Why Was There Only One Mikdash?- Unity and individuality in serving HaShem (audio shiur)

In this week’s shiur we examine the prohibition of offering sacrifices outside of the Beit Hamikdash, and the centralization of worship in the Mikdash. What was gained by having one place of worship, and what was lost? Perhaps most importantly, how do we make up for what was lost?

Is it Time? - Dealing with the Challenges of Critical Biblical Scholarship

I'll say it right from the start. The comparison I'm about to make, in a story which is based on a number of gemaras, is imperfect. Therefore the lesson that I'm going to suggest, might not logically follow. I write this, as one who is torn, rather than as a suggestion of what must be. I welcome all responses, including critiques, on and off line.

In the 40 years that he was a businessman, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai had seen it all. He'd met some of the most honest and honorable people imaginable. Competitors who had taken the financial hit in situations that they could have blamed on others, refused to overcharge, and been scrupulous about weights and measures. Sadly, but not surprisingly, he'd also met his share of scoundrels. Some of his fellow businessmen had two sets of weights which they used to their advantage. Others mixed water into their wine in order to increase their profits, while some used various devices with hidden compartments to get out of paying taxes, or to trick and mislead others. As Rabban Yochanan sat in the beis midrash, it was of these devices that he now thought. He was teaching the complex laws of tumah v'tehara, specifically as it relates to various utensils. Should he mentions these tools that were used to cheat? If he did, might it not encourage others to make use of them in order to cheat as well? If he did not, it would give people the impression that the chachomim were out of touch and were unaware of the real world outside of the beis midrash. For years, he had only taught these halachos privately, but these tools were becoming too ubiquitous in the marketplace to ignore. Pretending that this was not the reality was no longer an option. He had no choice. He would, for the first time, publicly discuss these vessels, and people would choose how they would respond.

In the past year, academic bible study has made it into the Orthodox world through a website that is committed to openly dealing with the issue in order to “address the challenges modern biblical scholarship poses to traditional Jewish faith and observance”. I and many others have been uncomfortable with the website dealing with such a sensitive topic in a public forum. My standard comparison is to the Rambam's “Moreh Nevuchim”. In the introduction, Rambam made it clear that he would not clearly spell out his particular beliefs, hiding them as it were, among seemingly contradictory statements. He was quite successful. In some ways, the Moreh is, to quote Winston Churchill's description of Russia, “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”. In reading the plethora of scholarship on Rambam's true beliefs, one sees how much the Moreh is an “aspaqlaria sh'eina meira”, serving essentially as a mirror to the one who seeks to interpret it. Rambam understood that not everyone would be able to understand, incorporate or make peace with all of his views. For that reason, he kept them well-hidden and out of the public view.

I have begun to wonder whether this is still a reasonable comparison. When everything is just a Google-search away, are we really living at a time when information about biblical criticism can really be kept off the communal radar? What message do questioners receive when they find few, if any, scholars who can cogently deal with their questions? Rather than suggesting that the sight is illegitimate, and that it should not exist, is it time to recognize that sites like this are not going anywhere, and that it is time for all those who love Torah, believe in its divinity, and have something to offer, to join the debate? What would Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai do?

The Farber Affair (part II) What would Rambam Do?

This is the second in a series on the “Farber Affair”. To read the first post, including my reasons for writing this series, click here.

When Rambam wrote the Moreh Nevuchim, he knew that he was heading into potentially dangerous waters. In attempting to reconcile the Torah with Aristotelian philosophy, he recognized that his conclusions would not, indeed could not, be understood by everyone, and that some people would see his views as dangerous, or even heresy. Therefore, in his introduction to the Guide, he wrote that there would be seeming contradictions within the text, and that it was up to the reader to resolve them on his own. Notwithstanding the fact that in some segments of the Jewish world, he was vilified, he was successful enough that ultimately, his views remained hidden enough as to make him a virtual Rorschach test for Jewish scholars. From Rav Soloveitchik to Satmar, from Strauss to Rav Schneerson, from Shapiro to Schweid, they are all certain that they know the “real” Rambam.

I do not know Zev Farber personally, so my analysis will focus on his actions and words, and not his motivation. I will refrain from analyzing him, and focus on the article that started it all, and to a lesser degree, to his followup responses.

To begin, I will state clearly that I do not blame Farber for struggling with how to create a balance between the worlds of of Torah, religion and belief on the one hand, and scholarship, intellectual honesty and autonomy on the other. The questions with which he struggled are real questions and can not simply be dismissed. I have great respect for anyone who attempts to deal with these issues in a serious and thoughtful way.

That said, I have several questions:

1. Why was there a need to publicize the conclusion that he reached? In other words, even when he concluded that the Torah does not contain any objective history, and was somehow revealed in some other way to some other prophet or leader, why share that view publicly? Surely he knew that such a departure from even the most open traditional views would ruffle feathers.
2. Even if Farber hoped that by sharing his belief, that he might help others who were struggling, why do it in such a public direct manner? There are others who have attempted to deal with the same conflicts who have come up with answers that are seen as controversial. Still, by sharing their views in more scholarly forums, they remain relatively unknown outside of those circles, and have thus, not been the subject of any articles, critiques or attacks in the non-scholarly Jewish world.
3. Finally, if Farber felt the need to share these views openly and publicly had value-perhaps with the assumption that many needed help reconciling these two worlds- why use a tone that suggests that he is among the few who are brave enough to want the real answer? Even if there was value in sharing his views in a view that it would be readable to the non-scholar, taking such a tone virtually assured that he would ruffle feathers. Even when he subsequently backtracked somewhat, there were still comments he made suggesting that his initial take reflected his real views. Calling one's philosophical opponents “dinosaurs” does nothing to lead to calm and thoughtful discussion. While I can certainly imagine how painful the attacks against him must have felt, to some degree, they were self-inflicted.

I began this post with the Rambam, as I think he suggests a better way. For anyone who attempts to reconcile somewhat conflicting worlds, much foresight is needed. The intended audience, potential reaction (to both the author and his institution), manner of speaking, and chance of being understood and accepted by the intended audience, are among the lessons that such an author would be wise to consider.

Although I strongly disagree with the conclusions that Farber reached, as well as the manner in which he shared his views, I admire his willingness to deal with questions which are troubling to many within the Jewish world. It is my hope that future attempts will learn from Farber's mistakes, as well as from the reaction to him, to emulate the Rambam in proceeding with extreme sensitivity and care.

Post by Pesach Sommer.

An Immodest Proposal- How schools can help students find meaning in tefillah

I recently wrote about the misconception that schools are responsible for teaching students how to daven. I suggested that the real onus falls upon the parents. This does not mean that schools do not play a role in helping to produce Jews who take davening seriously. It just means that schools have a different role. While the parents role is largely mimetic, the schools role is, or at least should be, educational. The problem is that overwhelmingly, tefillah is treated simply as tefillah, with schools copying that which is done in shuls, rather than treating it as an educational endeavor. I do not mean to suggest that nothing educational goes on during tefilla at most schools. Rather I am suggesting that the whole endeavor is not addressed educationally. What follows is an 'immodest proposal' for an educational approach to tefilla.

The challenges

For the average English speaking student, tefillah has many challenges. They include the language, fluency, the poetic style of some of the tefillot, the length of tefillah, a lack of quiet/God centered space, as well as a lack of understanding of what tefillah is about (which is somewhat connected to the challenge of the words being repetitive).

Any educational attempt to help students engage in prayer needs to address these challenges. I will address each one after an introduction of my proposal.

Proposal

Tefillah needs to be something that is worked on throughout the years of schooling (in this essay, I address Modern Orthodox high schools, although certainly, some of what I write could possibly be adjusted for younger students, or students in other educational settings). It also needs to be dealt with outside of the time of actual tefillah. That way, tefillah is a time when the lessons learned, can be tried and practiced. Additionally, it will not only be addressed in one particular class, but across the curriculum as well.

Addressing the challenges

Language

If I were to give you a beautiful prayer in Chinese, with the words written phonetically in English, you would be unable to pray with much kavanah. You might be able to think of yourself as standing before God (omeid lifeni HaMakom, which is no small thing), but you would certainly be unable to do anything beyond that. For many of our students, that is what davening feels like. They can read the words, but have no idea what they are saying.

The solution is not to merely teach them the meaning of the words. The ideas behind the words, including the pesukim from which they come, and the ideas that Chazal put into them, have to be taught as well. Teachers might make use of the Avudraham or a gemara from Megillah or Brachos.

Let's not fool ourselves. Our students will not learn every word and idea, but by teaching them some of these things, we begin to make it possible to engage in serious tefillah.

Fluency

For any of us who have heard a chazzan struggle with the words, it is clear that fluency in pronouncing the words needs to be addressed. A simple bu effective way to do so would be to take the Sephardic approach of saying the whole tefillah (except the amidah) out loud. 

Poetic style

Hebrew poetry is already part of the curriculum in many Modern Orthodox schools, as is Tanach. In at least one of those classes, preferably the latter, the pirkei Tehillim which make up davening should be taught, with an emphasis on understanding the ideas and poetry contained therein. While these perakim will be treated as Tanach, in these classes they will also be dealt with from a literary standpoint.

Length of tefilla

The gemara says “Better less said with kavanah, than more said without kavanah” (Rav Hutner humorously changed it to “Better less said without kavanah, than more said without kavanah”). It only makes sense to say all of shacharis, if we are trying to mimic a shul. If, however, tefillah is meant to be educational, than just as we adjust the curriculum for those who struggle, we can do so with tefillah, concentrating on removing the less essential parts of pesukei d'zimra and parts of v'hu rachum. We would of course, make it clear to our students the idea behind this change.

Additionally, we should make clear to the students that the current goal is not kavanah throughout the whole shemoneh esrei. If that is the goal, they will fail each time (as will I). At first the goal should be to have kavanah for one bracha (an idea which comes from this thoughtful essay which includes some ideas of how to work on kavanah from a practical standpoint ). Alternatively, students could focus on one phrase that is meaningful for them, making it their own.

Lack of quiet/God centered space

We are all surrounded by constant background noise and activity. Entering the God focused, or meditative space which helps set the tone is a challenge.

A few moments of silence before tefillah (preferably at least several minutes), breathing exercises, or asking everyone to think of something or someone that they are grateful for, are some possible ways to deal with this issue.

What is tefillah?

In many (most?) Modern Orthodox high schools, Jewish philosophy is not taught. For many reasons, this needs to change. Among the things which our students must know, are the various approaches to why we pray and how it works. As with all areas of Jewish philosophy, various approaches should be taught so that our students have the best chance to find an approach which for them.

Teachers might make use of aggados from the gemara (perhaps with an explanation from Rav Kook's Ain Ayah), Rishomnim such as the Rambam (primarily the Moreh), Rabbeinu Bachya's Chovos Halevavos, Rav Albo's Sefer HaIkarim, and Achronim such as the Mabit, Rav SR Hirsch and chassidic literature, as well as Rav Soloveitchik and Heschel.

Other areas of learning

Tefillah needs to become more than a cerebral exercise (at best). Modern Orthodox educators are often moved by ideas, and teach in a cerebral way. Not all students will respond to this approach. Art, music, dance and creative writing are some of the ways where tefillah can be more experiential.

Practically this might include putting a tefillah to music, painting a scene based on a Mizmor Tehillim, or writing an essay on the struggles of tefillah or writing their own tefillah, an idea which Rav Nachman (the Chassidic Rebbe, not the Amora) suggested.

Possible objections to this proposal

Isn't this a lot of time to spend on tefillah?

In most schools, a minimum of one and a half hours are spent each day on gemara (I have suggested elsewhere that this is not ideal). If our students never pick up a gemara after high school (and lets be honest, some, at least, won't) they can still be serious members of the Jewish community. If our students spend the rest of their lives praying as they currently do, that would be tragic. If triage is needed, it should be clear which one should get more of our attention.

How does this address the most difficult students and those who are struggling with emunah issues?

As educators, we have all dealt with students who refuse to daven. Some of them go beyond this and disrupt tefillah. A few might even enjoy getting their teachers upset.

I know this is radical, but shacharis in school should be optional. Yes, optional. We will not tell the students that davening is not required. We will simply give them a choice between davening at school or at home. While some, no doubt, will not daven at home, that is no different than what they are doing at school. We will also make it clear that schacharis at school is only for those who wish to try and work on what they are learning in class. Those who are repeatedly disruptive will be asked to daven at home.

With all of this, isn't it difficult to daven with kavanah?

I can't speak for you, but I can speak for myself. For me davening with kavanah is a big challenge, even though I do not have most of the challenges I have addressed above. We must make it clear to our students that davening will take a lifetime to master and that we, at times, struggle to make it meaningful. By doing so, we give them permission to struggle and permission to be imperfect. In many ways, this is an important lesson, and one which needs to be emphasized in discussing Avodas HaShem.

Practically, a teacher might get up to tell how they deal with the difficulties of davening with kavanah, a student might tell a story, or discuss a strategy that works for them. Inspiring speakers could be brought in from time to time to connect the dots on some of these issues.

Although my proposal involves many components, I am not suggesting an all or nothing approach. Even if time does not allow for all of them, or you consider some of my ideas to be mistaken or misguided, please consider making use of the rest.

Comments, critiques and suggestions can be made below or by email, which can be sent to rabbipesach@gmail.com.