A Current Window

new site: Balashon - Hebrew Language Detective

2006-02-19T00:26:00.000+02:00

Hi everyone,

I've started a new site where I'll be regularly writing short pieces about Hebrew words and phrases. I'll be dealing with both modern and classic Hebrew, slang, new terms, and the influences of other languages. I'll be particularly focusing on the origins of the words and phrases and how they passed from one language to another.

You can visit the site here:

http://balashon.blogspot.com/

(If you're interested, the RSS feed is at http://balashon.blogspot.com/atom.xml )

I'm really interested in your feedback, criticism and comments, and also questions or ideas for new entries.

Looking forward to hearing from you and seeing you on the site.

praying for Sharon

2006-01-06T09:45:00.000+02:00

I’ve been running into more and more people lately, who’ve been saying things like “I can’t pray for Sharon” or “I don’t hope he dies, but he’s getting what he deserves.”

I’ve been trying to think of my response to such folk. I think I’ve got it: You have no idea what Judaism is.

First of all, it’s just silly to say that it’s divine punishment that Sharon has fallen ill now. Besides the ridiculous level of chutzpa to assume to know God’s plans, I wouldn’t say that it’s very rare that 78-year olds have strokes! Are all the other ones divine punishments as well? Are you prepared to tell the child of another 80 year old that their father’s stroke is due to divine punishment?

But more importantly: Sharon has both merits and faults. We all do. For those who opposed his policies, particularly the disengagement plan – his faults are many, perhaps greater than any other Israeli leader. But he has so many merits! He’s saved us in wars, led the settlement enterprise, put down the intifada. While his faults might be greater than ours, his merits – his actions on behalf of Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael – are greater than any of ours! Even his greatest critics! How many of you can claim to done anything for this country on the same level? So a little modesty. That’s Jewish.

But maybe you say that his faults outweigh his merits, and therefore he deserves what he’s getting. I have one question for you. When exactly did you get your hands on God’s record book? I’d really like to see it. How do you do in there? You have simply no idea. The Tanach and Chazal are full of examples where people get credit for certain deeds that outweigh seemingly more evil ones. We need to thank the Egyptians despite our slavery. There are evil kings who get Olam Haba because of building one city. How many of you live in towns that Sharon helped build? Bottom line – we don’t know what counts for what. We can’t.

So what’s left? Maybe I haven’t convinced you. Maybe you feel that the evil of the disengagement certainly outweighs any good he’s done for the country. Destroying settlements cancels out building them. The pain of the displaced is far greater than the comfort of those who have found homes. And therefore you can not pray for his health! What you are asking God to do is implement Midat HaDin. Come down in judgment! Punish the evildoer! Well, guess what. Midat HaDin is not a precise weapon that you can choose to affect one person. It affects us all. Can you handle it?

אם עוונות תשמור י-ה ה' מי יעמוד

How dare you call for Midat HaDin! Can our country handle it? We need to ask for Midat HaRachamim, to look at our merits and not our sins. Haven’t you ever prayed on Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur? What do you think the whole tefila is about? Do I actually need to quote the tefilot?

But maybe you say that perhaps I’m right, but emotionally you can’t bring yourself to pray for Sharon. Well guess what – we have a system that helps us frame our emotions with proper actions. It’s called halacha. Say the tefilot. Pray for his health. And maybe, listen to the rabbis. Did you hear Rav Grossman talk about Sharon’s dedication to Jewish education and families? How about Rav Batzri’s call for prayer? Do you think Rav Ovadia Yosef doesn’t care about the destroyed batei knesset and schools? What about Rav Elnekave? The Rav of Gush Katif who’s been sitting in a hotel since the summer? When he called on all Jews to pray for Sharon, not just because another Jew is ill but because of his merits – was he wrong?

And if for some reason all this hasn’t convinced you, and you still can’t bring yourself to pray for his health – at least have the decency to do so in a way that nobody else can hear it. Some of us are actually busy worrying about the health of the Prime Minister of the State of Israel, retired General, Ariel (ben Vera) Sharon.

Chanukah and the three layers of darkness

2005-12-26T21:03:00.000+02:00

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 25^th of Elul is the 25^th 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

2005-12-26T21:02:00.000+02:00

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

also rans and Iran

2005-12-12T11:02:00.000+02:00

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.

Saturday Night Live - Weekend Update Quotables

2005-12-06T12:00:00.000+02:00

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

Saturday Night Live - Weekend Update Quotables

separated at birth?

2005-12-06T11:37:00.000+02:00

Saddam Hussein at his trial:

And comedian Richard Pryor:

dryers and dishwashers

2005-12-05T19:59:00.000+02:00

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?

an interesting article about the Chief Rabbi of the IDF

2005-12-04T10:10:00.000+02:00

From NFC

who really cares about social justice?

2005-12-03T23:36:00.000+02:00

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:

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

I lived in such cities as San Francisco and Boston

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

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.

I wonder how the Israeli pundits would do...

2005-12-02T09:22:00.000+02:00

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

Now this is just silly...

2005-11-30T09:13:00.000+02:00

Fritolaysia Cuts Off Chiplomatic Relations With Snakistan | The Onion

my kind of party

2005-11-29T14:11:00.000+02:00

I’ve always loved watching how people interconnect with each other. The most obvious example of this is my interest in genealogy. But there are many others. As a kid I always liked the midrashim that explained who the unknown people in Tanach stories are, and how they appear in multiple legends. And l’havdil, when we studied Greek mythology in English class, I was fascinated with who was related to whom. As I mentioned, I had my own version of “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” before that game was invented, and pre-IMDB. In general, I liked studying history when I could see the connection between individuals and generations.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that pre-elections is one of my favorite seasons. I love to watch people joining parties, switching parties, creating parties. In 1996 we were still in the States, but by 1999 I was in a classic position to watch this spectator sport. First of all, I had a job that allowed me to listen to the radio as much as I liked. Yaron Dekel was an excellent political commentator in election time. (He’s good in Washington now, but it would be nice if he’d come back every election.) Also, I got to listen to the show HaMila HaAchrona on Galei Tzahal. Back then it was one of the few opportunities to hear people with different opinions without them shouting at each other Popolitika style. (I haven’t had a job that allows me to listen to them for 5 years - and I still miss the show.) I also read HaAretz daily, and enjoyed the writing of Akiva Eldar and Yossi Verter (even if I didn’t agree with their politics.) I would follow the developments in all the parties, read every name on all the lists, and even organized a debate between Rav Yehuda Gilad (Meimad), Rav Benny Elon (Ichud Leumi), Nachum Langental (Mafdal) and Yechiel Lasri (Merkaz - anyone remember him?).

The 2001 elections were pretty boring since they were only for the Prime Minister. But in 2003 I was good to go again, and this time even better, because I was working in a government ministry, so I could watch developments close up.

And now, with the “Big Bang” of Israeli politics in full swing, I can watch it to my heart’s content. Who will leave Labor, Likud and Shinui to join Sharon? Who will be on the Mafdal-Ichud HaLeumi list? Will Avigdor Lieberman join Likud? I can’t wait.

well, i was inspired

2005-11-28T08:47:00.000+02:00

On Shabbat, I heard a dvar torah in a haredi yeshiva. While the speaker tended to mix various midrashim and use them as proofs instead of relating to them as individual drashot (something that usually bothers me), the idea was nice.

He discussed the importance of inspiration. He asked why did Avraham’s servant (who he naturally called Eliezer) first give the gifts to Rivka and only then ask her name. His point was that the servant was inspired, realized the hashgacha in Rivka’s actions, and needed to act. He compared this to the actions of Lot’s sons-in-law, who more or less refused to be inspired, even by the miraculous actions by the angels. Another example he gave was Yitro’s inspiration by the splitting of the sea vs Amalek’s decision to ignore the opportunity.

While I’m sure the speaker intended to inspire his audience - I don’t think he expected me to get the message I got out of it. Because as I looked around the crowd in that yeshiva, I couldn’t help wondering - how many people in the room chose not to be inspired by the miracles and hashgacha present in the return of the Jewish people to their land and the founding of an independent Jewish state?

comedy and theology

2005-11-23T13:11:00.000+02:00

I've always believed that you can learn a lot about something by a good question, even if the answer offered along with it isn't anything special. This applies very much to Judaism. I'm willing to deal with questions asked by anybody - that doesn't mean I have to accept their answers. And one of the best places to get good questions - and be entertained in the process - is from humor.

Jokes about the Bible or religion are great ways to focus on the apparent contradictions and difficulties that religious belief entails. The Simpsons does a great job of dealing with religion in a humorous way.

I happened to get a couple of very funny items this week that help show how humor can focus our questions on religion.

The first is this Sunday's "Pearls Before Swine" strip by Stephan Pastis. As the name of the strip implies, Pastis often hints at religious themes, but not in an offensive way like B.C.

This strip deals with the very important issue of how our name can survive, and the meaning of immortality. It's an issue I've thought of often, sort of developed my own theory, and recently read a great article about it here. But Pastis does it in a way that makes you think and laugh:

The second item was a quote I got in an email today. It's by the comedian Emo Philips, who I wasn't very familiar with. Turns out he's very funny. Here's his quote:

When I was a kid, I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord, in his wisdom, didn't work that way. So I just stole one and asked him to forgive me.

Besides being very funny - isn't that incredibly thought provoking? It brings up some very important issues about the nature of both tefila and teshuva.

I've discussed my thoughts about "asking God for a bicycle" a couple of times already. But I recently went to a very intersting shiur where the Rav had a pretty bold - but hard to deny - thesis: that there is no Teshuva before punishment in the Chumash. It appears in the Nevi'im, and certainly in the Oral Torah (and makes its way back into our view of the Torah via midrashim.) But in the punishments of Kayin, the flood, the Tower of Bavel, Sdom, Mitzrayim, the Golden Calf and more - the people getting punished never were given a warning and a chance to repent. Even the section of the Torah which deals with teshuva, in Parshat Nitzavim, only comes after the curses of Ki Tavo.

Of course that approach has changed over time, but that only makes the questions raised by Emo so much more fascinating.

The Dilbert Blog: Unfair Stereotypes

2005-11-16T17:39:00.000+02:00

Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert has a new blog. And today he had a rather funny insight into the recent bombings in Jordan:

The Dilbert Blog: Unfair Stereotypes

The Baby Name Wizard: NameVoyager

2005-11-13T00:22:00.000+02:00

Type in your first name and see its distribution over time:

The Baby Name Wizard: NameVoyager

A logic riddle

2005-11-10T13:30:00.000+02:00

Someone posed this logic riddle to me this morning:

If Shimon Peres were to enter a loser contest, would he win or lose?

at least listen to milo

2005-11-05T20:56:00.000+02:00

I have a number of friends and family members who adhere to the Atkins diet. They're convinced that it's a great way to lose weight and stay slim. I have a number of reservations about the approach, but I'm not usually comfortable discussing it with them directly. So I figure, I'll write about it here, and maybe by chance one of them will happen to come across it...

When it comes to losing weight, I always remember the advice from this classic 1987 Bloom County cartoon:

I might add "eat right" to "eat less", but the basic message is incredibly solid.

My weight now is far from ideal, but I have successfully lost weight in the past, and from what I've seen the most important factor (I suppose besides genetics) is will power. (However, as Toad points out here [ignore the footnotes], sometimes a cake is preferrable to will power.) When I have committed myself to eating less and exercise, I've lost weight. When I don't do that - I gain weight. Pretty simple.

Fad diets have been around for a long time, but for some reason Atkins has come across as very attractive.

For the red-blooded American male (or immigrant to Israel) what’s more attractive than a diet that says eat as much meat as you can, and labels carbs as devil’s food (and devil’s food cake as carbs...)?

What’s my problem with it? Well I need to return once again to the 1980s - pre-Atkins. I got a copy of the book Jane Brody’s Good Food Book - Living the High Carbohydrate Way. She paints a picture of how a high carbohydrate diet is the most healthy way to live and will keep weight down as well. It fits well with everything I learned about nutrition and physiology in school.

The misconception that many people have that carbohydrates are fattening stems from the fact that we often put fattening things on top of our starches. But starches, particularly those that are full of fiber, are very healthy, and create a sense of satisfaction that reduces our appetites.

Brody brings many scientific studies that show the advantage of a diet high in fiber and carbohydrates and moderate in proteins and fats. But what convinced me most was her explanation of how man is designed. She entitled the chapter “Dietary Lessons from Human Evolution”. I won’t go into a discussion of evolution, but suffice it to say that if I can conclude that there are lessons from the way God created us, then they are much stronger!

She writes that “our teeth are structured more for grinding, like those of herbivorous cattle, than for tearing meat, like the teeth of carnivorous cats and dogs.” Also, “our long and convoluted intestinal tracts are better designed for the slow digestion of fibrous plant foods, rather than the short, straight, fast tract needed by carnivores to process meat”.

She describes how ancient man had relatively infrequent access to meat, while most of the time would eat starches, fruits and vegetables. When a meat meal would become available, he would eat as much as he could. We still have that passion today, but we end up eating much more meat than necessary. This is also the view of the rabbis, who wrote that “one should not eat meat unless he has an appetite for it (Hullin 84a).”

So instead of working with what the body is supposed to do, a high-meat, low-carb diet basically induces ketosis. That might not seem so bad, but I worked in a refet for a year and a half, and I saw what happened when the cows got bovine ketosis. Not pretty. It doesn’t seem appropriate for a person to bring it upon himself.

Additionally, it would seem that an Atkins type diet isn’t great for the kidneys. This site describes the process:

When amino acids are "burned" as a fuel, ammonia (NH3] is the waste product.
Ammonia must be carried to the liver, converted to urea and excreted by the
kidneys.

(This is why it’s not a good idea to eat protein before a fast. The water you drink beforehand is used to pass the urea instead of helping you out the next day. Carbohydrates, on the other hand, preserve water, making the fast easier. Since I’ve learned this tip, my fasts have been much easier.)

So a very high protein diet makes the kidneys work overtime. That seems like a risk that isn’t worthwhile, even for the chance to lose some weight.

So what do I recommend? If you won’t listen to me, at least listen to Milo…

The Pop vs. Soda Page

2005-11-05T20:36:00.000+02:00

With my wife hailing from Chicago, and me having grown up in Rochester and San Francisco, we often have "debates" about the proper terminology for flavored carbonated beverages.

Well, here's a page that discusses in detail the geographic distinctions of that controversy:

The Pop vs. Soda Page

extra, extra, read all about it

2005-11-02T13:57:00.000+02:00

My first three years of high school were spent in a school that allowed the students a great deal of choice in which classes to take and their schedules. It was more like a university than most high schools (at least at the time.)

Due to this flexibility, in the second semester of my junior year, I was able to finish school before noon! One of the things that enabled me to accomplish this feat, was the fact that if you worked on the school paper, it was considered as a class in English (which was required.) I worked as one of the editors of the political section of the paper. The hours were flexible and I could come and go as I pleased.

While now that same paper is done with fancy computer editing and graphics, back then we had to do a lot of the work by hand. We’d send the files (yes, there were computers back in 1989) to the printer, they’d send back us the material, and we’d cut it up and paste it to the boards, and from there back to the printer. Or something like that.

The paper came out once a month, and my favorite day of the months, was just after the paper came out. After everyone had been working hard on writing and editing for weeks, we could now all sit back, relax and review what we had done. And together with the insightful comments, there were a lot of laughs at the mistakes.

(I was to repeat this fulfilling experience years later, when I spent a few months working for the Jerusalem Report.)

Well, I don’t work on a newspaper now, but I have two web sites that allow me to experience it vicariously:

Even though I’m not a big fan of Jay Leno, I’ve always enjoyed his Headlines. Every time I remember to go back to his site, I’m always in for a few good laughs. I only wish I still had some of the mistakes from our high school paper to submit…

I recently found a new blog, BAGnewsNotes, “a progressive blog dedicated to the discussion and analysis of news images”. While many of the photos discussed relate to issues that I’m either not that associated with or even familiar with, the author and the commenters do a great job of understanding the meaning behind the news photos.

Now I know what it's called...

2005-11-02T10:16:00.000+02:00

For a while, I've been thinking about writing about the significance of changes in the internet - blogs, wikis, RSS, etc. I had a feeling it represented a significant change, but I didn't know that there was already an official term for it: Web 2.0

Here's an article that explains the term and its significance:

O'Reilly: What Is Web 2.0

And as fits the era, here's the Wiki article:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Web_2.0

out of the mouths of babes

2005-10-31T11:41:00.000+02:00

When we lived on kibbutz, I held a number of jobs. I worked in the refet, the olive & pickle factory and I held a number of jobs in the chadar ochel. One other job that I had part time was teaching English to the children of native English speakers in the elementary school. Although I’d taught in the past, I never studied education, so my classes were always somewhat … experimental (read “improvised”.) We’d mostly play games, often discussing popular culture (one of the students, I think in 5th grade, was the child of Israelis, but had learned all his English watching The Simpsons. He actually had the highest level English in the class.)

Anyway, this Shabbat I saw one of the kids who I taught, and it reminded me of a story about him. I was trying to teach some of the younger kids (second and third grades.) This kid felt that being with the younger kids was a bit babyish, and was trying to “play it cool.” He wasn’t interested in any of the games that I suggested. I asked him what he liked to play, and he said soccer. So I invented some kind of game on the blackboard, where if a kid would name an animal in English, he could score a goal. He was into it, while still attempting to remain cool.

When it was his term, this cool kid, came up with the following animals - “horsey, doggie, piggy…” I had a hard time not laughing!

That certainly made me think about the risks of talking in “baby-talk” to our children.

But I guess I got my comeuppance for my attitude a couple of months ago.

I work in an area of Jerusalem where the mounted police patrol regularly. They also use our parking lot as a place to park their horses when they want to come in for lunch.

One day when I was leaving work with an English-speaking friend from my neighborhood, I noticed that one of the mounted policemen leaving the parking lot was also from our town. I innocently said, “Hey, look! There’s Dudu” (the cop’s name, a common Israeli nickname for David). However, my friend: a) didn’t know the cop, and b) noticed one of the natural functions that the horse was performing at the time, and therefore replied to me “Well, that’s what horses do!”

I was pretty embarrassed. Not only did it seem that I had some bizarre need to point out the horse’s defecatory behavior, but I sounded like a four year old saying it!

ASL Browser

2005-10-30T16:38:00.000+02:00

I grew up in Rochester, one of the two cities in America (at least then) that had a univeristy for the deaf (NTID in Rochester, Gallaudet in Washington.) There was a lot of exposure to the deaf and to sign language. Most kids - I think - at least knew how to finger-spell. I also tried picking up a number of signs, most of which I've long forgotten.

It was a pleasure to come across this site, which has Quicktime video for the signs of hundreds of words:

ASL Browser

recent reading

2005-10-27T23:06:00.000+02:00

I haven’t written a post about my reading habits in a while. So the larger number of listings is due to the time between the posts, not because of a quicker clip on my part.

First of all, I finished the latest Harry Potter. I saw a really funny idea about what might be the end of the next book. To see it – click here. (But only if you’ve finished #6).

I also read two great books by Malcolm Gladwell – The Tipping Point and Blink. While those books were later recommended to me, I was first introduced to Gladwell by a friend, who had me read an article of his on a topic that didn’t seem terribly interesting – ketchup. It turned out to be an amazingly interesting article. He has great insights into the way the human mind and human society work. I’m trying to figure out how to use his understandings to help me better comprehend Judaism. That will probably come later.

I’ve finished reading one of the first autobiographies I’ve read in years – Natan Sharansky’s Fear No Evil. After finishing it, I’ve gone back to reading Abba Eban’s autobiography. Both books are a great way to understand important chapters in Jewish history that I knew about, but not nearly enough. But two things surprised me in particular: a) both Sharansky and Eban have a great sense of humor, and b) they both accomplished so much at a young age. Not much older than I am. I can’t help but wonder what that says about what I’ve accomplished so far.

My mishnayot learning is going along, albeit a bit slower than in the past. I’ve finished Masechet Shabbat, and am now trudging through Masechet Eruvin. It’s actually more interesting than I anticipated, but it’s still difficult. At this rate I’ll be lucky to get to Pesachim by Pesach…

my opinion ... for a song

2005-10-26T13:24:00.000+02:00

Well, Simchat Torah is behind us now. I enjoyed it, but I don’t remember ever being so tired. I think the combination of the long day - we started at 7:30 and finished after 13:00 - and the fact that my kids are getting bigger but still want to go on my shoulders for the dancing, is what’s doing me in.

I see that I’m getting older not only by the weight of my kids, but also by the songs. There are more and more songs every year that I simply don’t recognize.

But even from the ones I do recognize, there are some of questionable appropriateness.

Here are some that I’ve thought of:

There is the famous story by the Maggid of Duvno that it is in appropriate to sing the last line of Avinu Malkeinu. But that is actually the line most likely to be sung.

I remember reading in Rabbi Hershel Schachter follow up to Nefesh HaRav, "MiPeneni Harav", that Rav Soloveitchik was opposed to saying "Ana Avda D'Kudisha B'rich Hu" (I am a servant of God) in the prayer B'rich Shme, since it was haughty. I think the original quote was from the Chafetz Chaim, but I'm not sure. In any case, it's another popular song.

My Rosh Yeshiva, Rav David Bigman was opposed to the popular (Chabad?) song Mashiach, Mashiach, since it put too much emphasis on (a) man, and not enough on God.

Here's one that I've come up with myself: The famous song "V'Samachta B'Chagecha... V'Hayita Ach Sameach" isn't correct. The origin is from Devarim 16:14-15, and there are a lot of conditions between the first part and the last. They include adding others (the poor, widow, leviim, etc) to your joy and having it in Yerushalayim. Rav Hirsh in his commentary there says that without fulfilling those conditions, you can't achieve "v'hayita ach sameach."

Technorati's State of the Blogosphere

2005-10-25T18:15:00.000+02:00

Technorati has an interesting post on the State of the Blogosphere.

What is this blogging thing?

2005-10-24T23:15:00.000+02:00

I’ve managed to past my 100th post without noticing. I’m sure all of my myriads of readers were out having huge centipost parties, but by me it was quietly ignored…

Anyway, it’s time for some reflection.

I’m still not entirely sure of the purpose of this blog.

What is it like?

Singing in the shower?
Giving a speech in a public square?
Talking to myself out loud on a bus?
Leaving a diary unlocked in the living room?
Graffiti on a wall?
A letter to the editor?

Anyway, I’m not sure. And that makes it hard for me to determine what I’m writing, particularly since I don’t know who I’m writing to. Do I care who hears what I’m saying and why?

I think that one of the main reasons for the lack of clarity as to my intended audience is that I haven’t made it clear who I am.

From what I’ve seen, there are three kinds of bloggers.

There are those that clearly state their name. Two of them that I read regularly are David Bogner’s Treppenwitz and Dr. Jeffrey Woolf’s My Obiter Dicta.

On the other side of the spectrum there are those who give no clues as to their identity. I’m not a regular reader of these, but there are plenty. Usually they’re written by individuals who want to write about something rather private, and can’t afford to reveal their names and still write openly.

And in the middle, are those who don’t mention their names directly, but if you read between the lines it may be possible to figure it out. In this group I would include Chayyei Sarah and Ben Chorin.

Some bloggers from the first category have claimed that it is more ethical to put your name on what you write. No hiding behind a mask. Additionally, it’s much easier to promote your blog if you don’t have to hide your name.

I’m not sure I agree with the first point. I think a decent metaphor for a blog could be Spiderman’s costume. (Superman’s costume really doesn’t count for something like this. Without a mask, it’s basically pajamas.)

On the one hand, you’ve got Tobey Maguire. He wears the costume, but wants everyone to know that it’s him. He demands (I assume) that his name appears in the credits and on the posters. He’s not interested in any sense of anonymity.

On the other side you’ve got Peter Parker. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s Spiderman. He wears the costume in order to protect his secret. If everyone knew who he was, he wouldn’t be able to function.

And what’s the middle ground? If I (or more likely my son) was to wear a Spiderman costume to a masquerade party, I wouldn’t be devastated if someone were to guess my secret identity. In fact, at some point I’d probably like it. But I’d like people to first try to guess if it was me – would I be the kind of person to wear that costume? Do I fit the role? And if I made the costume myself – how does it look?

And I think that’s what a semi-anonymous blog is about. I don’t have any deep dark secrets (at least that I’m writing about here.) And I’m sure with a minimal amount of detective work, a reader could figure out who I am. That wouldn’t bother me. I’d actually be honored that somebody cared enough to try.

So I think for now I’ll stick with it as it is. For those of you who come by here at times, I hope that my words speak for me. However, to know whether this is really singing in the shower or a public address, it would be nice to know who you are…

Basic Chemistry

2005-10-19T23:32:00.000+02:00

I made a comment to someone today about how I am opposed to break-away minyanim. I added that not only break away minyanim, but breaking away in general – in family, in shuls or in national politics.

On the other hand, my approach that says compromise and avoidance of machloket has the status of l’chatchila is often viewed as wishy-washy. If I really believe in something, why should I compromise? Maybe the other side should be the one to avoid machloket?

At my son’s brit, I said the following:

If “mila” (circumcision) is important, why isn’t a child born circumcised?

Mila is part of a brit, a covenant. There are many kinds of britot, such as treaties between nations, and even marriage (a brit nisuin). A brit can only exist when both sides are not whole, and are lacking something. We learn this from nature: Inert elements, like helium, cannot combine to form molecules. Only elements that are missing electrons or protons can combine to from a new molecule, as hydrogen and oxygen combine to form water.

There are those who object to circumcision because they claim that a child is born perfect. Judaism rejects this, for a child is born cute, but not perfect – either physically or ethically. We have a religion of mitzvot, of taking action. What mitzvot can a baby keep? What chesed can he do? Other than smiles, he can only receive, not give.

I notice from my work in the refet that calves can walk and do almost everything adult cows can do right after birth. Humans, however, need to develop first. For a long time this question bothered me: Why should it take humans so many years to mature? The answer we see is that humans have a higher ethical level to achieve than other animals. Therefore, their physical development runs parallel to the ethical development.

Mila is a physical sign of our acknowledgement of his lack of perfection, of his need to develop. Once we admit to this deficiency, we can make a brit with our Creator.

This is critical to understanding why I am opposed to “break-away”. A hydrogen atom does not want to break-away – when it is alone, it is incomplete. It is important we feel the same way when we are not connected with other members of our family, our community or our nation. I never want to feel so “inert” that I can be completely independent of the “other”.

There is another aspect of this that I’ve developed over the years. Of all the punishments available to the descendants of Moav, why did God insist that we don’t marry them? I think the reason is that they did not show willingness to allow Bnei Yisrael to cross through their land. They followed the principle of “sheli sheli v’shelcha shelcha”, i.e. midat sdom. And davka the descendants of Lot should have realized that the approach of Sdom was wrong, and that of Avraham was correct. But again, why the prohibition on marriage? Because in a marriage, you can’t have “sheli sheli”. The basic concept of a marital union – a brit – means that both sides concede to each other. It would be impossible to marry into a nation that has “sheli sheli” as an ideology, not as a punishment, but simply because marriage isn’t a logical option. (Perhaps that is why Rut was able to successfully marry into the Jewish people, because she so obviously rejected the concept of “sheli sheli”.)

And I feel that in almost any argument basic humility requires that I don’t claim to be 100% right. Certainly I’m convinced that my cause is just, but I have to leave a little bit of room for the other side to continue to exist. That’s the concept of “machloket l’shem shamayim”. Even though we follow Hillel, we still learn Shamai’s teachings. We don’t want them to cease to exist. Elu V’Elu Divrei Elokim Chaim!

Perhaps I’m naïve to believe that these rules from the beit midrash should apply in politics (family or shul, local or national), but these are my values.

yes, my sukkot post

2005-10-18T20:15:00.000+02:00

Sukkot isn’t the easiest holiday for me.

I’ve known this for a long time, but this year, after my discussions about tradition, I’ve begun to understand my reasons a bit better.

First of all, I don’t enjoy it so much. I’ve found a quote from the Rambam to back me up on this:

“Both these festivals, I mean Sukkot and Pesach, inculcate both an opinion and a moral quality. In the case of Pesach, the opinion consists in the commemoration of the miracles of Egypt and in the perpetuation of their memory throughout the periods of time. In the case of Sukkot, the opinion consists in the perpetuation of the memory of the miracles of the desert throughout the periods of time. As for the moral quality, it consists in man's always remembering the days of stress in the days of prosperity, so that his gratitude to God should become great and so that he should achieve humility and submission. Accordingly unleavened bread and bitter herbs must be eaten on Pesach in commemoration of what happened to us. Similarly one must leave the house [during Sukkot] and dwell in tabernacles, as is done by the wretched inhabitants of deserts and wastelands, in order that the fact be commemorated that such was our state in ancient times: That I made the Children of Israel dwell in tabernacles, and so on". (Moreh Nevuchim III:43, Pines translation).

In other words, the Rambam basically says that sitting in the sukka is comparable to eating maror on Pesach – by remembering the bad times, we appreciate what we have now.

But I think there’s more to it than that. Many people enjoy sitting in the sukka. Why don’t I enjoy the holiday?

I think it goes back to my lack of tradition. Growing up in a non-Orthodox home, Pesach and Chanuka had great significance, even if we didn’t follow the halacha. We went to “Temple” on Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur. But despite going to Hebrew school, I have very little memory about Sukkot. We certainly didn’t celebrate it at home.

As I became religious in high school, I somehow managed to celebrate the holiday. I didn’t build a sukka, but for at least one year I purchased a lulav and etrog. But the time where I should have really learned what to do on Sukkot – during my 3 years in yeshiva in Israel – Sukkot fell during “bein hazmanim”. So I never got to watch my rabbis practice the customs and laws.

I guess on Sukkot, more than any other time during the year, I feel like an outsider, like a new baal teshuva. And while on other occasions I would simply study the laws to feel more competent, here I feel like there’s simply way too much to learn, and my natural difficulties in learning certain subject matters will prevent me from succeeding. In some ways I feel the same about tying tzitzit or the exact way to wear tefillin, but I’ve managed to at least feel comfortable in my routine, even if I’m not doing things perfectly.

So what do I do? I don’t want to take on every possible chumra, a) because that would be very difficult, and b) it doesn’t fit in with my general approach to halacha. So I get nervous. I try as much to rely on others to put up the sukka, to pick out the arba minim. And I feel jealous of those people who know how to bind and hold and shake their lulav because they simply do what their father did!

I’ve often said that I prefer Pesach to Sukkot because you need to prepare extensively for Pesach, but once it comes, you’re done. You don’t need to decide if this is or isn’t chametz. But sukkot you’re constantly (or at least I am constantly) wondering if the sukka is kosher or not, where in the world I’m going to find fresh aravot, etc. I think in my approach to dealing with lack of tradition, I’m more comfortable with “shev v’al taaseh” than I am with “kum aseh”.
I’m not sure what will improve the situation. I guess learning more about the halachot, but that is about as inviting to me as going back to the Cub Scouts and trying to learn how to tie knots. I mostly feel badly for my kids, since they’re much more likely to inherit their father’s neurosis about the holiday than any comforting traditions.

And if I’m already on a Sukkot rant, two other things:

Since I usually work on Chol HaMoed, and my work has no sukka, I end up feeling like Sukkot is like Pesach. I have to constantly look for non-mezonot food!

I don’t like wasps.

My traditions

2005-10-16T15:00:00.000+02:00

After reading my recent posts, you might think I don’t care about tradition.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I grew up in the home of divorced parents, not in the same town as my grandparents. I always wanted a more complete family life. Even as a young kid, I made a “Relatives Book” where every family member needed to fill out a page writing down all of their details.

Additionally, my father’s father died when my father was 4. And my paternal great-grandfather died when my grandfather was 7. There are major gaps in my family traditions (another post will probably describe how I found out we are actually Levi’im, not Kohanim).

My sometimes hobby/ sometimes obsession of genealogy - over 4000 names on the family tree and counting - I believe stems from an effort to connect to the generations past. And my calling up constant distant cousins and saying “You don’t know me, but we’re related” is a way to connect the past back to the present again. Tradition!

Now I have a lot of names, but no “traditions”. I can imagine that if I had my great-grandfather’s kiddush cup or melody for “Shalom Aleichem” - I would use them without exception. And if there was a food back in Skaudvile that my great-great-grandfather never ate on Pesach, I would gladly resist from eating it as well.

So am I a hypocrite? Maybe, but not because of this. First of all, tradition is important, but it doesn’t trump halacha, certainly for humra. I actually do have a memory of a kid having found my grandfather’s tefillin, but my rabbis said they weren’t kosher. I wish I knew what happened to them since, but I wouldn’t wear them despite the rabbis’ ruling. (I would however have no problem trying to find halachic justification for a potentially problematic tradition.)

But just like tradition doesn’t trump halacha, it also doesn’t trump all values. For, in the end, it is a value in itself. But other values also are important - humility, respect for others, etc. Why should my tradition take precedence over another’s tradition? Or another’s need for religious fulfillment?

Even now, I have certain family traditions that I cherish. They aren’t generations old, but in my nuclear family we have songs that we sing, foods that we eat, etc. But when I go to someone else’s home, I wouldn’t dare insist that they enable me to practice those customs. It’s not my house! It would be chutzpa to even bring it up.

The same applies on a community level. Everyone has the right to their own traditions, but has no right to trample the halacha, traditions or values of others.

what's in a name?

2005-10-16T14:04:00.000+02:00

Over Shabbat, a guest got an aliya in shul, and I'm nearly certain he was called up as:

Ploni ben Chayim Ploni

If I heard correctly, that sounds like a very sad story...

the best politicians are the ones not elected

2005-10-15T22:52:00.000+02:00

Here's an email I wrote before the 2003 elections. Elections aren't that far away, and this message is very important to keep in mind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think people have a tendency to idolize prepoliticians. In this sense there is no real difference between Ehud Barak, Amnon Lipkin Shahak, Shaul Mofaz and Moshe Feiglin.

For example, look at the two leaders of Zo Artzeinu from the mid-90s: Moshe Feiglin and Rav Benny Elon. Both were strong ideologues - and I'm sure if you asked anyone then which one was likely to change the country, Elon would have been the more likely candidate.

Elon was elected to the Knesset, and while in opposition was still able to seem like a strong ideologue. Then his party joined the government, but he was still an MK, allowed to say what he wanted. After he became a minister, people accused him of selling out, of sitting with Labor, especially when it seemed like he was using political tricks to keep his seat.

Similar things can be said about other politicians - Rechavam Zeevi z"l, Effie Eitam, Avigdor Lieberman, Netanyahu, etc. All were popular in the "right wing camp" before they were elected, but berated by the pure ideologues after they entered the government and sat at the cabinet table.

While some of this can be attributed to the idea that power corrupts, or only corrupt people are attracted to politics, I don't think this is always such a negative concept. As the Prime Minister says, "What you see from here you don't see from there." Or as R.A. Butler said, "Politics is the art of the possible." Matzui over Ratzui, and so on. Ideals are important as goals, but they can't be the litmus test of a politician, because people want conflicting things, and it is up to the politician to sort them out. For example, if they had national referendums on whether public funding should be increased on education, on whether taxes should be reduced, and whether the deficit should be cut, all would likely pass. It is up to the politicians to decide how to balance conflicting desires. This is true in a quiet country - all the more so in a country like Israel, where every side feels that the fate of the country hangs in the balance. Israeli politicians have to make difficult decisions that we, the public, don't really need to make.

If Benny Elon sat with Shimon Peres, it is not because he sold out. It is because he had to weigh the importance of national unity against the importance of allowing some of the Left's ideas to be heard and even implemented.

Here's my prediction. If Moshe Feiglin makes it into the Knesset (I'm not sure that will happen), he'll already compromise a bit. He'll want to be on committees, etc, so he'll bend a bit. If he ever makes it to a ministerial position, he won't be the pure idealist that many of you view him as now. And that won't be a bad thing. He'll be a politician - the exact thing every person running for election is. Don't be surprised or disappointed.

The 20 Funniest People (I can think of right now)

2005-10-15T22:08:00.000+02:00

The 20 Funniest People (I can think of right now):

Andrew Marlatt
Brian Regan
Conan O'Brien
David Letterman
Gary Larson
George Carlin
Stephan Pastis
Groucho Marx
Jerry Seinfeld
Jim Henson
Jon Stewart
Lore Sjoberg
Matt Groening
Mitch Hedberg
Norm MacDonald
Robin Williams
Scott Adams
Steve Martin
Steven Wright
William Goldman

Einstein's socks

2005-10-13T22:48:00.000+02:00

This might be getting repetitive, but I think I’m going to put up a few more thoughts about the halacha/mesoret issue.

While both halacha and mesoret play an important role in our religious life, there is another important actor – values. Judaism is full of values like emet, shalom, hesed, kedusha, din, tzedek and more. Often both halacha and mesoret lead us to fulfillment of those values. But what happens when religious society ignores a value? Who can fix the situation? Mesoret is unlikely to help. While very powerful, it mostly uses the vehicle of inertia. Halacha on the other hand can be used to revolutionize. Sometimes to redeem an ignored value the halacha will make additional stringencies. Sometimes it will pull back, “uprooting” a particular practice for a more important value. The examples of this are endless. The prophets rallied against exclusive focus on sacrifices and ignoring social ills. The rabbis changed laws relating to shmitta, marriage, and others. Rabbi Eliezer Berkowitz documents this well in “Not in Heaven”. Of course the halacha is not to be toyed with lightly, but when circumstance warrants it – it does not roll over and play dead.

There are two types of halachic approaches, which in many ways are opposed to one another. One is the approach described in Rav Solveitchik’s Halakhic Man. He describes a halacha that is like a satellite in orbit, independent of the realities on the ground. The other approach is one that looks at reality, and what people can handle before taking a stand. They are different, but both approaches can lead to revolutionary change in the face of a tradition they think is deficient. Some rabbis will encourage people to change their behavior so it follows the pure halachic root. Others will suggest abandoning a humra that isn’t fitting with the realities on the ground.

I came across an interesting quote from Chovot HaLevavot. He writes: “One of the components of caution is not being overly cautious” and if one was to be afraid, because of caution, not to say anything new, then no one could have ever said anything from the time of the Prophets. This is a critical aspect for understanding the strength of halacha, and as a wise man once said “with great strength comes great responsibility”.

One of the wonderful things about halacha as a guide to religious life is its capability to empower a person. And the engine that gives halacha that power is the study of Torah. Everyone can study Torah and everyone can touch the halacha. When I was in yeshiva and asked my Rosh Yeshiva a halachic question, it was his custom to present the various sides to the issue and let the student decide for himself. (From what I’ve read, that was also the custom of his rav, Rav Gustman.) Why is this so important? In principle we shouldn’t need Torah study in order to determine what to do halachically – it’s enough to see what everyone else is doing, or at the most get a simple answer to a question – from a rabbi or a book. However there is something much deeper here. The gemara in Sota 22a states:
The Tannaim (scholars from the mishnah) destroy the world" Could one truly think they destroy the world? Ravina explains that the above source refers to those who make halakhic decisions based on mishnayot. We also learned this in a Beraita: R. Yehoshua said "Are they destroyers of the world? Do they not build the world....? Rather, we are talking about those that decide halakha straight out of mishnayot."
Rashi explains that the reason that by only looking at the mishna, the person will end up making mistakes. But the Maharal in Netivot HaTorah (15) says that the gemara is not referring to a case where the person will err. Rather the gemara is talking about a case where the halacha might technically be correct, but the person avoided studying the Torah sources in order to determine what to do. Since the entire world exists for Torah study, by taking a quick fix – the “tannaim are destroying the world.” The Maharal even goes so far as to say that it is better to err in judgment than to come to a decision by not studying deeply! That is the empowerment that the halacha gives. Mesoret – with all its significance – can’t come close.

One last anecdote: In Abba Eban’s autobiography (which I’m reading now, but that’s for another post), he describes meeting Albert Einstein at a banquet, and noticing that despite wearing “immaculate evening dress” he wasn’t wearing socks. I’ve found a number of quotes on the internet from Einstein about wearing socks, but what he told Eban fits my line of thought perfectly:
“In conversation he explained to me that ... [he] knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was quite simply devoted to rationality. He did not like doing things which had no empirical or logical explanation. There was no scientific way of proving that it was necessary or useful to wear both socks and shoes. One of these acts could be justified by the need to cover the feet; two of them seemed redundant. If I could refute what he had said, he would consider changing his habitual conduct.”
This leads me to thinking about the Nobel Prize given to Prof Aumann of the "Center for Rationality" at Hebrew University, but I think that also will be for another post.

could I convince Tevye to make aliya?

2005-10-10T22:41:00.000+02:00

So the halacha vs mesoret issue is still chasing me. I have a few more things I think I'd like to say (although this probably won't be the last word on the topic.)

First of all, after quoting Hayim Soloveitchik's article, I realized I forgot to quote the classic rebuttal: Tevye!

[TEVYE] Tradition, tradition! Tradition! Tradition, tradition! Tradition!
[TEVYE & PAPAS] Who, day and night, must scramble for a living, Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers? And who has the right, as master of the house, To have the final word at home? The Papa, the Papa! Tradition. The Papa, the Papa Tradition.
[GOLDE & MAMAS] Who must know the way to make a proper home, A quiet home, a kosher home? Who must raise the family and run the home, So Papa's free to read the holy books? The Mama, the Mama! Tradition! The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!

Of course the question remains what happened to Tevye...

The next issue is perhaps there isn't a simple distinction between anshei mesoret and anshei halacha. Maybe it's a matrix (that's how most of the sugyot in the gemara were presented in my yeshiva):

So maybe I'm B, and my rivals on the community issues are C. But maybe we both need to be striving to reach A or at least reach a balance. Or maybe all the approaches are legitmate.

I'm still not sure.

The last point is an issue I've been meaning to blog about for a while. One of the issues that bothers me the most as a Religious Zionist Baal Teshuva is the fact that there are so many Orthodox Jews who simply ignore what seems to be the clear halachic opinion - that they must make aliya. For a long time I've thought of making a comprehensive web site arguing against every possible excuse to remain in chutz l'aretz. I still hope to do that someday (soon).

But maybe I'm fighting an impossible battle? Or at least ignoring the main point, that those who are committed to mesoret over the halacha won't care that the halacha clearly states they need to make aliya, for they have a tradition from their parents and teachers that it's fine to stay in the States!

I found a letter I wrote to the leadership of Bnei Akiva back in 1997. Looking back at it now, I'm not sure if I was naive or maybe smarter then than I am now. What do you think?

I would like to relate to an issue brought up at the recent meeting of the Moetza Olamit of Bnei Akiva. Much was made there of the recent trend towards "chareidiazation" in the Orthodox communities in the gola, particularly in America. This trend was the basis of a proposal on the one hand to make the tnua entirely separate, and on the other hand to even question whether we should be pushing aliya at all. These suggestions seem to me to be putting the tnua on the defensive, when in fact, we can be using these trends to our advantage.
I believe, in fact, that it is a mistake to refer to the current trends in the gola as "chareidiazation". The truth is that the Modern Orthodox community is not heading in the direction of Charedim as we are familiar with the concept. In the average Modern Orthodox family, both the husband and wife are active members of the community in which they live, and there is a strong emphasis on success in limudei chol. There is also still strong support for Tzionut, in as much as Medinat Yisrael is viewed as a positive entity (even if they disagree with its policies).
What we are seeing in the gola, is rather a trend towards chumrot in halacha, and hakpada in mitzvot. As HaRav Druckman pointed out in the meeting, this is in itself is a positive development. There is much more limud torah, and concern for mitzvot than there was in the past. This trend exists among the Orthodox communities in general, and is encouraged by "Ba'alei Tshuva" movements such as NCSY, Aish HaTorah and Chabad. Part of this trend might also be attributed to the success of the shana b'aretz programs in yeshivot, which Bnei Akiva can even take some credit for.
What Bnei Akiva needs to do in these circumstances, is to "ride on the back" of these trends. We need to strongly point out, both to our chanichim, but perhaps more importantly to their parents, rabbis and community leaders, that a life of hakpada on mitzvot can not ignore the overwhelming significance of the mitzva of living in Eretz Yisrael.
We need to point out that the vast majority of Rishonim and large numbers of Achronim felt that living in Eretz Yisrael was a mitzva. We need to show that if one is trying to live a life of chumrot, one can not ignore a mitzva d'oraita with such a strong basis in chazal.
We are now davka in a particularly ripe time for emphasizing this mitzva. While rates of religious aliya from the West are not what we would like, the spiritual and halachic leadership of Orthodoxy is moving to Israel. With the passing in the past few years of the gedolim of Orthodoxy in America - R' Moshe Feinstein, R' Y.D. Soloveitchik, the Lubavitcher Rebbe z"l - the center of Torah in the world is firmly being placed in Israel.
Again, a lot of this trend can also be attributed to the fact that so many of the members of the Orthodox community have learned in Yeshivot in Israel, and particularly the young rabanim, and view Israeli Roshei Yeshivot as their halachic authority.
How do we go about promoting this mitzva? First of all, we have to be aggressive. We must place the mitzva of aliya on the same level as shmirat shabbat or kashrut. As far as practical plans, I suggest we act on two levels: activity in the gola, and activity within the yeshivot in Aretz. In Chutz L'Aretz, we need to get our idea out in the widest possible fashion. This does not need to be a very expensive project. First of all, I would suggest translating and publicizing currently existing books such as MeAfar Kumi by Tzvi Glatt HY"D and Em HaBanim Smecha by R' Teichtel HY"D. Other books can be translated, or collections of articles and teshuvot can be assembled and published. New articles and books can also be written to explain the significance of the mitzva. These publications can be authorized by the WZO, and be made accessible to the Orthodox public, rabbis and schools. I also believe that to publicize an idea like this, the internet can be a very helpful tool. It is inexpensive, and has a huge audience.
We should also take advantage of the currently existing network of Jewish newspapers and journals. We can write columns, letters to the editor and serve as subjects for news stories reflecting our emphasis on the mitzva of living in Israel. We can also use Bnei Akiva's parshat hashavua sheets to promote these views, as I did when I edited them for Bnei Akiva during my shlichut.
We also must confront Orthodox rabbis, schools, and movements as regards their views on this mitzva. If they believe that an obligation exists to live in Eretz Yisrael, how do they promote it? If they do not believe such an obligation exists, what are their sources?
Questionnaires can be sent to community rabbis, school principals and Roshei Yeshiva and movement heads asking them to clarify their views, with the option of publicizing the results. We should also use existing educational frameworks of our own, such as camps and kollelim, and insist that they encourage aliya from the point of view as a mitzva as well.
As far as the shana b'aretz is concerned, we must take maximum advantage of this very influential period in a young person's life. Many students who come here find themselves more religiously committed at the end of the year, and we must emphasize that this religious commitment must include a commitment to aliya. In principle, this should be easy - the yeshivot are in Israel, so the yeshivot should naturally support aliya. But we see that despite the thousands who learn in yeshivot in Israel, only a small percentage make aliya. Individual yeshivot might be afraid to push aliya as an obligation too strongly, from the fear that parents might be discouraged to send their children to such a yeshiva. But if a concerted effort was made to organize a joint front of all or almost all yeshivot, no individual yeshiva would have to be concerned. And I am not recommending that we encourage aliya immediately after the shana b'aretz, both for the fact that it would discourage parents from sending their children to Israel, and also how it would leave a significant leadership gap in the gola.
With the implementation of these proposals, I believe we can increase the "relevancy" of Bnei Akiva, while remaining true to our principals. We can also increase our influence beyond our own camp to all of Orthodoxy, perhaps influencing the kiruv movements as well.
I hope these suggestions are thought provoking and provide for fruitful discussion. In my opinion, these issues are appropriate for discussion at the upcoming veida, but can be put into place even before it.

Can a Jewish version be far behind?

2005-10-10T09:05:00.000+02:00

USATODAY.com - Phone reminds Muslims of prayer time

halacha vs mesoret

2005-10-09T15:59:00.000+02:00

I've been involved recently in a number of disputes in our shul. I prefer not to get into the details here, but I'll say this: in one issue I wanted to enable an activity that I felt was in the boundaries of halacha, whereas in the other people insisted in doing something I felt was against the normative halacha and the opinion of our local rabbi. In both cases, I more or less lost in my campaign. (And in case anyone reading this is aware of the circumstances, of course I was not the only, or even main, proponent/opponent in either case.)

Someone pointed out the irony that the same people who weren't willing to allow the change that the halacha enables, had no problem going against the rabbi and the halacha about the other issue. I mentioned this to a neighbor I respect, and he pointed out something I hadn't really considered before.

He said there are two types of approaches to Orthodoxy (my words, not his). There are those that look at the halacha and those that look at the mesoret. He claimed that the approach of American rabbis was to look at the books, at the halacha, while the Israeli approach was to look at the mesoret, the tradition.

According to this approach, there wasn't a contradiction in the behavior I mentioned above. In both cases, the parties were interested in what the mesoret was, regardless of the halacha.

When I mentioned that I couldn't help identifying more with the halacha than with (only) the mesoret, he said that made sense. I thought he would say because of my baal teshuva background (I didn't grow up with any signficant traditions to have difficulty breaking with), but he thought it was davka that I went to Yeshivat HaKibbutz HaDati. He claimed that YKD is known for focusing on halacha over mesoret (although I assume he meant more for kula than for chumra.)

That seemed strange to me, since I've always considered YKD to be the farthest thing from a Baal Teshuva yeshiva. When I first went there, and had difficulty keeping up, I considered switching to Machon Meir, which was (maybe still is) the only real Religious Zionist baal teshuva yeshiva. I ended up sticking it out, and I'm certainly glad I did.

But this got me thinking - why is this the case? Why don't most baalei teshuva become anshei halacha instead of anshei mesoret (to invent a dialectic I'm not sure Rav Soloveitchik would agree with)? I think the answer can be found in Haym Soloveitchik's famous article, RUPTURE AND RECONSTRUCTION ( http://www.lookstein.org/links/orthodoxy.htm ). Here he discusses how "mimetic tradition" ends up taking precedence over "the written law." Now he's not only talking about baalei teshuva, but the charedi move to the right in general. He claims that this somewhat recent change came from the break in the chain of tradition with the world of Eastern Europe, by both the encounter with modernity and of course the Shoah. Without a grandfather to follow, the best choice is to take the strictest route. (I highly recommend reading the whole article; my short summary doesn't do it justice.)

When we lived on Kibbutz Yavne, there was an ulpan giyur where potential converts retrieved their pre-conversion training. So I got to know a lot of converts there. I think there's a great similarity between converts and baalei teshuva, especially in their motivation. Many of them are looking for a new family. So they grab on to the traditions, maybe even more than the halacha.

As I've written earlier, I got lucky. I didn't need to do that, I think primarily by attaching myself to rabbis, real talmidei chachamim, instead of other baalei teshuva. So perhaps I'm the exception - a baal teshuva "Ish Halacha".

But still, two things about the approach of the "mesoret" camp bother me. One, I love to argue. I find logic intoxicating, and find few greater pleasures than proving my point. Within the 4 amot of halacha - everything is up for grabs. You bring a source from here - I'll bring a source from there. In the end one side will likely win (unless we're using the Breuer approach to Tanach), but the weapon is logic. Everyone has a fair chance. But how can you argue with mesoret? It doesn't seem fair in general, and as a ba'al teshuva, it puts me at a distinct disadvantage. (Although on a personal level I can get out of many minhagim by saying "I do what my father does..."

And secondly, the anshei mesoret aren't really anshei mesoret. They're rebels as well, although maybe they won't admit to joining Shachal's "HaMered HaKadosh." They don't wear the same clothes or kippas as their great-grandfathers. And probably some of their ancestors objected to Zionism, which was of course a great rebellion. They studied in universities, their daughters and wives study Torah in ways the previous generations never would have, most watch TV and the list goes on and on. So who are they to say that my rebellion against mesoret, especially when it's in the boundaries of halacha, and even motivated by halacha, isn't legitimate?

So how do you have a successful halachic rebellion? That's the $64,000 question. What I've been hearing from friends who know - by education and baby steps. It's hard for a not-so-patient person like me, but I guess there isn't much other choice.

P.S. In the course of a Google search for this post, I came across this article by Rabbi Saul Berman. http://www.edah.org/backend/coldfusion/search/diverse.cfm . Food for thought.

Seven Species - Seven Holidays

2005-10-02T16:27:00.000+03:00

The following is something I thought of a few years ago. I asked around, but no one ever really had anything to add. At least it can be food for thought before this holiday season...

I've noticed a certain connection between each of the seven species of Eretz Yisrael and seven of the major holidays. Some are more obvious, others less so.

Rosh Hashanah - Pomegranate, as the custom to eat pomegranates on Rosh Hashanah
Yom Kippur - Fig, since Adam and Chava used fig leaves to cover the nakedness exposed by their first sin
Sukkot -- Date, the lulav is from the date tree
Chanukah -- Olive, the olive oil used to light the menorah
Purim -- Grape, wine plays a major role in both the Megillah and the customs of Purim
Pesach - Barley, the omer sacrifice brought first on Pesach is barley, "aviv" in Hebrew, and Pesach is in the month of Aviv
Shavuot - Wheat, the two loaves offering brought on Shavuot is from wheat

Has anyone heard something similar to this?

six degrees of wikipedia

2005-09-30T09:48:00.000+03:00

This is a classic example of something I've thought for a while would be a great game, but someone beat me to it.

six degrees of wikipedia

The truth is that I was playing my own version of "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" at least as far back in 1988. I (or a friend and I) would take any two actors and try to connect them. I even made a primitive database using Leonard Maltin's movie guide (I still have the 1988 book, it occasionally helps when I have to remember who was in a movie on Shabbat) and Apple's AppleWorks on my Apple IIe. (By the way - talk about great programming - they had a word processor, a database program and a spreadsheet - and it all fit on a 5.25 floppy, no hard drive and 256K of RAM!)

roller coasters or just coasting

2005-09-28T17:12:00.000+03:00

I haven’t written much lately.

I’m not sure exactly why. I had a lot to say about the period leading up to the disengagement and the withdrawal itself. Soon after, we went on vacation for a few days. And ever since, I’ve been very busy with all sorts of preparations for the holidays in our beit knesset. Plus work related issues as well.

So I’m busy. But I was busy before also. So I’m not sure that it was only that. Maybe I have less to say, but more likely I’m not sure how important it is for me to say everything on my mind.

Probably if I think of something significant, I’ll write about it, and then get back on the track of writing regularly.

We took the kids on a company sponsored event to Superland, an amusement park in Rishon LeTzion. Usually, my wife likes going on the higher rides (like Ferris wheels) and the roller coasters, and I pass due to a fear of heights. But I remember around 9 years ago, a few days before we made aliya, we went to my brother-in-laws Bar Mitzva party at an amusement park outside of Chicago. My wife was 7 months pregnant, so we both skipped the roller coasters.

But there was one “exciting” ride that I wasn’t nervous about. It was one of those movies where the chairs move and you feel like you’re in some very fast moving vehicle. When the chairs move down and the scene in the movie drops, you feel like you’re really falling, and everyone screams.

But my wife, being pregnant, couldn’t sit in the moving chairs. She needed to sit in the stationary ones, although she could watch the movie. She said afterwards that we all looked so strange - why were we screaming and getting so excited about a movie?

Maybe this is what’s going on with my blog. Perhaps I realize that I look to the outside observer like I’m flailing about in my chair, when there’s really nothing exciting going on.

(This of course would be the opposite of when I “see the fish”. Or is it?)

A funny new page from Snopes

2005-09-14T08:14:00.000+03:00

Snopes takes on companies whose domain names have unintendedly risqué double meanings.

Urban Legends Reference Pages: Business (Domain Thing)

Pesach, Chanuka and Purim and the Disengagement Crisis

2005-09-12T15:11:00.000+03:00

As I’ve mentioned before, the fact that the withdrawal from Gaza took place right after Tisha B’Av was timed perfectly - at least for drashot.

I’m sure that there will be ways for even not-so-creative rabbis to work it into their speeches on Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur as well.

But what about the other holidays? Don’t they deserve the right to be associated with this issue?

So let me present: Pesach, Chanuka and Purim and the Disengagement Crisis

The families that left or were forced to leave Gush Katif and the Northern Shomron are facing an existential crisis. They are dealing with finding new homes, new communities, new jobs, family challenges. This is understandable.

But what about the people who didn’t live in the destroyed communities? Many of them are also facing a crisis now, but this is a crisis of faith. They didn’t believe that something like this could happen, and they don’t know how to relate to the State, Zionism or even religion and God in its wake.

I think the antidote to this crisis can be found in one word: gratitude. It is an essential Jewish belief, and its importance can be seen in these three holidays.

Pesach: One of the highlights of the seder for me has always been the song Dayenu. As a child I enjoyed the repetition and melody, but as an adult I find great meaning in it. The message is amazing if we think about it: Even if we don’t get everything we want, everything we deserve, everything we’ve been promised by God - it’s enough! If we received the Torah, but didn’t enter the land, it would be enough. If we entered the land, but didn’t get the Beit HaMikdash, it would be enough. I believe that song is the difference between the Zionist movement and the haredim. We can sing a modern dayenu (entering the land, having a state, Jerusalem, etc), and at any point we should be able to say “Dayenu!”. On the other side, the haredim can’t seem to say that “if we entered the land, but didn’t get the Beit HaMikdash, dayenu”. And while we can always pray for more, for the most, our relationship with God must be based on dayenu. We have received so much, to deny what we have is not only not proper gratitude, but nearly blasphemous.

Chanuka: The fact that we celebrate Chanuka at all is a sign of our belief in dayenu. Although there were great miracles at the time, only a few hundred years later, the Temple was destroyed. We don’t directly benefit from any of the victories of the Macabim. But we still say Hallel over 2000 years later! Why? Because we’re thankful for what we get from God even if it doesn’t work out the way we’d like. We have plenty to say Hallel about today. (In fact, I’d personally be willing to ignore Yom HaAtzmaut as a special day, if we’d say Hallel every day of the year.)

Purim: In Pirkei Avot it is written:
"Whoever repeats a statement in the name of the one who said it brings redemption to the world. As it is said: ‘And Esther said to the king in the name of Mordechai’"

The Maharal explains the connection as follows: If Esther was able to attribute the source of the plot against the king to Mordechai, even though there was no obvious reason to do so, it shows that she had a strong ethical character. She was the kind of person who had gratitude and could recognize the good that a person had done, even when it wasn’t necessary. According to the Maharal, only that kind of person can bring redemption. Because when God brings miracles, He wants us to accredit them to Him. If we don’t do so - the miracles won’t come. So God knew that in a story like Purim, where the miracles can be hard to see, it would be important to have them come via a person like Ester, who would later make a holiday, instead of denying the divine significance.

The situation today is rather similar. First of all, we need to recognize the good that those around us do. Even when we don’t see a benefit in recognizing their goodness. The army, the police, the judicial system - all have much to their credit. So do many politicians, even the ones that we strongly disagree with. So we must be careful to credit them for the good they have done.

But additionally, we need to thank God for the miracles we do get. Not only focus on what we don’t. Otherwise, we really won’t be worthy of such miracles in the future…

Clusty the Clustering Engine

2005-08-31T11:06:00.000+03:00

I've found a great new search engine, called Clusty.

Two neat things:

One, besides searching the web and images as other search engines do, it also searches wikipedia, blogs and more.

Secondly, as its name indicates, it "clusters" the search results. So if you're looking for "Jaguar", it will seperate the results into the animal and the car.

It seems to have quite a few more interesting functions -- I've only begun to check it out.

Enjoy!

Clusty the Clustering Engine

searching "here"?

2005-08-24T00:39:00.000+03:00

One of the interesting things about having a blog is the ability to see what search terms brought strangers in to my territory. Sometimes it makes sense – like when they look for terms like “religious Zionism” or “computer cent sign”. I’ve written about those issues, so I understand why they came.

Others are more unusual. For example, I apparently misspelled the word tchotchke as chochkey. (It is also spelled tsatske). I’ve received a number of searches for chochkey. Well, as a service to those who might end up here for similar reasons in the future, here are a couple of links about the real meaning and origin of the word:

http://www.forward.com/issues/2001/01.10.12/arts5.html
http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-tch1.htm

But the most common searches are for names of songs. I assume people are looking for the lyrics, but maybe they just want to find people discussing songs. A little while ago, I wrote about the song “Never Been To Me”. Now that’s probably the most common search term for the site.

But today I was reminded of the significance of a particular search that I see now and then on the site.

Back in June, I posted about an end of the year party for my daughter’s second grade class. They were singing classic Israeli songs, most of whom had been written by people who had died in the past year (Naomi Shemer, Uzi Chitman, Ehud Manor, etc.) At the time, I was thinking about the significance in light of a terrorist attack the day before, and the dread of the unknown about the disengagement plan, which would only come to pass nearly two months later.

Today was the last day of the disengagement. Emotions are still high in the country, particularly where I live. There are signs of despair, of anger, and of doubt. But I did see signs of hope. Every summer, the Jerusalem municipality hosts a huge arts and crafts fair called Chutzot HaYotzer. It’s actually more than just arts and crafts – there are activities for kids, lots of different foods, musical performances and more. This year it was held in the Sultan’s Pool, just outside the Old City walls. The place was packed, and conspicuous in the crowd were the anti-disengagement folks. You could identify them by the orange ribbons still on the backpacks, or the slightly anachronistic t-shirts. But despite the crisis they have faced, they still came to celebrate with the rest of the city. It’s sort of the way that Tu B’Av follows Tisha B’Av. The pragmatism of the Jewish people continues to shine, even in dark hours.

As we were walking out, my wife pointed out who was singing on one of the stages. It was Moshe and Orna Datz, a married couple and fairly popular pop duo. The last song they sang was Kan (“Here”). In my previous post I mistakenly entitled it, Kan Noladti, which is the term that keeps popping up in searches. That was the song that Israel submitted to the Eurovision song contest in 1991, written by Uzi Chitman, and performed by the Datz duo.

I remember that song, because 1990-1991 was my first year in Israel, just out of high school. It was a wonderful year, and changed my life in so many ways I can’t count. It was the year of the first Gulf War, and I think all the participants on my program were infused with a special kind of patriotism that stays with us until this day. And that song, Kan, which was probably the last Zionistic entry to the contest (and one of the last that was only in Hebrew) really struck a chord with us (pardon the pun.)

You can see the lyrics and their translation here.

Back in 1991, we could identify with the lyrics “Here is my home, here is where I was born” despite the fact that we were a bunch of 18 year olds coming from the US and Canada. Why? Because we believed the line “I have no other place in the world.”

Perhaps this song can also be a consolation for those who now have trouble saying “here is my home, here is where I was born.” Because in the end, in this land, we all should be able to say “after two thousand years, an end to my wandering.”

it's been a week

2005-08-21T19:56:00.000+03:00

Ok, it’s been a week, and I guess I should put some of my thoughts down. I don’t know if any of them are original (and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing) and there’s no particular order.

First of all, I think the way the Gush Katif residents acted was a real kiddush hashem. We often think about kiddush hashem as being the way we live our lives, by showing people – the whole world at times – that following God’s will is the right thing to do. We do it by succeeding. But there is also a kiddush hashem in knowing how to lose. That’s what martyrdom is all about. But kiddush hashem in loss doesn’t only refer to giving up one’s life. In this case it meant the exact opposite – realizing that the battle was over, putting up a real struggle, but with dignity.
There are a lot of ways to look at what the residents of Gush Katif went through. Some I identify with, and some I don’t. Some feel more “real” to me than others. I think about these issues often when I think what would happen if the government tells us we need to leave Efrat. But to me, the most authentic source of pain about leaving is thinking about all those people who were killed simply because they were living there. And then how those who chose to stay despite, or because, of those attacks. That sorrow is very real, and after losing neighbors in Efrat, I can identify with it.

The soldiers also acted impeccably well. It’s important to remember these are very young men and women, and there was tremendous psychological pressure for them not to fulfill their task. I hope that great strength will show itself in other missions the army has, as well as areas of civilian life.

Even the media deserves credit here. Despite their general left wing approach, there was no gloating, and the evacuees got rather sympathetic coverage.

I don’t believe Sharon came up with the plan to get out of trouble from his criminal investigations. And if he did - he would have been foolish, since it wouldn’t have made a difference. I believe he did it to save Judea and Samaria. Both by raising the price of another withdrawal, and shelving the various plans that were far worse (Beilin, Ayalon, etc.) Time will tell - probably sooner than later - whether this will work.

This of course is why the evacuation of the settlements of the Northern Shomron is so problematic. It’s too bad they received such little attention in the anti-disengagement campaign. Maybe they could have been saved…

I find it interesting that some of the most pro-Israel, conservative (neo-con?) columnists are actually in favor of the disengagement plan. Charles Krauthammer, William Safire, the National Review.

I disagree with Krauthammer, however, that the threat from the Palestinians is missiles. I agree that rockets and missiles can become a real threat, but I think that the Palestinians will learn from the Hezbollah in Lebanon. They’ll start with small attacks, maybe gunfire, perhaps not evening hitting anyone. Maybe they’ll use “anti-aircraft” fire that happens to fall in Israel. But they’ll keep raising the stakes just high enough to terrorize, but without validating a large scale response.

Elections might be coming. I’m not sure. But don’t rule out Sharon. Unlike every other prime minister who’s faced elections in the last 15 years, he’s not seen as a “loser”. Whether you agree with him or not, he’s succeeded in what he set out to do (even though he ran the last election against it.) And with his potential opponents not looking very appealing themselves, he might just pull off another surprise.

I think a lot of the right would have supported the pullout had it come together with an annexation of some areas of the West Bank, like Maaleh Adumim or Gush Etzion. That would have really been viewed as Israel deciding its own borders. (I wonder how that would have played some settlers against each other, so maybe it would have caused internal problems.) Now that it wasn’t done, I certainly hope that Sharon takes the opportunity to do some real building in those same areas.

I do not believe that the soldiers or the government were carrying out illegal, immoral or anti-halachic actions. There are very clear precedents for Jewish civilian populations being forced to leave settled areas – the Old City in 1948, for example. Now you can say that in 1948 it was war, but there will be those who will claim that today we are also in a state of war. Certainly the Palestinians see it that way. And that’s why, overall, I think the disengagement plan is bad. Precisely because it confirms the fact that we feel we are leaving because of that war. Illegal, immoral: no; stupid: yes.

As much empathy I have for the settlers (and I am one!) I did not, and do not want to see the IDF lose. I never want to see the IDF lose.

There are two common slogans heard now in “our camp.” There are those that say that we need to concentrate less on the land, and be more involved in the general country. There are others that say that we need to isolate ourselves more from the country, and focus only on the Torah. While general social involvement and increased Torah study and practice are both positive things, I think both approaches are misguided. What we need to do is build more. Much more. Had Gush Katif been home to 20,000 settlers, it’s unlikely it would have been uprooted. Had it been home to 50,000 – almost no chance. And the only way you can build, and settle, is to be involved in the political, and military realm. To give up now will only mean more “disengagements” in the future.

And for those people who are reluctant now to say the prayer for the State- I can’t think of anything more foolish. It’s like not saying the prayer for rain during a drought. And to a certain extent, it’s almost like saying that the people praying are the ones who determine the outcome of the prayer – instead of God.

And enough with the hate, and the disunity. We just had Tisha B’Av, and the demons of “sinat chinam (baseless hatred)” aren’t just some kind of superstitious slogan. We’re strongest as a people when we are unified, and as soon as we take each other apart, that’s when the wolves of the world begin to attack.

That means recognizing the good in people, not only criticizing the bad. It’s a simple part of humility, as well as a critical trait even to recognize God. Even Sharon, who’s being most vilified of all, has far more credits than any of us. And I’m not only talking about his role in building up the settlements. And playing crucial parts in Israel’s wars. I’m talking about ending this intifada! Who did it? Sharon!
Whatever you think of the validity of the disengagement, we must not allow the residents of Gush Katif to become refugees in our own country. Having our own State means no more refugees! This is addressed both to the government who needs to spare no effort to find appropriate housing, jobs, etc for the families, and to the settler groups to not prevent the absorption of the families for political gain. We've always complained that the Arabs were immoral by leaving the Palestinians in refugee camps. We must do better!

The last issue is perhaps the most difficult one. And maybe it’s too early to fully discuss it, but it needs to be addressed. Should the right, the settlers, the rabbis, everyone opposed – should they have seen this coming? Isn’t that the sign of wisdom – to anticipate (not predict) the future? If the left has been talking about partition for 70 years – why shouldn’t we believe them? Why should it be assumed that the IDF would fail? Why would the still secular majority succumb to overwhelmingly religious arguments against withdrawal? And if all this is true, and the plan was likely to succeed from the beginning, then was it really fair to make human suffering the main focus of the protest? Who really will suffer in the end from that tactic - that unsuccessful tactic? I think mostly the children. They became active participants, since who is more deserving of compassion than children? I can’t say I know how to have effectively held a protest while conceding the “human suffering” issue and leaving the children out of the game. Maybe it would have been basically admitting defeat. But in the end, isn’t that what happened anyway?

Blogger for Word

2005-08-17T13:28:00.000+03:00

Here's a neat new tool from Blogger that allows you to post to your blog directly from Word.

Blogger for Word

strange things on the news

2005-08-17T10:14:00.000+03:00

I’m a news junkie. I read news sites, often catch the news on TV, and at least on the weekend read a paper or two.

But one of my most constant sources of news is the radio. Actually, the cell phone. Often when I have down time, I call one of the numbers that lets me hear the latest news bulletins - from Reshet Bet, Galei Tzahal or Channel 2. I know it’s not the best use of money, but I need my fix.

Anyway, after many hours of listening to the radio news, they have a few phrases that I think need elucidation.

Often when reporting on criminal activity, they will refer to a person as “known to the police.” I don’t know, but the way they say it makes it like they’re old friends, maybe went to high school together. But if for some reason they’re talking about the fact that they know that the fellow is involved in criminal activity, perhaps they could have arrested him earlier?

This has been a hot summer. But on the weather report, they only mention that today there will be a “slight rise in temperature.” That doesn’t sound so bad, until you realize that yesterday it felt like a furnace outside - so today will be even worse!

This is actually a serious question. In the morning (I think mostly at 6 AM on Reshet Bet, and no, I’m not on my cell phone then, but it’s actually my alarm clock) they often mention that for certain army units in certain regions there will be “difficult weather conditions” between let’s say 9 AM and 5 PM. Other regions will have different times. Does anyone know exactly what they’re referring to?

another "classic" pre-blog post

2005-08-16T19:37:00.000+03:00

I found another old email, this one also from 1997. I think it works too:

With all of the attention being given to Chevron in recent days, the following problem keeps coming to mind: Why are all of our "holiest" sites associated with either death or galut? Look at what we have: Ma'arat HaMachpela, Kever Rachel, Kever Yosef. All places of burial, of death.

And the Kotel? While it does represent the victory of the Six Day War, I think that with a deeper look, the victory of the Six Day War was sweeter because of the Kotel, not really the other way around. So what does the Kotel really represent? What it has for the last two thousand years: the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. One wall, of a building we no longer have.

None of these sites have changed their significance since the returning of the exiles or the founding of the state. We don't view them any differently now than we did 300 years ago, other than the fact that we thank God for having more access to them.

But is this really what we view as holy? Rav Soloveitchik wrote in "Halachic Man": "Judaism has a negative attitude toward death: a corpse defiles; a grave defiles... the priests of God are forbidden to defile themselves with the dead." As a kohen, I used to feel badly about not being able to visit all of the different graves in Israel; I was sort of missing out on major "tourist attractions." But I don't really see it that way any more. Last night on the Israeli news, they showed the thousands of Jews who came to Chevron to pray at the Ma'arat HaMachpela. And they even showed dozens of kohanim praying outside. Is that really what the Torah is telling us? That the holy priests of Judaism can't really achieve self fulfillment, because they can't pray at a tomb? But they can at *least* stand outside?

Rav Soloveitchik continues: "Many religions view the phenomenon of death as a positive spectacle, inasmuch as it highlights and sensitizes the religious consciousness and 'sensibility.' They, therefore, sanctify death and the grave because it is here that we find ourselves at the threshold of transcendence, at the portal of the world to come. Death is seen as a window filled with light, open to an exalted, supernal realm. Judaism, however, proclaims that coming into contact with the dead precipitates defilement. Judaism abhors death, organic decay, and dissolution. It bids one to choose life and sanctify it. Authentic Judaism as reflected in halachic thought sees in death a terrifying contradiction to the whole of religious life." The Rav continues this line of thought at length (chapter 7), and even mentions that the Vilna Gaon, Rav Chaim Soloveitchik, did not visit cemeteries.

The Kotel, to me at least, always presents a major problem. How can a place that is so holy, that caused us so much joy after its redemption, be so stuck in galut? Even the way of prayer there exudes galut. Every one in their own little minyan, all to themselves. It seems so opposite from the majestic avoda performed in the days of the mikdash, just behind that wall.

Why are we stuck here? Perhaps, as Eliezer Berkovits wrote, halacha never really became freed of the galut it was stuck in for 2000 years. He wrote in "Not in Heaven": "After almost two millenia of Galut, Halacha has been given back its authentic partner, the daily reality of the life of a Jewish people living in its own land...Once again, Torah may move from the private congregational domain to which the galut had limited it into the public domain of a nation...(Unfortunately) for the time being, Halacha is in exile in the land of Israel as it was before in the lands of Jewish dispersion. It is still the Halacha of the Shtetl, not that of the State." Rabbi Berkovits shows a great example of this in terms of how we deal with shmitta today: either with a "heter mechira", where we sell the land to non-Jews, or to simply not buy produce grown in Eretz Yisrael during shmitta years. Both solutions are "depressing manifestations of typical Galut Halacha in the State of Israel." Are either really what God intended in giving us the mitzva of shmitta and the opportunity to live in our own land?

We need to begin freeing ourselves from the shackles of the galut mentality, particularly as it relates to us living in our own land. Otherwise, we'll only get as much as we ask for. We want our holy sites to be graves and ruins? Then they will be.

Having lived on Kibbutz Yavne for the last few months, I believe I am getting a better understanding of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai's request "Give me Yavne and its sages". He knew the Beit HaMikdash was going to be destroyed, and didn't want Judaism to be stuck in the ruins of the Mikdash. He preferred to build a new, vibrant, halachic life out of Yavne.

I'm not trying to make a political statement here. I believe that the presence of the IDF and Jews in Chevron, Shchem, Bet Lechem and Har HaBayit is a much more complicated issue, with factors more important than what I presented here. But I think it does present us with an opportunity to decide which way we want to go.

Shabbat B'Shabbato - Devarim: Review

2005-08-15T11:19:00.000+03:00

I enjoy reading parsha sheets. When I was on shlichut for Bnei Akiva 10 years ago, my wife and I would write them. Now I read them (yes, probably at not the ideal times halachically) and what's even more interesting than the articles themselves, is what's between the lines.

In some parsha sheets, like the OU's Torah Tidbits, I like reading about the annoucements of events (even if I never go to them) and the meta-commentary about the sheet itself. I used to like reading Netivot Shalom's Shabbat Shalom, becasue even though I didn't always agree with it, it created controversy, and that made it interesting.

The flagship of parsha sheets in Israel is certainly Shabbat B'Shabbato. (I remember years ago when it was the only one out there. Now there are so many that I imagine we're reaching a level of saturation that at some point will cause the numbers of publications to drop.) SBS features a wide variety of writers with different outlooks (political and religious), different fields of expertise (I particularly enjoy the linguistics, history and geography coluns.) and different intended audiences (children, adults of various backgrounds, etc.)

This weeks SBS had a few items I'd like to comment on:

a) Rav Rozen's "Nekudat Mabat." Rav Rozen states that had Sharon at least managed a handshake on the White House lawn or a Nobel Prize, it would have been better. Is that really true? Somehow I imagine a negotiated deal with Abu Mazen (and certainly with Arafat) to give up Gaza being even more aggresively opposed than the current disengagement plan. Here at least the Palestinians aren't an active side, so their calls for issues like Jerusalem, refugees, etc, aren't being discussed as well. (Not to say perhaps they won't in the future.)

I'd seen the midrash he quotes about the four dukes a number of years ago, and always found it fascinating. He admits he doesn't entirely understand the significance of the story, and neither do I. Does anyone have a comprehensive explanation of this midrash?

b) Rav Gordin's "Bein Kodesh L'Chol". I've begun to really enjoy his columns. They're a breath of fresh air in the often dull chorus of other writers. This week he writes about how you can't make practical decisions based on a similar historical situation. I was at an interesting debate between Hanan Porat and Avram Stein around 15 years ago, and Avram brought up the same point. With the disengagement taking place in the Tisha B'Av period, people are constantly comparing it to Masada or Yavne. Well, it's not really either. And Rav Gordin explains also how it's not the meraglim or the ma'aplim.

One thing that appeared this week that I'm sure wasn't intended to provide a political message, was this unfortunately timed ad by Kupat Cholim Meuchedet:

the singularity of tisha b'av

2005-08-14T09:30:00.000+03:00

A coworker of my wife brought up an interesting point about Tisha B'Av:

No other country in the world has a national day of destruction like we do. (We're not talking about memorial days for fallen soldiers, but a day commemorating the destruction of the entire country.)

And why?

Because none of the other nations who've been destroyed are still around to have a day like this...

i don't shave before tisha b'av...

2005-08-12T16:00:00.000+03:00

...even with Occam's Razor.

Although I was called (pejoratively) a philosopher by my madrichim in Bnei Akiva, I never actually really studied philosophy. But every now and then, a philosophical concept crosses my path, and I try to work it out in terms of my own world view.

Recently, I've been thinking about Occam's Razor. This philosophical tenet states that the simpler of two competing theories is more likely to be true. In other words, if I can't find my book, it is more likely true that I can't remember where I put it than that a group of pirates broke into my house and stole the book because it has a secret treasure map hidden inside. Occam's razor basically states that because the second option has more assumptions (that pirates would be in Israel, and that they would come to my house, and that I wouldn't notice them, etc.) it is less likely to be true.

I'm a follower of this belief in general. I'm not a big fan of conspiracy theories, for example.

But recently I noticed what seemed to be an opposing concept in my general approach to life. When it comes to judging major issues, I actually prefer the more complex view. For example, I don't agree with those that say the disengagment plan is simply "bad" or simply "good". I think there are aspects of the plan that are good, aspects that are bad, and that the whole situation is very complex.

Does this contradict Occam's razor?

I needed to think about it a bit more, so I framed it in terms of an episode of Law and Order. When the cops need to decide which suspect to arrest, they must use Occam's razor - pick the suspect who has the simplest association to the crime. But when the lawyers (and later the judge and jury) need to determine what punishment the suspect should receive, they need to take many considerations into account - motive, background, circumstances. They are looking for the most complex view as possible.

I then called an old friend, who was also viewed as a philosopher back in the Bnei Akiva days. We discussed the concept a bit, and in the background, I heard his young son crying. That helped me understand the concept even more. Why was he crying? Was it because he was tired or because he was upset that Bibi resigned? Occam's razor obviously determines the first. But is it enough to say that he was tired? If you want to determine responsibility for his state, you need to know why he is tired. Maybe it's because he stayed up too late. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's his pillow. It's very likely to be a combination of factors.

So identification requires simplicity, but judgment requires complexity, i.e. breaking the issue into as many sub-components as possible. I guess that would be my addendum to Occam's razor (although I'm sure others have established this before me.)

An entirely different issue, which I won't discuss now in depth, is how Occam's razor fits in with the Jewish ethic, particularly the concept of "dan adam l'kaf zchut" - judge every man favorably. This is best seen in the stories of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, such as this one:

The story is told of people witnessing a wagon owner changing the wheels on his cart while wearing his tefillin. The onlookers were appalled. How could he be down in the mud, changing a tire, and wearing his tefillin? Rav Levi Yitzchak had a different perspective. "Almighty", he said. "Look how holy your people are. Even when they change their wagon wheels, they wear their tefillin!"

But this is probably good material for a post of its own.

Now if I could only find my book...

a pre-blog Tisha B'Av post

2005-08-10T23:19:00.000+03:00

I found this email that I wrote 8 years ago today, in preparation for Tisha B'Av.

I think it's still pretty relevant.

Subject: a few thoughts before tisha b'av
Date: Monday, August 11, 1997 12:04 AM

This Tisha B'Av is interesting for us, as it is the first one since our aliya.

While we were on shlichut in the States, Tisha B'Av gave me the opportunity to feel a certain degree of justifiable anger -- I could reprove the Jewish community for staying in the galut despite the existence of the State of Israel, and to berate their "b'chia shel chinam" that seemed so obvious on Tisha B'Av. As my grandmother always says: "It's better to be mad than sad" and that anger helped me get by the depressing fact of being in America on Tisha B'Av.

But now I am in Israel. This is not my first Tisha B'Av here, but my first after shlichut. And I'm not sure what to feel. Today there was an article in the Hebrew press about how one of the rabbis of the Israeli Reform movement said we should not fast a complete fast day on Tisha B'Av.

He said, "Even the Orthodox open their windows and see Yerushalayim is being built..."

Naturally, due to the heavy tension between the Orthodox and Reform in Israel now, his position was strongly attacked. But is there a kernel of truth to it? Just as the exiles to Bavel could not "sing a song of Tzion on a foreign land", can we cry our cries of galut in an era of obvious redemption? Perhaps we too are crying "b'chia shel chinam"?

There is certainly a line of thought that emphasizes truth in prayer, particularly in relation to redemption and Eretz Yisrael. The Kuzari says that the prayers that "our eyes see the return to Tzion" of one who stays in chutz l'aretz, are like the "chirping of birds" and no more.

And Rav Yaakov Emden says that the direction we pray has no meaning if we have the ability to make aliya and choose not to go.

And Kibbutz HaDati, along with others, has changed the text of "Nachem" to fit the reality that we live in now. (An issue of Amudim, the Kibbutz HaDati journal, discussed the rabbinical approval for such a change, and the noted scholar Ephraim Urbach wrote a new version). I can strongly agree with a change in the prayer. It is not fitting to continue to ask God for something
which he has already granted us -- that was the repeating sin of the Dor HaMidbar.

And as far as the other fasts, I can see room to compromise, or even to make drastic changes. This is based on the gemara of Rosh HaShana 18b, where in regard to the fasts it is written
that in times of "shalom" we don't fast; in times of "gezerat malchut" we do fast; and when there is not "shalom" and not "gezerat malchut", those who choose fast, and those who choose not to, don't. Rashi explains "shalom" as "when idol worshipers do not have sovereignty over Israel". According to that view, there would be reason not to fast today -- or at least to leave it up to individual choice. But the gemara goes on to make a distinction between the "minor" fasts and Tisha B'Av - for on Tisha B'Av our "troubles were multiplied."

I think a distinction can be made between Tisha B'Av and the other fasts on the basis of when they first came to be. While the main object of the fasts on the 17th of Tammuz, 10th of Tevet and Tzom Gedaliah are the destruction of the Temple and the loss of Jewish sovereignty, the roots of Tisha B'Av are much deeper. The Gemara in Sota explains how when Bnei Yisrael reacted negatively to the report of the spies, with "b'chia shel chinam", that date was set for crying forever. And the Rambam in the beginning of Hilchot Taanit explains that we continue to fast as long as the original sin has not been rectified.

And indeed the sin of "b'chiya shel chinam" still exists, most evidently by the refusal of Western Orthodoxy to come to Israel. And we see the results -- our current redemption, while miraculous, is not complete. And although the miracles continue on a daily basis, in the realms of kibbutz galuyot, an independent Jewish state, opportunity to practice Judaism freely and expansion of Torah study and shmirat mitzvot, we can have a feeling that this might not be a permanent redemption, and it could slip from our hands. And perhaps this is because of the Jews who won't come to Israel, as Resh Lakish says in Yoma 9b, that the Second Temple would not have been destroyed if the Jews had come up in the time of Ezra.

But why am I fasting? I'm here -- I've done my part. Yerushalayim is being built at a fantastic pace. It is under Jewish sovereignty. Even Har HaBayit is in the end, under the rule of the State of Israel, even if we choose not to exercise our rights there. Perhaps the Reform rabbi was right -- the Jews of Israel need not mourn as they once did.

But here is the point many of us are missing. We can not abandon a portion of Am Yisrael. And this is not the standard plea for "achdut ha'am". This is particularly relevant in times of churban and geula. I don't think we all have to agree. And I agree with what R' Amital said after the Rabin assassination -- that the idea of "ahavat chinam" is not appropriate, for every Jew deserves our love, even the non-religious for the deeds they do, and it is not "baseless". But when it comes to churban and galut, we are all on one boat. And even a little hole can sink it. Therefore, as long as part of the nation is continuing to remain in the sins of the past that led to our exile, our redemption is not guaranteed. And we must continue to mourn.

Now one could say --- who cares! Let the Jews of Galut wither in their own exile, and fall prey to the vulture of assimilation. As Koresh said: "Any one of you of all His people, the Lord his God be with him, and let him go up". And one could say the same thing to other groups in Judaism we have differences with -- let them be the Reform movement in America and lately in Israel, the charedim who don't recognize the State God has given us, and let alone the various views on the left to right political spectrum in Israel. We can say like Avraham said to Lot: "Please separate from me: if you go north, I will go south, and if you go south, I will go
north."

This is the view of separation, in essence the view of despair. How can we live together? Our views will never match -- you will continue to sin in my eyes (and I in yours). But as we know, despair is the best friend of the yetzer hara. Moshe Rabbeinu did not fall in the trap of despair. When God offered him the opportunity to start a new nation from him, he declined. He even said that his name should be erased from the Torah, before a new nation be started from him. And one can assume that Moshe was frustrated with the people, and could have enjoyed a nation of like-minded people. But our lot is wrapped up together. How many camps within Am Yisrael today would make the same refusal that Moshe made? Wouldn't we all prefer to have a nation of people with the same ideology, the same mindset?

But only if we make the same commitment as Moshe did can we truly lead the nation. Moshe was a shepherd, and knew not to abandon even one of his flock. With that kind of leadership, and with that kind of commitment, can we truly arrive at a day when we will not need to fast on Tisha B'Av. Until then, our fate is tied up together.

it looks like there's a new comic strip on my list

2005-08-09T16:46:00.000+03:00

Everybody give a warm welcome to Brewster Rockit.

no divine jukebox, part 2

2005-08-08T20:27:00.000+03:00

I got two emails today from the Efrat email list.

One had the subject "Cakes for Gush Katif".
The other had the subject "Hafrashat Chala for Gush Katif."

I have no problem with the former. Cakes to uplift the spirits of the settlers sounds like a wonderful idea. I also wouldn't have any problem with "Protest for Gush Katif" or "Lobbying for Gush Katif."

However, "Hafrashat Chala for Gush Katif" does not sit well with me. The only thing that works for me would be "Hafrashat Chala for kohanim" or "Hafrashat Chala for remembering the mitzva of chala." I also don't like the flyers I've seen around here recently for "Marathon of Torah for Gush Katif." We suddenly need a new reason to study Torah?

My problem with these is twofold. One is that it cheapens the mitzva. It makes it seem like God is playing a big version of "What would you do for a Klondike bar?". But worse than that, it indicates that the person organizing it somehow really knows which mitzva will cause God to take a certain action. It's a very short path from there to those who say that anyone who assists with the withdrawal will die of a car crash or terminal disease. The bottom line is that we don't, and can't understand the way God acts. We do the mitzvot either because we're told to (Leibowitz and Soloveitchik) or because we've entered into a covenant with God (Hartman.) Not to get a door prize.

(I haven't even discussed the serious problem of what happens when these "promises" don't work out. Can anyone honestly tell me that the Gedolim who died in the Holocaust didn't know or think to learn Torah or do hafrashat chala? And what does the generation who sees these promises fail think?)

There are however two religious observances that fall in between cakes and chala. The first is saying tehilim. This seems to be a fairly universally accepted way of requesting God's mercy. I just don't connect to it. In my yeshiva, they would prefer to learn mishnayot than say tehillim. I think tehillim are beautiful prayers, but the make a difference only when you really stop and think about what David HaMelech was saying. The recent emails where a rabbi insists that we say 10 particular chapters of tehillim seems far too jukeboxy for me.

The other more obvious mitzva is prayer itself. Here we have an obligation that is very hard to understand. Rabbi Shalom Carmy relates to this in a fascinating article called "Destiny, Freedom and the Logic of Petition" (Tradition, Winter 1989). He brings up a basic difficulty with the concept of prayer: "First of all, God knows the content of our petitions before we speak...Second...God not only knows what we want, He knows whether we ought to get what we want." If He has ordained that is best that we not get what we want, then it is wrong of us to attempt, as it were, to induce a change in His judgment. Besides, if God is immutable, it is not only wrong but foolish to think that anything we do can make Him change His mind."

In the end, Carmy says that "Judaism did not dissolve the paradox."He quotes Leibowitz as saying that tefillah has "absolutely no significance beyond fulfillment of a halachic imperative." But obviously, this "flies in the face of our experience. For the nature of petitionary prayer is not merely that of emitting prescribed sounds, but the request that God provide for our needs."

Carmy follows the path of Rav Soloveitchik, who says that "the purpose of prayer is to redeem man, through the tuition of his Creator, from ignorance of his true needs and legitimate goals." This makes a lot of sense, when referring to the set prayers that we pray daily. But as Hartman points out in A Living Covenant, the Rav said there is no place for spontaneous voluntary prayer in Judaism. He quotes the Rav: "An egotistic supplication which falls outside the form of prayer that was instituted by the men of the Great Assembly is forbidden." So in this sense, the Rav isn't so far from Leibowitz, in that they both believe that we pray because we were told to - and the Rav adds that the prayer that we say makes us much better people.

Hartman continues and explains why he feels tefilat nedava is critical. But the questions that Carmy bring up, and the Rav's strong statements against tefilat nedava still have a lot of weight. This is true in general, but even more so now. What category do the prayers for Gush Katif fall in?

my thoughts on last week's murders

2005-08-07T22:40:00.000+03:00

In Reap what you sow, Treppenwitz admonishes some of the Israeli bloggers for not discussing Natan Eden Zeda's murders of four Israeli Arabs on a bus in Shfaram last week.

I didn't do a poll of how many bloggers did relate to it, but I know I didn't, so I'll take the opportunity now to mention a few thoughts.

It goes without saying that the murders and the murderer should be condemned clearly. There's no justification, and although clearly the army could have done a better job handling him, in the end it was his own evil crime.
It is important that we take a clear stand against his act, and I'm glad to see that it has pretty much been that way. After Goldstein's attack in Hebron in 1994, there were all kinds of rumors that it was justified because the Arabs were planning an attack. While it shocked some people, no one really thought about it too much. I think that attitude is what let the Rabin assassination come to be. I remember after Rabin was killed, that someone mentioned the example of Shimon and Levi - when they weren't dealt with severely after killing Shchem & crew, it didn't take too long for them to go after Yosef.
I don't buy into any conspiracies here either. While they can be comforting for us to hear, you only need to read the news on a daily basis to know that we have plenty of bad people on our side.
On the other hand, it really bothers me when people say, well, we're no worse than them. We have a commandment from God not to be as bad as anyone else (like the Caananites and the Egyptians), so I don't understand how when we act that way, somehow it becomes justified.
A lot has been made of how it is important to call him a "Jewish terrorist." There was a time when Jews proudly called themselves by that name. My cousin, Amichai Paglin was the chief military officer of the Etzel, and Menachem Begin tells the following story about him in The Revolt. Giddy (Paglin's nickname) and his fellow Etzel members, dressed as British soldiers, snuck into a British army base to steal arms for the movement. Begin writes:
The real British soldiers had saluted the tall captain (Giddy). He returned the
greeting...
Giddy put his hand on his revolver and said quietly:
"Hands up, please."
The British soldiers thought the captain was drunk.
"What's that?"
"Hands up!"
"Sir..."
"Hands up, quick. I'm not a bloody British officer, I'm a terrorist of the Irgun Zvai Leumi."
All the hands went up, quickly. The soldiers had learned from experience that such Irgun requests had to be fulfilled.

But despite Paglin calling himself a terrorist, he wasn't one like we see today. The Etzel made every effort to avoid civilian casualties. In Yosef Evron's book, Gidi, The Jewish Insurgency Against the British in Palestine, he tells the story of how in 1944, he was given the task of blowing up a British government office in Haifa (which on a Saturday night was empty of workers). He determined that with a 12 kilogram bomb on the ground level the building would collapse, but how could he distance the Arab guard of the building so he wouldn't be hurt? So Gidi asked a man and woman Etzel assistant to distract the guard somehow. They went to the side of the building, and "became absorbed in a passionate embrace...The curiosity of the guard got the better of him, and he left his position in order to see better." That's when Gidi went in to place the bomb.
So I don't even think that Zada deserves to be called a "Jewish terrorist." Some worse title should be available for someone who goes into a bus and simply starts shooting at civilians.
I do however, have a problem with one part of Treppenwitz's post, where he states that "I hate to admit it but I too am glad he was killed...". I'm not saying that I don't understand David's emotions, but there were a number of politicians (I heard Arab ones mentioned, but I'm not sure they were the only ones) who claimed that it would be improper to investigate and punish any members of the mob who killed Zada. At the heart of this claim lies a basic racism that really bothers me. Not against Jews, but against Arabs. As long as Arabs (particularly Israeli citizens) aren't held to the same moral standards as Jewish Israelis then their humanity (the source of our demand for morality) is also put on a lower level. If I was an Arab, I wouldn't stand for it. This obviously applies when you see the way the world treats Arab suicide bombers (in Israel, and perhaps even more so in Iraq), but it applies here too. If a Jew were to kill a bound Arab terrorist, he would be prosecuted fully (see the Yoram Skolnik case.) We should demand no less from an Arab, if we expect them to live up to our own moral vision.

It can happen in St. Louis...

2005-08-07T22:08:00.000+03:00

Residents along Highway 40 brace for expansion

(although of course Highway 40 isn't going to be trying to destroy the rest of Missouri)

Internet Archive: Wayback Machine

2005-08-07T19:38:00.000+03:00

Ever wondered what a particular website looked like back in 1996, or anytime since?

Check out the Internet Archive: Wayback Machine for a blast to the past.

I've never been to GA

2005-08-05T18:13:00.000+03:00

The popular Israeli radio station Galgalatz plays a both Israeli and foreign (mostly English language) tunes. Most of the songs are recent, but they do play older songs as well. A problem I have is that they never mention the name of the song, or the artist or the date or release, so it's often a big effort to track down the song.

A number of years ago they played this song that I really liked but could never make out the words in order to purchase it. At one point I heard it played in an in house system at the old KFC in Jerusalem, and begged them to let me see the CD, so I was able to find out it was Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn". When we went to the States a little while later, no one ever heard of the song. It turned out that it was released in Israel months before it made it to the US!

My ability to follow Hebrew songs is even worse. I'm notorious for not being able to follow lyrics, and it only gets worse in Hebrew. I'm constantly mishearing lyrics and not understanding the meaning of songs. And a big issue is the dates of songs - I'll hear a song and think it's new, but it turns out it came out 30 years ago. And don't get me started on how many times I've heard a song only to think that it was only a commercial jingle.

Anyway, Galgalatz also plays somewhat obscure English-language songs as well. They play this song called I've Never Been To Me by Charlene. I'd never heard the song in the States, and never heard of the artist until I looked it up on the internet today. It turns out the song is from 1977. It's kind of a sappy song, but the thing for me was I never understood the main line of the chorus. I heard the words "I've never been to me", but didn't actually understand them, so I kept trying to think of other places she could be talking about.

And now that I've finally seen the lyrics, I choose not to accept them. They don't actually make any sense. So I'm interpreting Charlene's lyrics as "I've never been to ME" - the postal abbreviation of the state of Maine. That is kind of sad, she's been to Georgia and California, and never been to Maine.

I feel for you Charlene. I really do.

2005-08-05T13:26:00.000+03:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

no divine jukebox

2005-08-04T21:29:00.000+03:00

Back on Lag B'Omer, I mentioned how I feel that God is not a jukebox "where if you put the right coin in, you'll get want you want." I'd like to develop this a bit more.

As I've discussed in the past, I'm a baal teshuva from around age 16. But as I've also revealed, I'm not the typical NCSY/Aish/Or Sameach baal teshuva type. Most people probably can't guess that I wasn't born religious (unless they ask me which parsha I'm willing to lein in shul.)

My path towards religion was in a strange place - San Francisco, with a non-typical organization - Bnei Akiva, at a difficult age -- 16. There simply wasn't a standard framework for the trek as I imagine many other older people in communities with larger Orthodox populations find. So a lot of the time I had to figure out things on my own. And in the process, I would make "deals" with God - help me with this, and I'll start doing this mitzva. The weird thing is, it worked. All kinds of small "miracles" helped me along the way. But they were rather private (even now I don't feel like discussing the actual details of the deals), and I didn't discuss them with others (although I certainly talked to people quite often about religion in general.)

I don't remember the exact texts I was reading at the time, but I'm sure many of them emphasized the concept of "hashgacha pratit" - (private) divine providence. And my own encounters with the divine probably seemed to confirm that aspect of Judaism for me.

I think the first time I ever started thinking a little differently about things was in Bnei Akiva's program for the summer after 11th grade - TVI (Torah V'Avodah Institute). We had a number of interesting guest speakers that summer, one of whom was Rabbi Yitz Greenberg. I haven't been a huge fan of him since, but I do remember him discussing an interesting topic to a small group of us one shabbat afternoon. He was talking about the history of the Jews interaction with God, from the giving of the Torah at Sinai, to the period of the prophets, until today. And in what seemed somewhat counterintuitive at the time, he proposed that the constantly decreasing level of prophecy over the ages was actually a sign of progress. As we (the Jewish people) became more mature, we needed direct signs of God's involvement in the world less, such as miracles and prophecy. We were able to do the mitzvot from a point of free will, to choose the path based on it being the right thing to do, not something we couldn't avoid from Heaven.

Later, this concept became even more clear to me after learning with my Rosh Yeshiva, Rav David Bigman. I remember early on in the first year of my yeshiva talking to him about something related to hashgacha pratit, and he said that while without a doubt it exists, you can't use it as proof to others. This theologically confirmed what I had felt in my dealing days. During my time in yeshiva I began to study the works of Rav Soloveitchik for the first time, and merited to learn them with some of his students, particularly Avram Stein. The Rav took a much more advanced approach to questions of good and evil in the world than I had ever seen before.

One pivotal moment for me was when Rav Bigman found me photocopying a section of Rav Eliyahu Dessler's Michtav M'Eliyahu. He picked up the book, looked at it, and told me, "I read that book, but he told me that by keeping the Torah I'd be happy, and I'm not always happy, so I stopped reading it." He was referring to the first chapter (which I had read in my early days of being religious and perhaps it had an effect on me then). Rav Dessler explains how everyone wants a happy life, but neither the rich nor the poor are guaranteed one. He then goes on to show that only the people observing Torah are happy. He writes

"The one who enjoys a rich spiritual life is happy. There is no other kind of happiness in existence...Happiness is when the goals are obtainable..The more energy, the more drive, we put into attaining these goals, the happier we shall be."

This is in stark contrast to Rav Soloveitchik, who writes in the famous footnote #4 of Halachic Man writes:

Religion is not, at the outset, a refuge of grace and mercy for the despondent and desperate, an enchanted stream for crushed spirits, but a raging, clamorous torrent of man's consciousness with all its crises, pangs and torments.

And in his essay Sacred and Profane he goes beyond the footnote, and declares:

The error of modern representatives of religion is that they promise their congregants the solution to all the problems of life -- an expectation that religion does not fulfill. Religion, on the contrary, deepens the problems but never intends to solve them.

He goes on to describe holiness as a paradox, not a paradise.

I can't imagine how I would have handled such ideas had I gone through the popular paths of baalei teshuva. Most likely, I would have simply chosen Rav Dessler over Rav Soloveitchik.

But I didn't. And by studying the Rav's Kol Dodi Dofek, I began to understand how this approach to religion translates into his understanding of history as well. If the Torah is guaranteed to make us happy, as Rav Dessler would claim, how do you explain the deaths of so many Torah observant Jews in the Holocaust? The only choice is to somehow explain or justify the Holocaust so it fits in a larger divine plan of reward and punishment. But if we understand that there are no promises, that we might end up not happy, then we don't need to explain the Holocaust, a tragedy so vast that it defies explanation. To do so would be to claim to understand the divine, something we simply can not do.

If Kol Dodi Dofek says we can't claim to understand the purpose of evil via the Holocaust, then Rav Lichtenstein's article L'Birura Shel Midat HaBitachon explores the flip side of that issue. He discusses how we can't claim to know God's plans for good, simply due to the fact that we have been worthy of receiving a State and all the accompanying miracles. Both essays reject the divine jukebox theory, since if we really can't understand God's plans, how can we know which coins to put in to get certain songs?

I'm obviously doing disservice to Rav Soloveitchik's essays, and Rav Lichtenstein's article, by quoting them so briefly. If you haven't read them, it's really important to do so. But if I'm already on a roll, I'll do it just a bit more with two other important thinkers. If we follow the Rav's ideas to an extreme, we'll end up very close to Prof. Leibowitz. For him, any attempt to understand the reason for any of the mitzvot is basically idolatry. While many of his ideas are fascinating, I'm not really pulled in by them. While he does a good job of disproving those who make all sorts of claims to the benefits of keeping mitzvot - both physical and spiritual - I think Judaism is too diverse a religion to claim that those views have no basis whatsoever.

On the other hand, in more recent years I've grown to admire strongly the works of Rabbi David Hartman. First of all, his books that I've read do a great job of describing many different approaches to Judaism. And what's even more interesting to me, that despite his being a student of Rav Soloveitchik, he does a very good job of (respectfully) challenging the Rav's approach. Hartman claims that for Rav Soloveitchik (as well as Leibowitz) the Akeda is the ultimate religious act. But Hartman claims that the covenental experience at Sinai was even more significant. For the Akeda was one way, but Sinai was both sides coming together to make a brit, a covenant. That, along with many other things he writes, ring very true to my ears. So again, I'm doing a disservice to Hartman as well. If this sounds at all interesting, please read A Living Covenant.

Where does all of this leave me? Often confused, but somehow relieved at my confusion. For if I wasn't confused when facing the divine, I'd either be a liar or a fool.

(This post is already much longer than I intended. In a future post I'll discuss how all this affects my views on popular religious jukebox activity, such as saying Tehillim for certain benefits, and particularly in regards to the current religious approach to the disengagement plan.)

Google Site Galleries

2005-08-04T11:19:00.000+03:00

This is a nice tip on how to search for all the images on a particular site:

Google Site Galleries

working for peanuts

2005-08-03T21:09:00.000+03:00

There's a weird phenomenon in Israel that things that aren't particularly American are called "American."

For example, kipot that have a lot of colors, with no solid "base", are called American. (Like these.) I never saw those in America, only here.

T-shirts with sleeves that are different color than the torso, and go slightly past the elbow, are called American T-shirts. Here's an example. I never wore one growing up in the US.

And for some very strange reason, multiple choice tests are called American as well. While I do admit to taking such tests back in the States, I can't imagine that somehow they are unique to America.

But there is one non-American "American" product that I wish they had around back in the old country.

American Peanuts.

American peanuts are a snack that I really enjoy.
Actually, they're a guilty pleasure.
Maybe I should call them the bane of my existence!

First of all, what are American Peanuts? I got the following great pictures here.

American peanuts are roasted peanuts coated in batter. (Certainly chametz on pesach!) They are both sweet and salty, and very addictive. There are a few kinds:

These are coated with a thick batter, and are known as kabukim (or kibukim):

There are also kabukim covered with sesame seeds:

But my favorite is the simply "botnim amerikaim", coated peanuts:

At my work, my office is right across the hall from the cafeteria. That is certainly tempting, but my hunger is often matched by my basic laziness to get in line and purchase something (not to speak of the relatively high cost of a small snack.)

But about a year ago, they put a coated peanut dispenser in the hall. For one shekel, I get a handful of the sweet salty goodness that is somehow American peanuts! For you Americans out there - that's less than a quarter! Plus, no lines, and it's open 24/7 (unlike the cafeteria).

So I have been known to nosh on these treats here and there (and there and here.) This has not made my watching weight any easier. So it's kind of a love/hate thing. When they weren't available after Pesach, I felt better about myself for not eating them. But of course when I actually eat them, I feel great too!

So how was I supposed to feel today, when I looked through the glass of the dispenser and saw these?

Plain old roasted peanuts! What am I - some kind of plain roasted peanut eating, not wanting coated peanuts animal? I should come to work for this?

Bottom line, I'll probably end up eating the boring peanuts. But I won't like it. Yet, hope springs eternal ...

HaAretz Natan L'Bnei Adam?

2005-07-31T13:58:00.000+03:00

A side issue that I've found interesting in this whole disengagement brouhaha is that the most fascinating interviews and articles recently have been by or about rabbis. And even more interesting is that these articles haven't been in the two major dailies (Maariv and Yediot) or even the more right wing and religious friendly Jerusalem Post. Where can you read about rabbis? In the flagship of the left wing, secular elite - HaAretz.

I'm not sure if this is due to the religious background of the current editor-in-chief, David Landau, or maybe it's connected to the reporters themselves. In any case, there have been interesting interviews recently with Rav Yoel Bin-Nun and Rav Benny Lau. HaAretz also printed Rav Aharon Lichtenstein's piece about refusing orders. And the most recent post to create waves both in Israel and in the blogging world was with Rav Yaakov Meidan. I don't agree with everything he wrote, especially about the part about joining the Haredi world. (This seems particularly strange when the UTJ is sitting with Sharon in the government now.) I also remember Rav Meidan mentioning in a previous HaAretz interview (that I can't find online now) a parallel to a driver coming at you on in the wrong lane. He's wrong, you're right, but if he's coming straight at you, you need to get off the road, even driving into a ditch, in order to avoid a crash. The analogy was that while what Sharon is doing is wrong, we have to be responsible, and take our car off the road to avoid the crash. The more recent article takes a slightly different approach.

What I think is most new about this trend of HaAretz interviewing rabbis is that the other papers now have a need to play catch-up, and discuss these interviews in their own editorials and columns. In other words, the interviews themselves are becoming news.

That's what happened this week in the Jerusalem Post. Amotz Asa-el wrote an op-ed entitled, Rabbi Medan Joins Mapam. It's based on the recent HaAretz interview. I think Asa-el goes a bit far, and Rav Meidan is not nearly as extreme or messianic as Asa-el makes him out to be. And I'm sure someone who uses historical parallels as often as Asa-el does knows that Meidan wasn't being literal when he referred to a "idolatrous city".

But he does bring up a few interesting questions. Have we isolated ourselves so much that the rest of the State has a right to view us as a dangerous outside element (to their worldview?) Is Feiglinism really showing anything else? I'm not saying that revolutionaries don't have a right to say the revolution has started, but it is important to be honest about it. And every revolutionary needs to know that it is the responsibility of the establishment to put down revolutions.

Also, are we being honest when we act shocked about the disengagement plan and the very idea to uproot settlements? Tachlis, the left has been talking about this since Peel in 1937.

I don't think we should be leaving Gaza - at least not like this. But there's a real lack of historical and intellectual honesty in our camp that sometimes makes it hard for me to identify with it.

an important article

2005-07-28T12:42:00.000+03:00

This is an important article to understand halacha, and I'm glad to see it's online.

Rupture and Reconstruction - Haym Soloveitchik

what happened to the Northern Shomron?

2005-07-27T13:12:00.000+03:00

No one talks about the Northern Shomron (NS). Everyone is talking about Gush Katif (GK). Why?

There are more people in GK than in NS, but I don't think that's the reason. My gut feeling is that precisely because GK is less integrally part of Eretz Yisrael than NS, the focus is on GK. In other words, by focusing on GK, the anti-disengagement movement is saying "we are opposed to giving up any part of Eretz Yisrael - look how much we fight for GK."

But bottom line, NS is much more important, even if there are less yishuvim. They are the heartland of the country. I'm concerned that by not putting a real fight there, if as likely the pullout goes through as planned, it will be much easier to pull out of small sections of Yehuda and Shomron.

But I haven't heard anyone say that NS is more important than GK. Is it too late?

thinking japanese

2005-07-26T13:13:00.000+03:00

We went out to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants last night, Yoko Uno, in Tel Aviv. It's a kosher Japanese restaurant with fantastic sushi, soups, pasta and fish dishes. In my pre-kosher days in San Francisco, Japanese food was probably my favorite. There were these great soup restaurants where a bowl of miso soup with udon noodles, chicken, vegetables, eggs, etc would fill you up for an entire meal. It took me longer to enjoy Chinese food, but Japanese food always seemed more clear, more distinct than the mish-mash of Chinese stir-fry (which I love now.) It fit well in with my personality (you can pick analytic or any part of that word for the adjective.)

In a similar way, I preferred Japantown to Chinatown. Instead of small chochkey shops like in Chinatown, Japan town had stores with high technology items, and a cool modern movie theater.

All of this fascination with Japanese culture led me to an unusual choice in high school. I went to a large high school, so we had access to a wide variety of courses in every field. When it came to my foreign language requirement - I chose Japanese. In the beginning I enjoyed it, but by the third semester, I was sitting in class simply writing "I hate this" over and over again in my notebook.

This essay describes the experience perfectly: So You Want to Learn Japanese

Luckily, the size of the school that gave me the opportunity to take Japanese, also provided my salvation: I switched to Hebrew (in public school!) in the second semester of 11th grade. The difference couldn't be greater. In Japanese we had unending rules about addressing the teacher politely. In Hebrew the teacher went by his first name and we spent the whole class shmoozing.

I ended up forgetting how to read and write in Japanese within a few months of dropping the course. And now I only remember a few words. I regret it in the sense that it would be cool to know the language, but it's certainly not something I need on a daily basis.

What I do need on a daily basis is udon miso soup...

ever wonder why there's no cent sign on computer keyboards?

2005-07-26T09:51:00.000+03:00

The Demise of the $.01 Sign

Me and Sports (yeah, right)

2005-07-25T23:50:00.000+03:00

I was never good at sports. I never particularly enjoyed watching sports either. When I didn't have to play or watch any more, I never looked back. Although this sometimes puts me at a social disadvantage when people are talking about "the game", I think I can handle it.

But I thought this would be a good opportunity for me to review some various sports and my relationship with them:

Baseball: My family was always very into baseball. My grandmother started going to Red Sox games in 1925, and is still a huge fan. One story was how a neighbor heard her yelling and cursing and thought my grandfather was beating her. It turned out that he wasn't even home - she was yelling at a game on TV! My uncle loved baseball so much he ended up the president of a minor league baseball team. And in high school, my father used to bring home major league baseball players to play stickball with him and his friends.

What about me? Well, I "had" to play little league. I was terrible. I think the experience is best described by one of my favorite comedians, Brian Regan:
Lousy in Little League
Basketball: This sport I actually enjoyed playing a bit as a kid, even though I wasn't any good. But again, my family had a better connection than me. My father, for example, went to the same university as Julius Erving "Dr. J" - and they even played ball together.
Football: While I'm sure I must have, I don't remember ever really playing football. But it was an important game to watch. I remember being very bored on Sundays watching my family watch football. (Although the commercials on the Superbowl were fun). One big difference between football and baseball/basketball was that it was relatively easy to get tickets to the later in San Francisco, and almost impossible to the former. The only game I ever went to was a 49ers championship game, with 50 yard line seats. My father only needed to trade 2 airplane tickets to Hawaii...
Soccer: Boring. No interest in following it at all here. First of all it doesn't seem to have seasons - somehow it goes on all year round. And it reminds me of garinim (sunflower seeds) - way too much effort for such few results.
Hockey: I never played ice hockey. (Can't skate.) Floor hockey was fun in 6th grade, but haven't played since. But one game, although it's difficult to call it a sport, that I do like - air hockey. I'm actually not bad, and love to play it whenever I get a chance. Maybe some day I'll have a table at home...
Wrestling: This is the family sport. There was a saying in my family "Girls play volleyball, boys play football, men wrestle." My father, and brothers all wrestled in school, and my cousin nearly went to the Olympics. I never followed through like them, except for one day in high school when I thought of joining the team. Then I realized how much work was actually needed to prepare, and that ended as fast as it started.
Boxing: My grandfather was a boxer in the 1920s. At the time it was a very Jewish sport. He was called "Killer Cohen". But his career didn't last long. Mine was even shorter. For some crazy reason, in 5th or 6th grade, we were allowed to box, in the locker room, under the auspices of the gym teacher. I had a rival, we boxed (with no training), my head hit the wall, and I passed out. Never took that up again...
Volleyball: Nothing much to add here except that when I first came to Israel, I couldn't figure out why Israelis play it with their nose (if you know the Hebrew word for it, you'll understand)
Athletics: We had decathlon every year in 5th and 6th grades. I got hit in the teeth by a discus. Still have the marks on my teeth.
Golf: My brother loves golf. The closest I ever came was when we learned it in high school (it used to drive the soccer team crazy, since we practiced on their field) and miniature golf - which I'm not very good at, but have occasionally had rather good luck.

one of the funniest things ever to ever grace the internet

2005-07-24T09:12:00.000+03:00

SatireWire | Feature: Interview with the Search Engine

armchair quarterbacks of efrat

2005-07-22T01:26:00.000+03:00

I subscribe to the email discussion list of my town Efrat. Despite the political moderation which Efrat (and Gush Etzion) is known for, there is often a sense of groupthink, mob mentality on the list. Sometimes I respond to issues brought up, but now temperatures and tempers are rising, and I think I'd prefer to bring up the points here, instead of on the list.

Two things:

Rabbi Riskin was attacked publicly for supporting a new fund designed to help the families who are set to be evacuated from Gush Katif later this summer. He was accused of demoralizing the public, admitting defeat, conceding to the enemy, etc. Besides the fact that I would hope that people here could respect opinion different from their own, I think that the approach that says we should avoid thinking about the "day after" because we hope it won't come - isn't very Jewish. We're the most pragmatic religion out there, and that's why we've survived for so long in so many difficult situations.

I think a good example of this is something that happened recently in our shul. We've been davening there less than a year, and Tisha B'Av is coming up. Should we buy kinot? In principle, it's one of the 13 principles to believe that Mashiach will come daily. (I think that's even more of a core belief than the need to keep any given section of Eretz Yisrael, at least according to the Rambam). Is purchasing kinot before Tisha B'Av admitting defeat? Are we conceding that Mashiach won't come? Of course not. We believe that mashiach will come, but we still prepare for the future, based on what seems most likely to us now.

(An interesting halachic side - if someone comes to Israel from Chutz L'Aretz for a visit, how can they keep two days of chag? If they believe Mashiach will come before they leave, then they will de facto make aliya and only need to keep one day. So by keeping two days, they're declaring that Mashiach won't come before they leave. I've heard this in the name of a number of rabbis, but never seen it actually printed anywhere.)
Today a number of people on the list got angry at the heads of Moetzet Yesha for calling off the march to Gush Katif which ended in Kfar Maimon. "Failed leadership", they decry. This really bugs me. It's one thing to say that Labor leaders like Peres, Rabin, Barak aren't good people despite all they've contributed to the State. They can easily ignore all Sharon has done for the settlements because of his current plan. If any politician strays from the path, no matter how far right they are (Bibi, Rav Benny Elon, Orlev, etc) they are in for a real lashing by the ones who really know on the Efrat list.
So who's next? Moetzet Yesha. This is weird to me primarily because if these people really wanted to ignore the decisions of the Moetzet Yesha leadership, they could have simply stayed in Kfar Maimon. But at some point will they have the humility to say, that perhaps, just perhaps, if they were in a position of leadership, where they'd need to actually make decisions, they might end up doing something different than they think now? Or does that sound too much like "What you see from here you don't see from there..."?

the joke still fits

2005-07-21T11:39:00.000+03:00

Condoleezza Rice is coming to visit today, and I'm reminded of this old joke:

On one of his trips to China, Henry Kissinger was presented with silk fabric by one of the Chinese diplomats. Kissinger went to several tailors who all told him that there wasn't enough fabric in order to make a suit for him. Finally, he went to a tailor in the strictly-Orthodox neighborhood of Mea Shearim in Jerusalem. There the tailor took Kissinger's measurements and assured him that not only would he be able to make a suit for him, there would even be enough fabric to make an extra pair of pants. Kissinger asked the tailor how this could be, when afterall, several other tailors had told him that there wasn't even enough fabric for a suit. The tailor replied, "That's because by them you're a very big man. By us, you're not so big."

it's nice to see a company that doesn't take itself too seriously

2005-07-21T08:13:00.000+03:00

Google Copernicus Center

A powerful article by Rav Aharon Lichtenstien

2005-07-20T14:11:00.000+03:00

Reflections on decisive times and decisive orders

Now this is a great cellphone accessory...

2005-07-19T08:18:00.000+03:00

ThinkGeek :: Retro Phone Handset

What I'm reading presently

2005-07-18T23:26:00.000+03:00

Duh.

My daily web jog

2005-07-13T11:12:00.000+03:00

I thought I'd share my daily web habits. I like "jog" better than surfing or browsing, since it's more of a regular routine, like a jog around the neighborhood. (Actually, I don't ever really "jog" - at most a brisk walk. During the last local elections, someone asked me if I "was running" - which in Hebrew is the same as "do you run". I said, "look at me, does it look like I run?")

I've been using the internet for quite a while, back to around 1993. For a while I used bookmarks/favorites to mark those sites where I wanted to return to visit often. But recently, I've begun taking advantage of the wonderful technology of RSS, which allows you to "subscribe" to web sites that publicize their changes. Some people use software to read their RSS feeds, but I prefer web based, since I check them both at home and work. So the first site I visit is My Yahoo! which contains many (most?) of the sites that I visit daily. It's very convienent, since I can very quickly see which sites have new content.

So on My Yahoo!, what do I check? First, the news. Ynet is the only Israeli site with an RSS feed of their own. But I also visit HaAretz regularly. And when I want to follow a breaking news story, or just see what's been going on in the past hour or so, I go to Fresh. Fresh has up to the minute headlines from most Israeli news sources (in Hebrew.) My Yahoo also has headlines from Reuters, so I can keep up with what's going on in the rest of the world.

Then comes the blogs. My regulars:

Chayyei Sarah. In a way, this one got me interested in the world of blogging. We have a common friend in Jerusalem, and when we had a shabbat meal together, she mentioned something (which I've long forgotten) that I wanted to lookup after shabbat. When I tried finding it on Google, I came across her blog, which led me to others, which led me to starting my own, etc.
Lamed. Lamed is run by a friend, neighbor and teacher, and on a daily basis has an interesting link about something in the Jewish and/or educational world.
An Unsealed Room. I've been following Allison Kaplan Sommer since the Gulf War (before she was a Sommer). I've always enjoyed her writing, and was pleased to come across her blog when I was looking for gossip about the management changes at the Jerusalem Post.
Treppenwitz. We live in the same town, although I don't think we've ever met. Constantly good writing, daily updates, interesting pictures, and often gives me cause to comment. A real leader in this field.
Ben Chorin. Another fellow resident (although this one I've finally met!). A fascinating thinker with much to say. After hearing him speak in public, I'm even more impressed. He's leading some amazing changes in this country - someone to watch.
Bloghead and Hirhurim. These two are so prolific and update their blogs so much, that I can't read every post. But to follow trends in the Jewish world, you can count on them.
The Slumbering Lungfish. Lore Fitzgerlad Sjoberg deserves (and I hope will get) a post of his own. Perhaps the funniest guy on the internet. I used to await weekly his new Ratings, but now that it's not being updated (although, Lore, if you read this, it's never too late to start again), I can still count on his blog to make me laugh.

Now what's the daily papers without the comics? I've always been a loyal reader of the comics (my dad and I used to fight in the morning about who would read them first.) Here are my regulars:

Dilbert
Doonesbury
Pearls Before Swine
Speed Bump
Fox Trot
Mr. Boffo

A daily site for me that's not on My Yahoo is Newsmax's Liners. They quote most of the jokes from the monolouges of talk show hosts like Leno, Letterman and Conan. Besides being funny, this is one of the best ways for me to keep up with current events in the US. When I read the news I find out about what's imporant. When I read the Liners, I find out about what people are talking about.

Some sites I visit are updated weekly, and I can remember what day of the week it is by what's coming out that day (or is it the other way around?):

Sunday: The New York Times Sunday Magazine. While there are often a number of interesting articles, I need to read William Safire's On Language column.
Wednesday: The Onion The classic satirical magazine. While some pieces fall flat, there's always a few that hit the bullseye.
Friday: Cecil Adams' column, The Straight Dope. The expert on everything, never ceases to enlighten the teeming millions.

All this is in addition to to the dozens of columns about computer news that I read for proffesional enrichment. Without RSS, I can't imagine how long it would take me to go to all those sites!

there is a fish...

2005-07-12T09:09:00.000+03:00

I got an email from the Exploratorium yesterday, telling me about the exhibit I mentioned here.

Check out the New Yorker piece in particular, it really describes the experience.

Subliminary Artworks by Bill Bell

I saw the fish ... again

2005-07-10T00:22:00.000+03:00

In January of 1990, I went on a Bnei Akiva shabbaton in NYC. On Saturday night, we went to some sort of mall on the ground level of the World Trade Center. There was some activity planned for all of us. We all spread around the area. At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a giant red fish floating in the middle of the air. I turned around and it was gone. I thought I must have been seeing things, so I forgot about it, until it happened again. When that happened, I ran to tell one of the participants on the shabbaton. She thought I was crazy. By this point I realized that if I turned my head really quick, I could cause the images to appear. There were other images besides the fish - a basketball player, for example. Finally, after bothering both friends and people who on the shabbaton who had only known me for about a day, someone else saw the fish. And to the consternation of the counselors on the shabbaton (who wanted everyone to participate in the activity), eventually almost everyone saw the fish.

It turned out it was a borrowed exhibit from the amazing science museum in San Francisco, the Exploratorium. I haven't been able to find anything online explaining the exhibit, but what I recall was that you were meant to use mirrors, because then you'd see the floating images clearly. But you could see them briefly without the use of mirrors.

For a long time afterwards, every time I thought I knew or saw something that no one else could see, where they thought I was crazy but I knew I was right, I called "seeing the fish".

I hadn't thought about that incident for a long time until recently, when I started playing with Google Earth. One of the neat things about the program, is how you can find all sorts of things from above that no one would ever see on land. Through the supporting online forums, I've found shapes that people mowed in to fields, or placed in the middle of the desert. Pretty amazing stuff, when you think you can see it from a satellite.

Well, I thought I found my own version of one of these man-made shapes when I was looking around the satellite images of Israel. Just north of Beersheva, I saw this:

It's a pretty unusual shape, no?

So I called up a friend from Beersheva, to ask what she thought it was.

She had no idea.

She thought I was crazy.

Finally, I used a program online, where we could both see the same image, and I could "draw" on top of it.

I showed her this:

See it?

It's a fish!

I admit it's a strange fish.

With legs. And a lawn chair on it's back.

But it's still a fish.

And while I was trying to "prove" what I saw, I started laughing.

Because her husband was on that shabbaton!

Of course when I asked him if he saw the fish, he thought I was talking about that night 15 years ago.

And he still doesn't see the fish in the picture.

Do you?

My country 'tis of thee

2005-07-07T12:02:00.000+03:00

According to this article in HaAretz, 500,000 American Jews could immigrate to Israel in the next 15 years. Obviously, this would have dramatic implications for life here in Israel.

Here are my top ten predictions for how life will change:

On the bills and coins will actually be printed, "In God We Trust"
Monday will become the most dreaded day of the week
Knitting clubs will become popular to utilize all the time freed up from the cancellation of movie intermissions
Instead of multiparty political chaos - two party gridlock
IDT will replace Bezeq as the national phone carrier, but will be forced to open call centers in Los Angeles to find Hebrew speakers
Yoni Leibowitz will become Israel's most popular talk show host (no more "Jon Stewart" for him!)
Difficult to pronounce "resh" will be replaced by the new letter "thoth"
Football = Football
Coca-Cola will be the most popular soft-drink (uh, wait...)
24 Hour Weather Channel hosted exclusively by Robert Olinsky

What I'm reading currently...

2005-07-06T17:56:00.000+03:00

I'm again reading a few things concurrently:

The Jews of Lithuania: A History of a Remarkable Community 1316-1945 by Masha Greenbaum. My entire family comes from Lithuania - the small shtetls of Jonava, Seduva, Skaudvile, Vilkomir (Ukmerge), Anyksciai, Balbieriskis and others. I've done a lot of research about my families' history, and I generally consider myself well-versed in world history. But when I finally started reading this book I bought a couple of years ago, I was surprised to see how much I didn't know about Lithuanian history in general, the Jewish community in particular, and how it likely impacted my ancestors. What I find particularly interesting is how unique Lithuania was. They were the last country in Europe to adopt Christianity, and for centuries treated all the churches with suspicion. This led to fairly good relations with the Jews. I also didn't know just how recent the Russian conquest of the Lithuania was - only from 1795-1917. Before that no Jews lived in Russia. And those Russians Czars were bad - really bad. Lithuania also had a pretty decent democracy between WWI and WWII (for at least the first 10 years or so) and the Jews got much more autonomy than anywhere else in Europe. But for all the ups and downs in the book, I know that the story is going to end very badly. I'm in the chapter just preceding the Nazi invasion (another piece of history I knew little about was the Soviet occupation of Lithuania from 1939-1941). While most of my relatives came to the States between 1880-1910, some still remained after WWI. I can't imagine the horror that must have come from realizing their chance for democratic Jewish autonomy in Lithuania would end up in the worst crime in human history.
Abba Eban: An Autobiography I don't think I've ever read an autobiography before, at least as an adult. The book is very detailed (I've read probably 150 pages and the State hasn't been declared yet), but I'm getting a very interesting view of one of Israel's most important diplomats. (His family was from Lithuania, which gives a little connection to the book above.) As with the biography of Chaim Weizmann, and the history of the Etzel, I'm getting another new perspective on the pre-State period. For all the difficulties, it still seems like one of the most interesting times in history to live. Since the book goes up to 1977, I imagine I'll also get new insights on the early years of the State as well. I wouldn't have expected it, but I'm also really enjoying the occasional bits of sharp British humor.
Mishnayot: Masechet Shabbat. As I wrote earlier, I finished Seder Zraim on Shavuot. So now I'm going through a more relevant seder: Moed. This was actually the first pocket mishnayot that I bought - back in the army. I never got far into it then - my Hebrew wasn't good enough. This time I should be able to finish - even if it takes months...

it's true because it's funny

2005-07-05T10:52:00.000+03:00

We took the kids to see the movie Madagascar yesterday. It wasn't the best animated movie I've ever seen, and maybe was less fun for the adults than some of the Pixar movies. But there was silly, slapstick comedy.

And the kids loved it. I don't think there's anything more authentic than hearing a 6 year old or an 8 year old laugh out loud at a movie. They weren't holding back, trying to be cool or cynical or anything. Just enjoying themselves watching animals do silly things on the screen.

At one point my older daughter leaned over to me and whispered, "Abba, this is just right for us."

It reminds me of the following saying by the Hassidic Rebbe, R' Simcha Bunim:

Three things can be learned from a child:
The child is happy at just being alive.
The child is always active and never bored.
The child always cries for everything it needs.
So too we should serve God with joy, we should always be performing mitzvot, and we should implore God with tears for everything we need.

Opportunities...

2005-07-03T23:46:00.000+03:00

Tonight was the last show of the season of Yair Lapid's talk show. It's a light, popular show - kind of like a cross between Leno and Oprah (although Lapid himself doesn't do comedy.) If it wasn't on one week, or even was cancelled, it would make no difference in my life at all. But sometimes there are things on the show that people talk about on the following day at work.

But for all of its insignificance, I can't help thinking about all those people I used to be in Bnei Akiva with. They keep Shabbat like I do. They visit here. They might even still believe in the same ideology. But they don't know who Yair Lapid is. And somehow that shows how they've passed up the opportunity to join up with their people here.

**********************************************

My son led "Anim Zmirot" for the first time this Shabbat. I'm really proud of him. He basically took it upon himself and practiced both at home and at school. When I was his age I certainly couldn't. (Hell, when I was a senior in high school and asked to do Anim Zmirot at a shabbaton, I couldn't!) I'm already thinking about how with some more practice, he could lead Pesukei D'Zimra or Kabbalat Shabbat (even before his bar mitzva).

But for all the significance of this milestone, I can't help but thinking about my girls. Will they have the opportunity to find a role for themselves in shul? Will they be able to be proud of themselves the way my son can?

I need closure on that saga!

2005-07-02T23:26:00.000+03:00

I enjoy a good saga. I don't know if this is the actual definition of a saga, but I'm referring to a series of books or movies that has a definite end. The James Bond movies, for example, wouldn't be a saga. But the Star Wars movies, especially with the last movie having just come out, fall in that category. After almost 30 years, I now know the whole story.

Another couple of sagas that took me a while to get into, but eventually I enjoyed are Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. I never read LOTR as a kid (started reading the Hobbit, but never got into it.) But we got the DVD of the first movie a few years ago as a gift. However, the long playing time discouraged me from seeing it. In the end, we finally watched it, and rented the other two, enjoying them. (But I don't think I'm going to read the books.)

My wife had been reading Harry Potter for a while, and I kind of dismissed them as silly. But after she convinced me to read one, I was hooked. With the newest one coming out later this month, I'm not sure how we're going to handle sharing it! Either we'll have to come out with a very sophisticated plan, or maybe we'll just buy two copies...

Another series that I really enjoyed as a kid was Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles. Except for a terrible Disney cartoon that combined two books and completely distorted the story, there was no movie made. But the books were fascinating, and as a kid I knew everything about them. I even corresponded, and later met Lloyd Alexander. When we were in the States last summer, I bought the series, and am waiting for my kids to get a little older, so I can read it to them (or perhaps they'll read it themselves.)

One series that I read as a kid, and now is about to be made into a movie, is C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia. Probably in 5th or 6th grade I read the entire series, but something always seemed uncomfortable for me. I can't remember anything about the plot now, but I do remember thinking even then that the book seemed much too Christian for me. This has always been a bit strange for me, but even when I wasn't religious, and even as a young kid, Christianity always made me uncomfortable. In 5th grade I went to Spain with my father, and I couldn't stay inside the world famous Prado museum because of the Christian art. I recall even at a younger age being in an after-school program at a Church and being very upset at having Christianity discussed with me. And I don't remember this story, but my parents have told me that as a baby I urinated on the floor of a convent!

In any case, when I heard about the upcoming movie, I went online to see if my memories of the story were accurate. I found this very disturbing article:

Disney finds religion for its Chronicles of Narnia

There seems to be an antisemitic undercurrent by some of the supporters of the movie. I think this might be one saga I can pass up on...

don't break the (nuclear) wessels...

2005-07-01T00:28:00.000+03:00

I'm concerned about the protests over the disengagement.

I'm not talking about their effectiveness (although I don't really see who exactly the road blockings are going to convince, and how that will change the government's plan) or the specific tactics. I'm not even talking about whether the plan should be protested against. (It doesn't seem like a good plan to me, but as I've mentioned before, I think things are usually a little more complicated. Perhaps a reverse Occam's razor?)

I'm concerned about the effects of the protests themselves - regardless of whether the disengagement is blocked.

What's difficult for me, is that if the disengagement is truly unjust (or at least viewed that way by its opponents), then why should I view the protests differently than those against other unjust acts? My cousin was one of the leaders of the Etzel, and planned and carried out many of the attacks against the British. When I read his stories - I fill up with a great sense of pride. I remember myself protesting against the Soviet Union, to let the Jews leave freely leave to Israel. So why is this different? Why can't I identify in the same way?

I think the reason is, that I don't care about the welfare of the British mandate or the Soviet Union. But I do care - very much - about the State of Israel!

What I'm worried about is called in Hebrew "shvirat kelim" - translated as "breaking of vessels". It's a kabbalistic concept, but the modern idiom might be closer to "throwing the baby out with the bathwater". It is often said that it is forbidden to break the vessels - meaning that once the vessel is broken, it can't be repaired. There must be limits - no shvirat kelim.

Another classic example of this is the famous story of the two mothers who came to King Solomon fighting over a baby, each claiming he was hers. When Shlomo offered to cut the baby in half, one mother objected, and the other thought it was fair. The wise king realized that any mother who would cut the baby in half for a cause, who was willing to break the vessels, could not be the real mother.

I think the metaphor is clear, but I'll give one more example that I wrote about recently on an email list:

" I think an appropriate metaphor would be a voyage across the sea. Obviously the focus of the traveler is the sea - not the vehicle. But to cross the sea, you need some vehicle, in this case a boat. Now you can complain about the boat, the crew and the captain, but bottom line, this is the first boat (in our metaphor) to successfully make it to sea in 2000 years. All other attempts - walking across the sea by foot, waiting for the wind to carry one across the sea - didn't work. Now no one would say that the boat doesn't need improvement or can't go off course. But to start drilling a hole in the boat -- well, that very well may lead to the end of the voyage. The unity of the boat must be preserved! We have no other boat!"

What concerns me greatly is that I see more and more people from the Religious Zionist camp who are willing to drill holes in the boat, cut the baby, break the kelim - anything in the name of preventing the disengagement. This approach doesn't surprise me when it comes from the haredim. They don't view the State as a vessel of any intrinsic value. And in fact, in the haredi neighborhoods not far from my work, they've had some of the most active road blocking protests. But we're not Haredim! At least I'm not. (I do know that the late Adir Zik was probably the best examples of someone associated with Religious Zionism who had in the past few years said he could identify more with Haredism. But I don't think it's a real trend in RZ circles - at least not consciously.)

How far will the country go this summer? What will remain?

A few years ago, at the height of the intifada, and also when Israel's water resources were at a dangerous low, a neighbor of mine told me that when she would go to the States, she couldn't relax about the terror situation, because she was always worried that someone she cared about back home might be hurt. But she was relieved about using the water in the States, because it didn't impact the situation in Israel at all. Now I think there's a new category. People are so concerned about the anger level this summer, that if they leave Israel for a vacation they're actually looking forward to not facing the explosive situation.

But maybe things will work out. We obviously have some level of divine supervision happening here - I can only hope that it will prevent us from destroying the most valuable gift we've received in the past 2000 years.

But I don't want to end on a scared note. Here's a great joke related to the metaphor above...

A Jewish town had a shortage of men for wedding purposes, so they had to import men from other towns. One day a groom-to-be arrived on a train, and two mother-in-laws-to-be were waiting for him, each claiming ownership on him. A rabbi was called to solve the problem. After a few minutes of thought, he said: "If this is the situation, you both want the groom, we'll cut him in half and give each one of you half of him." To this replied one woman: "If that's the case, give him to the other woman." The rabbi said: "Do that. The one willing to cut him in half, is the real
mother-in-law!"

Got the whole world...

2005-06-30T17:26:00.000+03:00

This is absolutely amazing. Just leave it to Google. I'm lucky that a) I have a computer at work that can handle it (my home computer doesn't stand a chance) and b) the firewall at work doesn't block it (as it does with most things.)

I was looking all over US and Israel. San Francisco in particular, because then you can see buildings in 3D.

One bummer - the curvy part of Lombard Street isn't really visible...

a few things on my mind...

2005-06-27T09:27:00.000+03:00

This past weekend we went away to a hotel for Shabbat. On the way, we stopped off at the kibbutz we used to live on. It was a weird experience, as it usually is for me when I visit places I used to live. I seem to have an obsessive need to return to my "roots". In some cases, as in genealogy, I'm returning to places I've never been. But in others, I go back to cities, schools, homes that I used to live, hoping to find something. Just last night, my friends from my old high school had a big reunion, based on an email alumni list that I created! (Even though I couldn't attend.) I'm constantly trying to keep in touch with people, googling them, trying to maintain a connection.

I'm not sure why. I'm not even entirely sure what I'm looking for. Maybe it's rooted in the fact that my parents divorced when I was young, and I'm always trying to fix distanced relationships. Maybe because I was never terribly popular socially, and by going back, and finding friends, I can improve on the past. Maybe I just figure by going back to my past, I can understand my present and future better.

*************************************

The hotel was nice. We were in Ashkelon, a town on the Mediteranean sea. The hotel room had a great view of the ocean, which reminded me of my house in San Francisco growing up. We lived about 20 blocks from the ocean, on top of a hill, with a perfect view of the Pacific. In the far distance you could see the Farallon Islands, about 27 miles west of the city. Depending on the gullibity of our guests, I'd tell them it was either Hawaii or Japan.

*************************************

Last night my oldest daughter had an end of the year party for second grade. It was almost entirely group singing, particularly songs of a number of Israeli song writers who passed away in the past year - Naomi Shemer, Ehud Manor, Uzi Chitman. To get to the party, we passed by the funeral procession of one of the teenagers who was killed near Beit Hagai on Friday night. The tension on the roads - both of the Israelis who were coming to pay their respects and the Arabs who were waiting to get by - was very clear. But when we got into the room of the party, filled with parents and children, the somber atmosphere soon passed. But it never entirely disappeared, nor did the looming disengagement and potentially explosive summer. As we all sat there, singing optimistic, Zionist songs like Haleluya, Kan Noladti, B'Shana HaBa'ah, and others, I couldn't help wondering if at the end of the summer, we (not only the people in the room, but the country as a whole) would be still able to sing those same songs and believe them. It gave me hope, but also great room for concern. Only time will tell.

Mitch Hedberg - Wikiquote

2005-06-23T13:24:00.000+03:00

This guy is very funny. The language isn't always clean, but the material is. Too bad I never got to see him perform....

Mitch Hedberg - Wikiquote.

I'm different...#3

2005-06-22T19:58:00.000+03:00

I wasn't originally planning on writing about this yet, but today I realized that one of my "differences" is perhaps more significant than I had earlier thought.

I never finished university; I do not have a degree.

In fact, I barely studied much in university at all.

Now this is different than my first "difference", about not driving. Driving was something that I've always had a difficult time doing, it never seemed to click with me. But as far as learning in general goes, I like it very much and it comes naturally to me. But being a good learner and a good student are two different things.

As a kid, I almost always excelled in my studies. I did well on tests, didn't mind reading, etc. But homework was never my thing. When I put my mind to it I could do it well, but if I didn't pay attention, I could easily end up ignoring or postponing my assignments. I think there were two major issues - my perfectionism and my lack of efficient time management. I would take on big projects, too big, feel like I had to do them perfectly and when it wasn't working out (often due to bad time management - i.e. watching TV instead of doing my homework) I'd give up. The classic example of this for me was my first class of the morning of my first semester of high school - Public Speaking. I did pretty well in the speeches, but when it came to the big final speech, it got to be too much for me, and I started to cut class and go hang out in the park by the school. I failed that course - I'm still embarrassed about it too this day. The rest of my high school academic career went much better - peaking in a nearly 4.0 GPA in my junior year of high school.

But then I found "religion".

When I transferred out of the prestigious academic public school to go to the small Jewish school in my area, I felt like a burden had been taken off of my shoulders. Here was a place where people cared about things other than their transcripts and universities. And when I started yeshiva in Israel the following year, university study was the furthest thing from my mind. I could learn in yeshiva, progress at my own level, and I really enjoyed it. (Although even in yeshiva, I didn't get particularly proficient at skills like gemara learning, but I'll save that for another post.) While my staying in yeshiva for a second year wasn't unusual, by the third year most of my friends went back to the States to learn in Yeshiva University, while I stayed to join the army. (That is definitely material for another post.) I kept thinking - YU - no way! First of all, because I don't like New York, but mostly because if I was going back to the US, I'd give back as much as I could to the movement that got me to Israel - Bnei Akiva.

So after the army, my then fiancé and I moved to Boston. I enrolled at UMass Boston (where both of my parents had attended) and thought that I'd study and work. I signed up for some interesting classes in subjects like politics, history, philosophy. But I couldn't make myself do the work. It was too easy to not go to class, and to focus on the more important issues like my work for Bnei Akiva or whatever TV show happened to be on. At this point, I can't even remember how many courses I actually finished. Certainly not many.

But who cared? We were moving to Israel soon, to realize the dream of every "true" Bnei Akivanik - to move to kibbutz. Kibbutz was perfect in this regard, because they didn't care if you had a college degree, and would likely let me go back to school in the future. And so it went. But in the end the kibbutz didn't work out. And as I realized that, I started to get very scared. What had I done? Why had I wasted my opportunity to get a degree in America?

But again I got lucky. It was the peak (oh so brief) of Israel's hi-tech bubble. And I always had been pretty good at computers, so when we left the kibbutz, I was sent to a computer training course and found a job fairly quickly - without a degree. On my resume I wrote that I studied at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, MA. Which was certainly true. I found out later though that some Israelis had read the MA as a degree, not the state. Certainly no fault of my own. I've always told people about my lack of degree the same way I tell them about not having a license - sheepishly but honestly.

So now I've been working in hi-tech for a few years. But I'm thinking that I really would like to get my degree at some point. Perhaps by studying online, at home. I think I'm more mature now, I think I can handle it. However, it takes money and time, two things I don't have extra of right now.

Mark Twain said: "The first time a student realizes that a little learning is a dangerous thing is when he brings home a poor report card."

I guess I've done a little learning myself....

I seem to be back

2005-06-20T15:40:00.000+03:00

I haven't posted for a few days. Kind of a busy week last week. A few things took up a great deal of time:

Shavuot. As has often happened in the past, I organized the leil limud in our shul, which obviously mandated me staying up throughout the night. Therefore I made sure I slept the day before, and ended up sleeping a good portion of the following day. I basically ended up giving myself jet lag. I had scheduled for myself to give a siyum on finishing Seder Zraim (which ends with Masechet Bikkurim, particularly appropriate for Shavuot.) It would have been my first siyum ever. Unfortunately there wasn't time, and I didn't get to do it. I don't think I'll have a natural opportunity to do a siyum soon, so maybe I'll try to finish Seder Moed by next Shavuot. In any case, one really nice thing about Shavuot was that we read Megilat Rut at sunrise, and based on the location of our shul, we could see all of Beit Lechem and the hills of Moav. The whole setting of the story, with a beautiful sunrise, right before our eyes.
My nephew's brit. It fell on isru chag, but it was actually the second day of chag for my father-in-law, which made the whole thing somewhat complicated. But it was very nice, and after a chalavi Shavuot (which I didn't mind - we had a very good lemon meringue cheescake), having a basari brit, even in the morning, seemed fine.
A two day conference in Haifa. This was my first "overnight" trip for, actually with, work. The speeches were fairly boring, but it was nice going away to a hotel. And the food was good. Plus, the hotel was on the beach, and there was a sand sculpture contest. Very cool work. One thing I did realize about myself - I really don't need cable at home. The hotel had something like 50 channels - not a crazy amount, but certainly more than the two I have now. And I kept flipping through the damn thing hoping something good would come on. And of course nothing did. If I had that at home, I'd probably never get to work.

Pay the parking meter by phone

2005-06-19T18:39:00.000+03:00

Brilliant idea. Will it ever make it to Israel?

Phil Plait's Bad Astronomy: SPOILER Review: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

2005-06-08T07:50:00.000+03:00

An interesting review:

Phil Plait's Bad Astronomy: SPOILER Review: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

Everybody loves a parade

2005-06-07T00:05:00.000+03:00

I hadn't planned on it, but after work we took the kids to the Yom Yerushalayim day parade. It was the first time I had been to one since we made aliya almost 9 years ago. In my yeshiva days I would always enjoy it, and I felt the excitement again today. Thousands of people, loud music, dancing, flags all walking toward the Kotel.

Just a couple of notes:

As we walked down Rechov Yafo the crowd got larger and larger. And for some reason I still don't understand, someone (the police?) put up barriers in the middle of the street. The crowd kept progressing eastward, not realizing that they couldn't continue. This started to create very crowded conditions, which the kids did not enjoy. Eventually they opened them up, but the whole thing was very strange.

I did get to tell the kids about a much more crowded situation that I was in once: When I lived in San Francisco in 1987, they held a huge party for the 50th anniversary of the opening of the Golden Gate Bridge. While you can always cross the bridge on the sidewalk, for the event they closed the bridge to cars, and allowed pedestrians to walk in the traffic lanes. Well, I guess they didn't figure that it would attract nearly everyone in the city. Several hundred thousand people showed up - and the bridge is only about a mile long! It was packed. At one point, someone shouted "Lean Left!" and the entire bridge swung to the left. Very scary. The bridge itself actually sagged from the weight:

In any case, the parade today wasn't quite so bad...

The other thing that bugged me today was the protest atmosphere. I know that Yom Yerushalayim is primarily a day for the National Religious public, and there's a lot of opposition to the disengagement plan out there. But I think that Yom Yerushalayim should be a day about thanking God for what we got, and showing recognition to those who helped us get it. Therefore protesting against the government of Israel seems wrong on a day like this.

But despite all that, the focus on the color orange as the main medium of protest. It seems more like color war than serious debate.

I had in my head the following conversation:

Journalist: What do you think about the disengagement plan?

Me: Well, there are a lot of issues here. On the one hand, you have the demographic problem, the need to preserve a democratic state, the importance of the strategic relationship with the US. On the other hand you have the danger of rewarding and encouraging terror, the precedent of relinquishing our legitimate homeland, the risk of tearing the Israeli society apart. So I think that it's too dangerous of a risk.

Journalist: What do you think, protest guy?

Protest guy: I think - ORANGE!

Me: Isn't that a bit simplistic?

Protest guy: Come on, it's not like it's a primary color...

Yerushalayim to me

2005-06-06T11:38:00.000+03:00

I don't have any deep thoughts today about the significance of Yom Yerushalayim. I guess because I was born after the Six Day War, so I never viewed Israel without all of Yerushalayim.

Outside of a six week period back in the summer of 1991, I've never lived in Yerushalayim. My yeshiva is not in the city, which was unusual back then, and even more unusual today. And since we made aliya we haven't lived in Yerushalayim either.

But I still feel very connected with the city. I've always visited it often. And for the past 5 years I've worked in the city as well.

One of my favorite things about Yerushalayim is how wonderful it is to walk through it. There are great cities in the world where you can't easily walk from one part to another. But Jerusalem, like San Francisco (where I also used to walk a lot) isn't like that. You can really walk from North to South, East to West in one day. And the differences between the neighborhoods are amazing. Often I get a ride to the center of town in the morning, and walk to my office in the eastern part of the city. I walk from the active (well, not so active at 7:30 AM) city center, through the Russian Compound, by the (former?) Ethiopian consulate, through the charedi neighborhoods into the Arab neighborhood of my work. I feel like my passport should be stamped several times a day! And when I really want to treat myself, I take a long walk - let's say from the city center to Talpiot. So many hidden corners, so much to discover.

The other great thing about Yerushalayim for me is how much things are always changing, always building. I mean my first visit to Israel was only in 1988, but I'm already nostalgic for places I saw then, like the old bus station, that no longer exist! The cranes are always moving, the roads are constantly being torn up, new buildings seem to pop up like mushrooms after a rain. Some people here have become frustrated with all the work being done on the new light rail line, but I'm personally very impressed. Despite the economic condition of the country in the past few years, the work didn't stop. It shows a degree of vision not often found in this country. And I'm sure that in a few more years when it's all done, we won't be able to believe we ever lived with out it.

Kind of like how I feel now about the reunification of the city.

Who knows what we'll feel like about that next?

a far too serious look at two movies

2005-06-03T17:20:00.000+03:00

I have a friend that I used to taunt about how he had only seen two movies. The movies would change from time to time, but based on how he would refer to movies in conversation, it seemed like he had never seen more than two.

I've never been a huge movie goer, but I would certainly see a decent number of movies in the theater each year (and of course more on video and TV.) But when we moved to Israel, and started having kids, going to the movies became a rare treat. We go probably a couple times a year. One movie will be the annual Pixar flick. That's also the movie the kids see in the theater during the year.

The other movie will be something we've really wanted to see. Back in the summer of 2002, we were in the States for a few weeks, and we saw both Attack of the Clones and the first Spiderman movie. While AotC had sentimental value (we both loved the original Star Wars trilogy as kids), it was Spiderman that really got us. We really loved that movie*.

When Spiderman 2 came out last year, we went to see it in a special early screening for charity in Jerusalem. And then later that summer we saw it in an IMAX theater in the States. It was even better than the first.

And this week we "finally" made it to see the last installment of the Star Wars saga, Revenge of the Sith. I won't discuss the content of the movie, but I did enjoy it, and think it was certainly one of the best of the series.

But today I started thinking about the similarities of both stories. Both feature a young individual who discovers he has special powers, but cannot use his powers to save the life of a close family member. After this loss, he becomes determined to do everything to save the life of the woman he loves, all the while learning to deal with his super powers.

Obviously, Anakin and Peter deal with this challenge in very different ways, and end up on opposite paths. Peter realizes he needs to take on a secret identity to not put Mary Jane at risk, while Anakin ends up getting more and more arrogant, eventually following the path of evil. The lesson of "With great strength comes great responsibility" applies to both of them.

I've been trying to think about the significance of this parallelism. There seems to be no middle way, no chance that Peter could have become a hero without a secret identity, or that Anakin simply could have been a good Jedi. Partly it was because their extraordinary powers made things more extreme, but it was also because they wanted a romance with a "normal" person as well.

Any moral for the real world? Well, I just finished reading the biography of Chaim Weizmann, and here too is the story of someone who in one field had amazing accomplishments, but on the other hand his family life suffered greatly. I'm sure that there are many other cases like this.

I'm sure it seems like I'm taking this all too seriously - we're only talking about movies. But I think great movies, like other works of fiction, resonate with us because hiding behind an incredible story is a truth we can identify with. If we couldn't identify with the challenges the characters face, we wouldn't be pulled in.

And so I suppose that we all face the same challenge on some level. As humans we are on the one hand animals, but on the other hand created in the divine image. How do we handle this dichotomy? Live two separate lives, with two identities, until no one knows that our "Peter" is really "Spiderman"? Abandon our mission and say "Spiderman No More"? Become so obsessed with our powers that we ignore the reality of the world that exists alongside us?

I guess in the end, we're luckier than these fictional heroes. We have a real guidebook to let us know how to balance between the animal and the divine. We don't need to rely on hazy visions or dreams. However, the tension is constant, and it sometimes makes our own lives even more interesting than the best Hollywood blockbuster.

* One of the things that made the movie fun for us, was that despite the fact that we saw it in a very fancy theater, for some reason during the previews, there was no sound. But instead of people getting angry, they just started making their own sound effects. First there was an action movie with a car chase, where everyone was saying "vroooom!". And then came a preview for Scooby Doo, and of course the entire audience was talking like Scooby. When the sound came back (before the end of the credits), everyone was already a little disappointed. While the feeling of seeing a movie with a crowd adds to the experience, you never feel like you're interacting with the person next to you. (I think Rav Soloveitchik touches on this point in Lonely Man of Faith.) Here we had a chance to all work together. Really special.

Google really is a Search Engine....

2005-05-31T09:13:00.000+03:00

...they actually found Carmen Sandiego!

Stay Cool, Oscar...

2005-05-31T08:27:00.000+03:00

Oscar Brown Jr. has died at age 78.

From the Washington Post

From the New York Times

I found out from these articles that Oscar Brown Jr was a social activist, but I just knew him as a great musician. I'm not sure how my father discovered him, but my father would play me his songs as a kid, and I loved them.

He could be funny with Signifyin Monkey, The Snake and Stay Cool.
And I don't think any song shows more the love between a parent and child than "Dat Dere".

He even wrote a cool song about the internet, "Cyberspace is the Place" in the early 90s!

But the best thing about his music was the music. I don't know enough about music to describe it, but the rhythm, the beat - simply the best.

Last year my father celebrated his 60th birthday, and in honor of the occasion, my brothers and I put out a book with letters from his friends and family. I also contacted Oscar Brown Jr., who very graciously wrote me back. He sent birthday greetings to my dad (who he didn't know) and even included this poem:

ANOTHER YEAR
By Oscar Brown, Jr.

Another year
To celebrate
A day held dear
Your natal date
The anniversary
Of your birth
God granted mercy
You're on earth
Another year
Another year
Another year

Another year
A happy day
So we sincerely
Want to say
We hope you do
Have many more
Because with you
We're always for
Another year
Another year
Another year

Another year commands the rest
As up the numbers climb
Another year withstands the test
Of time

Another year
To be alive
To prove that we're
Made to survive
And are still able
Heaven's sake
To say we're grateful
Now to make
Another year
Another year
Another year

Another year
Is being X'd
By the appearance
Of the next
So as it goes
To be a ghost
Let us propose
A birthday toast
Another year
Another year
Another year

I wish I had another year to hear more of Oscar Brown Jr's creations. In the meantime, I'll keep singing them to my kids (they already know Signifyin Monkey by heart).

Thanks, Oscar.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Foreshadowing

2005-05-29T10:17:00.000+03:00

This is three years old but still perfect. (And I haven't seen the movie yet.)

My take on Lag B'Omer

2005-05-27T09:38:00.000+03:00

I can be a bit of a holiday grinch. I always get nervous about performing the various holiday practices correctly (I guess a combination of my being a baal teshuva and a neurotic perfectionist). But although I sometimes might not enjoy a particular chag, I can certainly identify with the reasons and spirit behind it.

But not Lag B'Omer - at least the way it's celebrated today.

The two main features of Lag B'Omer in Israel today are:

Bonfires. While when I was a kid, I enjoyed making campfires, as a parent, I found it somewhat disturbing. There isn't a great deal of concern in general for safety. But what really bothers me is where they get the wood. It's all "gathered" - which either means stolen from building lots or cut from the trees that we all put so much effort in planting. I'm sure some fires are made from dead branches, but with the amount of bonfires in the country, they have to be in the minority.
Meron. Meron is the burial site of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. People go there to pray. His site, along with other similar places (primarily in the Galil) are popular throughout the year for those who want to pray for financial success, health, marriage, children, etc. I have never been into visiting graves in general, but I have a particular problem with using them as a mechanism to get something. It makes God seem like a jukebox, where if you put the right coin in, you'll get want you want. I'm not a strict Leibowitzian, but this does not seem like the Judaism I believe in.

What do these two aspects have in common? They're both about taking, about what you can "get."

If there is a holiday that I identify with more, that would be the antithesis of a "taking" holiday, it would be Yom HaAtzmaut (or better yet, the two days of Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut.) There we celebrate and commemorate both what God gave us (by means of hallel and thanks) and what we have given back (by building the State, and in sad cases even by soldiers giving their lives.) This shows the real convenental relationship between God and his people, and to me it makes much more religious sense.

Often the ideologies of "Religious Zionism", "Modern Orthodoxy" and "Torah V'Avoda" are described as being in the middle of a spectrum of haredim on the one side and chilonim on the other. While that may be true in some cases, here I think that I place my ideology on the side of "giving" and the opposing ideology on the side of "taking". It reminds me of the Mafdal's election slogan in 1999 - HaMafdal Noten HaNeshama L'Medina. (The Mafdal gives its soul to the State.) I think they were trying to distinguish themselves from Shas, by focusing on contributing to the State instead of seeing what you could get from it.

Perhaps Lag B'Omer can be redeemed. I'm not sure how. I know that more focus on Rabbi Akiva, and ahavta l'reiecha kamocha would help, but I don't know how that could compete with the fun of burning everything in sight. Any ideas?

I'm different...#2

2005-05-26T09:35:00.000+03:00

If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee.
Abraham Lincoln, 16th president of US (1809 - 1865)

No, thank you.
Me

I doubt this posting will have any important message or lesson to be learned. Just thought I'd let you in on a particular "current window" of my personality.

I don't like hot drinks. Not coffee, not tea. Not even hot chocolate. And by association, I don't like ice coffee, ice tea or chocolate milk. Actually, I don't know if it's by association. I just don't like them.

This often makes social visits awkward. People are always offering something hot to drink, and when I turn them down, especially on a cold day, I get strange looks.

Plus to be a computer proffesional and not drink coffee is as close to treason as you can get.

Now if that wasn't enough, about 10 years ago I stopped drinking caffeinated drinks. I'm edgy enough as it is. Plus, it makes fasting so much easier. But that means no regular Coke.

And when I'm watching my weight (which isn't often enough, for a "waist is a terrible thing to mind"), I'll only drink diet drinks. So that eliminates some more options right there.

Also, I don't like beer. In Israel it's not such a big deal, but in the US that also makes me an outsider.

So on the remaining beverages, all that's left to say is L'Chaim!