Jewish Folklore 11

Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan (1839-1933) was, by all accounts, a man of piety, humility and of the highest ethics. He is universally know as Chafetz Chaim, after the name of one of his books on ethics, especially the avoidance of slander and gossip. Orphaned from his father at ten, his mother moved to Vilna, where he became steeped in the Lithuanian Yeshiva tradition. At seventeen, he married his stepsister, and settled in the Polish town of Radin (now in Belarus). At first, he was the official rabbi of the town, but soon resigned in order to found his own Yeshiva, which became world-famous. He was deeply troubled by problems within the Jewish community, primarily the laxity in the area of forbidden speech, but also about what he perceived to be the threat of Zionism. As to the first problem, he wrote extensively about its severity, often greatly exaggerated its legal parameters, in order to eradicate this evil from our midst completely. As to the second, he chose not to get involved in a politically divisive fight, but privately warned his disciples and colleagues against the Zionist leadership and its ideology, with its aims of making a secular state and uprooting Torah. He was first and foremost known as an ethicist, but also as a keen scholar. The last decades of his life were devoted primarily to a legal work, Mishnah Berurah (Clear Teaching). Like the Aruch HaShulchan, it is on the surface a restatement of halachah, bringing it up to date. But the comparison ends there. First of all, unlike the Aruch HaShulchan, which covers all areas of Jewish life that exist in the absence of the Temple, the Mishnah Berurah only covers the first part of the Shulchan Aruch, dealing with prayer, everyday rituals, and holidays. Many, including yours truly, feel that this was a great mistake, as it put other areas into the background (marriage, divorce, business ethics, and much more). Many rabbis see it as the ultimate culmination of all halachic writings, perfect in every way. Others are very critical of the work. Some are ambivalent. When I studied Scribal law with a prominent Monsey rabbi, the "jumping off" text was Mishnah Berurah. The rabbi praised the Chafetz Chaim with every kind of superlative. Yet, that did not stop him from pointing out the numerous misquotes, faulty logic, clear misunderstandings of earlier sources, footnotes that had little to do with what had been said, on virtually every page. It became clear to me, and I later learned that many others had arrived at the same conclusion, that the work was primarily designed to establish the primacy of the Lithuanian tradition over heresies related to the "Enlightenment", as well as Hasidic tradition, which he considered a deviation from true Judaism. For example, in discussing the shapes of the letters used in scribal writing, he describes the standard Ashkenazi writing in great detail. He totally disregards the Hasidic script, except by means of barbs like "what I have described is the right way, don't consider what some others do". He mentions Sepharadic writing twice, each time saying it is mistaken and invalid. Before we judge him too harshly, however, let us bear in mind that he was trying to preserve a way of life that was being threatened. Now we can, perhaps, understand the switch in the 1950s away from Aruch HaShulchan, in favor of Mishnah Berurah. The Aruch HaShulchan reexamined issues and practices, often urging change (based on sources). But, many felt, twentieth-century Judaism was already changing too much. The Mishnah Berurah urged stability and caution. Nineteenth-century Lithuania had finally gotten everything right; don't mess around with it. The "Yeshiva World" has clung to this ever since (other than the Brisker tradition). In my opinion, like in most areas, the truth lies somewhere in between. Many aspects of late custom and folklore had now been codified, leaving little room for reevaluation. Those who challenge this approach, are often seen as deviating from THE Tradition. The idea that there is only one tradition, is itself an innovation. May HaShem guide us with His truth.

Jewish Folklore 10

Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein (1829-1908) was a man of great learning and integrity, with the ability to bridge chasms that appeared unbridgeable. Although the animosity against Hasidism and Hasidim that dated back to the Eighteenth-century had ceased being violent, the hatred and suspicion were still very much there (and still are to a large degree, although rarely spoken about publicly). Rabbi Epstein grew up among the opponents of Hasidism. His brother-in-law was the head of the great Yeshivah of Volozhin, the bastion of Lithuanian learning based on the teachings of Elijah of Vilna. Yet, for most of his life, he was the rabbi of predominantly Hasidic communities, even receiving ordination from Tzemach Tzedek (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, the third Rebbe of Chabad). His approach to halachah was unique for his time and place. When a question arose, it is to be assumed to be permissible, unless an obvious reason to declare it forbidden is present. Most of his contemporaries would give a knee-jerk response of "no" to new situations, searching only afterwards for justification for the "prohibition". In matters of dispute between Hasidim and their opponents, he would analyze each question objectively, often siding with the Hasidim, but just as often with their opponents. He quoted freely from rabbis of both streams, staying remarkably objective. The last decades of his life were dedicated to his magnum opus, the Aruch HaShulchan. On the surface, it appears to be merely an update to the Shulchan Aruch (16th century), including later opinions. However, this is far from the case. Following the order of the Shulchan Aruch, he approaches every topic chronologically. He begins with quotes from the Torah (where applicable), follows with Talmudic and related sources, analyzes the discussions of the Rishonim (Early Authorities; roughly between 1,000 and 1500 ce), followed by decisions of the Acharonim (Later Authorities, from about 1500 onward). So far, so good. But then he does something else. He analyzes the various opinions for their logic and their faithfulness to earlier sources. If there seems to be a "disconnect" he would ask how and why did it happen? A faulty text? A possibly invalid local tradition? He is always respectful of his predecessors, but that doesn't stop him from rejecting views that seem inappropriate. His final decisions often differ sharply with what had been accepted practice. Many accepted his rulings, many did not. Nevertheless, one could look at the Aruch HaShulchan and understand the development of each halachah, and even customs, from a perspective of over three thousand years. Prior to the Aruch HaShulchan, one would have needed an entire library for this kind of understanding. To the extent that Sepharadic works in halachah were available to him, he included their opinions in his work. Many Yeshivot accepted this great masterpiece as their primary "go-to" work for halachah. (It must be remembered that in traditional Lithuanian Yeshivot, the curriculum centered around analysis of Talmud, not practical halachah). Now, each halachic issue could be seen in its historical perspective, with both major and minor halachic sources carefully referenced and analyzed. In the U.S., the Aruch HaShulchan was THE accepted halachic work, until the 1950s. What changed? Judaism, particularly in America, was under attack. American Reform was generally unconcerned with halachah. The Conservative Movement, not yet separate from Orthodoxy, was questioning many traditional concepts and practices. Hasidism was still seen as a threat by many prominent rabbis. Most American Jews had arrived from Ukraine and Poland in the early twentieth century. Although there was little organized Hasidism in America before the 1950s, Hasidic ideas and practices were part and parcel of the Jewishness of these communities. Lithuanian rabbis regarded this as a danger to the integrity of the Judaism they followed and considered the only valid one. There was felt a need to "circle the wagons" The willingness of Aruch HaShulcah to consider innovation, might play into the hands of the Conservatives, while his conciliatory approach to Hasidism could open the doors to other threats to what the Lithuanians regarded as authentic tradition. Another work was sought and found. It was seen as a solution to outside challenges. It is known as the Mishnah Berurah. To be discussed next time.

Jewish Folklore 9

I rarely comment online about Jewish topics, because everyone thinks they know, and is ready for a fight. I tend to forget that things that are obvious to me are far from most people's awareness. To illustrate, just  a few  year ago, someone posted "The Laws of Mourning for the Omer Period". I commented "Laws...or Customs?" I questioned how something could be a law, when it is neither mentioned in Talmud, or any of the great poskim until about 700 years ago, and then only regarding weddings and haircuts. Only 400 hundred years ago did it become about large parties with music, and only within the last century did it become about private listening to music as well. I sarcastically expressed admiration for those who could know a law that has no source! The answer I received was "you are apparently unaware of the views of contemporary rabbis". I left it there. Upon thinking more deeply about it, I realized that I was dealing with a much more fundamental problem, that was in no way new. In fact, it goes back to the era of RAMBAM and Tosafot (about 1200). I call it "the problem of how to read a book; from the beginning or from the end?" One can read a book from the beginning, and watch the chapters unfold. But if chapter 8 contains discrepancies that don't fit in with the earlier chapters, the book will be fatally flawed, no matter how beautifully written. (Unless a subsequent chapter satisfactorily reconciles the contradictions). This is especially true if these discrepancies occur in a sequel. "Hey..did this author even read the original book?" This can easily be seen in terms of the scriptures of other faiths. They may sound beautiful, and even indicate where the ideas are "hinted at" or "foretold" in Tanach, but if we read from the beginning, we will easily see that there is a major "disconnect" between the Tanach and these writings. Reading backwards, they fit beautifully, reading from the beginning...not so much. Within Judaism, this problem revolves around the concept of "halachah K'batrai" (The halachah follows the later authority). The logic here is that the later authority will have seen and considered the arguments of the earlier authority. If he rejected these arguments, he must have had an excellent reason, even if this reason is unknown to us. RAMBAM, in his introduction to his great halachic work, Mishneh Torah, states that this principle cannot be applied to post-Talmudic times. After the Talmud, all rabbis' words are to be seen as non-authoritative interpretations, to be judged on their veracity and logic by subsequent scholars. The approach of the Franco-German Tosafists was different. Everything handed down by tradition is valid, and seeming contradictions must be reconciled. Customs, even folklore, must be seen in this light. The accepted viewpoint must be upheld, with opposing, earlier views reinterpreted until they fit. Although the Maimonist view is generally accepted by Sepharadim, and the Tosafist view by Ashkenazim, this is by no means a hard and fast rule. In the first decade of the Twentieth Century, two great Ashkenazi works of halachah were published. Both were widely heralded at the beginning. But soon, it was recognized that their approaches were as different as night and day. One was "reading from the beginning", with critical analysis of all opinions, one was "reading from the end", accepting every opinion and folkloric assumption as not only valid, but in need of defending. The first was inclusive of all Jewish views, to the extent they were known in Eastern Europe at the turn of the Twentieth Century, The second made a heroic attempt to "prove" that what was being done in non-Hasidic parts of Poland and Russia was, in fact, the ultimate expression of Judaism. Other traditions were firmly rejected. One was widely accepted as the more scholarly for about half a century, but then was largely put aside in favor of the other. They were called, respectively, the Aruch HaShulchan and the Mishnah Berurah. The drama of the tension between the two, which is ongoing, will be my next topic.

Jewish Folklore 8

When I lived in Israel, I was once invited to Shabbat dinner at the home of a young Yemenite rabbi, of the type that follows the rulings of RAMBAM completely (there are five distinct Yemenite groups, with different ideologies and practices) When his wife served us dinner, I was shocked to see on my plate fish and meat together. "Isn't this forbidden?" I asked. If one goes to almost any observant Jewish home, fish is NEVER mixed with meat. In fact, after the fish course is served, clean plates and forks are brought to the table, People eat some other foods in between, and also drink; most often a bit of spirits. In some homes, water is brought to the table, and each person washes his hands before proceeding to the meat or poultry course. Here were sitting on my plate fish and meat together. It seemed to me almost as if I was seeing toast on a Seder plate. He looked at me and said "I never even heard of that!". We spent the rest of the evening pouring over rabbinic sources, spanning the course of seventeen hundred years. The primary text here is a brief passage in the Talmud (Pesachim 76b) that eating fish (binita) together with meat causes "Davar Acher" ("something else", a euphemism for leprosy.) The classical commentaries on the Talmud discuss whether the prohibition is across the board, including all kinds of fish, or only the binita fish, whose identity is unknown, except that it was tiny. Most understood that the passage refers only to the two being cooked or roasted together, rather than merely on the same plate. However, the entire idea is apparently contradicted by another section of Talmud (Hullin 111b) which discusses at length the question if fish is cooked with dairy utensils, when can it or can not subsequently go into a meat dish without violating the meat-milk prohibition. There is no mention in Hullin of the "danger" of eating fish with meat. We found that RAMBAM doesn't even mention the topic. But was this because of his view that we ignore the medical and scientific information in Talmud, or because, as has been suggested by many commentators, he "knew" that the binita fish is now extinct, and that the human body had changed so much in the intervening years, that even if we did have it, it would no longer affect us? (Chatam Sofer). We looked through the commentaries on the Shulchan Aruch. Some were silent. Some proposed that the "prohibition" was only for a certain time period. Some (TAZ) considered this combination so deadly, that it is not nullified in any amount (rather than the usual one in sixty), as it is to be treated like a venomous poison, as "sakanta adifa mi'Isura" (danger is to be treated more severely than halachic prohibitions). Recent and contemporary halachic opinion is likewise divided. One of my sons worked as a kashrut supervisor for an OU-affiliated agency. He tells me that their policy is to follow TAZ, and treat the fish and meat combination as more severe than any halachic norm. (Although there is no record of a single case of leprosy resulting from this combination). On the other hand, some halachic decisors rule that there is no prohibition, but only a custom. Therefore, if the combination isn't recognizable, there is no prohibition, or even custom. Worcester sauce, which contains minute amounts of fish, is, according to these poskim, perfectly acceptable to eat with meat.  A similar, albeit post-Talmudic issue, is that of fish with milk. Rabbi Yosef Karo, the author of the Shulchan Aruch, writes (in his magnum opus Beit Yosef), that this combination is dangerous, and hence prohibited. Virtually all commentaries state the opinion that this was a misprint, and should have read "fish and meat". Nevertheless, one commentator (seventeenth century) states that he asked a physician, who told him that "there is no deadlier combination than milk and fish". Many point out, however, that we see people eating fish with milk all the time, with no ill effects. Today, this "prohibition" is observed by many Sepharadic and Hasidic Jews, primarily out of respect for Rav Yosef Karo. The late Rav Ovadia Yosef ztz"l, examined the issue in a halachic responsum, concluding that there was no prohibition here whatsoever, but it should be considered as a custom only. Here we see some of the unanswered questions of how we view the medical concepts of past generations; how, or if they fit into the halachic process, as well as the need to distinguish custom from law. What I like about my dinner with the Yemenite rabbi, is that we each learned something. We saw that our practices were not always black and white, but represented shades of gray. Also, we remained friends, even better than before.