The multi-faceted practical dimensions of faith and spirituality were explored over the course of several sessions at the conference, and suggestions made for trying to address at least some of the difficulties that participants felt were being experienced in this regard by their communities, families as well as themselves. In the past, some of the topics raised at the ChampionsGate conferences have become focal points for year-long thought, discussion and programming, and I certainly hope that thinking collectively and seriously undertaking to substantively improve the nature of Modern Orthodox belief and religious commitment will continue well beyond the July meetings in Florida.

                If any one Mitzva is particularly bound up with faith and spirituality, it is prayer. It seems to me that the underlying assumptions of three specific Halachot associated with the Amida (the Silent Devotion), the climax and cornerstone of each Jewish prayer service, can serve as reference points for the mindset that ChaZaL assumed to be a prerequisite for engaging in prayer in a truly profound manner. Identifying such a mindset, and then determining approaches that can best engender, preserve and advance this type of sensibility should, in my opinion, serve as part of considerations of faith and spirituality that should inform our entire lives.

1)    Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 90:1

       The one who is praying should not stand on a bed or a chair or on a bench, even if they are no higher than three Tefachim (12”) (off the ground), and not on a high place, except if he is elderly or unwell or his intention is to cause his words to be heard by the congregation.

2)    Ibid. 5

        He should not pray in an open area like a field because when he is in a place that is “modest” (“Tzniyut”—enclosed?), the fear of the King takes effect and his heart is broken.

3)    Ibid. 19

        One should establish a place for his prayers, which he should not change without need. And it is insufficient that he establishes a single synagogue in which to pray, but rather within the synagogue that he has established (as his place to pray), it is necessary that there be for him a permanent place.

                It is easy enough to understand that these three directives are simply intended to allow a person to concentrate as much as possible on what he is saying. If a person is not used to standing in a high place,[1] if he is in an open setting which is susceptible to interruptions due to passersby, animal life, or meteorological events, if he constantly changes his venue, sight lines and the congregants next to whom he prays, focusing on prayer which is difficult under the best of circumstances, will become well-nigh impossible. The extent to which ideally, the ability to focus one’s attention on his prayers might even dictate whether one prays at all, is reflected in the following dictum of RaMBaM:

Mishneh Tora, Hilchot Tefilla U’Nesiat Kapayim 4:15

The intention of the heart, “Keitzad” (to what extent does it play a role in fulfilling the Commandment to pray)? Any prayer that is not accompanied with intention is not a prayer. And if a person prayed without intention, he should go back and pray with intention. If a person recognizes that his mind is confused and his heart troubled, it is prohibited for him to pray until his mind is settled. Therefore, a person who is returning from a trip and he is tired and troubled, it is prohibited for him to pray until his mind is settled. The Sages have said, “Let him wait three days until his mind is settled and cools, and only afterwards should he pray.”[2]

But concern with intention is obviously not the focus of Ibid. 90:5, i.e., “the fear of the King takes effect and his heart is broken”, and when one studies the bases of the other two Halachot, a different consideration apparently informs them as well. The Talmud justifies avoiding standing in a high place during prayer, not because of some sort of physical precariousness leading to mental distraction, but rather due to a spiritual consideration based upon a verse from Tehillim:

Berachot 10b

Said R. Yosi b’Rabi Chanina in the name of R. Eliezer ben Yaakov: A person should not stand in an elevated place and pray, but rather in a low place and pray, as it is said, (Tehillim 130:1) “From the depths I have called You, HaShem.” It is taught by the Rabbis in a similar vein: A person should not stand upon a chair, a bench or an elevated place and pray but rather in a low place and pray, because there is no “loftiness”/”exaltedness” before God,[3] as it is said, “From the depths I have called You, HaShem.”

And with respect to the concept of “Makom Kavua”, the Talmud references a practice attributed to Avraham:

Berachot 6b

Said R. Chelbo that R. Huna said: Everyone who establishes a place for his prayer, the God of Avraham will Assist him. And when he passes away, they say concerning him, “What a humble individual! What a pious individual! He was among the students of our father, Avraham!” And concerning Avraham, how do we know that he had a permanent place (for prayer)? Because it is written, (Beraishit 19:27) “And Avraham got up early in the morning to the place where he had stood (“Amad)) there,” and the term “Amida” (in the Bible) (often) connotes prayer, as it is said, (Tehillim 106:30) “VeYa’amod Pinchos and he prayed.”[4]

The common denominator of these three sources associated with prayer is that in addition to making sure that the pray-er is positioned in such a manner that he will hopefully be able to concentrate on what he is saying, the cognitive experience must be accompanied by an equally profound  affective component that entails realizing a) one’s existential weakness when left to his own devices and his very real dependency upon God,[5] b) a sense of God’s Immanence and the resulting personal smallness[6] that comes about when one is in an enclosed space rather than out in the open, and c) the determination to incorporate prayer in one’s life to the point where there is a single place to which a person returns when he prays “early and often,” as opposed to approaching prayer in a haphazard and irregular fashion.

Whereas the members of the Modern Orthodox community, by virtue of so many of them having benefited from a day school education and the availability of fine translations and transliterations of the prayers that comprise the services throughout the year are more than capable of fulfilling the cognitive aspect of prayer should they so choose, the portion of this Mitzva that demands   that we realize that we are standing before God, that we are deeply humbled by the realization of in Whose Presence we are standing, and that we are expected to return again and again to reexperience and thereby recall the personal limitations that being in God’s Presence call to mind, is largely absent from MO shuls and schools. Speaking recently with a colleague about day school prayer services, I was told that because these students’ lives are so comfortable, they have difficulty articulating what they “need.” I responded that in addition to “Bakasha” (request), prayer is also about “Hoda’ah” (thanksgiving). What about impressing upon these young people their need to express appreciation for the situations in which they find themselves? Furthermore, even if one, Baruch HaShem, is not presently confronting daunting difficulties of health, mortality, maintaining employment, etc., shouldn’t prayer involve pleading that our admittedly positive situations not deteriorate and change dramatically?   But again this would require someone not only to understand the words of prayer, but also truly believe that God is directly Involved in his life and the lives of those dear to him. Working to bring about not only shuls that allow congregants to concentrate, but also promote a sense of meaningful relation with God will hopefully be one of the foci of the continuing discussions that were begun at this past ChampionsGate conference. If faith and spirituality can be enhanced within the context of the prayer experience, there is the real possibility that such sensibilities will spill over into other dimensions of our lives. 

[2] Hagahot Maimoniyot #20 notes that according to Tosafot, this is not the practiced Halacha since in general (even without having travelled) our intention during prayer is poor. In effect, this commentator suggests,  the entire Mitzva would be rendered moot were we to insist upon appropriate intention. But that should not mean that we should simply ignore this entire dimension of the prayer experience. While our “successful” prayer experiences may be few and far between, nevertheless to pray with intention remains an ideal to which we must aspire. While we might not be in control of our internal states of mind,  any external impediments that might disrupt prayer like being in a perilous or strange environment obviously should be eliminated wherever possible.

[3] While some individuals when compared to fellow human beings, have attained outstanding levels of achievement and notoriety, when standing before God, such status becomes irrelevant since God is so much Greater than anything that one of our species can achieve.

[4] Although “VaYipallel” should more likely be interpreted as “and he judged”, the root “P-L-L” is also very much associated with prayer because of the reflexive form of the verb, “VaYitpallel.”

[5] MaLBIM on Tehillim 130:1 notes that even if one has experienced material and physical success and feels that he is standing “on top of the world”, his spiritual inadequacies and transgressions that have distanced him from God should result in an attitude of lowliness at least during times of prayer.

[6] RaMBaM captures this particular state of mind when he describes the sensibility of fear of God:

Mishneh Tora, Hilchot Yesodei HaTora 2:2

…And when he thinks about these things (i.e., how amazing the various aspects of God’s Creation actually are), immediately he trembles,  steps backwards and is fearful and realizes that he is a tiny, lowly insignificant creature who stands with an inferior incompetent mind before the Perfect Intelligence…

The hottest new publication in the Orthodox book world (I admit we’re not exactly talking about a NYTimes best seller, but nonetheless…) is clearly the Koren Mesorat Ha-Rav Kinot published by Koren and OU Press and edited by Rabbi Simon Posner.  It features a running commentary of the kinot based on the teachings of Rav Soloveitchik zt”l, as well as a new English translation by Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Weinreb and a basic halakha section prepared by Rabbi Gil Student.  It is also includes the English translation of the siddur by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, and the English translation of Eikha found in the Koren Bible.  

The commentary from Rabbi Soloveitchik is largely based on material previously published in The Lord is Righteous in All His Ways: Reflections on the Tish’ah be-Av Kinot (2006), edited by Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter, where it was presented thematically and conceptually.  The challenge (and novelty) of this work was to find a way to present the insights in a consise and simple enough manner to make it user-friendly for siddur readers, without diluting the sophisticated material.  To make this work, the page must be aesthetically pleasing without the commentary cluttering the flow of the texts, especially if one wants to preserve the poetic nature of the text in both the original and the translation.  (After all, not everyone is going to read the Rav’s comments everytime, especially as they recite the kinot in shul).  However, the commentary cannot be so detached from the kinah that one cannot match the text with the comments.   

To a certain extent, the editors of this work were stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Nonethless, the final result is rather impressive, even as a preference was given to making this a user-friendly kinah for the casual user.  Each kinah is presented without commentary, giving the page a clean feel that makes it easy to follow the translation on the opposite side (as with the Koren Siddur, the Hebrew page is on the left side) as well as to recite the prayer.  At the end of each kinah, the reader is then directed to the page number of the next kinah, as the Rav’s commentary (which can include several pages) is included after each kinah.  I found it occasionally difficult to find the text to which the commentary was referring (and then of course one has to flip back and forth between the text and the commentary), but overall I prefered having the material remain substantive and coherent.  

The kinot also feature a Reshimot section which includes halakhic and philosophical insights related to Tisha Be’Av that are not directly connected to the kinot.  This section is a very successful consise presentation of some of the Rav’s central themes about the day and its meaning, even as I miss the drama, eloquence, and development of the oral shiurim that have been transcribed in Rabbi Schacter’s volume and elsewhere. 

The volume was dedicated in honor of Rabbi Haskel Lookstein, who included an interesting introductory essay that recalled a 1968 shiur by the Rav explaining why we still commemorate this day after the Six-Day War. 

I like the fact that they included kinot related to the Holocaust, even as the Rav objected to them (as noted in the introduction), as their recitation has become standard in most shuls.  In addition to the kinot composed by Rabbi Shimon Schwab and the Bobover Rebbe (known from their inclusion in the Artscroll kinot), the editors also included “Eli, Eli” by Yehuda Leib Bailer and a kinah written by Rabbi Abraham Rosenfeld (whose own kinot are distributed by Soncino Press). 

I did not have the opporuntity to thoroughly examine the accuracy of Rabbi Weinreb’s translation (nor do I see myself as qualified to pass judgment).  I will note, however, that whatever its accuracy (which is incredibly difficult, given the poetic nature of the original), the text flows and reads nicely, and will be enjoyed by those who read the text primarily in English.

Overall, this work is a significant accomplishment, and the editors and publishers should be saluted for this contribution to our community and the legacy of the Rav. 

Other books of interest about prayer:    By now, most people have seen the Koren Siddur with the translation and commentary by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.  Since I reviewed the contribution of Rabbi Sacks when the British version of the siddur was published, I won’t repeat what I said there, except to reitterate that the introduction to the siddur remains, in my mind, the best (concise) introduction to Jewish prayer currently available. 

In case you missed it, Koren/OU also published a Hebrew-only siddur (“Talpiot“) with English instructions and halakha section.  I enjoy using it on a daily basis – the print is clean and sharp, it is light and compact, and the halakha section is done well.

Coming Soon:  The Koren Mesorat HaRav Siddur and the Revised RCA Artscroll Siddur (no, it will not say Sefer Zichron Ploni on it!).  Once these two volumes are published, the current revolution of modern Orthodox Hebrew-English siddurim will be complete.  I hope that this will begin a new stage in modern Orthodox,  My suggestion for the next project:  A new Chumash for shul use. 

Also of Interest:  Siddur ha-Tefillah:  Philosophy, Poetry, and Mystery [Hebrew] (Yediot Sefarim).  Prof. Eliezer Schweid, an Israel Prize Laureate and long-time professor of Jewish philosophy at the Hebrew University, has written a commentary to the siddur, with additional thoughts on prayer as a whole.   

Yud Gimel Midot Shel Rachamim by Rabbi Ezra Bick.  A thorough analysis and interpretation of each midat rachamim.  I hope to discuss this book further in Elul, but you should order ahead in time for Selichot. 

A Time To Speak:  Controversial Essays that Can Change Your Life by Martin Stern (Devorah Publishing).  (Despite its subtitle, the bulk of the book is a commentary to the siddur and synagogue life).

- Shlomo Brody

Below is the edited text of a teleconferenced lecture delivered by Rabbis Aryeh and Dov Frimer to participants at the 51st Annual Convention of the Rabbinical Council of America on April 27, 2010. These comments are based on a very lengthy and heavily documented article which will be completed shortly; with a few exceptions, only leading references are cited in the present manuscript.

Partnership or halakhic egalitarian minyanim (e.g., Shira Hadasha in Jerusalem and Darkhei Noam in Manhattan) actively involve women in leading the prayer service wherever these communities deem it halakhically appropriate. The practices differ from community to community, but can range from having women receive aliyyot and serve as ba’alot keriah, read Megillat Esther for men and women, read the other four Megillot, serve as Hazaniyyot for pesukei de-zimra and Kabbalat Shabbat, and lead the recitation of Hallel.  Let me make it clear at the outset, that these practices are a radical break from the ritual of millennia and have not received the approval of any major posek.

Because of time limitations, we have decided to focus on two major issues: keriat ha-Torah and the recitation of Hallel – because we believe them to be paradigmatic of many of the issues that have been raised. 

Women and Keri’at haTorah

Our discussion of keriat haTorah begins with the Gemara in Megilla 23a.

תנו רבנן: הכל עולין למנין שבעה, ואפילו קטן ואפילו אשה.

אבל אמרו חכמים: אשה לא תקרא בתורה, מפני כבוד צבור.

The Rabbis Taught: All are eligible to receive one of the seven [Sabbath] Aliyyot, even a minor and even a woman.  However, the Sages said: A woman may not read from the Torah, because of the honor of the community.

This Talmudic statement was subsequently codified essentially unchanged in Shulhan Arukh (O.H., sec. 282:3). Despite the above negative ruling of the Talmud, Shulkhan Arukh and in their wake all subsequent codifiers, within the last decade, there have been two major attempts to reopen this issue. One was an article penned by R. Mendel Shapiro, in the Edah Journal in Summer 2001. The second was the recent book Darka shel Halakha published by Israel Prize laureate R. Prof. Daniel Sperber.

Turning first to R. Mendel Shapiro, he argues that the major barrier to women getting aliyyot is kevod ha-tsibbur, which he understands to be related to a woman’s social status. Since there has been a dramatic change in the sociological status of women in contemporary society, this should impact upon the relevance of kevod ha-tsibbur. Furthermore, the community should be sovereign to forgo its honor.

Evolution of Keriat haTorah

Before responding to R. Shapiro’s analysis, a few words of introduction.  Keri’at haTorah has undergone somewhat of an evolution over the years.  The Talmud  [B.T., Bava Kamma 82a; J.T., Megilla 4:1] records that Moshe Rabbenu instituted that one oleh should read the Torah aloud for all – much like the way we practice the reading of Megillat Esther.  In an attempt to get more people involved, Ezra instituted multiple aliyyot, and he varied the number according to the nature and sanctity of the day. The goal of these readings was public Torah study and to assure that it would take place on a regular basis.

Additionally, each oleh originally read his own Torah portion aloud from the sefer Torah, much the way it is done in Yemenite Synagogues to this day.  This required literacy, knowledge and preparation – a challenge to which all were not equal (Resp.  Rivash, sec.  326). It was not until several hundred years later, in the Gaonic period (Resp. Iggerot Moshe, O.H., II, sec.  72), and certainly by the year 1000, that a ba’al korei was appointed to read aloud from the Torah for each oleh (Tosefot, Megilla 21b, s.v.  “Tana,” ;  Piskei haRosh, Megilla, Chapt.  3, sec.  1).

How Can Women Theoretically Receive Aliyyot

            Now this gemara in Megilla indicates that a minor, and – were it not for kevod ha-tsibbur – a woman, might be eligible to receive an aliyya. This statement is quite astounding for one simple reason.  The overwhelming majority of posekim, both rishonim and aharonim, exempt women from any requirement to hear the public Torah reading, just as they exempt them from all other public prayer rituals.[1] The same is clearly true for a minor.

            The Mishna in Rosh haShana 3:8 states categorically:  

זה הכלל כל שאינו מחויב בדבר אינו מוציא את הרבים ידי חובתן

This is the general principle: one who is not obligated, cannot help others fulfill their obligation.”

This is comparable to the reading of Megillat Esther: a minor who is exempt cannot read the Megilla for an adult (Shulhan Arukh, O.H., sec.  689:2). 

            Now remember that in Mishnaic and Talmudic times, each oleh read their Torah portion aloud for the entire congregation.  How, then, could Haza”l even consider allowing women and minors, who are exempt from the keriat haTorah obligation, to receive an aliyya and read the Torah for the assembled?

            Perforce, the obligation of keriat haTorah differs fundamentally from the obligation of reading Megillat Esther.  In the case of Megilla, each adult male and female has a personal obligation to read from the Megilla.  The individual selected to read aloud from the Megilla scroll, thereby, enables others to fulfill their obligation via the principle of shome’a ke-oneh (listening attentively is like saying) – exactly as we do by Kiddush and Havdala.  In order for this principle to work, however, the reader must be a bar hiyyuva – inherently obligated.

But keri’at haTorah is necessarily different than reading the Megilla. Here you need not one knowledgeable individual to read, but seven! The Rivash (sec. 326) indicates that Haza”l were concerned by the difficulty of finding olim who would able to read from the Sefer Torah. They, therefore, considered widening the pool of eligible olim by formulating the keri’at haTorah obligation more leniently. There is a disagreement, however, as to the exact nature of this reformulation. 

One school argues that in contradistinction to the reading of Megillat Esther, keri’at haTorah is a not a personal obligation but a communal one –  hovat ha-tsibbur (see R. Ovadiah Yosef, Halikhot Olam, I, Parashat Ki Tisa, no. 4, note 4).  The men of the community are obligated to ensure that a minyan is available for a Torah reading – and when such has been secured, any Jew present, including women and minors who are not obligated, can at least in theory read for the community.

The second school maintains that the obligation is a personal one.  Nevertheless, in contradistinction to mikra Megilla, one’s duty is not to read from the Torah, but rather to listen as the words of the Torah are read aloud from the sefer Torah by several Jews (their number ranging from three to seven).  As to the obligation of listening to the reading, each one can do that by themselves (see R. Moses Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, O.H., II, sec. 72, IV, secs. 23 and 40, nos. 4 and 5).  Hence, the exact level of obligation of the readers in keri’at haTorah is unimportant – they can be women or minors, provided they can read aloud.

The fundamental take home lesson from this discussion should be clear.  It’s not that women were obligated in keriat haTorah - and by right should have had aliyyot – and along came kevod ha-tsibbur (which we have yet to define) and took it away.  On the contrary, women are not obligated in Keri’at haTorah and, therefore, should have had no role to play therein.  In an exceptional move, and out of fear that there would not be enough knowledgeable men to read from the Sefer Torah, Haza”l considered allowing women to get aliyyot. It was a very special dispensation, instituted in times of rampant illiteracy, in an attempt to preserve the institution of Keri’at haTorah.  However, because of kevod ha-tsibbur, Haza”l decided that they would not allow this dispensation to become normative practice.  We will come back to this point again – because it is the key to understanding much of the issue of women and aliyyot.

Under a Ba’al Korei System

Let me note that up until now we have only explained the first part of the Baraita in Megilla 23a – namely הכל עולין למנין שבעה, ואפילו קטן ואפילו אשה . We have yet to talk about kevod ha-tsibbur. This we will do shortly.  But we’d like to point out that when the rabbis of the Talmud talked about women getting aliyyot, they were talking about a case where the Oleh made the berakhot and read aloud to the whole community. In fact, the Oleh is the only one in that room who has any obligation to read; everyone else is supposed to listen.

However, as you all know, nowadays the job of Oleh is bifurcated – divided into two. The oleh makes berakhot – but who does the mitsva action? Who does the ma’aseh ha-mitsva? The ba’al korei!  But, how can one person make berakhot and another do the ma’aseh ha-mitsva?  This is contrary to all other cases in Jewish law, where the one who does the action is the one who makes the berakha!   For there not to be a berakha le-vatala, there must be some mechanism to transfer the reading – the ma’aseh ha-mitsva – from the ba’al korei to the oleh.

We’ve already mentioned the mechanism of shome’a ke’oneh. It is through this mechanism that we fulfill our obligation in reading Megillat Esther, Kiddush and Havdala - by listening to the reciter.  However, this mechanism requires that the ba’al korei – who does the mitsva action of reading aloud, and the oleh – who recites the berakha, be obligated in keri’at haTorah.  Otherwise there is no transfer mechanism to make it one act. The berakhot will not be connected to the act and will be le-vatala.  [Please note: we are not concerned here with how a non-obligated woman can read the Torah aloud for the community – with that we dealt above. Here we are focusing on her inability to read for the oleh or to have someone read for her when she is an olah.]

Now, a woman could read for herself and make the appropriate berakhot – there is no need in that case for transfer when the same person does both acts. But, she cannot read for others, nor can others read for her – and this is me-ikkar ha-din (basic law) and has nothing to do with kevod ha-tsibbur. It should be clear therefore that, even without talking about kevod ha-tsibbur, what is done in nearly all egalitarian/partnership minyanim is completely wrong; unless the woman who gets the aliyya reads for herself, the birkhot keri’at haTorah are berakhot le-vatala. If the woman who gets an aliyya does indeed read for herself, then we have to discuss the issue of kevod ha-tsibbur – to which we now turn

Kevod haTsibbur Defined

            All we have said thus far has been in the absence of kevod ha-tsibbur.  Let’s now introduce this concept into the equation. Let’s now return to the baraita cited in Megilla 23a

תנו רבנן: הכל עולין למנין שבעה, ואפילו קטן ואפילו אשה

Provided she reads for herself;

אבל אמרו חכמים: אשה לא תקרא בתורה, מפני כבוד צבור.

How are we to understand the kevod ha-tsibbur element by women’s aliyyot? And why does it not apply to a katan – a minor?

R. Mendel Shapiro argued that kevod ha-tsibbur is a social concept – and a woman’s general standing in society was lower than that of men. R. Shapiro unfortunately errs, however, for several reasons. Firstly, the vast majority of Rishonim and Aharonim simply disagree with his analysis – kevod ha-tsibbur has absolutely nothing to do with social standing. It is for this reason that perhaps the greatest social reprobate – a mamzer – can receive an aliyya (Rema O.H. sec. 282:3). Rather, the vast majority of Poskim maintain that kevod ha-tsibbur stems either from tsniut considerations, or from zilzul ha-mitsvah (disparaging or belittling ones obligation).

The Tsniut School includes inter alia such leading scholars as R. Yaakov Emden, R. Avraham David Rabinowitz-Teomim, R. Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, R. Shaul Yisraeli, R. Dov Eliezerov, R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, R. Eliezer Waldenberg all zatsa”l, and R. Shlomo Yosef Elyashiv, R. Efraim Greenblatt and R. Zalman Nechemia Goldberg Shlit”a.[2]  This school argues that because of possible sexual distraction, women should not unnecessarily be at the center of communal religious ritual.  This is particularly true by keri’at haTorah since women are simply not obligated in Torah reading.

It’s important to note that the synagogue is the one place that we particularly try to sanctify our thoughts; and we make special efforts to avoid all sexual distraction.  Therefore, R. Eliyahu David Rabinowitz-Teomim, R. Abraham Isaac Kook and R. Menachem Kasher, note that the standards of tsniut in a synagogue are halakhically greater than those in other venues – as evidenced by the requirement of a mehitsa.

Now, if a woman is obligated to fulfill a particular personal ritual, such as reciting birkat ha-gomel or saying Kaddish yatom, many gedolei ha-poskim see no problem, for this is her individual obligation. The concern of the Tsniut School is for women unnecessarily being at the center of a communal religious ritual.

The second Zilzul haMitsvah School includes among others R. Naphtali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, R. Yosef Kapah, R. Ovadiah Yosef, R. Yosef Messas, and R. Shimon Harrari,[3] but is actually precedented by several Rishonim [Rashi, Tosafot, Tosafot haRosh and Tosafot Rabbenu Peretz to Sukka 38a]. These scholars maintain that the men, who ARE obligated, should be the ones fulfilling the mitsva – not the women who are NOT. To have those exempted lead the communal ritual reveals that the men do not value their mitzva obligations – which constitutes zilzul or bizayon ha-mitsva. This consideration does not apply to ketanim because of hinukh considerations.

Can a Community Set Aside Kevod haTsibbur by Women’s Aliyyot?

Now, in light of this, we believe that in the specific case of women’s aliyyot, the large majority of poskim would rule that a community cannot set aside its honor – for a variety of reasons. Firstly, there is a substantial cadre of rishonim (eg., Rambam and Semag) and aharonim (inter alia, Ma’aseh Roke’ah, R. BenZion Lichtman, R. Zalman Nechemiah Goldberg)[4] who maintain that in the specific case of women’s aliyyot, the rabbis simply forbade women from ever receiving aliyyot – even in cases of she’at ha-dehak where there is no one else knowledgeable to read.

There is another very large group of poskim[5] – probably the majority – led by the Ba”H, who also maintain that a community cannot set aside kevod ha-tsibbur. In cases of she’at ha-dehak – where there is no one else eligible, kevod ha-tsibbur is no longer in effect because Haza”l never forbad under such dire straits. Only then can a woman read, and it is to such cases that the Gemara in Megilla was referring.

Finally, it makes little sense that Haza”l would disallow women’s aliyyot because of deep concerns about kevod ha-tsibbur – be it because of tsniut or zilzul ha-mitsvah – and yet, a community could come along and say, we don’t care about Haza”l’s concerns.

Now let me reiterate the point we made earlier.  It’s not that women were full partners in keriat haTorah, and kevod ha-tsibbur came along and took away from women something that was rightfully theirs.  Rather because of rampant illiteracy and lack of education, the Rabbis as a special dispensation considered the possibility of allowing women to get aliyyot.  Haza”l determined, however, that as normative synagogue practice this would be a bad idea, because it might well introduce an unnecessary element of sexual distraction or would reflect the belittling of the men’s mitsva obligation.  It did, however, remain an option according to most authorities for she’at ha-dehak situations – situations where no one else was able or eligible to read.

Kevod haTsibbur and Partnership Minyanim

Now here comes our central point! This understanding of kevod ha-tsibbur clearly applies to the vast majority of innovations in Partnership Minyanim.  While women are welcome, even encouraged to attend shul, they are not obligated to maintain a properly functioning minyan in their community. They are not obligated in minyan attendance, nor in tefilla be-tsibbur nor in keri’at haTorah nor in any other public prayer rituals – which we do as a tsibbur. 

Having women lead such public rituals would at least be a violation of kevod ha-tsibbur – according to either of its possible definitions. The zilzul ha-mitsvah view of kevod ha-tsibbur maintains that since it is the men who ARE obligated in public prayer rituals, they should be the ones fulfilling them – not women who are NOT at all obligated. The source and nature of this obligation is not critical. It may be biblical, rabbinic, custom or mitsva min ha-muvhar. The recitation of the megillot, kaballat Shabbat and certainly pesukei de-zimra in shul – is a long standing communal minhag of at least hundreds of years. Indeed, R. Saadya Gaon holds that the role of the shaliah tsibbur begins before pesukei de-zimra, and that is our minhag. In a shul context, it is the men who are obligated in performing and running public prayer. To have women fulfill these communal obligations would reveal that the men-folk do not value their halakhic responsibilities and obligations, and that is a serious issue of zilzul or bizayon ha-mitsva. Again there is no kevod ha-tsibbur by a katan because of Hinukh.

The Tsniut School, on the other hand, argues that because of possible sexual distraction, women should not unnecessarily be at the center of any communal religious ritual. By contrast, birkat ha-gomel and even Kaddish yetoma are individual obligations done in a minyan. Reciting Kiddush after shul can be viewed as fulfilling ones personal obligation in the presence of many; but its not part of the public prayer ritual – hence kevod ha-tsibbur is not relevant

We note that the correctness of the above analysis, that the practices of Partnership Minyanim violate kevod ha-tsibbur, has been confirmed by Moreinu veRabbenu R. Aharon Lichtenstein and the noted posek R. Moshe Mordechai Karp, she-yibadlu le-hayyim tovim ve-arukim.

Kavod haBeriyyot

The second attempt to reopen the issue of aliyyot for women is that of R. Prof. Daniel Sperber, in Darka shel Halakha.  There is much to critique in this book and AAF has written a lengthy review which appeared on “The Seforim Blog” in June 2008 (http://seforim.blogspot.com/2008/06/aryeh-frimer-review-of-daniel-sperbers.html). We will focus, however, on Prof. Sperber’s major hiddush in this book. Briefly, Prof. Sperber focuses on the halakhic concept kevod ha-beriyot, which refers to shame or embarrassment which would result from the fulfillment of a religious obligation. Thus, the Gemara in Berakhot 19b indicates that if one is wearing sha’atnez –the wearer is obligated to remove it even in the marketplace, despite any possible embarrassment. However, if the garment is only rabbinically forbidden, one can wait until they return home to change.  The reason is that kevod ha-beriyyot, the honor of the individual, can defer rabbinic obligations and prohibitions. Hence, Prof. Sperber maintains that if there is a community of women who are offended by their not receiving aliyyot – because of the rabbinic rule of kevod ha-tsibbur, then kevod ha-beriyyot should defer kevod ha-tsibbur.

Prof. Sperber is correct that kevod ha-beriyyot has always been an important consideration in psak.  However, an in-depth survey of the responsa literature over the past 1000 years makes it clear that it cannot be invoked indiscriminately.  Indeed, the gedolei ha-poskim make apparent that there are clearly defined rules – we have found 14 – which Prof. Sperber totally seems to ignore. Violating any one of these rules nullifies R. Sperber’s claim and we believe he has violated nearly all 14 of them. Because of time limitations we will very quickly cite only seven (7).

(1) Firstly, kevod ha-tsibbur is merely the kevod ha-beriyyot of the community (Resp. Bet Yehuda, O.H. 58).   Hence it makes no sense that the honor of the individual should have priority over the honor of a large collection of individuals. Indeed, this is explicitly stated by the Meiri, Bet haBehira, Berakhot 19b):”שאין כבוד רבים נדחה מפני יחיד או יחידים”

(2) Secondly, The Meiri (ibid.) also emphatically states: “שלא אמרה תורה כבד אחרים בקלון עצמך.”  Giving women aliyyot by overriding kevod ha-tsibbur with kevod ha-beriyyot would effectively be honoring women by dishonoring the community – and, hence, should not be done.

(3) More fundamentally, R. Sperber’s suggestion would ask us to uproot completely the rabbinic ban on women’s aliyyot. However, the Jerusalem Talmud (Kilayyim 9:1) indicates that kevod ha-beriyyot can only temporarily (sha’ah ahat) set aside a rabbinic ordinance. That this proviso of sha’ah ahat is applied to Rabbinic mitsvot as well – by Tosafot, Or Zarua, Penei Moshe, Vilna Gaon, R. David Pardo, Arukh haShulhan and others.[6]

(4) Fourthly, many poskim including R. Yair Hayyim Bachrach, R. Isaac Blazer, R. Meir Simha of Dvinsk, R. Jeroham Perlow, R. Moses Feinstein, R. Chaim Zev Reines[7]  indicate that the “dishonor” that is engendered must result from an act of disgrace – not from refraining to give honor.

(5) Similarly, nearly all authorities (including R. Naftali Amsterdam, R. Elhanan Bunim Wasserman, R. Makiel Tsvi haLevi Tannenbaum, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, R. Elijah Bakshi Doron, R. Chaim Zev Reines, R. Israel Shepansky, and R. Yitzchak Nissim[8]) maintain that kevod ha-beriyyot requires an objective standard that affects or is appreciated by all.  This view rejects subjective standards – in which what is embarrassing results from the idiosyncrasies or hypersensitivities of an individual or small group.  Many religiously committed women would perhaps prefer it otherwise; but they understand and accept the halakhic given, that they are not obligated in keri’at haTorah and, hence, cannot receive aliyyot.

More fundamentally, however, does it make any sense that a group of women or men could say: “this Rabbinic halakha or ordinance offends me” and as a result the Rabbinic injunction or obligation would be abrogated thereby?! Is there a simple carte blanche to uproot Rabbinic ordinances like mehitsa, tsni’ut, kashrut, stam yeynam, bishul akum, many aspects of taharat ha-mishpahah, who counts for a minyan, and who can serve as a hazzan?! Such a position is untenable, if not unthinkable. 

(6) Resp. Rivash (sec. 226) forbad sewing baby clothes during hol ha-moed for a newborn’s circumcision despite the wealthy parents’ desire to dress him according to his status for the event. One of Rivash’s rationales is that since all understand that Haza”l forbade sewing new clothes on hol ha-moed, kevod ha-beriyyot cannot be invoked to circumvent this rabbinic prohibition. Similarly, one cannot invoke kevod ha-beriyyot to allow women to receive aliyyot, because all understand that this has been synagogue procedure for two millennia and that the Rabbis of the Talmud themselves prohibited it.

(7) Rivash (ibid.) and Havot Yair (sec. 95) and others categorically rule against extending the leniency of kevod ha-beriyyot beyond those 4 categories explicitly discussed by Haza”l - honor of the deceased, personal hygiene dealing with excrement, undress and nakedness, and the sanctity of the family unit.

Thus we believe that the arguments of both Rabbis Shapiro and Sperber do not stand up under close scrutiny and there are no grounds to permit women’s aliyyot. Hence, we take strong issue with those who would enact women’s aliyyot in practice, and hastily undo more than two millennia of Halakhic precedent. Considering the novelty of this innovation, religious integrity and sensitivity would have required serious consultation with renowned halakhic authorities of recognized stature – before acting on such a significant departure from tradition and normative halakha. Often it takes time before a final determination can be reached as to whether or not a suggested innovation meets these standards. But that is no excuse for haste.

Recitation of Hallel in the Talmudic Period

            One of the new major innovations instituted by Partnership Minyanim is having a woman serve as the shelihat tsibbur for the recitation of Hallel. What is the rationale behind this innovation?

            In the Talmudic period, the general custom was for the shali’ah tsibbur to recite the entire Hallel alone, out loud, with the congregation punctuating the Hallel with various responses of Halleluya and the repetition of specific verses. The community fulfills its obligation of Hallel via the recitation of the shali’ah tsibbur by the general mechanism of shome’a ke-oneh. The precise nature of the communal response is the subject of much debate: yet the model of the responsive Hallel interplay is the shira ve-aniyya (song and response) of Moshe Rabbenu and Am Yisrael when they sang shirat ha-yam in praise of the Almighty – as described in Sotah (30b). This unique responsive Hallel format (also referred to by the classic commentaries as ker’ia ve-aniyya, recitation and response) is invoked, according to the vast majority of authorities, only when reciting Hallel be-tsibbur; but not when Hallel is recited be-yehidut (alone).[9]

            What kind of tsibbur is required for the responsive Hallel? Rema (O.H., 422:2), allows a responsive Hallel even when there are merely three males (see next paragraph) davening together. R. Moshe Soloveitchik (Reshimot Shiurim, supra note 9, p. 190) maintained, however, that except for Seder night (see Shulhan Arukh, O.H., 479:1), a regular minyan of ten men is necessary for shira ve-aniyya. Hallel was enacted to be part of the shaharit service; and just as shaharit be-tsibbur requires a minyan, so too Hallel be-tsibbur. Arukh haShulhan (O.H., sec. 422, no. 8) indicates that the general custom follows the latter position.

            The Mishnah in the third chapter of Sukka teaches that the responsive shira ve-aniyya form can only be utilized – even be-tsibbur – when the shali’ah tsibbur is an adult male, who is obligated in Hallel, either by takana or by custom. However, if the congregation cannot find a qualified adult male shali’ah tsibbur, then they willy-nilly must rely upon a woman or a minor to serve as shali’ah tsibbur. However, since both a minor and a woman are exempt from the obligation of Hallel, the general mechanism of shome’a ke-oneh cannot be invoked. This is because, as noted above, shome’a ke-oneh requires that both the listener and the reciter be obligated; as a result, the responsive Hallel cannot be said. Instead, for the congregation to fulfill it’s basic Hallel obligation it must repeat the words of the minor or woman, word for word. Moreover, the Mishnah states that a person or congregation that needs to rely on such a non-obligated minor or female shali’ah tsibbur, is to be cursed – tavo lo me’eira.

            The rishonim give two reasons for this drastic punishment of me’eira. The first reason is that the congregation has allowed itself to be so ignorant as to be forced into a position where it needs to rely upon non-obligated shelihei tsibbur. However, even if the members of the congregation are educated, they are nonetheless deserving of a curse; this is because they have appointed as their communal representative before the Almighty one who is not even obligated in the task. They have thereby insulted both the mitsva and the Metsaveh Himself [Rashi, Tosafot, Tosafot haRosh and Tosafot Rabbenu Perets to Sukka 38a].

Hallel in the Post-Talmudic Period

Our contemporary pattern of reciting Hallel differs dramatically from the Talmudic form. Today, our communities are all considered to be educated (beki’im) who are knowledgeable in the proper recitation of Hallel. As a result, our custom is for everyone to recite Hallel for himself and not rely on the Shali’ah Tsibbur. Nevertheless, we have maintained some semblance of the original custom of a responsive Hallel when recited be-tsibbur, although the segments of Hallel actually recited responsively are far fewer than those of the Talmudic period. Thus, only by the recitation of Yomar na Yisrael…Yomar na Bet Aharon… Yomar na Yirei Hashem…Ana Hashem Hoshi’a na and Ana Hashem Hatsliha na is there shira ve-aniyya. Yet, even with regard to these responsive portions of the Hallel, the aharonim note that the general practice today is to have the community say these verses as well, and not rely solely on their recitation by the hazzan.

            If so, the argument goes, why can’t a woman lead the Hallel service in our day and age? After all, the members of the congregation are anyway reciting Hallel themselves word for word, individually, fulfilling their own Hallel obligation. Consequently, the lack of obligation of the female Shat”z in no way impacts today on the obligation of the congregants.

            We, however, believe this argument to be erroneous for three major reasons. First, having a woman lead the congregation in Hallel – as in pesukei de-zimra – violates kevod ha-tsibbur. This understanding – confirmed to us by both R. Aharon Lichtenstein and R. Moshe Mordechai Karp – was discussed at length above.

            Second, having a woman, who is not obligated in the recitation of Hallel, lead the service, raises the concern of me’eira. Haza”l’s criticism of have one who is not obligated in Hallel lead the service, has little to do with the Hazzan being motsi. After all, one who is not hayyav simply cannot be motsi the congregation. Even in the Mishnah of Sukka, the non-obligated minor or female shaliah tsibbur is not being motsi the tsibbur. That is precisely why the Mishnah requires each member of the congregation to recite the Hallel individually, with each person fulfilling his own obligation. Rather, as the Rishonim emphasize, Haza”l’s criticism results from the fact that by appointing a non-obligated person to lead the service, the congregation is: “mevazeh ba-mitsvot la’asot sheluhin ka-eileh mi-shum de-lav benei hiyyuva ninhu” (Tosafot Rabbenu Perets, Sukka 38a). Through their appointment, the congregation demonstrates that it does not take their Hallel obligation seriously. Even today, the Shaliah Tsibbur plays a central role in leading the communal Hallel service, especially in those parts that are recited responsively. While the hazzan today is not motsi the tsibbur, he, nonetheless, melds the congregation into a cohesive unit and leads them in the communal Hallel.  Only one who is obligated in Hallel can be an appropriate messenger/leader for his agent-congregation before the Almighty. [This analysis was also concurred to by Rabbis Aharon Lichtenstein, Moshe Mordechai Karp and Barukh David Povarsky (personal conversations with DIF, April 2010).]

            The final objection is based upon the teachings of Moreinu ve-Rabbenu haRav Yosef Dov Ha-Levi Soloveitchik zt”l (Reshimot Shiurim, supra note 9). The Rav explains that there are two dimensions to the mitsva of Hallel. The first is the simple recitation of Hallel; the second is the responsive reading of Hallel. While an individual can fulfill the obligation of the simple recitation of Hallel, only a tsibbur can fulfill the mitzvah of reciting Hallel responsively. Reciting Hallel responsively is a unique kiyyum of Hallel ha-tsibbur – similar to reciting kedusha in tefilla be-tsibbur. The Rav further emphasized that tefilla and Hallel be-tsibbur are not merely enhanced forms of tefillat veHallel ha-yahid. Rather they are separate and distinct categories, each being its own unique heftsa shel mitsva, with its own set of rules. One such unique feature of Hallel be-tsibbur is the responsive keri’a ve-aniyya format.

            Since women cannot create the heftsa  of mitsvot ha-tsibbur, the Rav maintains that women cannot lead the  tsibbur in their kiyyum. Consequently, women would be barred from serving as shelihei tzibbur for the recitation of Hallel ha-tsibbur.

            Professor Haym Soloveitchik, in his now classic work “Rupture and Construction,” [Tradition, Vol. 28, No. 4 (Summer 1994)] skillfully documented the gradual move in Contemporary Orthodoxy from a mimetic halakhic tradition to a text-based tradition. He further noted the profound impact that this transition had on the move of contemporary Orthodoxy in the 20^th Century towards greater humra (stringency). What we are now beginning to witness is a similar, but opposite, text-oriented movement towards greater kula (leniency).

            We would like to suggest that neither is healthy for the halakhic process or for the Torah community. Perhaps what is called for is a balanced return to a more mimetic-influenced tradition, with its inherent sensitivity and stability without rigidity. But that is for another occasion.

References

[1]. See, for example: Tosafot, Rosh haShana 33a, s.v. “Ha”; Rosh, Kiddushin 31a; Meiri and Ran on Rif,  Megilla 23a, s.v. “haKol Olim”; Sefer Avudraham, Sha’ar haShelishi, s.v. “Katav haRambam zal”; Sefer haBatim, Beit Tefilla, Sha’arei Keriat haTorah 2:6; Beit Yosef, O.H.  sec.  28, s.v.  “haKol” and Derisha ad loc. 

[2]. R. Jacob Emden, Mor uKetsia, O.H., sec. 55, s.v. “Katuv baMordekha” and sec. 282; R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim, Over Orah, sec. 110, s.v. “ve-Nireh”; R. Walter S. Wurzburger, “R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik as Posek of Post-Modern Orthodoxy,” Tradition, 29:1, pp. 5-21 (Fall 1994), at p. 17; R. Shaul Yisraeli,  Resp. beMareh haBazak, I, sec. 37, no. 7; R. Dov Eliezerov, Resp. Sha’ali Zion, Tinyana, part 1, O.H., sec. 19; R. Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg, in Resp. beMareh haBazak, V, addendum to sec. 113, pp. 225-228; R. Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg, Resp. Binyan Ariel, E.H., “Birkat Hatanim biSe’udat Sheva Berakhot al yedei Isha,” pp. 135-141; R. Shlomo Yosef Elyashiv, cited in R. Abraham-Sofer Abraham, Nishemat Avraham, V, Y.D., sec. 195, p. 76-77; R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, cited in R. Abraham-Sofer Abraham, Nishemat Avraham, V, Y.D., sec. 195, p. 76-77 – see also Halikhot Shlomo, I, Hilkhot Tefilla, Chap. 20, sec. 11, note 20; R. Eliezer Waldenberg, Resp. Tsits Eliezer, XX, sec. 36, nos. 2 and 3; R. Efraim Greenblatt, Resp. Rivevot Efrayyim, I, sec. 449.

[3]. R. Naphtali Zvi Judah Berlin (Netsiv), Meromei Sadeh, Sukka 38a, s.v. “Mishna. Mi sheHaya”; R. Joseph Kafah, Commentary to Yad, Hilkhot Megilla, chap. 1, no. 1, note 3; R. Ovadiah Yosef, miShiurei Maran haRishon leZion Rabbi Ovadya Yosef Shlita, Gilyon 19, Motsash Parashat vaYeira 5756; R. Ovadiah Yosef, Mishnat Yosef, III, Shiurei Maran haRishon leZion 5762, Parashat veYetse, Hilkhot Keriat beSefer Torah beShabbat, no. 11; R. Joseph Messas, Resp. Mayyim Hayyim, II, sec. 140; R. Simeon Harari, Resp. Sha’ar Shimon Ehad, I, sec. 4, s.v. “veHineh ma”.

[4]. Maimonides, Yad, Hilkhot Tefilla, sec. 12, no. 17; R. Moses ben Jacob of Coucy, Sefer Mitsvot Gadol, Divrei Soferim, Aseh, no. 4, Hilkhot Megilla, s.v. “Tanya beTosefta”; R. Masud Hai Rokei’ah, Ma’ase Rokei’ah, Yad, ad loc; R. Ben-Zion Lichtman, Benei Zion, IV, O.H. sec. 282, no. 3, note 6; R. Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg, in Resp. beMareh haBazak, V, addendum to sec. 113, pp. 225-228; R. Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg, Resp. Binyan Ariel, E.H., “Birkat Hatanim biSe’udat Sheva Berakhot al yedei Isha,” pp. 135-141; Tehilla leYona – Masekhet Megilla,

[5]. Inter alia: R. Joel Sirkis, Bayit Hadash (Bah), Tur, O.H. sec. 53, s.v. “veEin memanin;” R. Joseph Caro in Shulhan Arukh, sec. 53, no. 6 according to Pri Megadim, O.H., sec. 53, Eshel Avraham, note 9; R. Israel Lipschutz, Tiferet Yisrael to Mishna Megilla 4:6, no. 45; R. Hayyim Sofer in his comments to R. Jacob Alfanadri, Mutsal meEish, sec. 10; R. Judah Ayash, Resp. Bet Yehuda, I, O.H., secs. 22 and 55; Kaf haHayyim, O.H., sec. 143, note 10 – see, however, sec. 690, no. 5; Resp. Mishpitei Ouziel, IV, H.M., sec. 4;

[6]. To JT Kilayyim 9:1, see: R. Moses Margaliyot, Penei Moshe and Mareh Panim; R. Elijah Kramer of Vilna (Gra), Perush haGra; R. Yitshak-Isaac Krasilchikov, Toldot Yitshak. This is also the opinion of: Tosafot, Ketubot 103b, end of s.v. “Oto;” R. Isaac of Vienna, Or Zarua, II,  Hilkhot Erev Shabbat, sec. 6; R. David Samuel Pardo, Resp. Mikhtam leDavid, Y.D., sec. 51; Arukh haShulhan, Y.D., sec. 303.

[7]. R. Jair Hayyim Bachrach, Resp. Havot Yair, end of sec. 96 (“shame visible to all”); R. Isaac Blazer, Resp. Pri Yitshak, sec. 54, s.v. “Yikrat devarav;” R. Meir Simha of Dvinsk, Or Same’ah, Hilkhot Yom Tov, chap. 6, sec. 14; R. Jeroham Perlow, Commentary on Sefer Hamitzvos L’Rav Saadya Gaon, I, Esin 19 (p. 146, column 4); R. Moses Feinstein, Resp. Iggerot Moshe, Y.D., I, sec. 249, s.v. “veNimtsa; R. Chaim Zev Reines, “Kevod haBeriyyot,” Sinai 27:7-12 (159-164; Nisan-Elul 5710), pp. 157-168.

[8]. Responsum of R. Naftali Amsterdam quoted in R. Isaac Blazer, Resp. Pri Yitshak, sec. 53; R. Elhanan Bunim Wasserman, Kovets Shiurim, I, Bava Batra, sec. 49; R. Makiel Tsvi haLevi Tannenbaum, Resp. Divrei Malkiel, I, sec. 67 and III, sec. 82; R. Isaac Nissim, unpublished responsum cited by R. Aaron Arend, “Hagigat Bat-Mitsva bePiskei haRav Yitshak Nissim,” in Bat-Mitsva, Sarah Friedlander ben Arza, ed. (Jerusalem: Matan: 2002/5762), pp. 109-115, at p. 113; R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Divrei Hashkafa, pp. 234-235; R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik cited by R. Zvi Schechter, “miPeninei Rabbenu,” Bet Yitshak, 36 (5764), p. 320ff; R. Elijah Bakshi Doron, Resp. Binyan Av, II, sec. 55, no. 3; R. Chaim Zev Reines, supra, note 3, p. 157; R. Israel Shepansky R. Israel Shepansky, “Gadol Kevod haBeriyyot,” Or haMizrah, 33:3-4 (118-119; Nisan-Tammuz, 5745), pp. 217-228 – p. 225, note 48; R. David Povarsky, Sefer Bad Kodesh to Berakhot, Zera’im, Shabbat and Eiruvin (Bnai Brak, 5767), Berakhot, sec. 4, pp. 13-18, at p. 17.  

[9]. See: Tur and Arukh haShulhan, O.H., sec. 422; R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik in R. Zvi Joseph Reichman, Reshimot Shiurim [New York: 4749], Sukka 38a, p. 185-190; R. Barukh David Povarsky, Bad Kodesh – Berakhot, Zeraim, Shabbat, Eruvin, sec. 18; R. Moses Mordechai Karp, Mishmeret Moed, Sukka, pp. 332-338.

* Rabbi Dr. Aryeh A. Frimer is the Ethel and David Resnick Professor of Active Oxygen Chemistry at Bar Ilan University.  Rabbi Dr. Dov I. Frimer is an attorney practicing in Jerusalem and Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Law at The Hebrew University.

Praying for One to Die: Philosophical Considerations

by Ezra Schwartz

There is a great deal of literature about treating a terminally ill patient.  However, the question most relevant for family members, namely how they should pray, remains mired in obscurity.  Although Ran in Nedarim 40a, basing himself of Ketubot 104a, teaches that one should pray for the terminally ill patient who is undergoing a great deal of suffering to expire, this position is left out of Shulchan Aruch.  Consequently, contemporary poskim are divided as how one should daven.  Should they continue to daven for the patient to survive despite the obvious pain that he or she is in?  Or should they follow the Ran and daven for the patient to expire?  There are three schools of thought among poskim.  Some completely endorse the Ran’s position; others reject it entirely, yet others in theory endorse the Ran’s position but in practice hold that it is not applicable. 

The Makhloket Ha-Poskim

Advocates of the first approach – those who accept the Ran – include the Aruch HaShulchan (YD 335:3); the Tifferet Yisrael (Yoma 8:7), Rav Chaim Kanievsky (cited by Rav Shmuel Eliezer Stern in Siach Tefilla page 719), Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Minchat Shlomo vol. 1 #91, 24), and Rav Ovadia Yosef (see later editions of Yalkut Yosef YD 335).  In contrast, Tzitz Eliezer (Volume 5 #5) completely rejects the Ran.

 Rav Moshe Feinstein (CM vol. 2 #74,1) takes the middle approach.  He maintains that in theory one may daven for a person to die; however this is only as a last resort.  After all the tefillot for the person to live came up short, then one may daven for the person to die.  Since in our day, people are no longer expert to daven, in practice one can never daven for a person to expire.  Rav Wosner (Siach Halacha page 772) arrives at a similar conclusion to Rav Moshe, but for a slightly different reason.  Rav Wosner maintains that in theory we may daven to end the life of a person who has no hope of recovery.  However, today we are never certain when and if a person arrives at that state.  Therefore, in practice, Rav Moshe and Rav Wosner maintain that one can never daven to end a person’s life.

The Nature of Prayer:  Active or Passive Intervention?

It seems that the dispute whether or not to accept the Ran’s principle may be based on a fundamental question regarding the nature of prayer.  To what extent is a person who prayed for a particular outcome viewed as being responsible for that outcome?   In other words, do we view a person who prays as a passive party who bears no direct responsibility for the outcome, which was caused solely by G-d?  Or do we view prayer like an active mechanism to manipulate Divine intervention? 

Rama in Yore Deah (339:1) teaches that one never actively do something which will shorten a person’s life.  However, he permits passive intervention, including preventing an external noise which is protracting a person’s life.  Based on this distinction between active and passive acts, it is possible to explain the dispute between Ran and the other poskim.   If prayer is viewed as an active form of intervention, it would be forbidden to daven for an ill person to expire.  If, however, davening is considered passive intervention, it would be permitted to daven for one to expire based on the guidelines set down by Rama[1]. 

In this respect this dispute is connected to the machloket among poskim as to whether one may pray for Yirat Shamayim.  The Gemara (Berachot 33) teaches that all aspects of one’s life is b’yidei Shamayim, in the hands of G-d, with the exception of Yirat Shamayim.   It is therefore questionable if one is permitted to pray for increased levels of Yirat Shamayim.  Some maintain that such prayer is permitted because since man is praying, the consequent Yirat Shamayim is due to his actions[2].

Praying for Miracles

Philosophically many are bothered by the Ran’s approach.  Why does the Ran teach that we should daven for the person to expire.   Clearly, the omnipotent G-d is capable of healing the person.  Why then should we not aspire to greater heights and pray for the person to live?

Rav Hershel Schachter once explained that the reason we pray for the terminally ill person to die, rather than live, is because we must not pray for miracles.  This principle is asserted in the Gemara, Berachot 54a, which teaches that one may not beseech G-d that the fetus his wife is pregnant with should be a boy.  Changing the sex of the fetus is a miracle, and prayer is limited to ordinary Divine interventions, not miraculous ones. 

Despite the Gemara’s opposition to praying for miracles, Rama (Orach Chayim 187) rules that one who omits al hanisim on Chanukka or Purim should add a special harachaman at the end of birchat hamazon.  The text that should be inserted reads that just as G-d performed miracles for our fathers, He should perform miracles for us.  Shaarei Teshuva is bothered how it is possible to recite this harachaman in light of the Gemara’s prohibition to pray for miracles.  He quotes Bechor Shor who offers two explanations.  The first explanation is that it is forbidden to pray only for miracles that will benefit an individual.  However, one is allowed to daven for a miracle that will impact the entire tzibur.  The second explanation he offers is that it is forbidden to pray for a miracle that cannot come about through natural means, but one is permitted for a miracle that can be explained through natural means. 

It would seem that the reason Ran tells us to pray for a person to expire rather than for that same person to survive is because he considers the person surviving to be a miraculous occurrence for  which we may not pray.  Those who argue on Ran would maintain that since in the event the patient does survive, it will without doubt be attributed to medical, rational interventions, and therefore it is permitted to daven.  In short the question of whether we should daven for an ill person to recover or to perish seems to hinge on the two explanations offered by Bechor Shor.     

[2] See Maharsha in Berachot 10a on the story of Bruria.

What Are the Halachot of Switching One’s Pronunciation of Hebrew?

by Gidon Rothstein

In my most recent post in this venue, I noted the Rov, z”l’s, recollection of the interaction between the Beit haLevi and the Radzhyner Rebber.  While others record the incident differently, the Rov understood his great-grandfather to have argued that certain aspects of Judaism must be built from a living tradition,[1] citing the verse from Haazinu,שאל אביך ויגדך.  I suggested that the traditional uses of this verse might make interesting study, and we spent last time seeing its relevance to the question of why we follow Rabbinic ordinances.

 Pronunciation Is a Matter of Custom, and Must Be Maintained That Way

Another use of this verse (although an ancillary one) takes us to a topic that arose repeatedly throughout the 20^th century, as the Land of Israel was repopulated, the State born, and a civil society that spoke Hebrew constructed in Israel.  Already in 1933, R. Kook published an article in קול תורה, a Torah journal,[2]  dealing with the propriety of switching one’s pronunciation of Hebrew from one accent to another.

There would seem to be an “ordinary” halachic part to this question, since switching pronunciations renders a person inarticulate in the earlier tradition.  To an Ashkenazi, a Sefardi Jew is saying the same words, but pronouncing them wrong (and vice verse).  Since, however, we rule that a person who pronounces the words indistinctly does fulfill his or her obligation, at least after the fact, that would only discourage such a switch, not prohibit it. 

That already predisposes R. Kook to discourage such switching, but a further concern is the issue of אל תטוש תורת אמך, do not leave the Torah of your mother,[3] the source of our commitment to continuing the practices of our forefathers.[4]  For R. Kook, the force of custom argues in favor of each community maintaining its own pronunciation.  In an interesting sidelight, he does not say this out of preference for any particular pronunciation.  While R. Ben-Zion Hai Uzziel, a younger colleague of R. Kook who later served as Sephardic Chief Rabbi, speaks of those who assert confidently that Ashkenazic pronunciation is clearly the only correct one, R. Kook assumes that the Yemenite accent is the closest to authentic still extant.

A Custom and Its Complications

We will see others who disagreed with R. Kook’s assumptions, but before we get to them, it is worth noting that even those who might accept his ideas allow for exceptions in practice.  In one case, R. Waldenberg, z”l, author of Tsits Eliezer, was asked whether a young man from an Ashkenazic background could make Kiddush for hospital residents using the Sefardic pronunciation.  Among other issues he raises to permit this, he notes that this is not actually a switch of pronunciation, since the man will usually pray in his own tradition.  Only when he goes to his job in the hospital or nursing home will he speak in the fashion to which they are accustomed.

More relevant to the difficulty of continuing to enact R. Kook’s view in practice, the Seridei Esh[5] was asked about allowing Bar Mitsvah boys to read the Torah and/or serve as hazzan, using the accent they learned in school (Sefaradit, usually), when the shul itself traditionally prays in an Ashkenazic accent.

He notes that he has not seen R. Kook’s article (although he has heard its central claims), and then makes three arguments in favor of allowing it. First, as an educational matter, it will go more smoothly for the Benei Mitsvah if they can learn in the accent they have always been taught.  Second, since this is only a temporary change for the community, it is less problematic than a complete switch (similar to R. Waldenberg’s responsum, except that here, the community will switch each time there is a Bar-Mitsvah).

Finally (and, to me, most tellingly), he notes that many synagogues now have members from various traditions, and each uses his own when praying, whether privately or as hazzan or baal keriyah.  If so, it seems difficult to insist that the Bar Mitsvah boys follow the theoretical accent-tradition of the congregation.  The mixing of communities the Seridei Esh noted becomes even more significant in Israel, where the language of the street was almost uniformly Sefaradit. 

This supports R. Ovadya Yosef, שיבדל לחיים טובים וארוכים, who rules that an Ashkenazi Jew who attended Sefaradit schools can continue to pray that way.[6]  Interestingly, he cites R. Unterman, z”l, an Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi, who takes for granted that the Sefaradit pronunciation will one day be universal.  Further, he notes that allowing such a switch would instantly render synagogue services more accessible to the ordinary nonobservant Israeli, heightening the opportunities for, and likelihood of, bringing closer those who are distant from observance. 

What About Willful Switching?

All of these perspectives confront circumstances where the push to change pronunciation was external, such as the schools that children are attending training them in a different accent from that of their homes and/or communities.[7]  In 1946, though, R. Herzog, z”l, was asked by a community in Johannesburg as to whether the entire synagogue could change its pronunciation.[8]

He discouraged it, but for reasons other than those offered by R. Kook.  First, he worried that this would serve as precedent and evidence that custom can be changed easily.  Second, he argued that the members of the congregation would factually fail to adopt the new pronunciation clearly and articulately, which everyone agrees is a problem.

That comment deserves a momentary digression, since it was the halachic foundation of R. Kook’s idea as well.  Regardless of pronunciation tradition, it was undisputed among these rabbis that prayer, personal as well as communal, and Torah reading, are supposed to be recited clearly and articulately.  Blurring, slurring, or swallowing words are a problem in the prayer itself.

In presenting these views, I have left the one I found most interesting for last.  R. Uzziel, a younger contemporary of R. Kook’s, disagreed with his view along several lines.[9]  First, he noted (as did several of the other responsa we have mentioned), that already in the 1500s, Maharashdam ruled that only customs connected to matters of prohibition fall under the rubric of customs that obligate future generations  (this is a topic to take up in the discussion of אל תטוש).  Second, R. Uzziel noted that the Hatam Sofer’s teachers, R. Nosson Adler and the author of Haflaah, switched their version of prayer to Sefardic.  If so, change is apparently permissible when warranted.

An Opportunity for Unification 

R. Uzziel’s conclusion is the same as R. Kook’s, that people should not switch, but for a reason that highlights a continuing failure of contemporary Jewry.  Since R. Uzziel assumes that the issue of custom is not relevant,[10] and that we have no living tradition for which version of pronunciation is more correct, he argues in favor of a gathering of the rabbis of Israel to rule on the matter, to establish a joint and agreed-upon version of pronunciation for all the Jews of Israel.

This is an idea I find personally appealing, not least for the fact that the Torah seems to have expected it on at least some issues.[11]  While it did not happen in terms of pronunciation, R. Uzziel was a signatory, with R. Herzog, to a series of rulings meant to advance exactly this goal, to unify the customs of the Jews living in Israel.  Unfortunately, as R. Binyamin Lau notes in a fascinating book, the decisions tilted strongly in the direction of the Ashkenazic practice.  This offended many, including a then-relatively young R. Ovadya Yosef, who rejected the rulings and refused to follow them in his position on the Petah Tiqva court.[12]  It is possible, as well, that this early experience strengthened his sense that Ashkenazim should follow their own customs, and Sefardim theirs, rather than bringing the Jewish people the greater unity of practice for which we might have hoped.

The question of how we pronounce Hebrew thus puts us in touch with several central issues within Jewish observance: the scope of custom and its force; when and how halachah responds to changed facts in assessing customs; and, perhaps most challengingly, the ways in which we might move towards reunifying Jewish practice, the sacrifices by communities necessary to do so, and the question of equality and fairness in trying to construct such a reunified set of customs and practices.

[2] Reprinted in his responsa אורח משפט, סימן י”ז.

[3] משלי א:ח and ו:כ, Proverbs 1;8 and 6;20.

[4] This is an important topic of its own, which I hope to take up a bit in future discussions.

[5] 1;6.

[6] יביע אומר ו:י”א, Yabia Omer 6;11.

[7] I found it interesting that in none of the responsa I saw did the respondents complain about this aspect of children’s schooling; they took it as a fact, and examined its ramifications.

[8] היכל יצחק או”ח י”א, Heichal Yitschak, Orah Hayyim, 11.  As background to the responsum, we should remember the time when Zionism included, among other ways of connecting to Israeli society, mastering the Hebrew language.

[9] משפטי עוזיאל א, או”ח א’,, Mishpetei Uzziel 1, Orah Hayyim 1.

[10] Following that statement of Maharashdam, that custom only becomes an issue in cases where the custom has some connection to a prohibition.

[11]Hazal do assume that לא תתגודדו, at some level, seeks to avoid differences among Jews.

[12] B. Lau, ממרן עד מרן: משנתו ההלכתית של מרן הרב עובדיה יוסף, From ‘Maran’ to ‘Maran’: The Halachic Philosophy of R. Ovadya Yosef (Miskal, 2005), p. 50-51.

by Nathaniel Helfgot

It has become a widespread phenomenon in many Modern-Orthodox asheknazi kehillot (as well as a number of haredi ones as well) to experience Tisha Be-Av morning (and its mourning) in a different fashion than had been practiced for decades and centuries.  I refer to the fact that instead of simply reciting all of the kinnot printed in the kinnot booklets, from a-z,  congregations recite selected elegies, often accompanied by short or lengthy explanations. This phenomenon is certainly a legacy of the famous kinnot sessions in Onset, MA and then later in Brookline that maran ha-Rav zt”l led from the mid-1950’s through the early 1980’s in which he recited selected kinnot and engaged in lengthy and profound examinations of their themes and meaning. Tisha be-Av became a day of limmud ha-kinnot and recitation of only 15-20 elegies printed in the book. This model which the Rav popularized certainly fell in line with the admonition of the Shulchan Arukh in OH-#1 that “Tov lomar m’at Tachanunim in Harbeih kavanah, milomar harbeh im m’at kavanah-It is better to recite a few petitionary prayers with a lot of devotion and intent than recite many with a little devotion and intent”. In a word, the halakha here mandates that less is more. While this model is certainly rooted in classical halakhic sources, it still represented a departure from the classical Germanic-ashkenazic tradition of saying everything in the book, whether it came to selihot, yotzrot, piyutim or kinnot.

 While this model of “ less is more” has clearly come to dominate in many kehillot when it comes to kinnot, the same cannot be said when it comes to the selihot of erev Rosh Hashanah, at least from my experience.  Curiously, at least outside of Israel, in most kehillot, the very lengthy and difficult selihot of erev Rosh Hashanah are recited in their entirety, often at breakneck speed, with little time for devotion and no explanations offered at all.  While the Rav himself directed his minyan (as I confirmed with veterans of the Maimonides minyan) to engage in the same process of recitation of only a portion of the selihot printed for erev Rosh Hashanah, this model does not seem to have taken off when it comes to erev Rosh Hashanah (A rabbinic colleague informed me that this too was the practice of Rav Yitzchak Hutner zt”l in Yeshivat Chaim Berlin.  According to the story, in response to a person who critiqued him for shortening these selihot, Rav Hutner responded with his typical sharp sarcasm- tov lomar me-at  bli kavanah, mi-lomar harbeh bli kvanah!).

I have been told that in a few kehillot, including in Alon Shvut, this indeed has become the practice, but it clearly does not have the kind of widespread reach that the kinnot phenomenon has achieved.  A rabbinic colleague has told me that he believes that he feels that despite the fact that most laypeople simply “daven it up” quickly with out any real understanding, the constant rhythmic repetition of the 13 attributes of mercy is a powerful experience that should not be revised in any shape. I personally am not sure whether repeating the 13 attributes ten  times  as happens in the selective model times as opposed to reciting them twenty times really undercuts the achievement of that goal. On a number of occasions, both during my semicha studies twenty years ago and in more recent years I have been privileged to lead minyanim where the same hour and a half or so devoted to the recitation of all the selihot was devoted to saying half of them with explanations, background and to the saying of those selected selihot  more slowly with devotion. In all those settings, I know that the words of the Shulchan Arukh really rang true in my religious experience of connecting to the selihot and the approaching Yom ha-Din.

Guest Post

by Yakov Nagen (Genack)

Each day we repeat our daily prayers and say more than a hundred blessings. This repetition of the same words day in and day out can be viewed as a tedious routine. However, there is another way to relate to this reality. What we are sorely missing in life is not more information or varied experiences but the ability to be actively conscious of that which we know to be dearest, and through this direct our lives. The question is how to insure that those insights about life, which are often attained at great cost, do not recede from ones consciousness?  I have discovered that the ideas most significant for me invariably appear or can be homiletically linked to the daily prayers. The daily repetition of prayer has become for me a blessing and not a burden allowing me each day to reawaken to all that is dear to me. Each of the following examples of this approach link a particular idea to certain words said daily.

 Modeh Ani

Upon awakening, the very first utterance a Jew pronounces is

“מודה אני לפניך, מלך חי וקיים, שהחזרת בי נשמתי בחמלה, רבה אמונתך”.

This simple prayer is a means to connect the awakening of one’s body with the awakening of consciousness. In “Modeh Ani,” I thank God for returning my soul, for bringing me back to life; I express that I do not take existence for granted, but view each day as a unique gift from God. I thank God for granting me today. Tomorrow, when I receive another day, I will again thank God. In the meantime, I exist fully within the world of today.

Today is not primarily a means to another end; rather, its completion represents an achievement in itself. When I shift my primary concern from the “big questions” such as “what will I do with my life,” or “what will I do tomorrow,” and focus upon the question of “how will I live this day that I have received, and what content do I want it to have?” it is much easier to decide that today be filled will love and joy, with study of Torah and mitzvah performance, and to implement the decision in reality. In this mindful frame of consciousness, there is no room for anger, frustration or lethargy. Although today’s actions ultimately form a continuum with those of yesterday and tomorrow, one’s conscious focus must be the task for today. 

This perspective can help free us from the shackles of pain and confusion, which too often emerges from frustration about one’s past missteps and fears about the future.

A well-known Rosh Yeshiva once told his brand-new class of students that they were “the best in the world.” After the class proudly sat up erect, he explained: “Today, you are the best, because since you have not yet begun, all possibilities lay open before you.” The perspective afforded by Modeh Ani allows us to conceive of each day as a new world; it allows me to be “the best” each morning, in the sense that each day lies open before me, and the constraints of the path taken in the past need not restrain me today.

Thank You for the Thank You

“YeHuDi,” the Hebrew origin of the word “Jew,” derives from the cognate “leHoDot” (to thank). Indeed, Leah called her fourth son “Yehudah” in thanksgiving for Divine beneficence. (Beraishis 29:35) 

How appropriate, then, that the first word every Jew utters in the morning is “Modeh,” “thank you”.  ‘מודה אני לפניך מלך חי וקיים שהחזרת בי נשמתי….’, “Thank you God for returning me life”.

The secret to happiness lies in the ability to say “thank you,” for the very essence of thanksgiving implies the insight that the subject recognizes that he or she has been granted good in life — that there is a reason for gratitude. In Hebrew, the act of expressing gratitude is called “הכרת הטוב”, literally, “recognizing the good;” recognition is a key component in the mechanics of thanksgiving.

In interpersonal relationships, proper etiquette dictates that one thank a human benefactor for his or her beneficence. Whom do you thank when you find goodness within yourself or within the world? Belief in God means that there is always Someone to thank.

“Modeh Ani” provides thanks for the return of the soul, the Neshamah. And to what purpose I devote the Neshamah I have received? The answer appears in a following prayer, “Elokai Neshamah”: indeed, to say thank you!

“כל זמן שהנשמה בקרבי, מודה אני לפניך ה’ א-להי…” .

Thus, ultimately, I gives thanks for the very ability to thank.

The power of thanksgiving lies in its ability to open our eyes to the good in our lives. However, there is also a deeper significance. Saying “thank you” creates a relationship between two parties, between the giver and receiver. It brings together man and wife, children and parents. To thank God for all means to appreciate every component of existence, and to use each element to draw closer to God. Don’t settle for thanking God in the context of prayer alone. See something beautiful? Say “thank you”!

Netilas Yadayim

The daily requirement of Netilas Yadayim, handwashing, the first act a Jew performs upon awakening, is noted by the Rashba (cited in the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch) to be patterned after the parallel activity of the Kohanim, the daily sanctification of their hands and feet in preparation for their service in the Mikdash. This reflects the status of the Jewish people as a whole as “ממלכת כוהנים וגוי קודש”  “a polity of priests and a holy nation.”  However, our status as a nation of priests vis-a-vis the rest of humanity is contingent upon our actions, as the previous verse makes clear: אם שמוע תשמעו בקולי ושמרתם את בריתי, “if you hearken unto My voice and guard My covenant.”

 Netilas Yadayim each morning conveys the message that each of us is a Kohen, and by extension, the world with which we interact daily is the Mikdash, the arena in which we are called upon to serve, and fulfill our Divine role.

 Asher Yatzar

The blessing of Asher Yatzar teaches a profound lesson — that the glory of God is revealed not merely in the sublime grandeur of all that is magnificent in the universe, but also in its “darker” aspects, in its unseen holes and spaces, in even an atavistic act that people generally try to conceal.  A verse in Isaiah (45:7) follows the structure of the Asher Yatzar blessing, beginning with designation of Divine activity as “Yotzer” (fashioning) and progressing to “Borei” (creating): יוֹצֵר אוֹר וּבוֹרֵא חֹשֶׁךְ עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם וּבוֹרֵא רָע, אֲנִי ה’ עֹשֶׂה כָל אֵלֶּה . In the prayer, “Borei” governs Divine creation of the holes and spaces within the body. In the verse in Isaiah, “Borei” regards Divine origin of darkness and evil in the world. In the microcosm that is the human body, much like the entire physical universe, the “holes and spaces” in reality, the areas of void and of darkness, are also seen as expressions of divine wisdom, as playing an essential role in the cosmos, as the verse concludes: “…אני ה’ עשה כל אלה”.

:גלוי וידוע לפני כסא כבודך. What is this great secret that is known only in the upper worlds? Apparently,  ‘שאם יפתח אחד מהם או ייסתם אחד מהם אי אפשר להתקיים ולעמוד לפניך’. Is this not obvious? Yes, but as it happens, we are not necessarily mindful of what is basic, essential, and indeed, obvious. “Asher Yatzar” raises our collective consciousness to those basic facts that we tend to neglect, the truly significant truths that are  ‘גלוי וידוע לפני כסא כבודך’.

That which is “גלוי וידוע” is not static; rather, we must interpret the prayer in light of our dynamic, day-to-day realities. Immediately after our daughter was born, my wife Michal gave her interpretation of “אשר יצר את האדם וברא בו נקבים נקבים חלולים חלולים…שאם ייסתם אחד מהם אי אפשר להתקיים…”  — as depicting the process of childbirth; the mother must be “open” in body and soul to create the space necessary to allow new life.

Tefillin

The Torah designates the purpose of Tefillin as being “למען תהיה תורת ה’ בפיך””, “so that the Torah of God be in your mouth” (Shemot 13:9). The linkage between Tefillin and Torah is a multifaceted one; there are sources that view Tefillim as symbolic of the study of the content of Torah (Tosfos Rosh Hashanah 17a), observance of the Mitzvos of the Torah (Kiddushin 35a) and the actual object of the Torah scroll itself (Makkot 11a). Tefillin, which is composed of four Torah portions, represents the Torah in all of its manifestations, and thus, the wearer of Tefillin expresses his connection to the Torah.

Other sources in our tradition highlight the parallelism between the human being and the Torah; one example is the law requiring rending one’s garment upon witnessing the moment of death on the basis of this equation, העומד על המת בשעת יציאת נשמה חייב לקרוע, הא למה זה דומה לספר תורה שנשרפה  (Shabbat 105b). Another is the Midrashic parallel that links the 248 limbs of the body to the positive commandments of the Torah, and the 365 sinews to the negative commandments. From this perspective, the wearing of Tefillin highlights one’s inner essence, what one truly is.

Finally, Tefillin is viewed as a physical expression of the Name of God (Menachot 35b). This concept is reflected in multiple ways – by the letters of the name שדי formed by the tefillin (Rashi), by the many mentions of God’s name in the Parshiyos of Tefillin (Menachos 36b), by the Aggadic contention that God Himself wears Tefillin (Berachos 6a) or by the concept that Tefillin constitutes testimony to God’s presence upon  us (Tosfos Berachos 34b). In this perspective, Tefillin is again expressing what we are — a manifestation of the Divine Name, each of us created in God’s image.

The Kabbalistic concept of the singularity and identification of God, His Torah and the Jewish people is thus reflected quite beautifully in the act of wearing Tefillin, the concrete act which forges all three identities into one.

Birchos Hatorah

Following Birchos HaTorah, the Siddur cites two texts to allow the immediate fulfillment of the Mitzvah of Torah study. The first text is comprised of verses from Sefer BaMidbar; the second is a Talmudic expansion of the first Mishnah of Peah.

Why were these specific texts chosen? The first text is biblical and the second Rabbinic, which demonstrates that the Torah is composed of both written and oral law.

On the surface, the content of the two texts differ. One is the blessing of the Kohanim for God to shine His countenance upon us, the other a list of obligations encumbent upon us. However, there is an underlying link between the sources. The biblical source has fifteen words, the numerical value of the name of God י-ה which reflects the content of the biblical passage. (see the subsequent verse, Bamidbar

6:27, ושמו את שמי על בני ישראל ואני אברכם) Whereas in the second source there are 15 items, five in the list of mitzvos that “have no measure” and ten in second list of mitzvos. The content of these mitzvos parallel elements in the blessing of the Kohamim – the commandment of “making peace between fellow men” parallels the

blessing for peace, and the commandment of “ראיון”, appearing before God in the Temple, is, at its source, the “seeing of the Divine countenance (Shemos 34:26),

” אֶת-פְּנֵי הָאָדֹן יְהוָה, אֱלֹהֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל שָׁלֹשׁ פְּעָמִים, בַּשָּׁנָה–יֵרָאֶה, כָּל-זְכוּרְךָ”

paralleling the blessing that God’s countenance shine upon us.

The connection between the texts demonstrate two ways in which the name of God rests upon us – from above, through the blessing of the Kohanim, or from below, by fulfilling God’s mitzvos (Devarim 28:9-10).

‘This is the day that God has Made…’ = Today!

The verse זה היום עשה ה’ נגילה ונשמחה בו  is often seen as relating to significant dates. However, this verse can be said about each and every day. Every day is made by God, and understanding this very fact is sufficient basis for “נגילה ונשמחה בו”. Life itself, more than any particular content, is the ultimate basis for joy. In Pirkei Avos (5:19), we are taught that “true love” is that which is not dependent on anything, so too “true joy.” The relationship between life and joy is a bilateral one. Life is a basis for joy, and one feels most alive when he is joyous.

The connection between life and joy appears in a prayer composed by Rebbe Nathan of Breslav:

“…ואזכה להיות בשמחה תמיד. ועל ידי זה יהיה נמשך עלי רוח חיים דקדושה…ואתחזק בשמחה גדולה בכל עת… כדי לבוא לשמחה שהיא עקר הקדושה ועקר חיות האדם”

(לקוטי תפילות, ח”ב סימן כא)

 “…and may I merit to be in happiness always. And through this, may the spirit of life of holiness be extended upon me…and I will be strengthened with great joy at every moment… so as to come to happiness, which is the essence of holiness and the essence of human vitality.” Rabbi Nathan adds a third component to the equation between life and joy; namely, holiness. He bases himself upon the Talmud, which sees joy as an essential precondition to receiving the divine:

שאין רוח הקודש שורה אלא על לב שמח, מה טעמא ‘והיה כנגן המנגן ותהי עליו רוח אלהים’. (תלמוד ירושלמי סוכה פרק ה’, הלכה א’,  נה ע”א)

“For the spirit of holiness does not rest but upon a joyous heart; what is the reason? For it states (2 Melachim 3:15), ‘and as the minstrel played, the spirit of God was upon him.’” (Jerusalem Talmud Sukkah 5:1) Joy links man to his life force, a linkage that ultimately brings him to the source of life, God. As Rav Kook writes:

  זיו אור אלהים הממלא את העולמים כולם, מחיה ומרוה אותם

מדשן נועם עליון של מקור החיים, הרי הוא נותן חיל בנשמות,

במלאכים, ובכל יצור, לחוש את פנימיות תחושת החיים.

                                                            (שמונה קבצים, קובץ ב’ פיסקה סב)                 

“The radiance of the light of God that fills all of the worlds, enlivens and saturates them from the lushness of the upper pleasantness of the Source of life – it gives succor to souls, angels, and all creatures, to feel the innermost feeling of vitality.”

 Whenever I feel sad or frustrated, I remind myself that “this is the day…” – and the heavy feeling leaves me.

* Rabbi Dr. Yakov Nagen teaches at Yeshivat Otniel.  Rav Nagan has published a number of books including Nishmat HaMishnah: Window to the Inner World of the Mishnah and Water, Creation and Divinity: Sukkot in the Philosophy of Halacha.

During the Mishnaic Period?

by Jack Bieler

            A well-known Mishna in Berachot presents a disagreement regarding the permutations of what to do when the fulfillment of a Commandment between man and God, i.e., the recitation of the three paragraphs of Shema, comes into conflict with the etiquette and civility that governs relationships with other human beings, perhaps to be categorized under the general rubric of Kavod HaBriyot (honor/dignity to which human beings are entitled), a fundamental principal of Mitzvot that govern the relationships between man and fellow man.

 Berachot 2:1

…At junctures (between the paragraphs) [1] one can ask (initiate a greeting) because of honor (RaMBaM, Mishneh Tora, Hilchot Kriyat Shema 2:15—when when one sees an individual whom one must honor, e.g., one’s father,[2] one’s teacher[3] or one who is greater in wisdom[4]), and one can respond (to another’s greeting, according to the Talmud, also only in the case when the individual is one who one must honor, as opposed to ordinary individuals.)

And in the middle (of either a paragraph of Shema or the preceding or following blessings) one can ask because of fear (if the greeter is capable of meting out punishment in the event that he feels slighted) and one can respond (it is   inferred by the Talmud that the restriction per force must be greater than in the previous scenario, and therefore a response can be given also only to those whom one fears; but not even if one is obligated to honor the other individual.)—these are the words of R. Meir.

R. Yehuda says: In the middle, one can ask because of fear and one can respond because of honor (thereby setting up one disagreement with R. Meir in the case of responding to someone whom one must honor, in the middle of a paragraph or blessing.)

At junctures, one can ask because of honor, and one can respond with a greeting of Shalom to every man (a second disagreement with R. Meir concerning the case of responding to an ordinary individual at a juncture point.)

 Shulchan Aruch both codifies R. Yehuda’s position and adds detail:

 Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 66:1

At junctures, one can ask regarding the welfare of “Adam Nechbad” (an honorable man),[5] and one can answer (a greeting of) Shalom to every person.

And in the middle, one can ask regarding the welfare of someone of whom one is afraid, e.g., his father, his teacher or one who is greater than him in wisdom,[6]  all the more so a king or an “Anas” (lit. a coercer; someone who could potentially report you to the government in order to cause you a financial loss), and you can respond with a greeting of Shalom to an honorable person even in the middle of a verse,[7] with the exception of (Devarim 6:4) “Shema Yisrael” and “Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto LeOlam VaEd” where one should not interrupt at all, unless one is afraid that he is danger of being killed.[8]

It is also to be noted that these rules for interrupting one’s prayer in order to exchange greetings are not confined to the Shema recitation. Berachot 14a quotes R. Chiya to the effect that similar considerations apply to the recitation of Hallel as well as the reading of Megillat Esther.           

            While the instances of one finding himself in a position where he has to act obsequiously to a king or a government informant will most likely rarely occur, this is not the case with respect to cordially interacting not only with “everyman” to whom one can respond at “junctures”, but even those who either one is obligated to respect, fear, or who are held in high esteem due to their social or financial standing (“Adam Nechbad”). Samuel Heilman, in his classic ethnographic study of the Modern Orthodox Synagogue, Synagogue Life: A Study in Symbollic Interaction[9] describes a scenario that is quite apropos to the Mishna and Halacha in question and perhaps accounts for at least some of the decorum problems that adversely effect many Orthodox synagogues:

            For some latecomers, especially those who emphasize the social character of Tefilla B’Tzibbur (congregational prayer)…(they) may try to draw others out of their prayers and into conversational help in warming up. (Heilman proposes that it is difficult for people to simply come into the synagogue and begin to pray; they need a “warm-up” period, e.g., words of greeting, supportive interchanges, etc. in order to reach a comfort level that will allow them to engage even in small amounts of prayer.) The expectation is here that if the situation were reversed, the latecomer would provide the same help. Those who respond to this implicit request are usually the ones who consider the shul as essentially a place characterized by sociability…

 Yet Aruch Hashulchan unabashedly cites opinions that strongly object to such behavior:

 Aruch HaShulchan, Orech Chayim 66:4

…There are great Rabbinic scholars who have further written that currently we have not seen anyone who carefully follows this (making interruptions either at junctures or in the middle of paragraphs/blessings in order to mollify certain individuals) and therefore we shouldn’t answer with greetings of Shalom, and that is not our way even with respect to his father or his teacher, and even at the junctures one should not interrupt. On the contrary, now it would be considered irreverent for someone to interrupt. And behold we have seen that even when a minister comes to a Jewish home and finds him praying, he will not speak with him and will wait until he has completed his prayer. Therefore now, all types of interruptions are prohibited until prayers have been completed.  And this is the simple custom, and one ought not digress from it.

And when one is asking questions regarding Jewish law of an Halachic authority, they can be answered at the junctures. However, if the asker is someone of understanding, he should wait until after the prayers, and this is what is appropriate to do unless the matter is urgent and requires an immediate response, for then it is a Mitzva to ask even in the middle of the prayers, and the Halachic authority will interrupt at the junctures and answer the question.

 Chafetz Chayim similarly insists that while such practices might once have been the order of the day, they are no longer:

 Shulchan Aruch, Orech Chayim 66:1, Mishna Berura #2

…According to our custom today, that we are not accustomed to exchange greetings of Shalom in the synagogue during prayers, Heaven forbid that one should ask or respond even with words of Tora neither at the junctures or in the middle…

Since Aruch HaShulchan and Chafetz Chayim lived a relatively short time ago, one wonders whether their comments about the “current” custom of refraining from exchanging pleasantries and Divrei Tora in the synagogue during the course of prayers was something to which they hoped Jews would aspire, or whether it was actually extent for some time, and only recently has common practice reverted back to what the congregational experience had originally been like even during the Mishnaic period. Clearly human beings are social creatures; however, it would appear that for at least certain times during the day, they are to assume the role of lonely men and women of faith, and consequently hone in on relating to God via prayer.

[1] The “junctures” or natural transition points where interruptions are considered less egregious and therefore more acceptable are listed in the following Mishna:

Berachot 2:2

And these are (the places considered) between the paragraphs:

a)       Between the first blessing (ending in “Yotzer HaMe’orot” during morning services; “HaMa’ariv Aravim” during evening services) and the beginning of the second blessing (beginning “Ahava Rabba” in the morning, and “Ahavat Olam” in the evening;

b)       Between the second blessing (ending “HaBocher BeAmo Yisrael BeAhava” in the morning, and “Ohev Amo Yisrael” in the evening) and the beginning of the Shema (Devarim 6:4);

c)       Between (the conclusion of the first paragraph of) Shema (Devarim 6:9) and “VeHaya Im Shamo’a” the beginning of the second paragraph Devarim 11:13);

d)       Between  “VeHaya Im Shamo’a” (the conclusion of the second paragraph Devarim 11:21) and “VaYomer” (the beginning of the third paragraph BaMidbar 15:37);

e)       Between “VaYomer” (the end of the third paragraph BaMidbar 15:41) and “Emet VeYatziv” (the continuation of the morning prayers following the conclusion of Shema.) R. Yehuda said: Between “VaYomer” and “Emet VeYatziv” no interruption is to be made….

[2] Shemot 20:12; Devarim 5:16.

[3] While the exact source for the obligation to honor one’s teacher is a matter of dispute, one view recorded in Siphre Devarim #34 suggests that just as Elisha referred to his teacher in II Melachim 2:12 “My father, my father”, a precedent is established that the same honor due parents is due teachers as well.

[4] VaYikra 19:32.

[5] The terminology “Adam Nechbad” reflects a different nuance than the words of the Mishna which discussed “Kavod”, i.e., not necessarily a person whom one must honor due to Divine or Rabbinic Command, but rather one who is naturally honored by society. See fn. 6 below.

[6] Shulchan Aruch is taking issue with RaMBaM with regard to the types of people that one must honor and/or fear. And in fact not only is one to show respect to parents, teachers and scholars, one is required to fear them (hold them in awe?) as well, as in VaYikra 19:3 (once again, whatever applies to one’s biological parents applies at least as much to one’s spiritual parent—see fn. 3 above); R. Akiva in Pesachim 22b interprets Devarim 6:13; 10:20 that delineate fear of God  to include Talmidei Chachamim within the word “Et”.

However, this then requires an alternate definition for one who is due honor.

                Mishna Berura #3

One to whom it is appropriate to initiate a greeting of Shalom, like an elderly person, or a scholar (this particular example appears to overlap the category of those to whom one is Commanded to show honor/respect), and similarly if the individual is wealthy and he is worthy of honor due to his wealth.

[7] This obviously is a reference to the three paragraphs of Shema taken from Devarim 6, 11 and BaMidbar 15. The blessings before and after these three paragraphs are not comprised of verses.

[8] As important as the statement of Shema constituting Kabalat Ohl Malchut Shamayim (the acceptance of the Yoke of Heaven) might be, it is not comparable to the three transgressions for which one is required to sacrifice his life, i.e., idolatry, murder and sexual impropriety—see Sanhedrin 74a.

[9] U. of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1973, p. 136.

by Erica Brown

             Reflecting on Yom Kippur just days ago, it strikes me that the language of our al chet list can seem alien, foreign, stiff and archaic. We wonder what it means that we have removed a yoke from us or scoffed or hardened our hearts. We all contemporize and make the language meaningful in our own prayers, but this always takes a stretch of the imagination, as does all “translation” of ancient words into a modern idiom. It is hard work. It is simply easier to beat the chest quickly.

Consequently, this year, I tried a little experiment. Through the Partnership for Jewish Life and Learning and inspired by the subculture of Post Secrets (ha-mavin yavin), we created a “Repent It Forward” project. We gave people an internet space – on www.pjll.org –  to write their own al chets anonymously, forward the opportunity to a friend and then read what is posted. And the list – which any of you are welcome to add to until Hoshanah Rabba – did not disappoint. People who wrote described it as meaningful and cathartic. Naturally, there were the sins involving electronic devices that have never appeared in traditional machzorim. These all appear on the website:

• For the sin of texting while driving.
• For the sin of not answering the phone sometimes when I see on the caller-I.D. that it’s my mom.
• For the sin of playing games on my blackberry while pretending to be on an important call.
• For the sin of shopping online while I’m at work.
• For the sin of e-mailing too much.

No doubt, there are apologies that need to be rendered for each of these. And the list goes on. There were the sins of contemporary life like: “For the sin of wearing beautiful shoes that hurt,” or “For the sin of putting junk into my body.” And then, of course, were the list of interpersonal offenses: “For the sin of gossiping about my co-workers.” “For the sin of not listening to my mother, again.” ‘For the sin of not wanting to do homework with my children.”

            Everyday our list grew, and we realized that the project was giving us something more than a funny or meaningful read; we realized that our language of prayer is simply not comprehensive enough at times, to cover the sins of modern humanity, to encompass the complexity of all that it means to be alive in the 21^st century. This poses an acute problem for traditional Jews who are wed to the language of the siddur.

Historical Background 

Where does our ancient prayer language on Yom Kippur come from? We have an unusual expression that sums up and repeats itself in our al chet list. We punctuate our silent list of grievances with a group recitation of “ve’alkulam Elo-ha selichot, slah lanu, machal lanu, kaper lanu.” “For all these, O God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.” Section by section we interrupt our catalog of wrongs with this song, as if we need to relieve ourselves of the weight of so many sins at once. We break it up with a little refrain, a humble tune. Where does the expression Elo-ha Selichot come from?

In the 9^th chapter of the book of Nehemiah, the people cry over the mitzvot that they did not keep in exile and the Torah that they did not read. Ezra and Nehemiah tell the people that the day is holy – it is Rosh Hashana – and that they must not cry. Slowly, in the days ahead, these scribes and leaders recount the history of the Jewish people; and they describe our wilderness years and how much we complained.  In a conciliatory fashion, Ezra and Nehemiah assured the people that redemption was possible said, “God is an Elo-ha Selichot.” Later in the chapter, the people take responsibility for their wrongs together, and they say more words that also surface in our Yamim Noraim tefilot: “Ve-ata tzadik al kol haba alenu ki emet asita ve’anachnu hirshanu.” “Surely, You are in the right with respect to all that has come upon us, for You have acted faithfully, yet we have been wicked.”

Collective Responsibility 

What Ezra and Nehemiah succeeded in doing is capturing a group problem, not the individual expression of wrongdoing, but the collective language of guilt and responsibility. This year, perhaps more than others past, must we challenge ourselves to understand the plurality of sin. Too often, our reflections, our guilt, our anger is personal, individual. We have only ourselves to blame, or we can blame a spouse or a child. But even those others who cross our minds are people we can see with the mind’s eye, those within our immediate ambit. They are not us but enough us that we absorb them into the sphere of our personal wrongdoings and rightdoings. We do not include in our personal list of transgressions the sins of a Jew living in Italy or in Australia or all of the Jews of another city. They are not us. The us is a limited entity. The peoplehood equation gets lost in the personal shuffle.

And yet, the al chet list is written in the plural: “For the sin that we have sinned.”  We read the “we” as a royal we, really read as as “I”. We review particular incidents that involve disrespecting our own parents, our own lashon ha-ra or what we have done accidently or intentionally by hurting someone. We cannot know nor are willing to ask God’s forgiveness for the Italian Jew or the Australian Jew or the collective entity called the Jewish people. Isn’t it enough to bear your own soul, to be responsible for the one?

Yet that is not what our prayers say, no matter what our minds think.  And prayer is not the only plural of Yom Kippur. The karban hatat – the sin offering -that was once brought by the cohen gadol, the high priest, and the avoda that we read about was brought on behalf of us all. It was a korban meant to exculpate us as a group, if it was indeed accepted. We worry about the cohen. During mussaf, we feel anxiety for him lest the string around his ankle not turn white. He may pay the price with his life. We all sing “Marei Cohen” in jubilation because the cohen comes out alive, and we celebrate the fact that he has been forgiven in song. But what we celebrate is not really his new white string. We feel selfish happiness. We have made it another year. We are alive. We have been forgiven.

But before we get too excited, have we – not the cohen of ancient Jewish life in the mikdash – really asked for collective forgiveness? Have we assumed collective responsibility for the past year of transgressions?

What We Saw, How We Responded 

In 30 days this past summer, we saw rabbis – Syrian and Ashkenazi – and other Orthodox Jews on the front page of newspapers across the country in a perp walk, cut in half in pictures by a yellow police tape “Do Not cross this Line” – and it was somehow symbolic because we had crossed too many lines. And in that same summer of 2009, only two months ago, newspapers across the country recorded that a couple from Monsey were found guilty of Medicare fraud, a rabbi from Chicago was arrested in Israel for tax fraud, an Orthodox woman from the Upper West Side with a day school education was condemned for a financial diversion scheme and asked a judge not to give her an electronic ankle monitor because she does not wear pants and did not want the “bracelet” to give her away.

And that was only this summer. This past winter brought us the biggest scandal of all, the mother of white collar crimes, a Ponzi scheme perpetrated by someone whose name will forever be associated with bringing shame to the Jewish people, who defrauded Jewish charities among others, of millions. But we don’t have to look at only one type of crime. The Jewish agri-processing scandal a year earlier involved mistreatment of cattle, the harboring of illegal aliens, and the breaking of child labor laws – all this to bring us a cheaper cut of kosher meat. And who in this room does not know of at least one rabbi or Jewish educator guilty of a sex-related crime? Who are we?

Perhaps you are thinking, “These are not my Jews, my neighbors.” We have lots of different reasons why these Jews never come up in our al chets. We wouldn’t even let them touch our daled amot of spiritual space on Yom Kippur because they are not us…But they are us. Because the non-Jews in our offices and law firms and college campuses have no idea of the nuances that distance us from them, the Modern Orthodox from the Ultra-Orthodox, one Hasidic sect from another. To others outside of our narrow, categorizing mind-set, we are all just Jews, and what is wrong with Jews today? They are in the paper for all the wrong reasons.

But it’s more than that, much more than that. It’s the searching for a loophole, the kvetching a heter, the intellectual casuistry, the placing of the mind before the heart, the failure to become what we learn. When I visualize the cohen gadol who brought this year’s collective korban on behalf of all of am Yisrael, only one image comes to mind: how very, very heavy that karbon is because you simply cannot buy a sacrifice large enough to hold this year’s collective sins. And they do not belong to someone else. They belong to us. When it comes to the reputation of the Jewish people, we are all stakeholders. Every one of us. No matter how old you are. No matter how young you are. No matter what you do for a living.

Redeeming Hillul Hashem

            The gemera in Yoma tells us and then the Rambam reiterates in Hilchot Teshuva that Hillul Hashem is the one aveira that we cannot do teshuva for in this lifetime. What is a person who has committed a hillul Hashem supposed to do? Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe Yoreh De’ah II:#129) was asked this very question by an elderly woman who had an opportunity to give up her life al Kiddush Hashem during Nazi Germany but refused. She converted instead. She carried the guilt with her long after the war, and although she went back to her Jewish ways, she never forgave herself for the act of Hillul Hashem that is not keeping the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem, giving up her life for her religion. Rav Moshe answered with his characteristic sensitivity. Although she cannot do anything about the past, she can do something about her future. He tells her children to fast on the day she made that fateful decision, and he tells her that just as Hillul Hashem is not only about refusing to give up one’s life for God, it is also about the ordinary way in which we belittle people and cheat them, that she must do a living version of Kiddush Hashem and educate her children accordingly. She must make each day an opportunity for sanctifying God’s name, and perhaps three is no better time for us to do the same.

Maybe, just maybe, even Rav Moshe’s words don’t reach us. Maybe we don’t think in the plural about sin not only because we don’t want to take responsibility for someone else’s problems but because we don’t really believe that as a collective we have the capacity to change, that this organism, this entity, called the Jewish people has the ability to transform itself. This is where our textual lives must play a role in shaping thought and behavior.

Discovering Redemption 

A midrash on the first story of redemption, that of Cain, bears special significance. In Genesis 4, Cain, after understanding the enormity of what he has done wrong says to God: “Gadol avoni m’niso,” My sin is too great to bear. Cain cannot live with himself. God, in his compassion for Cain and as a reward for this self-understanding, gives him a sign on the forehead to protect him for 7 generations. As the narrative concludes, it says: “Cain left the presence of the Lord and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden.” What, the ancient sages, wanted to know, was Cain thinking and feeling as he left God’s presence? Genesis Rabba 22:12 records an unbelievable conversation, between Adam and Cain, a dialogue we do not have in the text.

Rabbi Hanina ben Isaac said: “He went forth rejoicing.” …Adam met Cain and asked, “What was done in punishment of you?” Cain replied, “I vowed repentance and was granted clemency.” Upon hearing this, Adam in self-reproach began to beat his face as he said, “Such is the power of repentance, and I knew it not.” Then and there Adam exclaimed: “It is a good thing to confess to the Lord” (Psalms 92:1).

There was teshuva but Adam never knew about it. Adam had the capacity to change, but no one ever told him. No one ever told Cain, either. He figured it out for himself. He discovered the gift of transformation. The man who was told he would be a wanderer as his punishment for killing a brother reverses his punishment. He gets married. He has a child. He builds a city, and he names the city after his child. That is not the work of a wanderer. It is the work of a repentant man. A person who understands that to live with sin is to rebuild a new life where sin does not constantly get in the way of all that a person can become.

A Variation on the Theme 

Al chets are translated as “for the sin of” rather than “for our acts of sin.” The standard translation may be more lyrical but it gets in the way of collective expression, the root of peoplehood. Perhaps a few modern day collective al chets can prompt us to think about the enormous challenges facing each one of us, particularly as Orthodox Jews, in this coming year:

• For our sin of thinking that ethics is someone else’s issue.
• For our sin of not bringing the word “God” into our conversations.
• For our sin of believing that we can wrong others without corroding our own souls.
• For our sin of reading texts and not becoming them.
• For our sin of thinking that holiness is more about the synagogue than about our behavior in an office elevator.
• For our sin of not being polite to strangers when wearing a kippah or a magen David.
• For our sin of cheating on a test because we thought that a grade was more important than our integrity.
• For our sin of taking home office supplies and telling ourselves that we did nothing wrong.
• For our sin of thinking that day school education is not about values education more than it’s about anything else.
• For our sin of making Jewish affluence a bigger priority than Jewish goodness.
• For our sin of betraying a Hebrew National commercial that told us that we answer to a higher authority.
• For our sin of not working harder to improve the reputation of our people in the world.
• For our sin of not being makadesh Shaim Shamayim every day of our lives.

We can change each of these confessions into a challenge. As the philosopher James Wilson’s work on character states, we can care more about self-control than about self-expression. We can tell ourselves that this year, Jewish goodness will be more important than Jewish affluence, that we do indeed answer to a higher authority, that we do carry Judaism with us into every elevator and every interaction, that our warmth and friendliness in the world enhances our reputation everywhere that we go. That we are indeed mekadesh Shem Shamayim every day of our lives because the reputation of Am Yisrael desperately needs it right now.

Theological Truths vs. Spiritual Vibes:   Nigunim, Heresy, and Machnisei Rachamim

By Shlomo Brody

I would like to write about the latest development in a long-standing debate over the propriety of asking angels to bring one’s prayers to God, known as intercessory prayers.  In particular, I refer to popularization of singing machnisei rachamim to the tune of R’ Chaim Benet, which has been popularized by Mordechai Ben David.  If I am correct, we are dealing with a potentially disturbing phenomenon relating, in my mind, to a lack of appreciation of Jewish theology and an overemphasis on “spirituality.”

The controversy over the recitation of intercessory prayers has a long history, which has been well documented by Rabbi Shlomo Sprecher in the rabbinic journal Yeshurun, Vol #3, p. 496-529.  Allow me to summarize and analyze my understanding of the debate.

Intercessionary Prayers in Judaism

A number of penitential prayers, stated in selichot and in the High Holiday prayers, request angels to serve as intermediaries and assist in delivering our prayers to God.¹ The most famous of these prayers, Machnisei Rahamim, is recited every evening toward the end of selichot.  It reads,

מכניסי רחמים הכניסו רחמינו, לפני בעל הרחמים. משמיעי תפלה השמיעו תפלתנו, לפני שומע תפלה. משמיעי צעקה השמיעו צעקתנו, לפני שומע צעקה. מכניסי דמעה הכניסו דמעותינו, לפני מלך מתרצה בדמעות. השתדלו והרבו תחנה ובקשה, לפני מלך אל רם ונשא

“Angels of Mercy, usher in [our petition for] mercy before the Lord of mercy… Intercede [for us] and multiply prayer and entreaty before the King, the most high God.  Mention before Him, and let Him hear of the [observance of the] Torah and of the good deeds [performed] by those who repose in the dust.” ²

Other similar prayers are scattered throughout the selichot, including one that appears in the Neilah service of Yom Kippur.  The most common hymn that might request angelic assistance is the 3^rd paragraph (Barchuni Le-Shalom) of the Friday night song, Shalom Aleichem, which states, “Bless me for peace, O angles of peace…”³

Numerous Talmudic passages, as plainly interpreted by Rashi, support the permissibility (and even necessity) of such prayers.  The Talmud further suggests that people should prepare their prayers properly to facilitate angelic assistance (Shabbat 12b, Brachot 60b, Sanhedrin 44b).  Many rishonim supported this sentiment, including R Elazar of Worms and R. Isaac Bruna.

Rambam:  Intercessory Prayer is Heresy

Rambam, however, believes that any form of intercessory prayer is heretical, as stated in the 5^th of his 13 principles of faith.  All prayer must be addressed directly to God, without the use of stars, angels, and other celestial bodies.  This position is powerfully supported by Yerushalmi Brachot 9:1.

תלמוד ירושלמי מסכת ברכות דף סג/א

רבי יודן אמר משמיה דידיה בשר ודם יש לו פטרון אם באת לו עת צרה אינו נכנס אצלו פתאום אלא בא ועמד לו על פתחו של פטרונו וקורא לעבדו או לבן ביתו והוא אומר איש פלוני עומד על פתח חצירך שמא מכניסו ושמא מניחו. אבל הקב”ה אינו כן אם בא על אדם צרה לא יצווח לא למיכאל ולא לגבריאל אלא לי יצווח ואני עונה לו מיד. הה”ד כל אשר יקרא בשם ה’ ימלט.

Rambam further contends that intercessory prayer is illogical, as stars, angels, and other celestial entities have no free will.  As such, they have no power to decide whether or not a person’s prayers should be accepted or not.  This philosophical point, also emphasized by the Vilna Gaon, is frequently overlooked.  The objection is not merely theological (i.e. this is inappropriate worship in its own right, and could easily lead to avodah zarah), but also philosophical. ⁴ A similar sentiment is expressed by Ramban⁵, the Maharal, and by many other leading figures.

Machnisei Rachamim:  Taking the Issue Seriously

Regarding the specific prayer of Machnisei Rachamim:  For many centuries, there has been an ongoing battle whether or not it should be defended and recited (Shibbolei Ha-Leket, Seder Rosh Hashanah 282), excised from the prayer books (Gr”a and R’ Hayyim of Volozhin), or seriously re-interpreted and edited to be more theologically acceptable (Maharal Netivot Olam I, Netiv Ha-Avodah Ch 12).⁶

In my mind, this was a glorious debate, in which each side recognized the severity of the question at stake:  What are the appropriate and inappropriate ways to stand before God in prayer?  If you think that intercessionary prayer is heretical – then you can’t say it, no  matter how long the prayer has been in print or how great its author might have been -  because you cannot faithfully (in all senses of the term) stand before God and beseech Him for mercy while committing a heretical act.  Similarly, if one is convinced that angelic assistance will indeed help your prayers be heard, then the Rambam and his (incorrect?) dogmas are irrelevant.

Existential Qualms:  Am I Worthy of Standing Before God?

The debate, however, seemingly extends beyond theological perplexities and halakhic questions into existential qualms.  Any person standing in prayer asks him or herself a basic question: Am I worthy of standing before God?  Does God care about my pleas?  This feeling is especially strong when the major themes of our selichot are confessions of shame and pleas for mercy.  Take, for example, the verses that begin Selichot each night, which should be recited like a fretful rhapsody.

לְךָ אֲדֹנָי הַצְּדָקָה, וְלָנוּ בּשֶׁת הַפָּנִים. מַה נִּתְאוֹנֵן וּמַה נֹּאמַר מַה נְּדַבֵּר וּמַה נִּצְטַדָּק. נַחְפְּשָֹה דְרָכֵינוּ וְנַחְקֹרָה וְנָשׁוּבָה אֵלֶיךָ, כִּי יְמִינְךָ פְּשׁוּטָה לְקַבֵּל שָׁבִים:

לֹא בְחֶסֶד וְלֹא בְמַעֲשִֹים בָּאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ, כְּדַלִּים וּכְרָשִׁים דָּפַקְנוּ דְלָתֶיךָ. דְּלָתֶיךָ דָפַקְנוּ רַחוּם וְחַנּוּן, נָא אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ רֵיקָם מִלְּפָנֶיךָ. מִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ, כִּי אַתָּה שֹׁמֵעַ תְּפִלָּה:

Having an angel to call upon, in such a moment, deepens one’s feeling of unworthiness – why else does one need an intermediary? – but at the same time assures one that their prayers will be heard.⁷  Rambam’s approach, however, asserts that all people, no matter how troubled or shamed, should feel that they can directly call out to God.  This is a different existential mentality, emphasizing the intimacy and urgency of prayer, and God’s willingness to keep the connection with Him open.

Two Important Changes:  Re-Interpreting the Prayer

Naturally, one of the factors that played a role in the debate was the fact that the prayer’s recitation for many centuries gave it an entrenched status within minhagei Yisrael.  While we don’t know exactly when the prayer was written, it clearly was around by the middle of the 10^th century.  Nonetheless, even after centuries of use, scholars felt both empowered and inspired to remove the prayer, or at the very least, to edit or reinterpret it to become more theologically acceptable.⁸  That is to say, the antiquity of the prayer did not prevent a series of gedolim from stating, “This is a theologically and halakhically unacceptable prayer, and should be removed from our liturgy.”

The prayer’s antiquity, of course, was a good reason to try to justify or reinterpret it, and certainly inspired a number of its defenders.  Its claim to being a “minhag,” however, could not justify the otherwise unjustifiable.  Instead, they chose to interpret the passage in a more neutral manner, arguing:  a) the passage acknowledges God clearly as the ultimate source of mercy; b) the angels are understood as mere pipelines that transmit the prayers to God, but not as independent agents; c) the prayer intends to merely create an appropriate sense of unworthiness in the worshippers.

Given the long history of defenses offered for intermediary prayers, these interpretations remain difficult.  Yet they reflect an honest attempt to bring a long-standing prayer in line with mainstream theology.  This certainly would not be the first or last time in which a well-entrenched prayer or source was re-interpreted to fit within different theological or halakhic criterion.

Reform

An additional change occurred in the 19^th century, when early Reform leaders such as Abraham Geiger wished to excise all intercessory prayers, amongst other liturgical reforms.  At this stage, it appears that greater hesitancy emerged, at least amongst some, to avoid any liturgical emendations, lest it be taken as a precedent or support for more radical emendations.  The Chatam Sofer,⁹ for example, stated that he agreed with the Maharal that one should not state Machnisei Rachamim, but he did not stop his congregation from doing so, and instead chose for himself to inconspicuously skip the passage by saying an “extended nefillat apayyim.”  Similar sentiments were expressed by R. Akiva Eiger.  A more striking formulation is offered by R. Yehuda Assad (Shu”t Yehuda Ya’ale OC 1:21).  There he minimizes the objections of earlier sources¹⁰, and further claims that the scholars only privately objected to such prayers, but would join in with its public recitation.  This, of course, was not true of many sages, such as the Maharal and the Sefer Kol Bo (Siman 10), and there is no indication that this is the case within the Korban Netanel.

He then glorifies the ancient writers of the prayer and those who follow them, asserting,

ולע”ד מקורן של ראשונים כמלאכים טהורי לב מיסדי נוסחות אלו בפזמונים מפורש כן יוצא מהש”ס בסנהדרין פ’ נגמר הדין היערוך שועך לא בצר א”ר יוחנן לעולם יבקש אדם רחמים שיהי’ הכל מאמצין את כחו ואל יהו לו צרים מלמעלה. ועיין מג”א סי’ ס”ח. וכן אנחנו נוהגים כרבותינו עונים ואומרים באהבה יהיה חלקינו עם כל עובדי ד’ המתפללים סליחות ואומרים פזמונים הנ”ל כי ישרים דרכי ד’ וצדיקים ילכו בם כו’ והדברים עתיקים כו’ דברי חז”ל קיימים וחיים ונעימים למבינים ככתוב מבקשי ד’ יבינו כל

I do not doubt that these sentiments were deeply held.  Indeed, given the issues at stake, it would be a surprise if scholars did not take a passionate opinion on the matter.  Nonetheless, we must acknowledge that the threat of Reform clearly made many sages hesitant to object to liturgical problems, and more respectful of ancient customs and writers (in this extreme case, comparing the composers themselves to angels!) I further suspect that many sages hoped that over time, these prayers would subtly and quietly disappear from the scene, much as the Maharatz Chajes (19^th century) contended that it was preferable in his times to let the halakhically-problematic yotzrot prayers disappear by inertia rather than actively removing them through a public brouhaha.¹¹ Unfortunately, the polemical issues sidelined the larger theological debates.  More pressing was the ability to confront Reform and prevent greater dissolutions of traditional normative behavior.

It is also important to note that despite these two factors (reinterpretations, Reform), many recent gedolim, coming from very different perspectives, continued to object to reciting machnisei rachamim.  To take a few different examples: R. Yitzchak Weiss (Shu”t Siach Yitzchak 411), various members of the Soloveitchik family, including the Rav, and Rav Avigdor Nevenzahl.¹²

The Status of the Debate in Recent Times

These two factors, I suspect, brought us to the contemporary situation, in which the prayers remain in our selichot machzorim, but almost always with the editor adding that a) many gedolim did not historically state these prayers, and that b) one who does say them should have in mind the more neutral interpretations. ¹³ This is an awkward phenomenon – how many other times do we find in the siddur statement along these lines? ¹⁴  The undetermined resolution of this controversy has engendered ambiguity, and to a certain extent, confusion, especially for those not familiar with the controversies surrounding these selichot.¹⁵  It also, however, reflects the fact that the debate was, at least until the last few years, left at a standstill.

The Recent (and Lasting?) Fad

Admittedly, there is no scientific data on how many people or congregations recite machnisei rachamim.  However, in the past few years, I have noticed (and been told of) an increasing number of shuls (at least here in Israel) where the entire congregation now sings Machnisei Rachamim together.  Why?  The answer is very simple:  There is a beautiful niggun, made popular by Mordechai Ben David, which many congregations now sing to add a little spirituality to the end of a long selichot.¹⁶  Let’s face it:  We all know that at the end of selichot, a good niggun can go a long way.  This niggun, moreover, is quite riveting, and could lift you into another world.  I myself would love to sing it – if it wasn’t for the fact that I fear reciting these words might deny me a place in the Next World.  Yet it appears that the song’s continued recitation, both during selichot and in concerts, will usher this prayer’s long and controversial history into a new era of acceptance.

Is this a Bad Thing?

Admittedly, one might respond, “Fascinating, but is this really such a bad thing?  After all, there are many gedolim, including Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe OC 5:43) and Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (as quoted in Halichot Shlomo: Tefillah), who justify its recitation, and especially if people recite it with the more neutral interpretation that they and others have proposed, there is nothing wrong with it.  Moreover, isn’t this better than a situation in which people are left without clear instuction?”

I understand this argument, but I cannot help but feeling that this is a horrific way to resolve a long-standing dispute related to central issues of prayer, dogma, and our relationship with God.  I would much rather leave things at a standstill – reflecting the clash of values at stake – rather that resolve this issue in such an adhoc manner.

Should a niggun change one’s perspective on this matter?  Indeed, over the past weekend, two bona fide talmidei chachamim mentioned that they (and their distinguished rebbeim)  previously refrained from reciting machnisei rachamim, but since the niggun has emerged, they (although not their rebbeim) now say it.  (One went so far to suggest that perhaps the niggun is a sign from Shamayim!)  I admit, I am firm follower of Rambam on this matter, and am biased against any hints of intermediaries in our prayers.  To me, one of the most riveting aspects of tefilla is our ability to stand directly before God.  (I recently delivered a sichat mussar on this topic.) For this reason, I also don’t particularly enjoy any form of prayer that involves tzaddikim or cemeteries.  Yet I understand – others far greater than me have felt otherwise, and hence the long-standing debate.  But should the coincidence of a good niggun resolve how we stand before God?  Is this the current state of Jewish theology?¹⁷

1. Sprecher documents 22 such prayers, some currently found in our siddurim, and others in manuscripts.
2. Translation taken from Marc Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 80.  Shapiro, also relying in part on Sprecher’s work, has a concise summary of the figures who advocated, or at least defended, intercessionary prayer
3. Both the Gr”a and R’ Chaim Volozhin found this last example problematic, and did not recite it.  Others, however, interpret the prayer more innocuously and recite it, even as they omit Machnisei Rachamim.
4. A number of sages and scholars over the generations, however, have noted that certain Talmudic passages indicate that angels can exercise a certain amount of prerogative.  This topic is discussed in Marc Shapiro’s book, cited above.
5. Commentary to Shemot 20:2
6. These examples are mere representatives of larger trends. See the Sprecher article for greater detail, including his account of a particularly spirited debate in Italy
7. Indeed, one of the many approaches adopted to re-interpret Machnisei Rachamim in line with the Rambam’s theology asserted that the prayer is just a figure of speech intended to display our downtrodden state.  See Shu”t Mahari Bruna 275 and Shu”t Divrei Yetziv YD 191, for example.
8. See the earliest challenges to this specific prayer in Simcha Emmanuel’s brief article.
9. Shu”t Chatam Sofer OC 1:166
10. In this case, Korban Netanel, end of 1^st chapter of Rosh Hashanah 1, letter gimel
11. Kol Sifrei Maharatz Chajes, Vol 1, p.338.
12. personal communication
13. In general, one should not underestimate the influence of siddur editors in determining contemporary norms.  The excitement and discussion over the publication of the Koren/Sacks Siddur and the forthcoming revised RCA/Artscroll siddur exemplify how people subtly understand that the ideological orientation of the editors will somehow impact the siddur.
14. Let us keep in mind that there have been other long-standing controversies in our siddurim (yotzrot and le-shem yichud/heneni muchan, to take 2 obvious examples), and little is mentioned of them in our contemporary siddurim.  I suspect, however, that intercessory prayers posed a particularly difficult problem for editors.  As opposed to machnisei rachamim, which can easily be skipped without a beat, certain other “intercessory selichot” form an intergral part of the structure to each night’s selichot. Editors, not desiring to enter the fray and choose replacement selichot, instead chose to keep the controversial selichot, adding the attached note.  However, the “warning note” usually only appears before Machnisei Rachamim – although this perhaps because this is the most famous example.  This is mere speculation, and a careful examination of printed selichot machzorim needs to be done to resolve this issue.
15. Many rabbis, moreover, do not provide firm instruction to their congregations on the proper practice.
16. Lest anyone think otherwise, I am by no means against singing during davening in general, or in selichot in particular.  Those looking for a more suitable nigguin (at least if you use Nusach Lita) might try Eitan Katz’s powerful song, Lemancha.
17. I am trying to think of other examples of similar phenomenon, with two coming to mind. 1)  The recitation and singing of leshem Yichud / hineni muchan before Sefirat Ha-Omer.  This prayer engendered much controversy, with many denouncing it.  To the best of my knowledge, most people do not recite it before other mitzvoth, and it does not appear in most siddurim before Kiddush or Birkat Ha-Mazon, for example.  Yet at Sefirat Ha-Omer, people recite it.  Is that because of the great niggun? 2)  Aruch Ha-Shulchan 620:1 contends that the mysterious excision of the 13 midot/Selichot during Yom Kippur Shacharit and Mussaf occurred to save time lost by Chazanim dragging out the davening with their singing!   If anyone has more examples in mind, I would appreciate them leaving a comment