Monday, December 26, 2005

Chanukah and the three layers of darkness

Channukah, the Festival of Lights, is actually enveloped in three layers of darkness.

First of all, it takes place at night, and is the only holiday whose only action is taken at night. Even Pesach, where the Seder takes a major role, there are sacrifices brought during the day.

Secondly, it takes place in the winter, the only holiday to really do so. Purim is in the end of winter, but is connected with Pesach in the spring. All the biblical holidays take place around the harvest season, from Pesach in the beginning, to Sukkot in the end. This is logical, since without a holiday framework, it would be very easy to forget God in the midst of the agricultural preparations, and forget to thank Him after the harvest. But the winter is sort of a “dead” time for farmers and there is no real need for a holiday. And not only does Channukah fall in the winter, but according to the Maharal it is actually associated with the winter solstice, the shortest day (and longest night) of the year. He comes to this conclusion based on the idea that the man was created on 1 Tishrei; therefore the world was created on 25 Elul. If the year is divided into 4 seasons, with the first day of the season being either the equinox or the solstice, then 4 months after the 25th of Elul is the 25th of Kislev – Channukah. An additional interesting source is the midrash in Avoda Zara, which talks about how Adam was afraid as the days got shorter, but when the days began to get longer (after the winter solstice), he had a celebration lasting 8 days. While Channukah is not mentioned in the midrash, the connection seems to be there nonetheless. (Also interesting is the following midrash that discusses Adam’s similar fear in the first night, until the day began to break.)

Lastly, I would say that Channukah takes place in Judaism’s “Dark Ages.” It falls during the Second Temple period, between the closing of the Tanach, and the earliest rabbinic literature. The biblical period of Ezra and Nechemia end with a whimper, not a bang, dissolving into the fog of history. There are many questions about this period brought up both in rabbinic and historical circles --- neither seem to know exactly what took place when. Historians admit they have huge gaps of knowledge here. And from the Jewish perspective, the large number of questions related to the time points to either a general fog over the era or the after-effect of not having authoritative literature. One issue is the “missing 170 years” that have fascinated rabbis and scholars. Another is the status of the Apocrypha – the Sefarim Chitzonim, external books to the biblical canon. Their “in-between” status seems to characterize the entire period. Also, many of the questions surrounding Channukah itself stem from the lack of official texts. Why is there no Masechet Channukah? Where do the Macabees fit into the chain of tradition described in the beginning of Pirkei Avot? What were Babylonian and the rest of Diaspora Jewry’s reactions to these events? Why does the story of the vial of oil only appear in such late rabbinic sources? I won’t venture an answer to these questions, but had the bible continued until the events of Channukah, or had the rabbinic literature flourished at the same level it did a few hundred years later, it is likely we would not be as confused as we are now.

To truly understand the significance of the darkness surrounding Channukah, it is important to understand the alternatives. Why does it seem so strange to us that a holiday would take place in the dead of winter, seemingly in the middle of the night?

To answer this, lets look at the Jewish calendar. The Jewish day begins generally at nightfall, although in certain circumstances (in the Temple for example) it begins at daybreak. Either of these options are very natural times to start a day – either when you wake up or when you go to sleep. Similarly, the Jewish year starts either in the fall (Rosh Chodesh Tishrei) or in the spring (Rosh Chodesh Nisan). Both of these are natural choices as well, to start the year either at the beginning of the harvest, and the blossoming of the plant life, or at the end of the same cycle. The two parallel options are also expressed in the disagreement as to whether the world was created in Nisan or Tishrei (and to some extent continued in the Rashbam’s proposition that
perhaps the first day began at daybreak as well).

But if we look at the non-Jewish, Western concept of when to start the day and the year, it appears rather strange. Their day begins at midnight, and their year begins on the first of January. Why initiate a central unit of time in the middle of the dark? The day is dislocated from the natural human rhythms of rising and resting, and the year would seem to have no agricultural significance at all.

The answer to this may be found in a different perspective on nature, on the world we live in. While a day or a year beginning in the most inactive part of the cycle might seem strange to someone living within that cycle, to someone observing that cycle it is the most opportune time. There are far fewer changes occurring, and this allows the research to be more precise. This scientific approach, looking at the world from the outside, contrasts with the natural approach that involves only living in the natural order of the world. Who most represented the scientific approach to life? The Greeks.

The Greeks represented logic, science, and philosophy. I think it is not a coincidence that when the Jews were in their “dark ages”, the light of Greek civilization was at its highest. This was the time of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. In a way, Greek civilization provided the first real competitor for Judaism’s monotheism. The philosophers rejected idolatry, but for different reasons than Judaism. They felt that logic was the source of ethics and morals, and that view led to their eventual conflict with Judaism (who they initially had great respect for).

Until that time Judaism represented the natural approach, not the scientific one. So why should the holiday representing victory over the Greeks seem to have such heavy themes of the scientific approach? Why at night? Why in the winter? In a sense, Channukah seems to even ignore Rosh Chodesh, where as all the other holidays are either connected to the new moon or the full moon. (Rav Yoel Bin-Nun discussed in a lecture how up until the time of Channukah, Rosh Chodesh had a very prominent role in Jewish life – with stores closed, the people assembled, etc. Antiochus made three decrees against the Jewish people – prohibiting the observance of Shabbat, circumcision and Rosh Chodesh. For Shabbat and circumcision the Jews were willing to sacrifice their lives, but for Rosh Chodesh they weren’t. And according to tradition, only what the Jews were willing to sacrifice for was able to endure – and the previous significance of Rosh Chodesh did not endure.)

Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin said that the Oral Law developed to its full potential after the victory of the Hasmoneans over the Greek culture, a culture characterized by deep analysis and hair-splitting argument. These virtues were converted to a holy nature with the victory of Israel over Greece. This was the fulfillment of the verse “God will give beauty to Yefet and this beauty will dwell in the tents of Shem” (as per the gemara in Megillah 9b).

After the victory, through which we proved that “the beginning of wisdom is the fear of God”, we could begin the successful integration of science, logic and philosophy into our natural world, into the world of the Written Law. Only then could the Oral Law truly begin to flourish. We didn’t need to concede to the Greeks, nor did we need to ignore them. Only from our position of military and intellectual strength could we succeed where others failed – the integration of our tradition with new logic and science.

Perhaps this is another way of understanding the famous statement by the Maharal that the eight days of Channukah represent the supernatural as opposed to the natural seven-day order of the week. In a sense, science is also supernatural, by allowing us to step out of the natural order of the world and observe it from the outside.

Only with our synthesis of the two worlds – the natural and the scientific, the traditional, agricultural Written Torah with the logical, philosophical concepts of machloket can the greatness of the Talmud be reached. Or in the language of the rabbis, both the tearing down mountains of “oker harim” (logic) and the mountain of “Sinai” (tradition) are needed to truly achieve the mantle of the Oral Law.

This is the message of Channukah. It comes to say that even though it is the middle of the winter, even though it is night, we come to light a candle to say that we are not bound by the natural order of the world. Even as Jews bound by the yoke of tradition and Torah, we can, through science and logic, break through to the supernatural. Through a synthesis of Torah and logic, we can achieve true intellectual freedom.

Neo Makes Aliyah

This is something my wife noticed years ago - a strong parallel between the movie the Matrix, and the choice between living in America and making aliya.

Check out this flash movie, they did a great job: FREE YOUR MIND, NEO - inspired by The Matrix

Monday, December 12, 2005

also rans and Iran

I’ve been thinking about the upcoming election (surprise!).

First of all, it’s funny watching all the parties attack Sharon for “collecting” new Knesset members and others in Kadima. Isn’t that what all parties do? Aren’t they all trying to do that now? I don’t even understand the hava amina of what’s wrong with it. Certainly there’s a problem giving an MK a promotion to get his support on a vote. But what’s wrong with doing that before an election?

I can’t describe how disappointed and angry I’ll be if the NRP and the Ichud HaLeumi don’t get together. If for some reason it is still unclear to them or anyone else, there is no difference between Shaul Yahalom, Effie Eitam, Tzvi Hendel and Benny Elon. At least not for any relevant issue today.

I don’t see myself voting for Kadima. However, I’m not sure what I’d do if there were direct elections for the PM. I realize that Sharon isn’t great for the settlement enterprise today. But then again, neither is Bibi.

However, there’s another issue on the agenda. Iran. We might be heading to war with Iran. There’s been a lot of saber-rattling on both sides recently. It could be that we’re making veiled threats to indicate to the US that they’d better get involved - or we will. But even if the US attacks Iran, we’re likely to get hit with the rebuttal, like Saddam in 1991. And I imagine that Hizbollah, and maybe the Palestinians will get involved too.

This could be a very serious war. And I can’t think of anyone else in the country capable of leading us through it other than Sharon. He has tremendous military and diplomatic experience. He’s developed a very good relation with the US. He’s a strategic thinker (whether you agree with his strategy or not.) Netanyahu and Barak simply don’t have the nerves of steel necessary to handle such a crisis. They both remind of Reuven approaching Yaakov - trying to come up with some sort of plan at the last minute, but not seeming serious. Obviously Peretz isn’t an option. And while there might be others out there who I agree with more, and have a cleaner record, they obviously don’t have the experience that Sharon does.

There were those that said that the reason Sharon was so interested in leaving Gaza was to prepare Israel diplomatically and militarily for the inevitable showdown with Iran. I don’t know whether that is true or not, but one way or another, we’re likely to find out.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Saturday Night Live - Weekend Update Quotables

A new addition to my regular weekly reading of news satire, and naturally a classic:

Saturday Night Live - Weekend Update Quotables

separated at birth?

Saddam Hussein at his trial:

And comedian Richard Pryor:

Monday, December 05, 2005

dryers and dishwashers

For some reason, we're often looked at as unusual because we don't have a dishwasher. We actually wash dishes by hand. Even our kitchen contactor didn't believe us when we said we didn't need a space for one.

I never had one growing up. I thought it was an idealogical thing on my dad's part, but he told me much later that he just couldn't afford one. But still, I've never felt the need for one. And I'm not even sure I like them. They sometimes leave a weird taste on dishes, and you still need to wash the dishes in the sink before you put them in the dishwasher!

On the other hand, people here often think we're nuts that we have the luxury of luxuries - a dryer! This seems like such a basic necessity. If I want my clothes dry now (or now-ish), I simply put them in the dryer. The weather doesn't matter, don't need to worry about birds or wind or whatever.

Now I see common ground between my lack of interest in a dishwasher and my need for a dryer. Both are based on the fact that I don't want to do superfluous work, and would like to get results in the quickest amount of time. Can someone please explain to me the rationale in this country that works the opposite way?

Sunday, December 04, 2005

an interesting article about the Chief Rabbi of the IDF

From NFC

Saturday, December 03, 2005

who really cares about social justice?

As perhaps you could tell from reading my blog, both my religious and political views aren’t typical, particularly for someone in my “sector”. They tend to be a bit complex/mixed up. Well, my socio-economic views aren’t much more normal.

For a number of reasons I should be on the left of the socio-economic spectrum:

  1. I grew up in a typical liberal Jewish family in America, always supported Democrats over Republicans

  2. I lived in such cities as San Francisco and Boston

  3. I am a believer in the classic ideology of Torah V’Avoda, as espoused by R’ Shmuel Chaim Landau (Shachal) and R’ Yeshaya Shapiro (HaAdmor HeChalutz), which is very socialist in nature

  4. After making aliya, I lived on kibbutz for four years – a kibbutz which still strongly follows the original ideology of kibbutz (very little privatization)

So why are my economic views so far to the right in Israel? Why do I support nearly every economic move by Netanyahu? Why am I so disgusted with Amir Peretz? Don’t I care about the poor? What about social justice?

Well, first of all, many people in this country, particularly Western immigrants can’t stand the Histadrut. We know about the organization primarily through strikes that affect our lives in ways that we have no control over. They can paralyze public institutions, but have no accountability for their actions. (Did you know there’s no Hebrew word for accountability?)

But after working for the past few years in a government office, I’ve come to realize something more. It’s not just about being annoyed by having no banks service, airport or garbage removal. I don’t believe that the Histadrut is interested in social justice at all. The highest paid workers in Israel work for the public utilities like the Electric Company, Mekorot (water), the ports, etc. Why? Because they have the strongest ability to strangle the country. But if Amir Peretz and the Histadrut really cared about social justice, why don’t they demand that the Electric Company workers take a big pay cut to help out the poor? That teachers get free electricity instead of them?

No, Amir Peretz never made any of these kinds of important demands. Never will. In fact, I can’t think of a difficult decision, an unpopular (unpopulist) stance he’s ever taken. Which means he’s not a politician I could ever support. Whether you agree with them or not, Ariel Sharon, Shimon Peres, Bibi Netanyahu, Tommy Lapid, Zevulun Orlev and Benny Elon have all taken positions that weren’t popular with their electorate, but they did it because they knew it was right. Even at the cost of political risk. That’s called leadership. Without leadership, there’s no chance of achieving real social justice. The opposite of leadership? Opportunism. And that’s exactly what Amir Peretz is all about.

Friday, December 02, 2005

I wonder how the Israeli pundits would do...

The New Yorker reviews Philip Tetlock’s new book, “Expert Political Judgment: How Good Is It? How Can We Know?”