All Questions Answered by Rabbi Mordechai Rackover
Question: I have a question for a rabbi. In a world where space is at a premium and I don't want to cause great financial strain for my family, why does Jewish tradition forbid me from choosing cremation as an option when I die? [JVO Kids: 4-6]
Traditionally asking to be cremated was considered a sign that one did not believe in the commandments because the oral law, the rabbis, insisted on burial. There are a number of reasons given for why the rabbis thought keeping the body intact and burying was important:
The rabbis understand based on verses in the torah that we must treat human bodies with utmost respect. Jewish or not Jewish we are not supposed to damage a body after the soul has left it.
The human body is considered to be created in the image of God. As it says in the creation story: man and woman were create in the image of God. This makes even the many different shapes of human bodies special.
Jews, for a long long time, have believed that a time will come when the dead will come back to life. Not like zombies. In a special time when there is peace and acceptance people will come back to life and life in happiness and togetherness. The rabbis understood that someone who had their body cremated was saying, "I don't believe that will happen and so I don't care about this body anymore."
But your question is about money and resources. A famous funny man once suggested that we get rid of all the cemeteries and golf courses and put up homes for the homeless. His suggestion, like yours, is that we have our priorities mixed up.
All people spend money on what they think is important. Some on golf, some on gold, some on TVs, cars, charity, medicines, and on and on. If we believe that burial is important because Jewish tradition thinks it is important than we should plan our lives and set money aside for this priority. (Many people do this. When people age they start a savings account to pay for their funeral so their family doesn't get stuck with a big bill.) There are other ways to manage this. Simple funerals and simple coffins make a big difference.
This all boils down to our connection to the laws of the torah and the rabbis. If we think they are important we should learn about them, make decisions and then invest, money and time, in fulfilling them.
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Question: How big is the actual probability today that rice or beans contain traces of actual chametz? Is this really a concern? What do the various movements say about this concern, and about kitniyot in general?
Though there is significant confusion about the reason for the prohibition of eating kitniyot (literally ‘small things’ katan) for Ashkenazi Jews there are two basic approaches: 1) there are forbidden mixtures, 2) the kitniyot, when handled in certain ways, create food products that look like leaven.
Dealing with the latter problem first it seems that this issue should be ignored today. There are tons of potato starch based cakes, cookies, etc… available on Pesach. Yet, the fact that it isn’t, gives insight into the deeper issue: traditional Judaism is loath to abandon enactments from previous generations. Granted there are communities, especially in Israel, that have given up on the prohibition of kitniyot, the major authorities and their communities have not. The fact that the orthodox right controls the vast majority of kosher certification means that we won’t be eating cornbread on Pesach anytime soon.
Regarding the first reason, that the five grains that can become chametz are sometimes mixed in with the kitniyot – I can testify as an eyewitness to the fact that this is still the case. After Pesach I purchased a package of organic lentils and opened it up to check it over and prepare a lentil soup. I found over a dozen grains of wheat. I was very surprised since kitniyot were on my mind.
Think about the bulk containers at your local grocery. Or consider the means of production and packaging that are today so complex and can’t always be cleaned as carefully as is necessary to avoid the prohibition of eating leaven on Passover.
Sepharadim that eat kitniyot are supposed to check them over before Passover begins to eliminate any possible contamination. Ashkenazim who decide for whatever reason that they are going to eat kitniyot should also check all there lentils, rice, peas, etc… before the holiday begins.
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Question: Is revenge or vengeance permissible in Judaism? Has the view of this changed over time?
There are a number of aspects to all questions of Jewish law; psychological, halakhic, civil/legal and metaphysical. Taking revenge is touched by each of these aspects.
In biblical times there was a mechanism for taking revenge on someone who accidentally killed. It is unclear as to how often such revenge ever took place. What is clear is that the Torah, while allowing for revenge, does not consider it ideal. This is obvious based on the fact that there are numerous ‘Cities of Refuge’ that are set up in and around the Land of Israel where an accidental killer could run to for sanctuary. If the Torah thought revenge was ideal it would not have created this mechanism of sanctuary. Further, there is a mechanism for escaping the City of Refuge. If a high priest passes away all people go free and may not be assailed. There guilt is erased. So here we see a glimpse into the biblical attitude.
A very famous biblical text suggests that we take an ‘eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.’ But the rabbis of the Talmud legislated this out of practice (if it ever was practiced) and set up a series of financial penalties for people who have caused others harm. This is very much like our modern system of liability and compensation.
The question is of course addressed in the Talmud in various places. I want to extract an idea from a tangential source. The rabbis of the Talmud insisted that a court that enacted the death penalty was guilty of a very serious offense. Granted that the death penalty is available in Jewish law, nonetheless because of the fear of the impossibility of certainty the rabbis shied away from using it. So again while there is a mechanism, a possibility of taking revenge because we can never be certain of all aspects of a case we generally choose not to.
In modernity it is clear that revenge is neither helpful nor (generally) legal. While we may imagine that exacting revenge on someone who has offended us will help bring resolution it really can’t. Coming to harm or having a loss is something that can not be resolved by inflicting harm or loss on others. As the rabbis of the Talmud understood – that taking a life is so serious because each is so precious – we too can understand that exchanging my pain for that of another is really impossible.
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Question: I'm very torn about recent events in Tunisia, Egypt, and Jordan. On one hand, I'm thrilled that the Arab world is finally insisting on democracy. On the other hand, I am disheartened by the anti-Israel and anti-Jewish sentiment I see reported from these democracy seekers. Who are we, as Jews, supposed to "root" for? Seekers of fairness, or what is best "for the Jews"? (I feel awful even asking the question - there should be no difference in the two ideas.).
I think we should begin by affirming that it is natural, for many of us, to think about our world as composed of different groups. We each have families, nuclear and extended. Neighbors and fellow citizens of our city or town. Each state or province is in turn composed of citizens of towns, cities, and counties. We could go on, but the point is, we cannot help but identify with different groups.
The challenge to individuals of conscience in an ever-shrinking world, is to balance our local or personal needs with those of people we will never meet in places we will never visit.
The question we’ve all heard, “Is it good for the Jews?” sounds to some like an outmoded vestige of a narrow world view. To others it is as simple as asking, “How will this affect my mother?”
As a rabbi I am deeply challenged by this question. I am asking, is this a matter of Jewish law? Is this a matter, since it is about Jews, that is per force answered by Jewish philosophy? Or, is this a place where outside of strict guidelines of philosophy and law we must turn to our tradition and interpret it as we see fit?
Clearly ancient and medieval philosophers saw the world as strictly divided between “us” and “them.” The needs of the Jews, us, always outweighed the needs of the non-Jews, them. According to this calculus, the value of democracy would take a backseat to the overarching value of the preservation of Jewish life. To be sure this stream of thought remains in modern circles. In some places it has become a rallying cry against certain relationships and concessions. In others it has been used to justify murder.
There are some more modern thinkers in orthodox circles who have tried to reread the us-them dichotomy. An us-them worldview was appropriate at a time when idolatry and paganism where prevelant. The people who were non-Jews had practices and beliefs that were anathema to Jewish thought and any relationship with them could not be tolerated. But today, when much of the world has, in some way, embraced ethical monotheism, the us-them lines are much blurrier.
We can redraw the us-them lines to maintain the seperation: those who love Israel and those who hate Israel. Another way: those who have in the past committed to peace and those who have in the past committed to war. But, I believe, that this type of thinking doesn’t really get us anywhere.
So what’s a Jew to do? Support the value of human freedom at the risk of supporting the very people who would destroy Israel? Or should we root for a cold-peaceful-totalitarianism that maintains order at the cost of oppression?
One answer would be - trust in God. This is a major challenge to some. It opens a can of worms philosophical debate about the extent of God’s involvement in the practical unfolding of day to day events. Some orthodox scholars would say all minutiae are constantly unfolding under God’s will. Others would argue that there is a significant degree of humanity’s free will that comes into play. God is there; maybe as a safety net, a guarantor or a broad strokes director.
If we accept this answer then we can say: God will make it work out for the best. It lets us off the hook.
I find this answer dissatisfying on many levels. I think that humans have to make a moral choice - not sometimes but all the time. One must do their absolute best to make the most informed decision that takes into account - Jewish law (halakha), Jewish moral values, and overarching values of human worth and uniqueness. In that morality we will meet God.
As you said in your question there should be no difference between what is good for the Jews and the democratization of the Near and Middle East. In fact it is probably the case that in the long term this is true - that is a political science question and not a rabbinics question.
Personally I think that our answers have to be an amalgam of pieces of all that was mentioned above: I would have the Arab world treated just as I would my family, with dignity and respect. I would hope that in the near future and not the far future that this would translate into a broad sense of reciprocal respect for all peoples of the world. In the meantime we should certainly be on our guard and prepared for whatever may come.
We should pray for God’s help - not only for the Jews but especially for the people of the world who love freedom. We should say an extra prayer for the people of the world who do not yet understand that freedom is to be loved. They should, speedily, in our days, come around to understanding the true will of God and the unfolding of history on principles of equality and human freedom. Amen.
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Question: Why are there no "kashrut" standards imposed on products that are good vs bad for the environment? Shouldn't aluminum pans and non-bio-degradable plasticware be "treif"?
The word kosher means acceptable. Thus food can be kosher if it meets certain requirements set out by the Torah and Rabbinic sources. The same can be said for a Mezuzah scroll or a shofar. The latter two are inedible but they are nonetheless subject to a set of standards that when fulfilled allow the objects to be known as kosher. (Parenthetically - treif refers to animals that had a wound that either caused its death or would cause its death. In Yiddish, and now popular speech, it has come to mean any non-kosher food product, or even concept.)
The question you are asking, I think, isn’t really about the traditional understanding of kashrut. Rather it is about whether or not Jewish law or ethics should prohibit the use of products that may, or are proven to be, detrimental to the planet.
I have tremendous sympathy for this concern but it is hard for rabbis to legislate on consumer products unless there is a specific and profound impact. A rabbi may suggest to his students or congregants that they avoid those products that are bad for the world but they will also have to contend with competing values. Since there is no specific biblical or rabbinic prohibition involved in using these products there could easily be a values challenge. An example: if I am trying to feed my family the healthiest kosher food possible I may not have sufficient money to purchase biodegradable plates. Other examples: in setting my personal priorities should I give more tzedakah or spend more on environmentally friendly products?
One can extrapolate further and ask if we should all be required by Torah law to give up our internal combustion cars and replace them with electric cars. What would be the impact on the community? Would people adhere to this ‘command’? This brings us to another issue. Rabbis understood the Torah as giving them extremely powerful interpretive license. The read the Torah as saying that listening to the Rabbis was a Biblical commandment, a mitzvah. So they were, and continue to be, careful not to suggest or command legislation that will not be followed. Ignoring the Rabbis would be far worse than transgressing a minor prohibition.
There are standards in rabbinic literature about what it is appropriate to spend on certain items - i.e. one’s lulav or etrog. But these standards don’t apply to non-mitzvah items.
Other issues are more hidden. What if I want to entertain 30 students at my home on Shabbat, should I invest in very expensive disposable goods? How can one practically resolve the problem of having so many dirty dishes in a non-institutional environment?
In practice I think that we should not use disposable plates as a matter of convenience. I understand this as an application of the prohibition of baal tashchit - wastefulness. But there are times when the factors are more complex and one should then do their very best within their means to balance the needs of people against the needs of the planet.
[Consider these other questions: Should we buy bottled water? Or cola? Is it permissible to use salt on your icy stairs if the runoff will enter the water table? There are hundreds of value judgements we make every day.]
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Question: A friend recently lost both parents in the same week. At the funeral of the first parent he performed Kriah with a ribbon. Five days later at the second funeral not even the conservative rabbi was sure whether to tear a second ribbon or to further tear the first. In the end they decided on two ribbons. Is there correct halacha for such an instance?
This question is helpful because it gives us a chance to elucidate the rabbinic mitzvah (commandment) of keriah, the tearing of a garment as an expression of grief or mourning.
In the Torah, when Aaron’s son’s, Nadav and Avihu die, he and his remaining sons are enjoined not to mourn. “...Do not bare your heads and do not rend your clothes...” (Leviticus 10:6) From this injunction the Rabbis of the Talmud (Tractate Moed Kattan 24a) learned that there is an obligation to tear clothing as a sign of mourning.
This tearing is deeply cathartic and became a powerful symbol of grief. We perform keriah in different ways and for different people. As with most issues in Jewish law, there are complex and meaningful customs associated with the practice.
Keriah is not only performed for the loss of a loved one, but also when one is in the room when a person passes away, for on the death of certain rabbinic scholars, and on seeing the cities of Jerusalem and Judah in destruction.
Some of these keriot have fallen out of practice but the ones for relatives have not and, even in communities where observance of other customs is less strict, keriah remains.
When performing keriah there are a number of factors: the garment, the relationship to the one who has passed, the actual tearing, whether the garment can be repaired, to name only a few.
The customs that follow concern the passing of a parent. Custom dictates that when a parent dies one tears an actual garment, beginning at the left side in the neck/collar and until the area of the heart is revealed, approximately 3 inches. No matter how many garments are worn they should each be torn in the same way. For reasons of modesty one may turn the garment closest to the chest around, so that the tear is in the back, but should have an outer garment that displays the tear. The tear may be started by anyone with or without a blade but should primarily be torn by the mourner. The clothing should not be torn on a seam and, when dealing with the loss of a parent, the clothes should not be permanently repaired. If the mourner changes clothes during the shiva they should tear the newly donned garment.
The custom of tearing a ribbon has no status in Orthodox legal tradition and is viewed, by some, as a significant insult to the custom and seriousness that are demanded of a mourner. The keriah shows that there is nothing in the world that can compare to the brokeness of losing a parent. From a psychological perspective there is a moment of catharsis in the tearing but also a valuable sense of physical action when the experience of the moment is mostly emotional.
When someone suffers two losses in a short time span, the second following less than seven days from the first, then it is appropriate to tear the already torn garments a second time some space over from the first tear thus resulting in two recognizable tears. The tear should follow the same regulations as the first, including the recitation of a blessing and the extent of the tear.
May we all be blessed to quickly see an end to tragedy and an increase in the health and healing of all people.
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Question: Is flirting on the Internet considered cheating? What are the parameters of infidelity in Jewish thought? Is it physical sex only, or more broad?
While in general it would be appropriate to approach questions of ethics from a Jewish legal, that is, halakhic framework, in this case it really seems that this question can be answered with a ‘gut check.’ Prior to answering in that way let us suggest a number of halakhic issues that can inform this conversation.
There is a meta-framework (that some commentators even count as a commandment (mitzvah)) which can be called the ‘obligation to sanctify oneself at all times.’ This concept, being a holy person, and being a holy nation, teaches that even if an action is permitted by the letter of the law one should nonetheless seek to sanctify oneself while carrying it out or by abstaining from it. This can be taken to extremes and therefore it is incumbent on each of us to be measured and to push ourselves slightly beyond our comfort zone rather than coasting or, worse, tightening down on personal practice to the point of discomfort in the name of pursuing saintliness. A prime example: kosher food is permitted, in fact one can eat as much as they wish. But overeating or eating unhealthfully would not be fulfilling the commandment to sanctify oneself.
In our case one could (try to) argue that since there is no physical contact there is therefore no adultery taking place. This assumption is addressed in Jewish Law. The Talmud, distilled in the 16th century legal text Shulkan Arukh (Even HaEzer 25:10) mentions the prohibition of having relations with one’s spouse and thinking about somebody else. This is only one of the appropriate behaviors surrounding the sex act and what is most interesting about it is that the legislation addresses thought and not action. This is very similar to our case where the actions in question are ‘merely’ speech and other forms of communication.
Another analog is to be found in the realm of the prohibition of Yichud. Simply defined, Yichud is: being alone with a person with whom it would be prohibited to engage in sexual relations. This is a complex area and each case is considered carefully but the general principle is: if you are alone with someone who is forbidden to you sexually in a place where there is no likelihood of you being discovered by surprise, then you are in a state of Yichud - being-alone-together. The goal of this commandment is to avoid intimacies that may lead to inappropriate behaviors and suspicions.
Again, in our case there is no Yichud since the people involved are not in the same building, but there is a sense of privacy and intimacy that is leading to inappropriate relationships, notwithstanding the unlikelihood of actual sexual contact taking place.
But what is our gut saying? This is about a relationship problem. One party is somehow unfulfilled and the second party may or may not be aware of it. A person in a committed relationship should not feel the need to flirt with others. Flirting is a courtship ritual and is not an appropriate form of relationship for a person who is already in a committed relationship. Cheating comes in degrees - as slight as choosing to spend time with a friend instead of a lover and as extreme as having an affair that involves sexual contact. In between there are many many permutations and possibilities.
If the flirting in question is out of the gaze of the other half of the couple then this certainly has to be considered a form of indiscretion that should be resolved. If it is with the full knowledge of the partner then it is either spiteful or in some other way a marker of relationship problems that require openness and probably counseling to resolve.
One might want to take a look at Rabbi Shmuly Boteach's book "Kosher Adultery" one of the follow-ups to "Kosher Sex." In it he suggests that there are ways to take apparently illicit practices, too often parts of adulterous relationships, and put them into committed monogamous relationships to add spice and danger. (This is not an endorsement of the entire book, just a suggestion.)
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