All Questions Answered by Rabbi Benjamin J. Samuels
Question: I am interested in converting to Judaism. While I currently have no friends or family who are Jewish, I have been doing quite a bit of personal study, while praying to G-d for discernment on the matter, and feel deeply that this is the right choice for myself and my family. My husband is very supportive and has agreed for our family to live a Jewish lifestyle, he would like to learn more before making the decision to convert himself. I have two questions. First, is it possible for myself and our son (he is 4) to convert, with my husband's blessing, if my husband does not choose to as well? Second, there are only 2 synagogues in my area, both of which are at least a 40 minute drive from our home. One is conservative, the other reform. The nearest orthodox synagogue is about 2 hours away. Is it possible to receive our instructing of Judaism in a conservative synagogue, but the actual conversion (mikvah and so forth) in the orthodox one due to proximity reasons? I hope that makes sense.
Let me answer your question by explaing an Orthodox conversion process. Four commitments are required: one, the candidate must live proximate to and participate in a local Orthodox community; two, the candidate must pursue a course of formal and informal Jewish education; three, the candidate must increasingly observe Jewish law, custom and practice; and four, the candidate must have a rabbinical sponsor who will set up a network of partners to work with the conversion candidate and empower the candidate to be responsible for his or her own advancement through the process. in your particular case, I would add a fifth requirement -- namely, that you and your husband pursue parallel conversion tracks.
Living within walking distance of an Orthodox community is essential, as Jewish life cannot best be learned from books or classes, but needs to be observed and experienced firsthand, such as learning how Jewish parents conduct their Shabbat table or how a Jewish homemaker koshersand prepares for Passover. While the particulars of observance can be learned from books, the totality of experiential Jewish living can only be internalized by participating in an observant, learned and learning community. It is important for a conversion candidate to have multiple teachers in order to help facilitate a more comprehensive education, as well as to recognize legitimate variation within the observant Jewish world. Requiring the candidate to live within walking distance of an Orthodox community not only makes requisite Shabbat observance possible, but also increases his or her communal integration.
Developing a broad base of friendships and connections within the community will also deepen the candidate’s initiation into and identification with the Orthodox community. Likewise, while it is important to foster a good relationship between a conversion candidate and his or her rabbinical guide, multiple lay and professional mentors and teachers will properly cultivate the candidate’s Jewish bond to Hashem (God), Torah and community, rather than a dependent, charismatic attachment to a rabbinical figure. In sum, an effective conversion process requires living within a supportive and inviting community that becomes the candidate’s teachers, having a defined course of self and partnered study and enrollment in community classes, and applying one’s formal and informal learning increasingly to personal religious practice, all under the supervision of a guiding rabbi. This holds true whether one converts in the United States or in Israel.
There are several reasons why you and your husband will need to pursue this together. First, if your conversion process would be successful, then you would no longer be the person who your husband chose to marry. And if he would stay the same, he would no longer be a person to whom you could stay married (since it would be an intermarriage) or likely with whom you would want to stay married since you will not share the most fundamental and essential foundational values to your home.
My advice would be for you and your husband to make a joint decision. Should you choose to proceed, you should consider exploring local Orthodox Jewish communities, meet with their rabbis, and then find a way to live within walking distance of the Orthodox Jewish community that best suits your journey. Begin a conversion process there and establish relationships. And should you not be able to commit to this process jointly, you should strongly consider living your life according to the seven Noahide laws that form the universal covenant that God created with all humanity. For more information, see http://asknoah.org/
God bless and all good wishes for a successful journey.
[A large portion of this answer was adapted from a similar answer that I wrote at http://www.jewishboston.com/Ask-A-Rabbi/blogs/5678-how-do-i-convert-to-orthodox-judaism]
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: I have a question regarding a charitable endeavor my shul is involved in. For many years, we have hosted homeless guests (from a nearby shelter) for a week in our building. About three years ago, we started taking them in during the week of Christmas. Our homeless guests are non-Jews. Someone from our shul contacts the local media (newspapers, TV) so that they would come out to film what we, a Jewish congregation, are doing for these non-Jewish homeless folks on Christmas. I find it very disturbing when the camera crew not only comes into the building, but also wants to go into the social hall/dining room, where our homeless guests usually congregate, to film in this area. I was there last week when the news crew came and, at that particular time, our guests were having breakfast in the dining room. One of our volunteers came to brief the guests about this, stating that, in filming guests at the table, only their hands and feet would be shown. Immediately after she left, all of our guests got up and left the room. I felt awful about this and I too left, in disgust.
Every evening, we take the guests from the shelter, where they stay with us for dinner and sleep in our building overnight. In the morning, we then take them back to the shelter. But because this was Christmas day, the guests were to stay with us the entire day. This was their only day to have a leisurely breakfast, a time when they did not have to hurry to get ready to be taken back to the shelter. I felt that we spoiled their chance to have a (rare) peaceful morning by bringing in this TV crew. In a way, I also feel that we are "using" the homeless to gain attention, honor, and (perhaps) donations from the public for our shul. My own feelings are that we brought embarrassment upon our guests, and I believe it is wrong to shame or exploit the poor, especially for our own aggrandizement. It is my opinion that we should go back to hosting the homeless on a week other than that involving the Christmas holiday. This would solve the problem about causing offense or embarassment to some of our guests, as well as put an end to media coverage of how we, a Jewish organization, shelter the homeless at Christmas. I was wondering what your take on this situation might be.
There is moral legitimacy to your dissatisfaction with the management, communication and sensitivities brought to bear on this communal program of chesed and tzedakah, as you describe it. Your community can, and hopefully will, handle this program differently in the future. Fundamentally, I see no problem advertising the kindness of your community. Kindness inspires kindness and others may learn from your community’s example. And while we would like to think that your community would sponsor such a program regardless of whether it generates donations or prestige, it does cost money and requires positive publicity to allow such programs to succeed and perpetuate. While people are required to give tzedakah in fulfillment of their Torah obligations, the Jewish tradition has long recognized that people may leverage their acts of justice and kindness to more personally motivated, yet still sacred goals. Thus, people give tzedakah monies in whose merit someone ill should heal or so that a deceased person's memory should be for a blessing. However, concerns of human dignity (kavod ha-beriyot) would require greater sensitivity toward participants in this program, protecting their privacy and dignity. At the very least, it is important for the congregation to communicate to participants its intentions regarding publicity and gain their consent under non-coercive circumstances. If participants do not opt-in to being photographed, whether in part or in whole, they should still have a place in the program. My best advice to you is to become more involved and influence the process through your sensitive invested leadership and participation. Chazak veEmatz -- Be strong and resolute!
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: Our employee was overpaid as a result of an error in payroll submissions. The amount of overpayment was not insignificant and the overpayment continued for several months (the employee apparently did not notice) before the mistake was found. When the Congregational board president approached the employee about the error the employee balked at repaying, claimed it would be a hardship to return the money and did not feel he was obligated to do so. Ultimately, after demands and threats, the employee did agree to repay the overpayment, but only after negotiating a long repayment plan that spans more than a year (and without any interest). Do Jewish law or Jewish values require that this money be returned? If so, was the employee in violation of either Halachah or Jewish values by refusing to repay the money? Should it have been returned without delay (as soon as the error was pointed out) and without stipulation? Was the Congregation in any way in error in requesting repayment? What is the proper behavior according to Jewish values and ethics?
There seems to be (at least) two different valences to this question: legal and interpersonal. Let’s tackle the legal first. Unintended salary overpayments must be repaid as a matter of Jewish law. I am under the impression that American civil law requires the same, but all matters of civil law should be discussed with an employment attorney. For a brief overview of the civil law, see http://www.ehow.com/about_5557943_labor-laws-concerning-salary-overpayments.html. While accounting mistakes are common, it is not always easy for either employer or employee to spot them. In this age of multiple withholdings, it is very difficult for employees to understand fully their monthly pay stubs or know what their true take-home pay should be. It is recommended that an organization sit down yearly with its employees to review the financial facts of payroll. Employers may also consider establishing a "Salary Overpayment and Correction Policy" as part of an employee handbook. Payroll errors potentially can be frustrating, financially hurtful and time consuming for both employer and employee, and thus grievances could cut both ways. For example, a salary overpayment may create for an employee a greater tax liability, i.e., put the employee into a higher tax bracket that effects the employee’s entire salary and not just the overpayment, which would then need to be remedied through the filing of an emended return and claiming a tax credit. In such a case, we may further inquire as to who is responsible to pay for the required additional personal accounting work?
In terms of Halakhah (Jewish law), Rabbi Joseph Karo’s Code of Jewish Law, Shulkhan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat 232:2 rules: “One who received monies from another whether as part of a commercial transaction, loan, or loan repayment, and an overpayment is discovered, even if the second party has not (yet) made a claim, the recipient is obligated to return the extra monies since they were the result of error…” To knowingly not return the overpayment would be tantamount to theft. The overpayment would arguably be halakhically considered as a loan, rather than as an advance payment of future salary, especially if the employment understanding/contract stipulates a yearly salary made in equal, regular payments. Rabbi Joseph Karo does not mention the term of repayment. On the one hand, a baseline term for monies owed in Jewish law, especially standard loans, is 30 days (TB Makkot 3b). On the other hand, given that the sum in question was “not insignificant” and instant or short-term repayment could be difficult for the employee to manage in terms of cash flow, Jewish ethics would encourage the establishment of a fair and reasonable repayment schedule. Jewish law may possibly demand this, as well. Regardless, Jewish law would very likely require that any payment term not be subject to interest.
In terms of the interpersonal, professional relationship between the synagogue and its employee, the question as formulated seems to imply that this unfortunate occurrence seems to have soured the relationship, assuming it had not already been awry beforehand. It is not clear whether the synagogue leadership disbelieves the employee’s attestation of not having realized there was an ongoing overpayment. The employee showed lack of regard for the community monies of the synagogue by articulating that s/he did not feel obligated to return monies that s/he did not earn, but received in error. The synagogue leadership as employer had to make demands and threats. Given that there has been a breakdown in trust, this may negatively affect the employer’s ability to rely on the judgment and presumption of good faith of the employee. The employee on the other hand may feel that while s/he initially unwittingly benefited from a payroll mistake, s/he may have found the synagogue callous to the difficulties of repayment. It was not shared whether the employee in question was a member of the clergy (rabbi or cantor), an educator, or a member of the synagogue’s administrative or facility support staff. If the relationship had been valued by both parties before this unfortunate episode, it would seemingly behoove all involved to work hard to surmount the negative feelings engendered and find a way back to work together to serve the synagogue community with faithfulness.
I thank my friend and colleague Rabbi Aryeh Klapper and the guests at my Shabbos table on Parshat Korach 5773 for discussing this case with me.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: Hello - I'm wondering if there are any laws or guidelines about our obligations to those that help us. I'm familiar with the concepts of tzedakah that refer to charitable acts and methods of giving, but am seeking suggestions or links for appropriate guidelines when one receives or is the one who is assisted. Thanks kindly in advance, Kathryn
Assisting those in need, whether through Tzedakah (righteous giving) or Chesed (acts of loving-kindness), not only fulfills core moral and religious Jewish obligations, but cultivates and nurtures our inner virtue, allowing us to emulate God. The Torah commands us to give Tzedakah in a number of places, and acts of Chesed are subsumed under the biblical mandate to “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev 19:18). While Tzedakah is performed through material goods (e.g. food, clothing, money) and is ideally bestowed in complete anonymity, Chesed is primarily realized through acts and behavior (e.g., visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved) and depends on the performer and the recipient knowing each other. Tzedakah sustains our world, but Chesed builds up our world and knits people together in the fabric of community and society: “The World is built on Chesed” (Psalms 89:3).
Neither Tzedakah nor Chesed incur debt on behalf of the recipient. However, as appropriate, expressions of gratitude and thanksgiving to both God and to God’s human partners, i.e., the giver of Tzedakah or doer of Chesed, is fitting and likely religiously required (loving our neighbor as ourselves works both ways in this imbalanced situation of giver and receiver). In certain circumstances where there has not been anonymity, it may be praiseworthy to return the charitable gift of another should the receiver be in a position to do so. This is for the benefit of the receiver, who can fully reclaim the dignity of self-reliance, as well for the giver who may feel entitled to repayment, even if there exists no obligatory debt. For example, if one friend gifts another friend in need the necessary funds and the receiver later is in a position to return the gift, despite the understanding that the original exchange was not a loan, but a gift.
While neither Tzedakah or Chesed incur debt, there may be acts of generosity that do incur debt. For example, in Jewish law, one of the supreme obligations is to help ransom a captive – Pidyon Shivuyim. It takes precedence over Tzedakah and we even sell community Torahs to gain the freedom of a captive. Our rabbis understood the outlay of monies for ransom to be more akin to a loan, rather than required Tzedakah, and thus if the redeemed captive has the financial resources, he or she is obligated to repay his/her redeemer (see Tosafot Baba Kama 51a s.v. ‘ie name; Ramo, Sh”A Y”D 252:12).
Beyond expressions of gratitude, absent the incurring of debt, there is an expectation that should an impoverished person experience a reversal of fortune, the person, who in the past has received help, and now him/herself is in a position to help others, will indeed do so and “pay it forward.”
Maimonides concludes his “Laws of Gifts of the Poor” as follows:
Any person who does not need to take [charity] and deceives the people and takes will not reach old age and die until he requires assistance from people at large. He is among those of whom it is said [Jeremiah 17:5]: "Cursed be a person who trusts in mortals." [Conversely,] anyone who needs to take [charity] and cannot exist unless he takes, e.g., an elderly man, sick, or beset by afflictions, but is proud and does not take is considered as a murder. He is liable for his soul and all that he has earned through his hardship is sin and guilt. But anyone who needs to take [charity], but causes himself affliction and temporarily constrains himself and lives a life of difficulty so that he will not overburden the community will not reach old age and die before he provides sustenance for others from his own means. Concerning such a person and those like him, it is stated [ibid.:7]: Blessed be a person who trusts in God. Blessed be the Merciful One who grants assistance” (see also Shulkhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah, 255: 1-2).
Clearly, it is best not to rely on the generosity of others, even if it means living in slight discomfort. At the same time, should it be necessary to rely on the generosity of others it would be sinful to refuse help. However, in all circumstances, the goal is to achieve a situation in life in which we can be of help and benefit to others and give Tzedakah and do Chesed.
We all have resources of one form or another. Some of us may be financially rich, some may enjoy the riches of knowledge and wisdom, others may technically adept, handy, artistic, have time and energy, etc.. Whatever our resources, we should allocate at least some of them to the benefit of others’ welfare. And if we find ourselves impoverished to the extent that we can barely share anything, if at all, with others, may God bless us to find the courage, strength and opportunity to reverse our situation. “He (i.e., God) raises up the poor out of the dust, and lifts the needy out of the ash heap” (Psalms 113:7).
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: My husband and I are Ashkenazic (not Sephardic) Jews and we are planning to name our daughter Isabelle or Ellie for short, after my husband’s deceased grandfather, Ilya. My living mother's name is Bella and she believes that these two names, Isabelle and Bella, are equivalent. In her opinion, by naming our daughter Isabelle we will be naming her after my mother and thus will bring misfortune to my mother. We both feel strongly about using this name and stressed many times that we are not naming my daughter after my mother. However, we would like to hear from Ashkenazic rabbis regarding this matter.
There is indeed a strong custom from Jews of Eastern European descent (originally Ashkenaz referred to the area of Northern France and Germany but later also came to refer to Eastern and Central European Jewish communities) not to name a child after a living relative. The concerns range from the superstitious to the quasi-halakhic , cf. Rabbi Simchah Cohen’s analysis at http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/59 From both a halakhic and a mystical vantage, unless you name the child the exact same name as your mother, for example, Elisheva Sara granddaughter of Elisheva Sara, you are not using the same name. This is especially true in your case not only because Isabelle is a different name than Bella, but also because you will call your child Ellie, which is a completely different name than Bella. Isabelle is related to Elizabeth which comes from the biblical Elisheva. Although it sounds similar, it has no relation to the biblical name Izevel or Jezebel, which bears a negative connotation. Bella, to my knowledge, has no connection to Elisheva or Izevel.
If after reading all the responses to your question on Jewish Values Online and discussing them with your mother she still protests your naming your child Isabelle, you may want to consider an alternate name for the sake of “Shalom Bayit” – “Peace in the house.” Perhaps the best approach toward a compromise position would be to choose a Hebrew biblical name rather than a Western-European transliteration of a Hebrew name, such as Elisheva, which would also allow you to call your child Ellie for short. By giving your child a Hebrew name you are connecting her to linguistic heritage of your people and endowing her with an unambiguous signifier of her Jewish identity. Maybe if you gave your child a Hebrew name as a primary naming, your mother would mind less if Isabelle were written on her legal birth ceritificate. In any event, you plan to call her Ellie.
Our Sages teach us that every person has (at least) three names: the name given by one’s parents; the name our friends call us; and the name we earn for ourselves in our life time. Naming a child is a wonderful responsibility, as is modeling good parent child relations and providing a good Jewish and general education. May you raise your child to Torah (Jewish wisdom), Chuppah (marriage and healthy relationships) and ma’asim tovim (kind and beneficent actions and achievments). And may the ultimate name that your daughter earns for herself bring nachas (Jewish pride) to her parents who give her the gift of life and support her on her life’s journey.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: Who should I invite to my husband's unveiling? [Administrator's note: there are several other questions relating to unveilings on JVO which can be found by searching for 'unveiling'.]
Let me begin by expressing my sincere condolences for your loss. An “unveiling” has become a custom that carries with it deep personal, and at times, communal, relevance. You should surround yourself with the people who will best support you emotionally and whose presence will most honor your husband’s memory. The overriding consideration in preparing a grave and erecting a headstone are the halakhic principles of kavod ha-met (honoring the deceased) and mitzvah le-kayeim divrei ha-met (fulfilling the wishes of the deceased). If your husband expressed any particular guidance on this matter, all things being equal, clearly it would be important to enact his wishes. At the same time, another primary reason for erecting a matzeivah (burial monument) is le-tzorkhei ha-chayim , for the benefit of the living. It is important for the survivors to know where lies their ancestor so that they may visit and "fall upon his/her grave and pray" (Yad Yitzchak 3:38; Kol Bo 5:3:1). Additionally, a matzeivah serves both the dead and the living as a monument of remembrance (Elyah Rabbah 224; Kol Bo 5:3:2). In sum, your decision should be guided by your desire to honor your husband's memory and to bring comfort to yourself and all other mourners.
While in English we refer to the service as an “unveiling,” in Hebrew we call it a “hakamat hamatzeivah – the erection of a monument.” The removal of a cover from the stone is acutally quite extraneous to the essential Jewish rite. The traditional Jewish service surrounding the erection of a burial monument is elegant in its simplicity. Psalms are sung, memories are shared, the inscription upon the monument is read, the Kel Maleh memorial prayer is chanted, and if there is a minyan present then the Kaddish is recited.
In Israel, it is common to arrange for a monument to be placed on the grave as early as the end of shiva (the seven day mourning period). Others in Israel will gather at the grave with its newly set monument upon completion of the sheloshim (the thirty day mourning period) . Outside of Israel, it is common custom to hold the “unveiling” around the first yahrzeit. Some suggest that the basis of this custom is ancient, harkening back to the time of the Mishnah (200 CE) when the body was laid to rest in a hollowed-out limestone niche for a year. At the end of the year, the bones of the deceased were gathered by the mourning family and interred in an ossuary (Lawrence Schiffman, From Text to Tradition, p. 262). Others believe that the unveiling was aligned with the first yahrzeit in order to bring family members together again and give the occasion greater prominence. Yet others explain that outside the Land of Israel, especially in the Eastern European Northern climes, quite often the ground was frozen during the late Fall, Winter and early Spring, thus making the erection of a monument nigh impossible until the ground thawed. Relaxing the need to establish a monument within seven or thirty days allowed everyone to honor their loved one in the same way, regardless of what time of year the death and burial took place.
Though there is no obligation to inscribe upon a matzeivah (monument) any shevachim (descriptive praise) whatsoever (Igrot Moshe, Y"D 1:228), there have diverse customs regarding inscriptions. The present minhag (custom) outside of Israel seems to be to inscribe brief, descriptive praises, such as " ... Beloved Husband, Devoted Father and Grandfather," in addition to the deceased's Hebrew and English names and the Hebrew and English dates marking the end of the deceased's life. In other locales, elaborate descriptions, often in poetic style, are inscribed. Present minhag, especially proven family practice, is a major factor in defining the mourners' obligations concerning burial standards, including the erection and inscription of a matzeivah (Tur, Y"D 348; Kol Bo 5:3:1).
May the Omnipresent comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: What is the meaning of the Hebrew letters "peh nun" (PN) on a tombstone?
Peh”nun is a Hebrew acronym for “Po Nikvar/Nikveret” – i.e., “Here lies.” If you are in the process of honoring a relative who has recently passed by erecting a gravestone in his or her memory, you may want to visit the cemetery in which your loved one is buried and take pictures of surrounding gravestone. Then visit a rabbi who will help you read them and discern what inscriptions are customary within that burial society, including traditional Hebrew acronyms, Jewish symbols, specific information, in what languages, etc… Another good resource for reading Jewish gravestones can be found at http://www.jewishgen.org/infofiles/tombstones.html It is also essential that before you sign off on any order you should have the inscription proofread by someone proficient in Hebrew and Jewish burial customs to avoid errors. Jewish gravestones are usually relatively brief and straightforward today in America (as opposed to in Israel), in all liklihood due to paucity of skilled literate Jewish stone cutters and inscribers. Whereas in past centuries gravestones were in many ways extensive historical documents, today they serve more as grave markers and as triggers of memory for those family members who come to visit. At the same time, congregants and friends have shared with me the powerful calming spirit and uplifting of burden that comes with establishing a matzeivah, a Jewish gravestone, easing the sense of dislocation that they had felt during their period of mourning.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: What does Judaism say about dating and matchmaking and marriage after a young woman has had cancer and can no longer bear children?
What does Judaism say about dating and matchmaking after a young woman has had cancer and can no longer bear children?
Short Answer: The young woman under discussion should be encouraged to seek a match, should be up front with matchmakers and prospective suitors in appropriate fashion about her reproductive limitations, and Hashem should bless her with the strength of character and support of hope and faith that she will find her bashert. She should also be encouraged to seek the support of a good counselor/therapist to help her overcome any fears and insecurities and surmount the feelings of unfairness and personal hurt that she may experience toward God, life in general, and people, like myself, who want to be helpful but may not always say the right thing. This young woman should also be counseled, along with her future spouse, all in due time, to explore the prospects of experiencing the joys (and travails) of parenting through adoption.
Long Answer: What is the purpose of marriage? In speaking of the union of the first couple, Adam and Eve, the Torah says: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). In commenting on the phrase, “vehayu le-basar echad – and they shall be one flesh,” Rashi, the medieval Northern French Bible commentator, explains: “and there in the child they produce together their flesh becomes one.” Ramban, Moses Nachmanides of 13th Century Spain, takes issue with Rashi’s intriguing interpretation and prefers a more figurative reading. Ramban speaks of the uniquely strong bond of companionship that forms between husband and wife, one that turns two biologically unrelated individuals into a new family unit. While Rashi suggests that (at least one of) the primary reasons for marriage is reproduction; Ramban points to companionship.
The great 12th Century Spanish codifier, Rambam, Moses Maimonides, wrote a book called the Sefer HaMitzvot that enumerates in exquisite detail what commandments comprise the 613 mitzvot. Positive commandment #212 is listed as the commandment with which God charged all generations of humanity through his initial address to Adam and Eve: “Be fruitful and multiply: (Genesis 1:28). Positive commandment #213 is listed as the commandment to get married. Although some authorities, in the spirit of Rashi’s commentary cited above, understand the act of marriage as only a holy prerequisite for fulfilling the mitzvah of reproduction, Maimonides and others, in the spirit of Ramban’s commentary cited above, find independent, essential value in the exclusive bond of companionship that we call “kiddushin – sanctified marriage.”
There is little question that we affirm the view that first and foremost the purpose of marriage is to create a supportive life partnership between husband and wife. Thus, Jewish law mandates marriage for people unable to reproduce: infertile men and women, post-menopausal women, as well as for individuals who have already brought children into the world.
It should also be noted that there is a Talmudic line of interpretation that defines the obligation of reproduction in the aspiration as much as in its fulfillment. The Talmud (TB Shabbat 31a) envisions that when we pass from this world and stand in ultimate judgment before the celestial court, one of the questions that we will be asked is, “Did you occupy yourself in the mitzvah of reproduction?” The Talmudic commentator, Rabbi Simchah Eidels, Maharsha, explains that the Talmud here recognizes that not all individuals will be able to biologically reproduce, for whatever reason, so what God expects of each of us is to try to the best of our ability to occupy ourselves in continuing the world for future generations. If we cannot biologically reproduce, following Maharsha’s reasoning, we can still adopt an orphaned child, or we can financially support the upbringing of children without parents, or we can become teachers and raise up the next generation.
It should also be strongly noted that the Talmud defines parenthood not only in the biological sense, but in some ways even more strongly considers the person who raises a child to be the determinative parent.
However, as encouraging as I have tried to be in this explication, it would be misrepresentative of Jewish tradition if I did not acknowledge in this excursus that Jewish law would obligate a fertile man principally to seek out a fertile mate, and that chronic infertility is a legitimate, if not compulsory, reason for divorce within Jewish law. In practice, however, people do marry with fore-knowledge of fertility challenges and limitations, and I do not know of a single instance of a couple who divorced for the direct reason of one of the spouse’s infertility.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: I have conflicting values. I send my children to a Jewish day
school because I value the religious education they receive, but I feel guilty for not supporting the public schools beyond my tax dollars.
As presented, at least two values are presumed to be in conflict. The first is the mitzvah of “veshinantem levanekha” – to Jewishly educate our child(ren) with a Torah education. Of course, providing our child(ren) with liberal arts, math and science education is also fundamental to raising literate, culturally attuned and pragmatically skilled, and therefore, employable, self-reliant human beings. While a “secular education” can be accomplished through a good public school education, it is also assuredly achieved through a good Jewish Day School education, as well. Furthermore, for many a child, a public school’s social environment may undermine the raising of a Jewishly committed, halakhically practicing and Torah literate Jew. Thus, without a doubt, training our child(ren) for a life of Jewish observance and engagement with Torah and Mitzvot, along with equipping them with a quality “secular education,” is best and most thoroughly accomplished through sending our child(ren) to Jewish day school.
The second value, as stated, is “supporting the public schools.” This indeed can be said to be a Jewish value. First, we are privilege to live as equal citizens with constitutional guarantees of religious freedom in our great country. As part of our social contract, we certainly have a duty to support public education. Second, more fundamentally, we have a religious obligation of “darkei shalom – the ways of peace,” which is a halakhic meta-principle articulated through specific duties that obligates Jews to assist non-Jews with life necessities and mandates that Jews constructively participate in bettering society at large (Tosefta Gittin 3:13; Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melachim 10:12). Society at large and its non-Jewish citizens themselves have a religious obligation to establish a public school system. In the Talmud (BT Sanhedrin 56a), the rabbis establish that all human beings share in a basic covenant of seven categories of law known as the sheva mitzvot B’nei Noach – the seven Noachide commandments. Six are prohibitions and one is an affirmative duty:”Dinim – to establish a just court system.” Many medieval and modern commentators have understood these “commandments” to be categories of obligations, in addition to specific duties. Since a public school system of education is a necessary part of establishing a just and good society, it too may arguably fall within the scope of the Noachide obligation.
The question at hand is whether sending one’s children to Jewish Day School contravenes support for public school education. I don’t think so. First, as the questioner points out, a portion of her/his tax dollars financially supports the public education system. The question of contravention may arise in the political consideration of “voucher proposals” which would allow taxpayers to have the government direct the education component (or a portion thereof) of their tax dollars to support the private school education of their children. However, even here, there may not be an applicable conflict of the two values given that private education can serve public goals and public education may still be sustainably funded. Second, even if one sends one’s child(ren) to Jewish Day School, one can still choose to support public education through financial contributions and volunteerism should one be so moved. Actual guilt and culpability, as opposed to guilty feelings, requires the commission of an offence or a violation of an ethical standard. I discern no offence or violation in choosing to send one’s child(ren) to a Jewish Day School. On the contrary, I perceive only the performance of mitzvah.
Finally, although the questioner did not mention it, my experience as a rabbi has been that some people feeling the financial burden of Jewish Day School education may choose to rationalize their flirtation with sending their child(ren) to public school through such moral argument as implied in the question at hand. To all those feeling such financial stress, as a Jewish Day School tuition-paying father of four, as they say: I share your pain. However, let us never forget for a moment that while the stock market, inflation and interest rates may rise and fall, the surest investment we can make in our child(ren) and in the future of the Jewish people is the Jewish education of our child(ren).
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: Why is there a tradition to say chapters of Tehillim when someone is ill?
Reciting Tehillim for those who are ill has become a widespread and pedigreed righteous practice shared by scholar and layperson alike. To my knowledge, there are, at least, three avenues of explanation for this practice: 1. Tehillim as Torah Study; 2. Tehillim as Prayer; 3. and Tehillim as mystical practice. Before I can explain this more fully, I will share a Talmudic passage that relates to each of these three approaches. The Talmud teaches (Talmud Bavli, Shevuot 15b):
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi would say these verses (Psalm 91) and then go to sleep. How could he do this? Didn’t Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi teach that it is forbidden to heal oneself with words of Torah?! To protect oneself (from a future harm) is different (than using biblical verses to heal oneself from an existing illness). But when he said that it was forbidden when there was present illness did he mean that it is only forbidden and nothing more? But we have learned in a Mishnah (TB, Sanhedrin 90b): One who whispers (a biblical verse) over an illness has (not only transgressed, but also has) no share in the World to Come! Concerning that Mishnah, Rabbi Yochanan said that the rabbis taught it in the (limited) case of one who spits upon his wound (and then recites the verses), for it is not permitted to mention the name of Heaven over spittle.
First, from this passage, we can infer that learning Torah, which includes reading Biblical verses, i.e. Tehillim/Psalms, is a meritorious obligation and discipline -- meritorious in its literal sense: it helps a person accumulate merit in the “eyes” of the Almighty. Those who study Torah, practice Mitzvot, and perform acts of loving-kindness, fulfill the word and will of the Creator, embody and enact God’s very own divine attributes, develop a closer spiritual relationship with the Omnipresent, and thus, tradition teaches, enjoy a greater level of protective providence and divine solicitude.
Second, while it is forbidden to use biblical verses as magical incantations, one can certainly use them to pray to God. “Lehitpallel – to pray” is understood in a Jewish context as a multi-directional activity. We turn to God to petition healing and protection. We often share these words amidst community, i.e., a minyan, to link our destinies, combine our collective merit, and affirm as a community our essential beliefs, hopes and needs. Even when we pray alone, by using common words such as Tehillim or our Siddur liturgy, rather than only using our personal words and subjective outpourings of our heart, we are still able to join in community across time and space. Finally, Jewish prayer is reflexive. We use ancient words and communal expressions to create an inner conversation, to discover deep within ourselves what we are feeling, what we truly need, and how to transcend our fear and suffering and find support in hope and faith. Sefer Tehillim – the Book of Psalms, is particularly suited to this process of reflection and personal discovery. In his book on Psalms during times of illness, For Thou Art with Me: The Healing Power of Psalms: Renewal, Recovery, and Acceptance From the Wolrd’s Most Beloved Ancient Verses (Daybreak/Rodale: 2000), my friend and colleague from Newton, MA, Rabbi Samuel Chiel, cites Abraham Joshua Heschel’s Man in Search of God: “It is more inspiring to let the heart echo the music of the ages than to play upon the broken flutes of our own hearts.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks makes a similar point in his short essay, “Living with the Times: the Parasha,” in Covenant and Conversation: A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible, Genesis: The Book of Beginnings (Orthodox Union/Maggid: 2009).
Finally, as discerned in the Talmudic text above, there is a disputed tradition regarding the recitation of biblical verses to effect healing. The Torah prohibits the practice of magic, which the rabbis relate to the whispering of a biblical verse over a wound. Using a biblical verse as an incantation belongs to a pagan worldview that ascribes healing power outside of God, or believes that by saying certain words or phrases that we can force God’s hand. Maimonides, for example, writes (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim 11:12):
A person who whispers an incantation over a wound and then recites a verse from the Torah … is considered to be a sorcerer or one who cast spells. Furthermore, such people are included among those who deny the Torah, because they relate to the words of Torah as if they are cures for the body, when, in fact, they are cures for the soul, as [Proverbs 3:22] states: "And they shall be life for your soul." It is, however, permitted for a healthy person to read verses [from the Bible] or chapters from Psalms so that the merit of reading them will protect him and save him from difficulties and injury.
While all authorities agree that reciting Psalms as incantations is forbidden, Jewish mystical practice does posit that the Mitzvot we practice and the prayers/verses we recite do have influence on the aligning of the celestial and earthly domains, thus aiding God’s healing emanations in their flow from on high to our world. This kabbalistic tradition, often emphasized in Chassidic teachings and practice, understands the recitation of Tehillim as particularly efficacious in facilitating the manifestation of God’s healing power in our world, and in particular, for named individuals on whose behalf the Tehillim are recited.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: Is Israel justified in 'strong arming' foreign journalists from participation in the 2011 Flotilla to cover the story from sea by its statement that participation in it, as a reporter, was liable to lead to being denied entry into the State of Israel for ten years?
This question has become practically moot as Israel announced that it will not penalize Israeli or foreign journalist covering the Gaza flotilla as embedded reporters. The reason given by Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu’s office was: “in order to create transparency and reliable coverage of the events” (official statement). This is desirable given the dueling narratives of what transpired during the first wave of Gaza flotilla aboard the Mavi Mara. Israel ultimately will best exonerate itself from unfounded allegations through a free, rather than restricted, press.
Regarding the above question per se, however, we can still consider the original justification for banning embedded press coverage aboard the Gaza Flotilla. From a legal perspective, if breaking Israel’s legal blockade of Gaza can be construed as an illegal entry into Israel’s de jure and de facto sovereign territory, should embedded flotilla reporters be seen as neutral parties or as individuals who themselves are breaking Israeli law? On the one hand, journalists often enjoy a different, more legally indulgent status than actual participants. On the other hand, when journalists themselves break the law to cover their story, they should be subject to legal liability like anyone else. Israel would seemingly have the prerogative, should it choose to exercise that prerogative, of penalizing individuals who seek illegal entry.
At the same time, freedom of expression and freedom of press are liberties essential to the integrity of any modern democracy. The curtailing of these freedoms would require great justification, such as considerations of incitement and significant threats to national security, just as debated from time to time in the context of the United States, as well. Thankfully, like the United States, Israel has a governmental separation of powers with executive, legislative and judicial branches to ensure that any difficult decisions involving the curtailing of essential liberties are subject to extensive scrutiny and judicial recourse. Something that cannot be said, unfortunately, of Israel’s numerous hostile neighbors.
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: The Founding Fathers seemed to think that believing in God actually mandated democracy; today many of the world's most religious people seem to think that belief in religious laws make democracy undesirable. What does Judaism think?
The Founding Fathers and other liberal political thinkers of the early Modern period not only believed in a divinely mandated democratic political ideal, but arguably found their inspiration in Jewish sources. Prof. Eric Nelson of Harvard University argues as much in The Hebrew Republic: Jewish Sources and the Transformation of European Political Thought (Harvard U. Press, 2010). While the Founding Fathers did agree on the need to declare independence from England and establish a democratic republic, they did not speak with a unified voice on the precise contours of the political landscape of the new republic they were originating. Among the principal values in conflict in their impassioned debates, liberty and democracy can often be at odds. Liberty is the notion of self-determination and maximal autonomy. Democracy denotes majority rule, even at the expense of minority objection and suppression of individual rights. The new republic that came to become the United States of America has continued to negotiate between these two values: individual freedoms versus communal accord; state rights versus federal power, big versus small government, etc…
Judaism begins as a covenantal religion that binds its adherents to observance of God’s commandments. On the one hand, the Torah affirms that Judaism’s founding fathers – Abraham, Isaac and Jacob -- bound their future descendents in covenantal obligation. On the other hand, the Talmud reads the Sinai narrative in the book of Exodus as one more of communal consent than Divine or covenantal coercion. And yet, even within Judaism’s heteronymous (i.e., authority from without, as opposed to autonomous) legal and ethical system, Judaism upholds at least partial autonomy on the individual level and a democratic form of decision making in the communal legislative and judicial arena, as it says in the Torah: “And you shall incline after the majority [ruling]” (Exodus 23:2; BT Sanhedrin 2a).
While the biblical tradition presents us with a monarchic ideal – think David and Solomon, some medieval thinkers, such as Don Isaac Abravanel understood the Deuteronomic charge to appoint a king (17:15) as mere license, rather than firm obligation. Having witnessed and suffered the mass expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 by the ignoble writ of ostensibly religious monarchs, Abravanel was convinced that democracy was of greater religious and moral integrity than any monarchic system. Alternatively, some modern rabbinical figures, such as Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook, the chief rabbi of British Mandate Palestine, believed that a democratically elected government fulfills the Deteronomic commandment to appoint a king, which he more loosely understood as a governing leadership. For more information regarding such interpretive Jewish traditions in favor of a democratic ideal, please consult Rabbi Sol Roth’s Halakhah and Politics: The Jewish Idea of the State (Library of Jewish law and Ethics (KTAV, 1988).
In sum, Judaism can and has accommodated a democratic ideal, which in the words of Winston Churchill: “is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.”
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Question: The actions of Israel's ex-President, convicted on several counts of rape and sexual harassment, are truly disturbing, especially in light of the fact that he considers himself to be a 'religious' person. What can Judaism teach men in powerful positions about how to treat the women who work for them, before one gets to a place of criminality?
According to traditional Judaism, a truly religious person aspires to spiritual and moral excellence in all of the spheres of religious human endeavor: interpersonal ethics, ritual practice, spiritual experience, self-awareness and worldly involvement.A punctilious practitioner of religious ritual who identifies as a member of a religious community but who fails miserably at basic human ethics and commits crimes of violence and immorality clearly cannot be said to be truly religious.Worse, when seemingly pious religious practice accompanies impious repugnant behavior, then God’s name, i.e., the reputation of religion as a force for good in the world, is profaned through the taint of hypocrisy.
Judaism has long warned its leaders that they need to serve as community exemplars and that they will be judged at a higher standard given their position.Moshe (Moses), for example, wasn’t allowed to bring the Children of Israel into the Land of Israel because of a relatively small infraction when he failed at religious leadership at the “Waters of Contention” (Numbers 20:7-14).How much more horrible the desecration when leaders fail their people, themselves and God, through major transgression!The rabbis recognized that temptation grows with power and prestige, teaching: “the greater the man, the greater his evil inclination” (BT Sukkah 52a). Indeed, positions of power and influence can lead a person to think of himself above the law (think kings Saul, David and Solomon), especially in areas of sexual indiscretion (think King David and any number of contemporary political figures).
Judaism celebrates, and even obligates, sexuality in a committed, sanctified relationship.On the other hand, the rabbis often warn against the allure of illicit sexuality.This is only heightened when a sense of infallibility and invulnerability that may accompany power and prestige lures a person toward corruption. The rabbis did not deny the near omnipresence of human sexual awareness.Recognizing that people are thoroughly sexual beings, the rabbis formulated a number of laws governing interpersonal relations between the sexes at the workplace and elsewhere.Unmarried men and women may not be secluded.Suggestive banter and flirtatious talk that in today workplace could and should constitute sexual harassment were long ago proscribed by the rabbis.Men, who are said to be easily visually stimulated, are enjoined to wear holy fringes to remind them of the commandments and are warned not to “follow your heart and your eyes in lustful urge” (Numbers 15:39).Leaders and people occupying positions of power and influence are to remind themselves that all are equal under the law and should aspire toward humility as a personal, spiritual practice.According to many interpreters, the sole Talmudic tractate devoted to ethics, Pirkei Avot, was composed precisely for study by judges and other leaders who are in positions of power over others.
This most recent debacle of the moral failing of a political leader, the sex-crimes conviction of the self-identified religious ex-president of the Jewish State, is yet once again a sobering reminder of the corrupting influence of power, the strength of sexual temptation, and the injury of such public failings to the Jewish national morale.And while we all share a moment of righteous indignation, let us not forget the immediate victims to these crimes of violence, the young women who presumably were so proud to serve their country in the President’s office, only to be sexually assaulted and morally disillusioned. As a popular saying about the victims of rape teaches, “the perpetrator may receive a sentence of x number of years, but the victim is usually sentenced for life.”
Click here to view all of the answers for this question.
Copyright 2020 all rights reserved. Jewish Values Online
N O T I C E
THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.
