wine produced by non-Jews even if not for sacramental purposes (setam yeinam). They considered Nehemiah to be a member of the Great Assembly, to which they attributed a significant role in the formulation of rabbinic law. How then could Nehemiah have tasted forbidden wine? The rabbis therefore concluded that he was permitted to do so not only because of his need to taste the wine first, but because his official position within the Persian Government would enable him to lobby on behalf of the Jewish people (which in fact he did); thus, he was exempt from this rabbinic law. [9]

Nehemiah’s position could be considered to be one related to national security—what office could be more important than that involving the direct preservation of the health, and indeed the life, of the ruling monarch? It is arguable, however, whether any exemption from rabbinic laws applies to levels of government below that of the ruler’s immediate retinue. The Talmud is replete with accounts of Roman provincial officials whose role as surrogates for the Roman Emperor qualified them as the governmental authority of the day; and in almost all cases, that authority was directly linked to the security of the Roman Empire as well as the security of the Jewish people. Such Jews as might have been in the service of Roman officials could therefore have been expected to benefit from the same exemption as that granted to Nehemiah. Indeed, Rav Zoldan initially describes a karov lemalkhut as a government official: “a Jew who reached a senior post in a non-Jewish government administration of the nations of the world.”[10]

But the Talmud and subsequent rabbinic decisors expanded the breadth of exemptions from rabbinic law, and expanded the definition of who might benefit from those exemptions. The Talmud does not address the status of a Jewish government official per se. Rather, it speaks of a karov lemalkhut, which strictly speaking means anyone close to the government but not necessarily part of it. The Talmud notes that certain individuals, Avtulmus bar Reuven [11] and Rabbi Reuven bar Istrobili [12] were exempted from the ban on wearing their hair in the Roman style because they interacted with Roman officialdom. The latter actually passed himself off as a Roman Senator in order to prevent the Senate from passing legislation to exterminate the Jews. [13]

Significantly, the Talmud does not assert that either Avtulmus bar Reuven or Rabbi Reuven bar Istrobili actually were government officials. Additional exemptions were granted to the princely descendants of Hillel who circulated among the Roman elites. The family of Rabban Gamaliel was permitted to use a mirror (which until the early years of the Enlightenment was forbidden to men), and to study Greek texts.[14] Members of the family of Rabbi Judah the Prince were likewise permitted to cut their hair in the Roman style and use a mirror. In addition, they were exempted from the ban on the study of Greek texts. It is noteworthy that Maimonides considers the use of a mirror for a male to be a biblical prohibition; similarly, he considers wearing hair in a notably non-Jewish style as a biblical violation. Nevertheless, both Avtulmus and Rabbi Reuven, and well as the family of Rabbi Judah the Prince were considered exempt because of their unique circumstances. As is the case with respect to Avtulmus bar Reuven and Rabbi Reuven bar Istrobili, the Talmud does not assert that the families of Rabban Gamaliel and Rabbi Judah the Prince, as opposed to the two Rabbis themselves, held official Roman positions.

It appears, therefore, that a Jew need not actually be in government service to qualify as a karov lemalkhut, though all of the aforementioned cases involve persons who were in frequent, if not constant, contact with the governing authorities. Indeed, when Maimonides expands the exemption to include shaving, presumably with a razor, he explains that for “a Jew who is karov lemalkhut and must sit before their kings [my emphasis], [and] it would be an embarrassment for him if he does not appear like them,” clearly implying that the Jew mixes regularly with officialdom.[15]

It would appear, however, that a person who is a karov lemalkhut cannot claim any exemptions from rabbinic, much less biblical, laws at all times. Generalizing from the experiences recounted both in Scripture and Talmud, and pointing to the need for honoring malkhut—literally ‘royalty” but in practice “the government”—later decisors further expanded the exemptions available to those who could be considered karov lemalkhut. Rabbi Isaac ben Shmuel Hazaken (known as Ri) asserted that an “important woman close to the government” (isha hashuva krova lemalkhut) was exempted from the prohibition of yihud and could spend time behind closed doors with a government official; his is a minority opinion, however.[16] Rabbeinu Yaakov ben Asher (popularly known as the Tur, after his code, the Arba Turim) and Rabbi Yosef Caro in the Shulhan Arukh appear to permit any activity that would enable a karov lemalkhut to appear no different from others at a royal court. [17] Rabbi Yechezkel Landau, popularly known as the Noda Biyehuda, ruled that one who appeared before “ministers and dukes” could shave on Hol Hamoed if he normally shaved at other times.[18] Rabbi Moshe Sofer, known as Hatam Sofer , permitted those meeting “a minister and an important person” (sar vegadol) to cut their hair, clean themselves, and wear freshly laundered or pressed clothes even during the seven days of mourning for one’s father. [19]

More recently, Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim, the Rishon Letzion/Sephardi Chief Rabbi, citing the case of his predecessor Rabbi Yaakov Meir, permitted one to receive and to wear (when at an official function) a medallion in the shape of a cross, since it represented an honor bestowed by a senior personage.[20] Rabbi Ovadia Yosef also cited the case of Rabbi Meir, together with many other rulings permitting one to wear such a medallion.[21] Rabbi Zoldan, drawing upon a ruling of Rabbi Yaakov Reischer, known by his work Shevut Yaakov, [22] rules that one does not have to wear a head covering when in the presence of officialdom. [23] Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov Weiss offered a more nuanced approach: vehakol lefi hamakom vehazeman, “all depends on the place and time,” and on the attitude of the government regarding these matters.[24]

Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann recounted that at the school that Rabbi Hirsch founded in Frankfurt, as well as at the Orthodox school in Hamburg, the students were bareheaded when they studied secular subjects. He ruled that one could stand bareheaded while taking an oath in a courtroom. And he recalled that when he first entered Rabbi Hirsch’s home while wearing a hat, Rabbi Hirsch, acting in his capacity as director of a school in which there were non-Jewish as well as Jewish instructors, told him to remove his hat. Rabbi Hirsch explained that “here it is derekh erets (good manners) to remove one’s hat when meeting with an important person.” If Rabbi Hoffmann did not remove his hat before Rabbi Hirsch in his capacity as director, it would seem to the non-Jewish instructors as if he were insulting him.[25]

What applied to senior school administrators and judges in court would certainly apply to government officials. In that regard, my late father, haRav Zvi Zakheim, told me that he once had accompanied haRav Shmuel Walkin to a meeting with a Japanese official in occupied Shanghai. Upon entering the presence of the official, Rabbi Walkin removed his hat; he gave a one-word explanation to my father: malkhus. Finally, Rabbi Haskel Lookstein provoked a storm of controversy when he attended a service at the Washington National Cathedral at the invitation of the President Obama. Rabbi Lookstein argued that the invitation put him in a position of being a karov lemalkhut and as such he had to attend.[26] His opinion actually reflected the practices of Chief Rabbis of England and rulings such as that of Rabbi Moshe Sitrug.[27]

Neverthless, decisors ranging from Rabbi Yosef to Rabbi J. David Bleich took the opposite view, though Rabbi Yosef had written that it was permitted to enter a mosque. [28] Who Qualifies as a Government Official? The Noda Biyehuda wrote of “dukes” and the Hatam Sofer spoke of “ministers” and “important persons.” In an age of great bureaucracies, malkhut may encompass far more people than in the past; then again, it may not.

The answer to the question of who qualifies as a government official with respect to halakhic considerations has two sets of ramifications. First, it will determine which posts held by a Jewish official generate the exemption from certain halakhic mandates. Second, it will determine which posts held by non-Jewish officials qualify those who interact with them as exempt from those mandates. In ancient times, malkhut often meant the power of life and death; even petty officials tended to have that power. Whether the status of malkhut applies across the board to all American officials of our day, so as to exempt Jews who hold any official position or Jews interacting with any office holder, is highly problematical, however. To begin with, it is not at all clear that any exemptions apply to positions that do not affect national security; not all officials have a national security role.

State and local officials certainly do not have such a role, except in an emergency situation such as 9/11, when the rule of pikuah nefesh, preservation of life, clearly takes precedence over all else. For example, Jewish officials on the staff of Mayor Rudolph Giuliani would have been exempted from various rabbinic laws in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks if those laws prevented them from carrying out their emergency responsibilities. In the natural course of events, however, the question of exemptions to rabbinic requirements would only apply at the Federal level (or at the central government level in other countries), with the exception of special state and local anti-terrorist units, which, like New York’s counter-terrorist unit, are part of the police department.[29] Even at the U.S. Federal level, however, not every official, indeed, not every national security official, qualifies as malkhut for the purposes of halakhic exemption. The U.S. Government has a dizzying array of officials, grouped in different classes, and with varying degrees of power within each class.

Many top officials generally fall within what is called the Executive Schedule, and are presidential appointees, usually, but not always, requiring confirmation by the Senate. Senate confirmed positions in what is called “the national security community” include the Secretaries of State, Defense, Homeland Security, their Deputy Secretaries, Under Secretaries and Assistant Secretaries, as well as the Directors, Deputy Directors and Assistant Directors of the numerous agencies (including the FBI) that comprise “the intelligence community.” The “national security community” also includes General and Flag (i.e., Navy Admirals) Officers as well as Ambassadors, all of whom require Senate approval. Some of the most powerful Federal officials having an impact on national security do not require confirmation, however. These include numerous senior officials within the Executive Office of the President. Foremost among them are the White House Chief of Staff and his/her Deputy; the Director of the Office of Management and Budget—which is a Cabinet level position—and his/her deputy; the Assistant to the President for National Security, popularly called the National Security Advisor, and his/her deputy and senior staff; the Domestic Policy Advisor, and the Counselor to the President. Presidentially-appointed Special Representatives for particular missions such as the Special Representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan, as well as Special Negotiators, such as those who have attempted to broker an agreement between Israel and the Palestinians, also fall into this category. All of the aforementioned officials have staffs of various sizes; some staff officials are more powerful than others.

Deputy Under Secretaries are sometimes confirmed by the Senate and sometimes not; virtually all wield considerable decision-making authority. So too, do a significant number of Deputy Assistant Secretaries within the cabinet-level departments. In fact, even lower-level “desk officers” often affect national security decisions, since it is they who normally draft the policy memoranda that ultimately are signed by top level officials. Cabinet-level departments often also incorporate numerous semi-autonomous agencies. The leaders of these agencies, for example, the Secretaries of the Army, Navy and Air Force, within the Defense Department, and the Director of the Agency for International Development, the senior State Department official responsible for managing foreign aid, all require Senate confirmation and wield considerable power. But so too do non-confirmed deputy assistant secretaries (or their equivalents) within each of these subordinate departments; again, these officials tend to work from drafts produced by their “desk officers.”

The Status of Special Government Employees (SGEs) It appears that officials who are in a position to decide on matters that will affect the physical or even, according to Rabbi Menachem HaMe’iri, the spiritual security of the Jewish people,[30] certainly would qualify as malkhut. If those officials are Jewish, they naturally would benefit from the exemptions from some rabbinic laws. Jews who interact regularly with such officials, whether they are Jewish or not, would also benefit from these exemptions. Special Government Employees (SGE), who serve the government on a part-time basis would receive these exemptions, but only during those actual times when they are serving in their official capacities, and only if their duties involve interactions with national security or intelligence officials. When they do not serve the government, for example when they conduct private business, SGEs lose their status as government officials, and, naturally, would forego any exemptions. In this regard they would differ both from senior Jewish national security officials, who are effectively on 24 hour, seven-days a week notice, and even non-governmental kerovim lemalkhut, since almost invariably SGEs carry on their duties at regularly scheduled predictable times.

Whether Jews who interacted with SGEs in the latter’s official capacities should be exempted at all is somewhat more problematical. SGEs invariably serve in an advisory capacity, though at times they can have significant influence over government policy (an example would be the role of the Defense Policy Board, which consists of SGEs, in advocating for the attack on Iraq in 2003). Since Jews meeting with SGEs would be once removed from decision makers of any kind, it is difficult to argue that they truly qualify under the rubric of karov lemalkhut. Some decisors are of the opinion that the exemptions from rabbinic laws need not be based solely on considerations of national security. They argue that the exemptions would go into effect even in circumstances where it is simply a matter of respect for authority.[31] Those holding this view might therefore also apply exemptions to Jews meeting with cabinet and sub-cabinet secretaries who have no impact on national security, for example, the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. In this view, perhaps Jews who meet with lower level officials could also be exempted. In any event, all appear to agree that the exemptions apply with respect to those officials who can truly affect national security decision-making, be they Jews holding these positions, or Jews seeking to influence those holding these positions. Government Officials and the Security of Israel If ever there was a sensitive matter affecting Jewish officials in the United States Government, it is that relating to activities that might affect the security of the State of Israel. Little, if anything, appears in the halakhic literature regarding this subject; the closest analog relates to the more general concern that Jewish officials must show for the welfare of their fellow Jews. Indeed, as noted above, the exemptions to those who are karov lemalkhut derive directly from the need for them to be in the best position possible to plead for the welfare of their brethren. As Mordecai told Esther, umi yodeah im le’et kazot higa’at l’malkhut, “And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis.”[32] Or, as the final words of the book of Esther recount regarding Mordechai—he was doresh tov le’amo ve’dover shalom lekhol zar’o—he sought the good of his people and interceded for the welfare of all his kindred . [33]

There would appear to be limits to the extent that Jews in the U.S. Government should act in support of the State of Israel. The American commitment to Israel’s security is both bipartisan and long-standing. How that security is defined, however, can, has been, and will be the subject of occasional disagreements between the two countries. Such disagreements tend to be operational rather than strategic; that is to say, they center on questions of approach rather than fundamental principles, which over the long term will remain as aligned as they have been for decades. Jews serving in the Executive Branch will be expected to recommend positions regarding Israel that are fully consistent with American national interests. Once decisions are made as to American policy, which invariably will account for Israel’s needs but first and foremost will address American interests, they must “salute smartly” and implement those decisions. If they feel that cannot agree with those decisions, they can resign from their posts. They should not attempt to undermine such decisions, for example, by leaking information to the press. Nor, of course, should they seek to emulate Jonathan Pollard, whose treason still rankles within the national security and intelligence communities. Government Officials and Pikuah Nefesh Exemptions from both biblical as well as rabbinic laws are not limited to government officials when danger to life is concerned.

Pikuah nefesh doheh Shabbat—the saving of life trumps even Sabbath prohibitions—is a well-known principle in halakha. How one defines pikuah nefesh is, however, the subject of considerable discussion among halakhic decisors. Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli interprets pikuah nefesh in very broad terms. He argues that one may violate a given Shabbat in order to save lives that may be lost at some time in the future. As he puts it “we here derive a major halakha that also [the requirement for] saving life in the future, that we know will materialize at some time, is considered as if it is already present now, and it is incumbent upon us to do everything as if we were confronted with the need to save lives now.” [34] Rabbi Yisraeli also rules that “everything that affects the peace of the community, or the prevention of any loss it might sustain, all is considered pikuah nefesh.” He therefore also includes within the rubric of pikuah nefesh not only loss of life, but economic loss as well. And while it is well known that Jews are permitted to mobilize on Sabbath to prevent a possible attack, even over a nominally trivial issue, 35]

Rabbi Yisraeli goes further and permits any operation that is undertaken to improve the nation’s economic well-being, its deterrent, or the prospect that its enemies might agree to sue for peace.[36] Rabbi Yisraeli’s ruling, based on considerations of Israeli security and well being, would apply equally in the American context as well, and most particularly with respect to national security.[37] Nevertheless, a clear distinction must be made between routine activities, such as staff meetings, that are scheduled on Shabbat on a regular basis, and extraordinary circumstances, such as those following the aftermath of 9/11 and the launching of Operating Enduring Freedom, that is, the war in Afghanistan. In the latter case, and, until the end of 2010 in Iraq as well, danger to life was, and continues to be, an ongoing concern. America has lost thousands of its sons and daughters in these wars, and those forces serving in Afghanistan and the adjacent theatre continue to operate in harm’s way. Activities specifically geared to the protection and support of our forces in Afghanistan, and in other less well-known operations that are part of the ongoing War on Terror, would appear to fall squarely into the category of pikuah nefesh. It is arguable, therefore, that Jewish officials who are required on a time-urgent basis to work on Shabbat to facilitate the safety and security of those forces can rely upon the various exemptions from both Biblical and Rabbinic law that are available to a karov lemalkhut.

Similarly, should a Special Government Employee, or even a contractor, be required to contribute to such time- urgent activities, a case can be made that they too are covered by the exemptions generated by the principles of karov lemalkhut. Jews serving in the Legislative Branch are in a different position. In most cases, they are hired with the understanding that they will not work on Shabbat except in the direst of emergencies, usually when there is a crisis that calls for Executive Branch consultation with the Congress. On occasion, when critical national security budgets are being finalized for Congressional approval, Jewish Members and staff attend those meetings, but the need actually to undertake one of the 39 melakhot—forbidden activities—and their subsidiary actions, can usually be avoided. That this is the case has been demonstrated for many years by Senator Joseph Lieberman, whose ability to balance national needs with his religious obligations is a model for all whose serve in government at any level. Thus, for Legislative Branch officials, as for those of the Executive Branch, the context determines the exemptions, or, to repeat Rabbi Weiss’ formula, as noted above, “all depends on the place and time.”

In sum, pikuah nefesh is not a blank check. It is not a license for violating Shabbat or other laws when there are alternatives available to carry out one’s mission or duties. For example, government officials living in nearby Georgetown have walked, rather than ridden, on Shabbat to their offices in downtown D.C. or on Capitol Hill. And they have relied on others to take notes, unless the need for their written signature or urgent email message was unavoidable. When, therefore, in January 2001, before either of us had been confirmed for our respective positions, Donald Rumsfeld told me that life was always in danger somewhere within the realm that is covered by the Department of Defense, I told him that I could certainly work on my Sabbath when life was truly in danger. On the other hand, I added, if it was merely a matter of attending an ordinary meeting of some kind, such as a staff meeting, that was an entirely different matter. Rumsfeld accepted this explanation without hesitation. As things transpired, I indeed often had to work late on Fridays in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, as our troops desperately needed supplies that my office had to fund. On the other hand, I never attended a routine meeting on Shabbat during my entire period of service at the Department of Defense. And Rumsfeld was as good as his word; not once did I ever have to explain my absence from a Pentagon meeting that was held on the Jewish day of rest.

[1] TB Kallah Rabbathi, 53a provides a fascinating commentary that seeks to legitimate Joseph’s marriage, based on his telling Jacob that he had been granted children “with this” (bazeh) meaning a ketubah. Midrash Hagadol adds that he also showed evidence of kiddushin (marriage). Rabbi David ben Amram Ha’edni, Midrash Hagadolvol 2, ed. Mordechai Margoliot, 2nd ed. (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1997), p. 821. Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak—Rashi—offers a variant of these two midrashim by saying that Joseph showed the engagement agreement (shtar eirusin) and the ketubah (Genesis 48:9, i.v. Bazeh). [2]Esther 5:4–9. [3]Ibid.,7:3–6, 9:25. [4]Ibid., 2:14–18. [5] See, for example, Talmud Bavli (TB), Megilla 13a, Sanhedrin 74b; see also Zohar Vol. 3 276a. [6] See Esther 9:20, 29–32. [7] The apocryphal book of Tobit describes the Persian cupbearer Ahiqar—whom Tobit describes as “keeper of the royal seal, calculator of the accounts.” Cf. Tobit 1:22. Tobit claimed that Ahiqar was his nephew, and that “Essar Hadon had established him as second in command.” Fifth century C.E. Assyrian papyri confirm the existence and role of this powerful figure. [8] See Rashi, TB, Kiddushin 69b, i.v. Hatirshata. [9] Talmud Yerushalmi (TJ) Kiddushin 84: Halakha 1; and the comments of Alei Tamar ad. loc. [10] Rabbi Yehuda Zoldan, “Heteirei Halakha She’nitnu L’krovim L’malchut,” Techumin 21 (5761/2001), p. 171.The phrase cited in the text is a free translation of Yehudi she’higi’a le’tafkid bachir b’ma’arechet shilton lo-Yehudit b’umot ha’olam. [11] TB Baba Kamma 83a. [12] TB Me’ila 17a. [13] Ibid. [14] TJ Avoda Zara, 82: Halakha 2. [15] Maimonides, Yad haHazaka, Hilkhot Avoda Zara 11:3. [16] Rabbi Isaac ben Shmuel Hazaken (Ri), b.v. Aycha, TB Avoda Zara, 25b. Rashi, Rabbi Isaac Alfasi (Rif), and Rabbi Joel Sirkis (Bach), all reject this opinion. [17] Tur, Yoreh Deah, 178:2. [18] Rabbi Yechezkel Landau, Noda Biyehuda, Mahdura Kamma (1st ed.): Orach Chaim: Responsum 13 (Ashkelon and Natanya (Machon Yerushalayim, 5754/1994), p. 18. [19] Rabbi Moshe Sofer, Chatam Sofer, Vol. 1, Orach Chaim: Responsum 158 (Bnei Beraq: Sifrei Kodesh Mishor, 5753/1993), p. 136. Rabbi Sofer notes that Radba”z considers cutting one’s hair during the first thirty days of mourning to be a violation of Biblical law, but that most decisors do not agree with this view. [20] Rabbi Yitzchak Nissim, Yain Hatov: Yoreh De’ah: Responsum 11 (Jerusalem 5739/1979), see especially p. 193. [21] Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, Yechave Da’at, Vol 3, Section 65 (Jerusalem: 5740/1980), pp. 205–207. [22] Rabbi Yaakov Reischer , Shvut Ya’akov, Vol. 3: Responsum 5 (Metz: J. B. Collignon, 1789), p. 10. http://hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=19545&st=&pgnum=10&hilite= Rabbi Reischer begins his responsum by noting that the Talmud provides no clear guidance regarding the need to cover one’s head, and that the author of the Kol Bo rules that there is no prohibition against being bareheaded, and that decisors such as the Rif rule only that one must cover one’s head when entering a synagogue. [23] Zoldan, Heteirei Halakha, p. 179. [24] Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov Weiss, Minchat Yitzchak, Vol. 3: Responsum 33 (New York: 5750/1990), p. 64. Rabbi Weiss also cites Shvut Yaakov. [25] Rabbi Dovid Zvi Hoffmann, Melamed Leho’il: Responsum 56 (Jerusalem, 5770/2010), pp. 235–236. It is clear from the responsum that when Rabbi Hirsch spoke of removing one’s hat, he meant that a person should be bareheaded. [26] Jacob Berkman, “Lookstein: Why I participated in National Prayer Service,” The Telegraph (January 23, 2009) http://blogs.jta.org/telegraph/article/2009/01/23/1002480/after-rankling-the-rca-looksteins-letter-eplains-his-move [27] Rabbi Moshe Sitrug, Yashiv Moshe Vol.1: 235, cited in Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, Yabia Omer Vol. , Yoreh De’ah 7: Responsum 12 (Jerusalem: 5753/1993), p. 226. [28] Ibid., pp. 227–228; Rabbi Bleich’s comments appear in J. David Bleich, “Survey of recent halakhic periodical literature: entering a non-Jewish house of worship,” Tradition 44 (Summer 2011). [29] For a discussion of police and crime prevention relating to pikuah nefesh see Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli, Amud Hayemini, Jerusalem: Machon HaTorah VehHamedina), pp. 144–146 passim. [30] Rabbi Menachem ben Rav Shlomo Lebeit Meir (HaMeiri), Beit Hebechira with notes and commentary by Rabbi Abraham Schreiber, 3rd ed., vol. 11 Bava Kama 83a (Jerusalem: Kedem, 1964), p. 239. [31] See citations of Nachmanides and others in Zoldan, Heteirei Halakha, p. 174. [32] Esther 4:14. The translation is from The Jewish Publication Society of America, The Writings: Kethubim: A new translation of THE HOLY SCRIPTURES according to the Masoretic text, Third Section (Philadelphia 1982). [33] Esther 10:3, translated ibid. [34] Yisraeli, Amud Hayemini ,p. 144 [35] The issue can be as trivial as a quarrel over teven vekash—straw. Shulhan Arukh: Orah Hayyim, 329:6, and Or Zarua, as cited there. [36] Ibid., p. 146. [37] Leading decisors, both past and present, notably the Hatam Sofer, and more recently, Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda Waldenberg and Chief Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, have ruled that pikuah nefesh applies equally both to Jews and non-Jews. See Chatam Sofer: Vol. 1, Yoreh De’ah:Responsum 131, p. 296; Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda Waldenberg, Sefer Meshivat Nefesh, reprinted as Tzitz Eliezer, Vol. 8:15 (Jerusalem: 5745/1985), esp. pp. 86–88; Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, Yachel Yisrael Vol. 2: Responsum 69 (Jerusalem 5752/1992), p. 378.

Book Review
By Rabbi Dr. Israel Drazin

The Koren Pirkei Avot
Translation by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
Commentary by Rabbi Marc D. Angel
Koren Publishers, 2015, 175 pages

Jews and non-Jews have recognized the practical wisdom of many of the sayings in Pirkei Avot, “The Ethics of the Fathers,” and many Jews can quote its teachings from memory. Jews considered the Ethics of the Fathers so significant that many excellent commentaries have been written on the Ethics and the custom arose to read one chapter a week during the summer months.

But this Koren volume is unique in half a dozen ways that make it special. The Hebrew script and English translation are broken down, as is usual in Koren books, into easy to read phrases with excellent print. The translation of the six chapters by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks is in modern English, with Rabbi Sacks sometimes paraphrasing the Hebrew text when it makes more sense to do so rather than presenting an awkward literal English translation. Rabbi Marc D. Angel has given a very learned introduction in which he points out, among much else, that “Great sages in ancient civilizations have provided teachings to help guide humanity to harmonious, happy, and wise lives. Among the wisest and most influential teachers were those of ancient Israel.”

Rabbi Angel offers explanation of all of the wise ancient sayings, presenting both traditional commentaries as well as learned thoughts by others, Jews and non-Jews, which add depth to the teachings of the fathers. He supplements the wise lessons of the ancients with modern information such as the following. An Israeli Nobel Prize winner described the “illusion of validity”: people tend to think their judgments are valid even when based simply on first impressions or relatively short observations and are often badly mistaken. A psychiatrist wrote that “We establish irrational ideals of the ‘real’ man and the ‘right kind’ of woman, which not only separates us more and more from our genuine potentialities, but in the long run also lead us into self-destructiveness.” The philosopher of the late first and early second century CE, Epictetus, warned “Know you not that a good man does nothing for appearance sake but for the sake of having done right.” An American scientist observed: “One human trait, urging us by our nature, is the drive to be useful.”

Rabbi Angel adds historical information. He describes, for instance, the period of the Great Assembly (a congress of some seventy elders), followed by the Zuggot (leadership by the pairs), followed by the governance by descendants of the family of Hillel, and gives biographical data about each man mentioned in the book. He notes that the Ethics “represents different generations and historical conditions in the Land of Israel,” and he explains the differences. He describes five periods. He tells how there are sayings of nineteen sages who lived prior to the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE; sixteen who flourished from 70 through the early second century when Israel was under the harsh dominion of Rome; fourteen between the early second century through the Bar Kokhba rebellion against Rome in 132-135; eleven sages following the rebellion through the late second century; and eight scholars who lived between the late second century through the early third century; sixty eight wise men in all.

The book is filled with a wealth of other information, inspiring stories, and the results of psychological experiments. For example: the psychologist Erich Fromm noted that most people fail in life because they are unable to make a decision when they come to metaphorical forks in the road; people are so impressed by being watched that when a picture of two eyes is painted on an honor box to pay for beverages, people paid more than twice as much for their drinks; nations perish when its people forget where they came from.

In short, while other commentaries on Pirkei Avot have much to offer, this volume will teach readers very much in an interesting, thought-provoking, and enjoyable manner.

(The Koren Pirkei Avot with Rabbi Angel's commentary is available through our Institute's online store:  https://www.jewishideas.org/koren-pirkei-avot-commentary-rabbi-marc-d-angel)

(Rabbi Johnny Solomon teaches Tanakh, Halakha, and Jewish Thought at Machon Ma’ayan and is a freelance Jewish Education Consultant. Prior to his move to Israel, he held a number of senior positions in Jewish educational institutions, and most recently, he was the Head of Judaic Studies at Hasmonean Girls’ School (London). He studied at Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavne, University College London, and at the Montefiore Kollel in London.)

PART I: AN EXAMPLE OF MISUNDERSTANDING AND MISAPPLICATION

A. Introduction

            One of the common criticisms of Orthodoxy is that its excess focus on law detracts from the overall religious experience, and that the halakhic lifestyle replaces heartfelt emotions with halakhic mechanics. Although I disagree with such a broad criticism, I do accept that the trend toward the codification of halakha can lead to a disconnect between the emotions that a person may feel at a particular moment, and the prescribed halakhic response to such a moment.

            But there are also occasions when the halakha as codified provides ample room for individual expressions of joy and exaltation, but the trend toward “measuring” all manner of experiences—including joy itself—leads to outcomes which do not reflect the purpose of the given halakha. 

            A case in point is the SheHeheyanu berakha as it applies to the purchase of items, and as I hope to explain below, this berakha has been profoundly limited by the attempt to “measure” moments of joy which should only be measured by the feelings of the person who has received or purchased an item. As I will also explain, rather than helping to bring clarity to the situation, the proliferation of numerous halakhic handbooks have actually added further misunderstanding and misinformation concerning this blessing.

B. SheHeheyanu on the Purchase of New Items

            The Mishna[1] rules that if someone builds a house or buys new vessels, he or she must recite the berakha of SheHeheyanu; and in response to this Mishna, the Gemara[2] informs us of a debate between Rav Huna and Rav Yochanan.

            According to Rav Huna, the blessing of SheHeheyanu relates to the possession of the item (or what we may refer to as the hefza, meaning “the item”). According to this reasoning, the blessing should only be recited if the individual does not already own a house or vessel, but if he or she does, no blessing should be recited. However, Rav Yochanan is of the opinion that the blessing is connected with the emotions of the individual at the point of purchase (or what we refer to as the gavra—“the person”), which means that the blessing may be recited as long as the person feels a sense of joy when purchasing the item. This may be the case even if the item was previously owned by someone else. Thus, SheHeheyanu is solely a reflection of the feeling of the person (gavra) rather than a measure of the need of the item (hefza). It is this view of Rav Yochanan that is recorded in the Tur,[3] who also cites how his father, the Rosh,[4] was of the opinion that ein haBerakha elah al simhat haLev—the blessing [of SheHeheyanu] is solely contingent on the feelings of the person.

            A few lines later, the Tur mentions the opinion of Tosafot,[5] who draw a distinction between “important” and “unimportant” items, suggesting that SheHeheyanu should be recited upon purchasing “important” items such as a cloak, but not on the purchase of less important items, such as socks and shoes. In response to this, the Tur again cites the opinion of his father, who rules that the blessing of SheHeheyanu is determined by the emotional response of the person, since “it can only be determined by the person, for you can have a poor person who is overjoyed with the purchase of a cloak far more than the [joy felt by a] rich person who purchases important vessels.”[6]

            However, while the majority of posekim concurred with the Rosh and the Tur, the majority of people did not act in accordance with that opinion. Instead, influenced by the Tosafot cited above as well as an opinion of Rav Sherira Gaon,[7] a shift in attitude occurred whose conclusion was that SheHeheyanu began to be measured not only on the feelings of the person (gavra), but also the value of the object (heftza). 

            This jarring between two conflicting attitudes is clearly evident in Rabbi Yosef Karo’s Shulhan Arukh, which first quotes the above-cited words of the Rosh that “ein haBerakha elah al simhat haLev,”[8] but then introduces the distinction made by Tosafot between important and less-important items. Although Rabbi Karo then adds that “if a poor person purchases such items and feels a sense of joy, he may recite the blessing,”[9] Rabbi Moshe Isserles, (Rema) appends this comment with the observation that this was not the custom in Ashkenazic communities. Therefore, even a poor person should not recite a blessing in this case.[10] In fact, it would seem that even among Sephardim who are not bound by the remarks of Rema, this custom of measuring the appropriateness of reciting SheHeheyanu by both the feelings of the person (gavra) and the value of the object (hefza) has become the norm,[11] despite numerous posekim challenging such a conclusion.[12]

            The result of this inversion of the law is both remarkable in terms of its impact, and profoundly disappointing in terms of its spiritual cost. Rather than seizing the moment and expressing appreciation to God through the blessing of SheHeheyanu, someone who has purchased an item feels the need to “measure” the moment, with the hope that the joy that they feel as a result of the purchase is reflective of the importance of the item that they have purchased (see Table 1 below).

            However, what is no less telling is the manner in which contemporary rabbis and posekim have taken comfort in the shift toward measuring the blessing of SheHeheyanu, reflecting the trend identified by Rabbi Haym Soloveitchik in his seminal essay “Rupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy”[13] of measuring Jewish practice in accordance with minimal requisite quantities (shiurim). This is despite the fact that such measures were not reflective halakha as recorded or as lived by Jews for thousands of years, and in the case of SheHeheyanu, the shift is even clearer. However, very few posekim appear to have the courage to validate that something has gone awry with respect to this blessing, and instead, they continue to perpetuate the misunderstanding and misapplication of this blessing.

            However, one such posek who had sufficient courage to take a second look at the formulation of the laws of SheHeheyanu was Rabbi Haim David Halevy. While Rabbi Halevy initially fell into the trap of auto-codifying, which is a term I have coined to describe the process whereby an author of a halakhic handbook records rulings found in previous halakhic handbooks with limited regard for their overall logic and consistency,[14] it was in response to a letter he received in February 1986, where Rabbi Halevy recognized how the halakha as codified and practiced was not in accordance with the halakha as required. He agreed and asserted that notwithstanding the misunderstanding and misapplication of this blessing, it should be recited whenever someone purchases any item that brings him or her joy.[15] Yet, despite the fact that such a conclusion is both correct and evident from all the classic and modern sources, the majority of modern halakha handbooks do not quote Rabbi Halevy and continue to perpetrate the sin of auto-codifying, and especially when exploring the rules of SheHeheyanu with respect to the purchase of a home and the purchase of shoes.

C. SheHeheyanu on the Purchase/Building of a New Home

            As was noted above, the Mishna rules that if someone builds a house he or she recites the berakha of SheHeheyanu. However, as has been noted by the Magen Avraham,[16] the Ben Ish Hai,[17] the Kaf HaHayim,[18] and others, it would seem that the opinion of Rav Sherira Gaon, coupled with the longstanding misunderstanding of the SheHeheyanu blessing has led to its falling into disuse upon the purchase of a home. Thus, there are those who do recite SheHeheyanu upon purchasing a home, those who do not, and those who adopt the (absurd) suggestion that in order to halakhically “cover yourself” when reciting a SheHeheyanu, they should either eat a new fruit or wear a new piece of clothing and intend that the SheHeheyanu on the fruit or clothes also includes the new home.[19] As should be clear from my comments above, not only do I find this third option in direct conflict with an explicit Mishna, but the premise that the joy felt when purchasing a home is equivalent to that felt when purchasing a piece of clothing or eating a new fruit is absurd, and reduces the SheHeheyanu blessing—whose recitation was supposed to be al simhat haLev, meaning a genuine personal expression of joy—to a false mechanical reaction.

D. Halakhic Handbooks and Auto-Codification

            I previously noted how the distinction between important and unimportant items was introduced by the Shulhan Arukh and how contemporary rabbis and posekim have taken comfort in the shift toward “measuring” the blessing of SheHeheyanu. To clarify, it is clear that such a distinction exists. However, in contrast to the way this distinction has been presented in halakhic handbooks, it should be clear that the only person who can “measure” the importance or otherwise of a particular item is the purchaser.[20]

            Perhaps the most remarkable expression of this attempt to “measure” the importance of an item is a table that I encountered in Rabbi Michael Yehoshua Newman’s Something NEW: A Comprehensive Guide to the Halachos of the Shehecheyanu Brocha” (Feldheim, 2009). While it is important to note that Rabbi Newman presents some of the halakhot in a clear manner, he, too, slips into the trap of auto-codification. However, given the specific nature of this halakhic handbook, the results of this error are all the more glaring. For example, while he notes that “a person should recite a Shehecheyanu brocha when purchasing a new and expensive garment, provided he is very happy about its acquisition,”[21] he then adds that “the general guidelines for determining which new garment requires a Sheheheyanu depend on its monetary worth and how frequently the garment is purchased.”[22] As has been shown above, this is not the case.

            However, what particularly interested me in this book was the table where the author specified which items do and do not meet the criteria for reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing:

Table 1. SheHeheyanu on New Garments[23]

*If a hat is made of fur (for example, a shtreimel), the SheHehayanu blessing is still recited.

It should be stressed that, while the table is not accompanied by any footnotes, it is clear that the author collated information found in this table from an assortment of other works. However, while much could be discussed about the content of this table, I would like to focus on just one feature, that being the claim that we do not recite SheHeheyanu upon the purchase of new shoes.

E. SheHeheyanu on the Purchase of New Shoes

            As has been noted above, Tosafot draws a distinction between “important” and “unimportant” items, suggesting that SheHeheyanu should be recited upon purchasing important items, such as a cloak, but not on the purchase of less important items, such as socks and shoes.

            While one could debate whether a person is overjoyed with the purchase of a pair of socks, I think that it is fair to say that many people are thrilled when they purchase a pair of shoes, which is why the mention of shoes by Tosafot, Rema, and Rabbi Newman is all the more perplexing.

            To understand why this is mentioned, it should be noted that Rema cites the opinion of the German posek Rabbi Yaakov Weil,[24] who was of the opinion that SheHeheyanu is not recited for leather items since their production involves the death of an animal. Although Rema dismisses this as being a weak reason, he does admit that this is probably why many people choose not to make this blessing when purchasing shoes.[25] However, this consideration does not appear to the basis for Tosafot’s initial remark, so the question remains why shoes were not considered to be important?

            A possible answer to this question is found in Rabbi Eliezer Melamed’s popular Peninei Halakha books.[26] Though he does not refer to historical works, Rabbi Melamed claims, I believe correctly, that the purpose of shoes have changed, and where they previously were viewed to be a simple way of protecting the foot while walking, they are now regarded as being items of importance and fashion. Given this shift in the perspective and value of shoes, and the fact that many of us receive no less joy and pleasure from our shoes than other items, Rabbi Melamed explains that they should be viewed as all other important types of clothes; consequently, it would be appropriate to recite the SheHeheyanu blessing on their purchase. Of course, it goes without saying that such logic is unnecessary for the Rosh who believes that ein haBerakha elah al simhat haLev, so, if shoes make you happy, you should recite the SheHeheyanu blessing.

F. Conclusion

            The SheHeheyanu blessing was established to capture a moment of joy through expressing appreciation to God. However, for a variety of reasons outlined above, it has been reduced through a series of misunderstandings and misapplications to become a blessing that far too few of us recite. Rather than SheHeheyanu expressing heartfelt emotions, it has now become an example of halakhic mechanics.

            In addition to this, the solutions offered by some posekim to meet the criteria suggested by outlying opinions (such as the suggestion to halakhically “cover yourself” when reciting a SheHeheyanu by eating a new fruit or wearing a new piece of clothing) has marginalized this blessing even further.

            But beyond presenting how this blessing has devolved, what the examples cited above are intended to show is the ease in which people fall into the trap of auto-codification, which I have defined as the act of writing halakhic handbooks with limited regard for their overall logic and consistency. As I noted, even Rabbi Halevy fell into this trap. However, consistent with his pursuit of intellectual honesty, when this matter was brought to his attention, Rabbi Halevy revised his ruling. Suffice to say, the time has come to reconnect with the beautiful SheHeheyanu blessing and to realize that we don’t need a halakhic handbook to teach us that ein haBerakha elah al simhat haLev.

PART  II: AUTO-CUSTOMIZATION, OBJECTIFICATION, AND  VALIDATION OF THE JOY OF A BRIDE AND GROOM

1. Introduction

            In Part One, I described the disconnect between SheHeheyanu as a blessing of joy and its usage in the modern period. Rather than SheHeheyanu being a spontaneous expression of joyful feelings at a particular moment, halakhic handbooks—as opposed to the emotions of the individual at a particular moment—have become the arbiters for gauging simha (joy). Rather than SheHeheyanu expressing heartfelt emotions, it has now become an example of halakhic mechanics.

            In this section, I explore minhagim (customs), specifically, the various customs concerning the recitation—or non-recitation—of SheHeheyanu on the occasion of a wedding. In so doing I hope to show how we have fallen into the trap of “auto-customization” (which is a term I have coined to describe the process of maintaining customs with little regard for their logic and their symbolism), and how the prevalent custom the groom reciting a SheHeheyanu blessing under the Huppah deserves a further look. I will also be highlighting the work of Rabbi Haim David Halevy (1924–1998), whose pursuit for intellectual honesty led him to adopt a refreshing approach to this issue. 

2. SheHeheyanu by a Groom under the Huppah

            Among the many customs performed at Jewish weddings is that the groom wraps himself with a tallit while standing under the Huppah.²⁷ Although the inclusion of a tallit as part of the wedding ceremony is regarded by many to have considerable halakhic significance,²⁸ it is also a well-known and oft-cited practice that the groom is given a new tallit on which he recites the SheHeheyanu blessing.²⁹ While this practice itself is unremarkable, what is remarkable is what the groom is expected to “have in mind” while reciting this SheHeheyanu blessing. As the well-known Sephardic halakhic handbook Yalkut Yosef³⁰ explains:

Prior to [the groom] reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing, the rabbi who is the Mesader Kiddushin³¹ should inform him that he should intend that the SheHeheyanu blessing be primarily associated with the new tallit while also intending to include within the SheHeheyanu blessing the mitzvah of marriage, and similarly, to include the clothes and the new hat that he is wearing on his wedding day. And this also applies to the house, and the new furniture and the other new items that he received as gifts for their wedding [and on the bride who is new to him].³²

            What we see in this passage is that when the groom recites the SheHeheyanu on his new tallit, he should have in mind the act of marriage, a variety of other items, and his new bride. Especially given the way that this passage has been written, it would seem that the recitation of SheHeheyanu by the groom implicitly objectifies the bride,³³ and that the joy of a wedding is considered to be secondary to the joy of wearing a new tallit. Moreover, it would appear from this excerpt, which only speaks about SheHeheyanu being recited by the groom, that we are only concerned with the joy felt by the groom, notwithstanding the fact that numerous other rabbinic sources emphasise the importance of bringing joy to both bride and groom on their wedding day.³⁴

            In order for us to understand this practice we must take a step back and address a number of simple questions such as: a) Whether SheHeheyanu should be recited at a wedding;  b) if the SheHeheyanu blessing should be recited at a wedding, who should recite it; and c) Why do we employ this convoluted “solution” as a way for the groom to express the joy he is feeling at his own wedding?

3. Should SheHeheyanu Be Recited at a Wedding?

            To begin with, neither the Gemara nor Rambam mentions the practice of reciting SheHeheyanu at a wedding. For some, this omission leads to the conclusion that SheHeheyanu should not be recited,³⁵ while others point out that we cannot draw any conclusions from this fact.³⁶ Nonetheless, what does emerge from this debate are two schools of thought concerning the recitation of SheHeheyanu at a wedding. Some authorities insist that a wedding certainly qualifies as a time of sufficient joy to demand the recitation of the SheHeheyanu blessing, while other authorities are either of the opinion that SheHeheyanu should not be recited at a wedding, or at least they try and offer reasons why this is not the common practice.

1. SheHeheyanu should be recited. 

            According to a number of halakhic authorities, SheHeheyanu should be recited at a wedding, and according to Rabbi Yaakov Emden,³⁷ SheHeheyanu should be recited at both an engagement and at a wedding.³⁸ The rationale for this position is that SheHeheyanu is an outlet for expressing joy and the joy of a wedding is certainly of sufficient magnitude to deserve the recitation of the SheHeheyanu blessing. Thus, Rabbi Emden rules that SheHeheyanu should be recited at a wedding by both the bride and groom since given that they are both joyous.

ii) SheHeheyanu should be recited “B’lo Shem U’Malkhut.”

            While citing the opinion of Rabbi Emden and agreeing with his logic, Rabbi Hayyim Yosef David Azulay—often referred to by the acronym “Hida”—states that SheHeheyanu should be recited at a wedding but “B’lo Shem U’Malkhut,”³⁹ meaning in an abridged form without using the name of God. While the Hida does not explain why this blessing should be recited without including God’s name, Rabbi Elazar Horvitz⁴⁰ suggests that this may be due to the possibility that the couple may not bring joy to each other’s lives,⁴¹ and consequently, the blessing may be in vain.⁴²

iii) SheHeheyanu should be recited, but practically, we are not sure when to recite it.

            A third approach is offered by Rabbi Yechiel Michael Epstein, author of the Arukh haShulhan. While Rabbi Epstein recognizes that a wedding is a fitting occasion to recite the SheHeheyanu blessing, he explains that there is no truly suitable time during the marriage ceremony when this blessing should be recited, and in so doing, justifies the practice of its non-recitation.⁴³

iv) SheHeheyanu should not be/is not recited at a wedding.

            Finally, a number of authorities rule that SheHeheyanu should not be recited, or at least find a rationale for its non-recitation, for the following reasons:

• A wedding does not have a fixed time and (according to some authorities), we do not recite a SheHeheyanu on an event that does not occur miZeman laZeman.⁴⁴
• We do not recite a blessing on an act that is dependent on the will of another ⁴⁵
• SheHeheyanu is not recited on a mitzvah that is long-lasting.⁴⁶
• The key mitzvah of a marriage is the mitzvah of peru u’Revu (be fruitful and multiply), which means that the mitzvah of marriage is not fully completed at a wedding ceremony.⁴⁷

4. Why We Do What We Do

            Given the considerable debate on the issue of reciting SheHeheyanu at a wedding, few communities insist that it be recited by the bride and groom,⁴⁸ and few communities take an absolute position that it should not be recited.⁴⁹ Instead, the common practice is that the groom recites SheHeheyanu on his new tallit while “having in mind” the wedding. However, as I have sought to explain, this practice is not a fair reflection of any of the above-mentioned opinions. As noted above, Rabbi Emden considered it a duty of both bride and groom to recite SheHeheyanu, while common practice only involves the groom. In fact, even Rabbi Yaakov Sofer, who records the debate between Rabbi Yaakov Emden and the Hida and who sides with the Hida, records a different solution to the one prevalent in Jewish weddings. According to Rabbi Sofer, both bride and groom—as well as the fathers of both the bride and groom⁵⁰—should either recite SheHeheyanu on a new piece of clothing or a new fruit, and “have in mind” the wedding.             However, if this is impractical, Rabbi Sofer is of the opinion that SheHeheyanu should be recited at the wedding (apparently by all these parties) B’lo Shem U’Malkhut.⁵¹ Thus, neither Rabbi Emden, the Hida, or Rabbi Sofer suggest that SheHeheyanu should only be recited by the groom, nor suggest that this blessing should “cover” all the gifts and clothes that the couple receive as wedding gifts.⁵² Thus, the ruling of Yalkut Yosef does not authentically reflect any of these opinions. Instead, it records common practice, notwithstanding the fact that this does not reflect the opinion of any of the primary sources that address this issue. Rather, it conflicts with the values implicit in those opinions by disregarding the joy of a bride on her wedding day.  

5. Rabbi Halevy’s Approach to SheHeheyanu at a Wedding

            In contrast to the ruling of the Yalkut Yosef, Rabbi Halevy, adopts quite a different approach to this issue, which provides a fascinating reflection of his intellectual honesty, as well as an example of how he recognized the central role of emotions in Jewish practice.⁵³  Rabbi Halevy was fully aware of the different opinions on this matter, and he was also well aware of common practice amongst Sephardim. At the same time, Rabbi Halevy was of the belief that weddings are joyous occasions, and are seemingly suitable and necessary occasions for SheHeheyanu to be recited. This led Rabbi Halevy to an unusual situation where he felt the need to explain the general custom of not reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing at a wedding while also explaining why, and how, this blessing should be recited on a wedding day.

            To begin, Rabbi Halevy states that he is unconvinced by the rationale offered by Rabbi Epstein regarding the impossibility of identifying when the blessing should be recited, ⁵⁴ and he also dismisses those who claim that SheHeheyanu should not be recited at a wedding because it does not have a fixed time. Rabbi Halevy then addresses those opinions who defend the omission of SheHeheyanu at a wedding because the couple may not bring joy to each other’s lives, making specific reference to the remarks of Rabbi Moshe Sofer (often referred to as the Hatam Sofer), who distinguishes between the SheHeheyanu recited when a person receives an object due to a predetermined divine plan, and the SheHeheyanu which a person may wish to recite when marrying a partner whom he or she has chosen of his or her own free will.⁵⁵ Yet, here too, Rabbi Halevy is skeptical of this distinction, since a person is no less free to purchase an item or a home for which SheHeheyanu would be recited than he or she is to choose a marriage partner.

            This leads Rabbi Halevy to offer his own rationale concerning why SheHeheyanu is generally not recited at a wedding. He explains that while a wedding day is a day of joy, it is also a day when both bride and groom are anxious. He proves this point by referring to the many rabbinic sources which speak about the need to bring joy to the bride and groom,⁵⁶ from which he learns that there is a need to bring joy to the bride and groom on their wedding day since it is a day of mixed emotions when they may be nervous about their future. Based on this reasoning, Rabbi Halevy explains the general Sephardic practice, which is based on the ruling of the Hida, of reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing B’Lo Shem U’Malkhut.

            However, it appears that Rabbi Halevy is not entirely satisfied. There is a sense that Rabbi Halevy feels torn on this issue, and in light of his halakhic approach, which places considerable emphasis on the role of emotion in Jewish practice, it would appear as if Rabbi Halevy has a nagging feeling that notwithstanding all the different reasons that he and others have offered in order to defend why this blessing is not recited at a wedding, the joy of a wedding is certainly of sufficient magnitude to deserve the recitation of SheHeheyanu. Therefore, when Rabbi Halevy records this practice in his Mekor Haim Hashalem, he quotes both Rabbi Emden and the Hida while apparently leaving it up to readers to choose their own direction. As he explains:

A man who is worthy to marry a suitable wife who is dear to him should recite SheHeheyanu. And our teacher the Hida ruled that he should recite the blessing B’Lo Shem U’Malkhut.⁵⁷

            Thus, Rabbi Halevy is true to his community, while also allowing his readers to be true to themselves. Yet, what should also be noted is that Rabbi Halevy draws no connection between the SheHeheyanu recited upon wearing a new tallit and the SheHeheyanu recited as an expression of joy by a bride and groom who are getting married.⁵⁸ At the same time, it should also be noted that his comments in Mekor Haim Hashalem do not address the possibility of a bride reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing.

            However, in his work Mekor Haim LiB’not Yisrael, Rabbi Halevy provides a more thorough treatment of this issue where he explains the following:

Someone who marries a suitable wife who is dear to him should recite SheHeheyanu. And the woman herself should also recite SheHeheyanu. However, our teacher the Hida ruled that the blessing should be without the mention of Shem U’Malkhut. Therefore, the correct thing to do is when the groom and bride are putting on their new clothes on their wedding day they should recite the SheHeheyanu blessing and while doing so, intend to include the wedding with this blessing.⁵⁹

            What we see here is how Rabbi Halevy identifies a pathway that still adheres to the opinion of the Hida but that also provides a framework for both bride and groom to express the joy they are feeling on their wedding day.⁶⁰ Consequently, when a bride and groom are getting themselves ready for their wedding and putting on their new clothes, he suggests that they take a moment to reflect on the significance of this occasion by reciting the SheHeheyanu blessing. In contrast to Yalkut Yosef, which records a custom whose origins are tenuous at best and which not only disregards the joy of a bride but in fact objectifies her, Rabbi Halevy’s ruling takes the emotions of both bride and groom into consideration while also showing regard for the common custom of not reciting SheHeheyanu on the wedding alone.⁶¹

6. Conclusion

            As I have explained, there are divergent opinions regarding whether SheHeheyanu should be recited at a wedding. However, the common practice of including the recitation of SheHeheyanu when the groom puts on a new tallit is not in keeping with any of those who endorse its recitation. Rather than the SheHeheyanu reflecting the mutual joy felt by bride and groom, the current practice objectifies a bride, despite the fact that her independence, both in terms of her personhood and her joy, are core to the values underpinning a Jewish wedding. Given all the above, I consider the common practice to be a good example of “auto-customization,” where we follow a practice with little regard for its logic and symbolism. Although Rabbi Halevy does not insist of reforming the wedding ceremony, his keen eye and sensitivity to Jewish law and human emotions identifies an authentic pathway in keeping with the practices of his community, while also reflecting the emotions of both bride and groom.

Abraham must have been a very unpopular man in the society and family in which he was raised. He wouldn't likely have been elected to lead the citizenry of Ur Kasdim. He rejected their worldview, smashed their idols, repudiated their (un)ethical system. Who would vote for Abraham? He was a starry-eyed mystic and philosopher, not interested in pandering to the values and interests of his fellow citizens.

A Midrash tells a story that Terah, Abraham's father, was not only an idolater, but did business manufacturing and selling idols. One night, the young Abraham went into his father's shop and smashed all the idols, except one. In that last idol's hand, Abraham placed a hammer. When Terah went to his shop the next morning, he was shocked to see the idols broken to pieces. He asked Abraham: who could have done such a terrible act of vandalism? Abraham answered: the idol holding the hammer must have smashed the other idols. Terah responded: that's impossible, that idol is made of stone, it can't do anything. Abraham retorted: if you don't believe a stone idol can smash other idols, why do you believe it is a powerful god? It's just a piece of powerless stone!

Children like this story because it shows how Abraham outsmarted his father, thereby demonstrating the foolishness of idolatry. Abraham thus made his preliminary case for the truth of ethical monotheism.

As we grow older, though, this story requires a more sophisticated interpretation. After all, we do not think that idolaters really believe that their idols are gods. Rather, the idols are symbols of gods. Terah certainly would never have imagined that one of his idols could act autonomously. He would have thought that his idols were symbols of gods, or that in some way the gods' spirits rested within the idols. So he would not have been impressed with Abraham's question and seeming refutation of idolatry. By analogy, we pledge allegiance to the flag--but the flag is just a piece of cloth, with little intrinsic value. When someone burns the flag, though, we are outraged--not because a piece of cloth was set ablaze, but because that flag is a powerful symbol to us of our nation and our values. Terah would have been outraged to see his idols shattered, in a similar sense to the outrage we feel when our flag is desecrated.

Perhaps that Midrash was alluding to a deeper idea. It was telling us something important about Abraham that would have convinced God to choose Abraham to be father of a new nation.

Abraham was living in Terah's household. He knew his father worshipped idols and promoted idolatry. What young boy wants to rise up against his father's values and his father's business? It would have been so much easier for Abraham to hold his peace, and wait until he was old enough to live on his own before he espoused his monotheistic views. Moreover, even if Abraham chose to argue with his father about the worthlessness of idols, why would he have vandalized his father's shop, an action that was bound to generate a lot of discussion and anger among the townspeople? Furthermore, why would he make a public mockery of idolatry while living in a society full of idolaters? It would have been so much more convenient for Abraham to remain silent, to keep his ideas to himself, to respect the mores of his father, his birthplace, his society.

The Midrash is teaching us that Abraham was a powerful, courageous individual who was not afraid to dissent from the majority when he knew that the majority was wrong. Abraham was willing to risk his own comfort by defying the perverse ideas and values of his father and of the entire idolatrous society. He did not just speak out against idolatry: he had the gumption to smash idols, to bring matters to a head. He was not "diplomatic" in espousing belief in one God and in rejecting idolatry.

Thus, when God saw that Abraham was absolutely not "electable" by his community, God decided that Abraham was His man. God "elected" Abraham--a man of incredible personal strength and vision--to set out on the journey, to leave his society, his birthplace, his father's home. God elected Abraham to establish a new nation, with a new vision, a new idealism, a new ethical system, a new way of relating to God.

The words "lekh lekha" are commonly translated: get thee out. But they can also be translated as: go to yourself. In the latter sense, God was telling Abraham: go to yourself, to your own inner core; don't be misled by your father and his society; don't strive to conform and get along. Stand on your own, be true to yourself. If you "go to yourself" and stay faithful to who you are, you will be the father of a great nation.

            To read Talmud is to experience it in translation. Too often, we prevent ourselves from considering what “Oral Torah” really means. We know that the sages considered it forbidden to write their own teachings down, and that all their material was recorded in human memory rather than on parchment. But a recitation and a reading are not merely presenting the same information in different media; a book is read by a reader, while a sage speaks with a listener. The differences between these two activities are many and profound.

            The sages—especially the Amoraim, who are in general more talkative about their lives—reflect often about their learning as an oral experience. For example, here is what R. Gidol says in the Yerushalmi (Shabbat 1:2):

One who says a tradition—while saying it he should see the teacher of that tradition as if he were standing before him. And what is the reason? “Even in the image should a person walk.” (Tehilim 39)

            Although the verse from Tehilim is normally understood as referring to the precariousness of human existence (“even a person walks around like a shadow”), R. Gidol retunes it to the context of studying Torah. In his reading, tselem does not mean “shadow” but “image” or “impression” in the sense of the facial expression and body language of a speaker, and yithalekh refers to the conduct of the student. Thus, the sense of the verse is that it is not enough to repeat the right words; one must also evoke the very appearance of the original speaker. Something more is drawn out of R. Gidol's remark by commentator Korban HaEdah:

The most essential part of learning from a teacher lies in looking at the face, as it says, “Your eyes should be looking at your teacher.” (Yeshayahu 30, ad loc)

            The most essential part! We modern students are likely not to think about the faces of the sages at all. But consider how fundamental is the information conveyed by facial expression: how the teacher feels about the subject matter (is there something dangerous or reassuring about it, is it sensitive information, or ought we to have known it already?), as well as what is anticipated in the listener's response. The importance of the teacher's facial expression recurs in the Yerushalmi, as in the story from Beitsah (5:5) in which Ribi throws a party on Shabbat, only to hear R. Meir standing outside his house, scolding him for all the noise. When Ribi demands in response, “Who's throwing a chill over us, here in our own house?” R. Meir turns to flee. Ribi, who had evidently burst out of the house to chase him away, has a strange change of mood while contemplating R. Meir's rapidly disappearing back.

            About this incident, he would later say, “I only merited Torah because I saw R. Meir's back.” In (Bavli) Eruvin 13b, his regret seems keener: “And if only I had seen him from the front, I would be even sharper, as it is written (in Yeshayahu 30) “Your eyes should be watching your teacher.”

            We certainly need not imagine that Ribi's wish is based on some mystical association with the front half of the body. Rather, the vital context a facial expression conveys is immediately recognizable to anyone who has attempted delicate conversation by correspondence. Just how angry was R. Meir? The difference between passing crankiness and shocked rage makes all the difference in what R. Meir is communicating about transgressing Shabbat.

            But gaze in the transmission of teaching is not conceived in the Talmud as unidirectional. While the student is absorbed in studying the teacher's face, the teacher, too, is watching the student. For example, in Mishna Nidah 8:3, the glances of R. Akiva's students cause him to completely revise how he expresses an idea:

It happened that a certain woman came before R. Akiva. She said to him, “I saw a stain.” He said to her, “Perhaps you have an injury?” She said to him, “Yes, but it healed.” “Or could you scratch it to bring out the blood?” She said to him, “Yes,” and he ruled that she was tehorah. He saw his students looking at one another. He said to them, “Why should this seem problematic to you? After all, the sages did not speak of this matter [stains] to be stringent, but only to be lenient, as it says and a woman when she becomes a zavah, blood will flow on her flesh (vaYikra 16:19): [flowing blood,] and not a stain!”

            Such a personal, reciprocal influence on a text we often think of as immutable brings me to research on the oral traditions of indigenous peoples in North America. To travel such a cultural distance is necessary, since too much thinking about the Jewish oral tradition amounts to no more than textualist fantasy about what oral tradition must be like—for example, supposing that it is inherently more vulnerable to fraud or error, or that orality necessitates the tight control of information by a highly-trained, distant elite. There is little point debating about the theoretical merit of these conjectures, because scholarship on and by people living in communities with oral tradition shows that reality operates quite differently.[1] Learning from First Nations authors, we can not only correct our misconceptions, but become aware of issues textualists have no reason to think about, such as how ethical and religious norms might be absorbed differently in an oral society. On this point, Anishnaabe poet and scholar Kimberly M. Blaeser writes that the inevitable exchange between speaker and listener, even if the listener remains entirely silent, has the effect of forming important bonds between the people involved—both emotional and in terms of creating social norms that feel “natural” to everyone involved:

Indeed, we become the stories we tell, don't we? We become the people and places of our past because our identity is created, our perspective formed, of their telling. This communal identification comes about most fully when the oral involves an active exchange, when it incites response or a sense of response-ability in the listener.[2]

            Blaeser's insight gives us an unexpected tool for understanding the diversity in the sages' backgrounds. We might expect that in a memory-based culture, learners must begin when they are young children if they want a hope of becoming expert in their people's teaching. Elisha ben Abuya certainly seems to suggest as much in Pirkei Avot 4:20, although the analogy of an older mind to paper which has been smoothed and thinned by erasure, may be more complex than it appears at first glance. In any case, what we find in practice is that the sages include an unusually high number of talented adult learners, both converts and people raised in non-traditional households—as a small sample from among the most famous sages, for example, R. Akiva, R. Meir, and R. Eliezer. Many of Hazal were also haverim, members of a society interested in behaving according to laws of ritual purity and impurity, and it seems according to Tosefta Demai (second chapter) that haverim were usually made rather than born. It is possible that the face-to-face, subtly collaborative nature of Talmud in fact made assimilation and the solidification of a core group ethos a natural, almost self-propelled process. The affect of the teacher conveys information not just about the text, but about the value of the student and of the teacher-student exchange. The newcomer to an oral tradition is already a contributor and companion of their teachers and peers. A newcomer to a textual tradition can do, and usually does, the bulk of study in a solitary and invisible manner, and may never reach a point of literacy at which their own contributions are possible.

            So much for what living speakers can bring to a text; but what about cues for vocal inflection in the text itself? Or is it a hopeless task to recover something so fleeting as the physicality of a speaker who died more than a thousand years ago? It is less impossible than we think, because the Talmud has highly specialised vocabulary to cue the reader to a vanished speaker's intonation.

            Take, for example, this trio of talmudic phrases: Ileima, Iba’it Eima, Im nafshekha lomar. Each of them means “If you want, say...” but they are by no means used interchangeably. The first indicates that whatever will be said will be immediately shown to be untrue. The second is used more neutrally yet no less specifically to introduce the second of two possibilities. The third phrase introduces the second of two possibilities where the very existence of two possibilities is strange, in fact slightly suspect.

            From the perspective of clarity, there is no reason to make such delicate distinctions: Context makes all of these details obvious already, and in any case none of them really changes the substance of what is being said. However, like inverted question marks, each prompts a change in intonation which makes the ideas much easier to follow for a listener—and more human. This is true for much of the other technical language of the Talmud, such as the painstaking distinction made between words for questions which are critical and questions which are curious.

            Sometimes the Talmud's technical terms do not indicate tone, but reduce the cognitive load on people exchanging complex ideas orally. A reader does not need a standardized term such as Iteima (yet another variation of “if you say,” used to introduce a potential alternate author of a tradition), but such repetitive, reliable phrasing is invaluable for a listener who is being asked to hold on to many ideas at once. Here the Talmud is very like the Iliad and the Odyssey, texts that also crystallized from an oral tradition, which employ epithets and catch-phrases to ease the burden on both speaker and audience.

            When people think about Homer, they notice that the little pattern of catch-phrases also happens on a larger scale, in what are called type-scenes. One example would be the arming scene, where a hero puts on his armour prior to battle. In every arming scene, we can expect the same structure: The hero dresses himself in the same pieces of armour in the same order, the narrator lingers on descriptions of the shield, and we finish with the hero picking up his spear.

            The Talmud has its own parallel to these. One example would be where unnamed hakhamim debate with a single sage over whether a law can be deduced from another case, or if the situations cannot be compared, because their individual contexts are importantly unique (the technical term for this being dayo lavo min hadin lihyot kanidon). Nidah 4:6 and Baba Kama 2:5 are of this same type.[3] Another group can be formed from Mishnayot that do permutations of possible actions across different types of social space (Baba Kama 3:7, Baba Kama 5:5, Eruvin 10:5).[4] We might even classify chapters of Mishna in a similar way; for example, there is a kind of chapter where every or almost every Mishna begins with the very same word (Baba Kama 4, “An ox,” Nidah 3, “She miscarries”).

            A reader, even a very learned one, might have to hunt for these patterns, if they were noticed at all. A reciter cannot avoid taking notice; it is the difference between hiking through rocks and walking on a polished floor. Eleven Mishnayot in the middle of the sixth chapter of Nidah, patterned as “all XY but not all YX,” run together into a smooth and lasting speech/memory with only a few moments of focused work. This is powerful architecture to support a high mental burden, and it is important to recognize their function, rather than to try to draw too much localized meaning from the wording of a type—to treat the memory-buttress as if it were a Torah verse to be closely read. It is not meant for reading at all.

            So far we have looked at talmudic text that shows sedimentation of its original life as an oral tradition. But the Talmud also contains explicit descriptions of people engaged in learning. What was the normal process for a sage trying to absorb new material? From Taanit 7b–8a, we see that this is what the Amoraim would do: They would listen to the teaching, and then repeat it in private until it stuck. When they talk about repeating, they do not mean running silent mental laps through the Mishna, but using their full voices and bodies—Beruriah kicked a student in her Bet Midrash for “only” whispering, telling him, “When [the teaching] is set in your two hundred and forty-eight body parts, it will last; if not, it will not last” (Eruvin 53b).

            When students felt sure of themselves, they would return to their teachers and recite the teaching in front of them to be checked. While R. Adda bar Abbahu took 24 repetitions to feel confident, Reish Lakish took 40 (Taanit 8a). I attribute both this and the fact that Reish Lakish does a lot of thinking elsewhere about memorization to the fact that he began his studies later in life. In Taanit 8a, he gives further advice, emphasizing that regularly revisiting (that is, reciting) what one has been taught is the key to mastering it; in the Yerushalmi, he imagines the material he has learned warning him, “Leave me for one day, and I will leave you for two” (Berakhot 9:5).

            How remote all of this seems for the yeshiva student habituated to the rhythm of the morning seder, where the balance of one's gaze is fixed on the page. What does an awareness of this remoteness ask of us, and also say about us? Are we clinging to our tomes like overboard sailors with broken planks, shipwrecked from authentic understanding? One could answer: Was Ribi, when he mourned the impossibility of bringing back R. Meir in order to behold his face? Certainly not, but we see that he registered that absence as meaningful. A cultivated awareness of difference in learning practices can only sharpen our perception of the sages and their literature, as it gives us new and crucial questions to ask the text: What is the tone? How ought the voice to rise or fall? Is the effort of these words bent on drawing the picture for us more precisely, or are they in service of a labored act of speech and memory? We become aware, like R. Gidol, of a demand to picture everything in the most human and physical of terms. Far from alienation, this opens for us the possibility of deep correspondence with the departed other, whose voice now uses our vocal cords, tongue, teeth, even the cavities of our skull to sound. Nor must we fear, according to tradition, that this is hopelessly one-sided; as R. Yohanan said in the name of R. Shimon bar Yohai: “Every talmid hakham, when they say a teaching in his name in this world, his lips flutter in the grave” (Yebamoth 97a).