Setting God Free- How language can bring us closer to God

There once was a king who appeared to be in mortal danger. A loyal follower stepped in to save him, but convinced it was the only way to save the king, he put him in a tower, where the king essentially became a prisoner. After a while, the king's subjects got so used to the king being in the tower that they gave no thought to restoring him to his palace.

Much later, another loyal follower realized what must be done, and released the king, but it had been so long since anyone had actually been in the king’s presence, that few realized who he was, so they refused to serve the king, thinking that in doing so, they were being loyal to the "real" king.

While I have already written about how halachic language can place a distance between us and God, there are other things which also weaken our relationship with HaShem. In this post, I will try and make the case that philosophical and kabbalistic ideas and language have created a gap in our connection to God, and that while they once served a beneficial purpose, that time has passed.

In the above-mentioned parable, I suggest that there was a time when God “needed to be saved”. It was an era where serious religious ideas were being discussed in philosophical terms in the Christian and Muslim worlds, and for Jews to not do so, was to suggest that our conception of God was not serious and thought-out. Into the gap stepped those like Rav Saadiah Gaon and the Rambam, writing philosophical works which showed that Judaism did not conflict with the ideas of thinkers like Plato and Aristotle. There was, however, a downside to this process. They put God in a castle whose bricks were made up of ideas like “the unmoved mover” and “negative theology”. It is one thing to pray to and serve a God who cares about us and listens to our every word. It is entirely something different to pray to and serve an abstract idea.

Of course, it was not just the rationalists who created the castle. Kabbalah, basing itself on Neo-Platonic thought, spoke of God as the Ein Sof, literally the one who has no limit or end. In using this phrase, it was suggested that, in essence, we could not even speak of God as existing, as that phrase can only describe things. Again, the gap between us and God was described as unbridgeable.

In recent times, two great thinkers, Michael Wyschogrod, and Rav Eliezer Berkovits, critiqued these approaches,. Wyschogrod suggested that we need to go back to the God of the Tanach. For him, even Chazal’s conception of God was not identical to the true God of the Tanach. He wrote:

It is of course necessary to mumble a formula of philosophic correction. No space can contain God, he is above space, etc., etc. But this mumbled formula, while required, must not be overdone. It must not transform the God of Israel into a spatial and meta-temporal Absolute . . . With all the philosophic difficulties duly noted, the God of Israel is a God who enters space and time . . . God dwells not only in the spirit of Israel . . . he also dwells in their bodies.

While philosophical language serves to prevent seeing God as physical, when used beyond the minimal necessary amount, it leads us to lose God as a reality in our experience.

Berkovits, in his God, Man, and History speaks of the Gods of philosophy and kabbalah, as “the gods of the pagans”. With this strong phrase, he too suggests we have lost the Jewish conception of God, only in his telling, that God is found in Tanach, as well as in the words of Chazal.

The Besht, and the early chassidic thinkers, as well as the Ramchal, offered an approach that set the king free. Even as they made use of aspects of kabbalistic thought, they brought it down to earth in a way that spoke to the average person, as much as it could speak to scholars and thinkers. Where God was once hidden “outside of the world”, they helped bring him back. In doing so, they helped create a partial revolution. I say partial, because they only captured some minds. For too many, the intellectual component of these thinker’s approach was not seen, and for too many, it was seen only as a movement for the masses. It is here that I turn to the application of these ideas to the Modern Orthodox world.

As I noted in my recent book review, for the most part, Modern orthodoxy hitched its wagon to the approach of Rav Yosef Ber Soloveichik. Even as he had a side of him that was drawn to the Tanya, his students, he said, “want his mind, and not his heart”. Modern kabbalistic and chassidic thought are seen as somehow out of bounds to much of the MO world. They are seen as simplistic, non-intellectual, and fanciful. Witness the negative response in much of the MO world to the development of neo-chassidus in their midst (I think this point stands, even as neo-chassidus does not always include all of the depth of classical chassidus). As my religious thought has developed, I’ve seen that this conception is very much mistaken. Whether it’s reading an essay by Hillel Zeitlin on applying William James’ thought to Judaism (available here), or seeing how Isaac Breuer uses Kant and Kabbalah to address biblical criticism, I’ve seen that chassidus and kabbalah can be every bit as intellectually stimulating, as any area of classical Western thought.

The language we use to talk about God matters deeply. Even as we recognize that God was locked in the tower of rationalism or kabbalistic terminology for a reason, it is time to let him out. At a time when religion is often on the defensive, it is only a close connection to God that will help us and our children weather the storm. It is time to exchange the gods of the Greeks for the God of Judaism.

"While I have already written about how halachic language can place a distance between us and God, there are other...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Torah and Philo-sophy: A review of Torah from Alexandria- Philo as a Biblical Commentator

I’m thinking of a Jewish thinker who showed -some would say, tried to show- that the Torah and Greek philosophy could be reconciled. He lived in Egypt and interacted with the leader of his country. While many would assume I am thinking of the Rambam, I am actually thinking of Philo of Alexandria, who lived more than a millennia before the Rambam, and who, despite being less well-known to many Jews of today, wrote many works where he attempted to show that following the Torah could be reconciled with the prevailing ideas of his time, in a manner that would not be repeated until the time of Rav Saadiah Gaon and the Rambam.

While there are many reasons why Philo and his thought are not known to many Jews who are familiar with Jewish philosophy, among the main reasons are that Philo’s works were written in Greek, and that his ideas are spread out in many different texts. In Torah from Alexandria- Philo as Biblical Commentator, Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel has eliminated those challenges, and offers many in the Jewish world their first opportunity to study Philo’s ideas. In this work, published by Kodesh Press, Samuel has collected Philo’s thoughts from his many works and organized them according to the books of the Torah. To date, three volumes have been released, covering Bereishis, Shemos, and Vayikra.

While this format has the advantage of creating an easier entry point for the non-expert to study Philo’s thought, it is far from the only advantage to this new and creative work. Samuel begins with a fascinating introduction which includes biographical information about Philo, his general philosophical approach, reasons why Philo was not studied by the rabbinic sages of the Talmud and the Middle-Ages, and much more.  In the main text he includes Philo’s thoughts on each verse, with footnotes which list the original source of each idea. There are also notes interspersed within the text which show places where Philo suggested ideas similar to those of the Chachmei HaShas, the Zohar, Rishonim, Achronim, and more. I found the parallels to ma’amrei Chazal particularly fascinating, as it is not clear whether Philo actually spoke Hebrew, or whether he interacted with the great rabbinic sages of his time. To cite just a few fascinating examples:

• Philo offers what, at first, appears to be a fanciful explanation of the ישראל suggesting that it combines the words איש ראה א-ל, the man who “saw” God. However, this same explanation is suggested in Seder Eliyahu Rabbah

• Another example, found in this week’s parasha, for the plague of ערב, commonly understood as wild animals, is explained by Philo as a type of fly. A similar idea is suggested by Rebbe Akiva in Shemos Rabbah.

• When it comes to the Mishkan, Philo suggests that the commandment to build the Mishkan came before the sin of the Cheit HaEigel, and offers an explanation that is quite similar to that later offered by the Ramban, suggesting that the Mishkan was a portable Har Sinai.

While I can not confirm that the translations are accurate, being that Greek is, well, Greek to me (I’m sorry, couldn’t resist), Samuel’s scholarship and breadth of knowledge leads me to believe that he has done a careful job in this area as well.

Torah from Alexandria will be of great benefit to anyone who is curious about Philo’s thought, those who are interested in Jewish philosophy (a comparison with the Rambam would be an interesting endeavor), or for the person who is looking for a new and unique way to study the Torah. Once again, Alec Goldstein of Kodesh Press is to be commended for making a quality work of Torah scholarship available to the English-speaking world.

"I’m thinking of a Jewish thinker who showed -some would say, tried to show- that the Torah and Greek philosophy could...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Guidance for the Perplexed? - Does the Orthodox community offer help to those who are struggling with religious beliefs?

What is Orthodox Judaism?

If it is a sociological group, a club of sorts, then we can make any membership rules we want. Want to join? Believe what we do, think as we do, or you are not welcome. If however we use the term Orthodox Judaism to describe a (the? the best? the only? -as some might say) way of being Torah observant, than what is our responsibility towards those who want to be part of that world, but struggle to accept or believe some some aspects of our belief system?

In a recent article, Rabbi Francis Nataf wrote about the things that he admires about Open-Orthodoxy. Whatever one thinks of his article, he got me thinking about one particular thing that I admire about the OO world. Many of the detractors of the OO world have suggested, basing themselves on the Rambam and others, that certain theological statements made by OO rabbis are out of the pale. There are, they insist, certain things that Orthodox Jews must believe. While the detractors might be correct, even if we haggle over the particulars, there is one thing that they almost never seem to do; offer meaningful answers to people who are struggling to accept certain Orthodox beliefs. “You are out, while we are in” they say, seeming to not care about (or is it not knowing how to answer?) the questions of those who are struggling.

What do we do with our religious struggles and doubts? What happens when, despite our best efforts to accept established doctrine, we are unable to do so? Can one be a believer while simultaneously accepting some ideas that conflict with traditional theology? These are tough questions to answer, and those of us who have gone through periods of religious struggle, not only search for answers, but also must think about which ideas that might seem true, can also be expressed publicly.

Those within the OO world take those who are struggling with religious doubts, as well as their questions, seriously. They recognize that various aspects of the modern world make it difficult to accept claims that seemed obvious in earlier times. Whatever one thinks of their answers, it’s hard to not admire the sense of עמו אנכי בצרה, I am with you in the pain of your struggles, that comes from the OO rabbis. While I am sure that those who oppose them care about their fellow Jews, their lack of putting forth other answers is, at the very least, curious.

At the same time, I wonder whether attempts to publicly wrestle with these questions can be productive. Almost every time an attempt was made by an Orthodox thinker to spell out some sort of theology or approach that might make more sense to the modern perplexed Jew, the result led to its writer being “expelled” from the orthodox community. Whether it was Louis Jacobs or Tamar Ross and Torah MiSinai, or Eliezer Berkovits, and his approach to halacha, to name just a few examples, their approach to various aspects of Torah were found to be unacceptable by members of the Orthodox world.  Courageous answers which push at the edges of traditional belief, even if ever so slightly, arouse tremendous defensiveness and pushback.

I believe that the Rambam in his introduction to his Moreh Nevuchim warns us about the dangers of espousing beliefs that will be difficult for the community to accept. There he says that his work will contain seeming contradictions, and that he will not help resolve them. He further says that he leaves it to the intelligent reader to figure out what he truly intends. The Rambam seemed to believe that some of his views needed to be kept secret in order to avoid communal reproach.

So where does that leave the Jew is struggling to believe? Perhaps, as I discovered when I myself was struggling, the questioner has to seek out learned and scholarly individuals who are willing to privately suggest that there are more nuanced approaches to Jewish theology than the commonly accepted ones. There are great thinkers, including some from the charedi world, who while outwardly professing to believe that which their community thinks is necessary, privately are much more broad than their congregants, followers, or students might realize. While it might be unfortunate that these discussions can not take place more publicly, those who are questioning should not despair, and realize that they need not go it alone.

"What is Orthodox Judaism? If it is a sociological group, a club of sorts, then we can make any membership rules we...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Thursday, December 17, 2015

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?

Finding a more modern Orthodoxy- My speech at the Project Makom shabbaton

[A few people wanted to know what I spoke about on Shabbos at the Shabbaton and since I don’t have the Shabbos App, I was unable to record my speech. What follows is an approximation of what I said, plus or minus a few witty comments. Where appropriate, I add a little commentary.]

Intro

As many of you know, I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to say for many weeks. Before I start with what I am going to talk about, allow me to tell what I will not be talking about.

What I don’t want to say

• MO is the right community for everyone- you’ve already spent enough time in a community that tells you it is the right place for you. I will not be doing that. In fact, I will not be speaking about Modern Orthodoxy. Instead I will speak about a more modern Orthodoxy.
• That the charedim are wrong- I am not here to bash anyone. Different communities will work for different people.
• That there is one way to be a Jew- As I always tell my students, anyone who says “The Jewish view of X is…” is almost always lying. There are many legitimate views.
• Being modern Orthodox is about a uniform, or being a wishy-washy Jew- It is about being a serious Jew with a different perspective.
• That I am here to teach you- I am not some brave modern Jew here to save from the error of your ways. In fact, I am not here to save you at all. I am here to speak with you, and to learn from you. Each of our communities can benefit from some of what the other one has.

So what do I want to say? Allow me to begin with a story

A friend who went to a very Litvish yeshiva, you know, the kind where they don’t play basketball during Elul [inside joke, you had to have been at the Shabbaton] told me of a time when he was saying selichos in Chevron by Maaras HaMachpeila. As he looked around, he noticed many types of yarmulkes, and modes of dress. As they sang “Tefilla L’Ani”, he watched the other Jews sing and realized that everyone there meant what they were singing, and wanted to be close to HaShem.

One of the biggest challenges is that for many of us, other types of Orthodoxy is seen, at best, as a bidieved. Forget that, from what I heard from some of you, being a different type of Orthodox Jew is like being a “sheigitz”. How do we change that?

I’d like to talk a little bit about stars.

Imagine someone like us, who lives in the Northern Hemisphere. He loves stars. He loves looking at the various constellations, and can name all of them. One day, he meets a person from Australia, who also loves stars. Only this person says he’s never heard of the other constellations. No Big Dipper. No Little Dipper. If the first guy didn’t know better, he’d think the other person was lying. Depending on where we are, we see things differently. It is not that one is right and the other is wrong. There are different perspectives.

So when did modern Orthodoxy begin? I’m not going to bore you with a historical analysis. Instead, allow me to mention various Jews who represent the best of what a modern Orthodox Jew might think. so where did it all begin?

• Maybe it was Avraham Avinu looking around and finding HaShem through nature. As the midrash explains, Avraham looked at the world and realized there must be a Borei Olam.
• Or maybe it was Dovid Hamelech looking up at the stars and saying  כִּֽי־אֶרְאֶ֣ה שָׁ֭מֶיךָ מַֽעֲשֵׂ֣י אֶצְבְּעֹתֶ֑יךָ יָ֘רֵ֥חַ וְ֝כוֹכָבִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר כּוֹנָֽנְתָּה: מָֽה־אֱ֭נוֹשׁ כִּֽי־תִזְכְּרֶ֑נּוּ וּבֶן־אָ֝דָ֗ם כִּ֣י תִפְקְדֶֽנּוּ: וַתְּחַסְּרֵ֣הוּ מְּ֭עַט מֵאֱלֹקים וְכָב֖וֹד וְהָדָ֣ר תְּעַטְּרֵֽהוּ: Looking up at the stars we talked about beforehand, he engaged in serious thought about man and his relation ship with God.
• I know. It was Rebbe Meir. When his rebbe, Elisha ben Avuya stopped believing, Rebbe Meir continued to learn from him. In a way similar to what Rambam would say 1,000 years later, Rebbe Meir realized that we can learn from everyone, and that the idea should be judged, rather than the person saying it. The gemara tells a beautiful story of rebbe and talmid studying together on a Shabbos, as Acher rode a donkey. When they reached the techum Shabbos, he told Rebbe Meir he had reached the limit of permitted travel. Apparently, even non-believers can be caring, sensitive people, who have what to teach us.
• On the other hand, it could have been Rav Saadya Gaon  and Rambam who taught that Torah and TRUE science don’t conflict. More than that, they can’t conflict as they are given by the same Creator. In fact, they said that when there is an apparent conflict between the two, we leave science as it is, and realize we have misunderstood the pasuk. They taught us that we need not fear as we engage with the secular world.
• This might seem odd, but it could have been the Baal Shem Tov and the early founders of chassidus who emphasized the words “Bechol deracheicha da’eihu”. Through all of our traits, and all aspects of our personality, we can connect with HaShem. We need not hide who we are to be a good Jew.
• Some would say it was Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch who taught that we could combine the best of Jewish and general culture, that a Jew could use modern culture including art, music, and poetry as part of their Avodas HaShem. He also taught that when it came to science, the chachamim used the best available science of their time, and therefore could make mistakes. No one is perfect other than HaShem.
• My suggestion might be Rav Kook who taught that no part of the world is foreign to a Jew, that extremism is harmful to Judaism, and that if we look at things correctly we can  see HaShem in everything. In LeNevuchei HaDor [holding up the sefer] he wrote a new Moreh Nevuchim for his generation. He saw that his generation was struggling. Instead of banning questions, he tried to give them a framework to use to deal with the questions
• This might surprise you, but it could have been Sarah Schneier who founded the Beis Yaakov movement. She knew that while Torah doesn’t change, the world we apply it to DOES change. The BY she founded was open, serious and intellectual. There are various approaches to women learning Torah. Different people will follow different approaches, but for the women here, if you want to learn serious Torah, do it. When my daughters were born I thought about what I want for them, and I know I want them to all have the opportunity to learn Torah on a serious level. Throughout history, women like Bruriah, who was married to Rebbe Meir, as well as Rav Hutner’s daughter, who helped him edit Pachad Yitzchak, through today with women like Dena Bloch who will be speaking next, have studied Torah at the highest levels. Knowledge is power. The more you learn, the less others can tell you what you must think.
• Getting to more recent times, modern Orthodoxy is lived by people Aaron Feuerstein who owned a factory in a small town where many of the locals worked. When the factory burned down, Feurstein continued to pay his workers their salary at great personal cost. This is not an Artscroll story. For a while, he faced bankruptcy. Still, he saw the Tzelem Elokim in everyone, Jew and non-Jew alike, and he placed mentschlichkeit before profits.
• Finally, let’s consider Robert Aumann who is a Nobel Prize winner. He came late to the ceremony so that he would not have to violate Shabbos. He also wrote a commentary on Maseches Kinnim, one of the most complicated masechtos in Shas Mishnayos, which he helped explained using the same math that won him the Nobel Prize. [NOTE: apparently I confused RA with someone else who used math to explain Kinnim. RA used game theory to explain a challenging sugya in Kesuvos]

[At this point, I added in a bit about my personal religious struggles, as well as my journey from and back to Modern Orthodoxy. ]  Sometimes we have to leave our birth community behind. At times, it is possible to come back to what we left behind, at least the good parts, and incorporate them into our new lives.

Finally, bringing it full circle, let’s talk again about stars:

In Tehillim Perek 147 pasuk daled it says

מוֹנֶ֣ה מִ֭סְפָּר לַכּוֹכָבִ֑ים לְ֝כֻלָּ֗ם שֵׁמ֥וֹת יִקְרָֽא:

He (God) counts the stars, and gave names to them all. What does this mean? The Malbim teaches that HaShem values each star. We might look up and see stars, but each one is unique. Each one is an individual. In the world you are in, you have not always been treated as individuals, but you are stars. Each and every one of you. As Chazal teach, just as no two people look alike, no two people have the same personality. You are individuals, and each of you is unique.

[A few people wanted to know what I spoke about on Shabbos at the Shabbaton and since I don’t have the Shabbos App, I...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Return of the Nazir- Audio shiur

In this week’s shiur we explore the meaning behind the mitzvah of Nazir. We consider whether the Torah and the chahchamim consider to be a positive step for a person to become a nazir. Finally, we offer a novel suggestion about the goal of becoming a nazir.

The shiur can also be listened on YouTube by clicking here

Running Time: 1 hour

What's the Goal Behind Keeping the Mitzvot? (Audio Shiur)

In this week’s shiur we discuss the concept of Taamei HaMitzvot. After briefly examining the idea of finding reasons for specific mitzvot, we move on to discuss the general goal of the system of mitzvot. Starting in ancient Alexandria we work our way up to the Middle Ages, followed by the Modern era. By the end of the shiur we see various approaches to the goal of shemirat hamitzvot, as well as Judaism as a whole.

The shiur can also be accessed on YouTube by clicking here.

Running Time 1:10

Is there a mitzvah to believe, and if so, how do we get there? (Audio shiur)

In this week’s shiur, we examine whether there is a mitzvah to believe. We look, at various approaches of the rishonim, achronim and modern thinkers. We also consider what the mitzvah might involve, and examine the concept of belief in general.

The shiur can also be listened to on YouTube by clicking on this link

Running time 1:27

Reaching Out- God, Avraham and choice (Audio shiur)

In Lech Lecha, God commanded Avraham (Avram at that point) to leave his land to go to Canaan. Absent from the story is any reason for Avraham being selected for his special role.

In the shiur, we explore various possibilities as to whether God chose Avraham or Avraham chose God. In the process, we explore the concept of what it means to be chosen, and the relationship between God and mankind.

Below are the links (the shiur is in two parts due to technical reasons)

Running time 1:10

Part I

Part II

The Middle Ground- Finding the balance in our relationship with God

“Yedid Nefesh, Av Ha Rachaman…”

The other night after my shiur on parshat Noach, I got into an interesting conversation with a student. We somehow ended up discussing the danger of viewing God as one who can be manipulated through things like davening, Tehillim and baking challah. I pointed out to him, that the rationalist side, a side that has become very common within the world of modern-orthodoxy, has its dangers as well. He asked what they were, and I responded off the cuff with a quick answer. What follows is an attempt to give a more complete answer to the question.

Rav Eliezer Berkovits zt”l wrote about the fact that the God of Aristotle is not the God of the Torah. Aristotle spoke of the Unmoved Mover, a God with whom man can not truly engage. On the other hand, the Torah speaks of a God who listens, commands and gives rewards and punishments. In short, a God who cares. While Rambam attempted to somehow merge the two ideas, for many he created a supercomputer of sorts with whom it is difficult for us to relate. While he moved Judaism away from a God who could be seen as too human, he left us with a God with whom it is hard to connect.

Rav Shimshon Raphael  Hirsch in his commentary on Bereishis, took note of this difficulty. On the pesukim found at the end of parshas Bereishis (6:6), God, in advance of the flood, is described as regretting the creation of man and feeling sad.

וַיִּנָּחֶם ה' כִּי־עָשָׂה אֶת־הָאָדָם בָּאָרֶץ וַיִּתְעַצֵּב אֶל־לִבּוֹ:

Rav Hirsch notes:

Let us here make a general remark about anthropomorphic expressions in Scripture. Scholars have philosophized about these expressions, in order to keep us far from ascribing to God material features.

He continues by noting:

This gives rise, however, to the danger that the Personality of God will become increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perception. Had that been the Torah's intention, it could easily have avoided such expressions. Rather, the second danger (that of blurring the Creator's Personality) is greater than the first (that of anthropomorphizing the Creator). (Emphasis added)

...All this affirms the Personality and freedom of God and preserves the purity of faith. This is also the view of the ראב''ד, the distinctively Jewish thinker: Belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God.

While it can be argued that in Rambam’s time the greater danger might have been in the opposite direction, it seems to me that Rav Hirsch is correct in noting that the pendulum has swung too far in our community. Why daven when God is unchanging and uncaring? How can we relate to His mitzvos when we can’t relate to Him at all? If all we know is what he is not, how can that be enough for the basis of a relationship?

It is time to think about finding a proper balance. While the God of the Torah is not a gumball machine from which we can receive what we want whenever we want, he is also not a supercomputer running the world. It is time to return to language that speaks not only of God’s perfection, but also of His concern, and for us to not see him as merely the creator, but also as a God who loves and cares about us.

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?

Does Modern Orthodoxy Have a Future?

In the Middle Ages two theoretical approaches to Jewish thought emerged; rational philosophy and mysticism. Although neither approach was completely new, they were “new” in the sense that they were formulated in a way that made them accessible to the average Jew (or at least, the average Jewish male). By the 14^th century the two were vying for the minds and hearts of Jews across Europe. Many of the greatest and most well-known Rishonim could be found in one of the two camps. It was far from clear which approach, if any, would win the day.

Looking back from where we sit today, it's hard to imagine that the two approaches were ever on equal footing. In terms of popularity, mysticism seems to routed rational philosophy. The chassidic world, and large parts of the Sefardic and yeshivish communities follow approaches which lean heavily, if not entirely, on mystical thought. Meanwhile, books like the Moreh Nevuchim, Sefer HaIkarim, and Ohr HaShem are for the most part, absent from the yeshivah curriculum. Even Rambam's Yud Gimmel Ikkarim, survives today absent the philosophical ideas which lay behind their formulation. While some of the popularity of mystical thought can be explained by the major tragedies which occurred in our community over the past 600 years, as well as personalities like the Baal Shem Tov, the Baal HaTanya and Rav Chaim Volozhin, there seems to be something else at play. Mysticism seems to tap into some human need, in a way that rational philosophy does not. It invests halacha and tefilla with a level of significance that is not found in the rational approaches. Mysticism suggests that our actions matter in the most serious of ways. In communities where mysticism plays a significant role, there is a high level of commitment, and, often, passion.

What does this mean for those of us who are not moved by and/or can not accept the claims made by mysticism? Is there a way to create communities where Avodas HaShem is not only important, but is engaged with in a serious and passionate manner? I'm not so sure. Rabbi Norman Lamm once said that our communities should be passionately moderate and not moderately passionate. If this is indeed the goal, for the most part, we are failing. A rabbi I know once shared a story with me. He told over the story of Franz Rosenzweig in his shul. Rosenzweig, who became a serious Jewish thinker, had been ready to convert to Christianity. Shortly before his conversion, he attended a Kol Nidrei service in a Chassidic shtiebel. Rosenzweig was so moved by the experience that he decided not to to convert. The rabbi asked his congregation “If Rosenzweig had davened with us, would he have stayed Jewish”?

While, to some degree, I think the problem is worse for the Modern Orthodox communities in the diaspora, which often lose their most inspired members to aliyah, it is an issue in Israeli communities as well. A friend of mine, who lives in a community which is built near a well-respected Hesder yeshiva, bemoaned the fact that many of the teenagers of the community were less “into it” than their parents. I would also suggest that the draw of Carlebach, both in terms of music and davening, as well as other neo-Chassidic approaches suggest that the youth from moderate communities in Israel are looking for something “deeper”.

To be sure, truth is not a popularity contest, but it is time for those of us in the Modern Orthodox world to wake up and figure out what we can do to create more meaningful religious experiences for us and our children. If our approach is not able to better engage our hearts and souls, it will not matter how much it engages our minds.

Post by Pesach Sommer.

Second Chances- Thoughts on this Peisach Sheini

For a long time I have connected to the idea of Pesach Sheini. Being that today, the 14th of Iyar, is Pesach Sheni, I thought I'd touch on a few ideas about the mitzvah and why it speaks to me, as a way of explaining why I chose it as the name for my blog.

One year after leaving Egypt, the Jewish people were commanded to observe Pesach (why it was necessary at that time and whether this was a one time commandment is beyond the scope of this essay). Among other things, this commandment meant that they would sacrifice the Korban Pesach. There were a number of men who were impure, having come in contact with a dead body. They approached Moshe and asked why they should lose out on this mitzvah. Moshe was told by God that they would be given a second chance, one month later to give this sacrifice. This was not a one time event. Each year, those who were unable to give the Korban Pesach, were given a second opportunity on Pesach Sheini. (For an incredible post and story about a Pesach Sheini seder in a concentration camp, click here).

There are several obvious questions on this whole episode:

1. Why did these men think they deserved a second chance? They were impure, a consequence of which is that they can not give the sacrifice.
2. Why did they want a second chance? After all, they were exempt from the mitzvah and would not have been punished.
3. Why did God give them a second chance? By other korbanos, if you miss it, there is no second chance.

Clearly, these men had not become impure due to carelessness on their part. Otherwise their question would not have made sense, and Moshe would not have taken it seriously. Whether we go with a simple reading of the text they were simply involved with some issue of taking care of someone who died, or we accept the ideas proposed in the midrash, they were involved with a mitzvah which required them to become impure.

The second question brings us to the crux of the issue. What are mitzvohs and why do we do them? Chazal teach us that “Sechar mitzvah, mitzvah”, the reward for a mitzvah is a mitzvah. Based on the Rambam, I would suggest that this means that the reward for doing a mitzvah is...that you have done a mitzvah. Any other possible reward is beyond the point. By doing a mitzvah you have encountered God. That is the true reward.

Rav Kalonymous Kalman Shapira ztvk'l, the Holy Piaczena Rebbe, became the rebbe for the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto. Through Divine providence, his collected drashos, delivered to Jews who were suffering terribly (as was he), were saved. Imagine what it must have been like trying to give hope to people who had none. In one drasha, he discusses the idea from Pirkei Avos that we should serve God without the expectation to receive reward. Basing himself on Rashi, he suggests that even if there was no reward, we would still serve HaShem. In the most terrible situation, he reminded his desperate followers that serving God, no matter the circumstances, was the greatest thing possible. Mitzvohs are themselves are the reward. With this understanding, it becomes clear why those who could not give the Korban Pesach wanted a second chance.

Still, we are left to wonder why here, by this specific mitzvah, a second chance was given. The Sefer HaChinuch suggests that because so much of our beliefs are reinforced through the mitzvohs of Pesach, including, belief in creation, and that God loves us and is involved in our lives, it was important that everyone have the chance to observe them. I'd like to extend this idea a little.

When we bury the dead, we demonstrate that we believe many important ideas. Among them are a belief that our lives matter, that we have a connection to the creator, a connection that comes through, among other things, performing mitzvohs. I would suggest that a second chance was given davka here and davka to these men because they recognized the true purpose of mitzvohs in general and the mitzvohs of the Korban Pesach in particular.

For nearly two years, I went through a very rough time. Part of that was a religious crisis. I did not know if or how it would be resolved. On this Pesach Sheini, I celebrate the fact that I again connect to God through his Torah and mitzvohs. I thank God that he did not lose faith in me, even as I questioned my faith in him.