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.

Jewish Folklore 7

The eighteenth century saw a massive questioning of the issue of daily Birkat Kohanim. On the one hand, no one really remembered why not saying it had started. (We have access to documents that were not generally available at that time.) On the other hand, it is a Biblical command, which had been all but uprooted. Mix in with this, the issue of the Ashkenazic concept of the supremacy of minhag, and we wind up with extremely mixed emotions. Elijah of Vilna 

was convinced that it had all been a great mistake. He decided to reintroduce the blessing, at least on Shabbat. The first Shabbat it was done a major fire broke out in Vilna. The following Shabbat, the same thing happened. He took this as a sign from Heaven that this was wrong, and ceased his efforts in this direction. (Elijah of Vilna was far more receptive than most to correcting mistaken customs. In a letter he wrote, he explained that one of his primary reasons for wanting to emigrate to the Holy Land, was "to be rid of Polish customs"). A younger contemporary, Rabbi Shneur Zaman of Liadi, (the first Rebbe of Chabad), questioned the custom in his Shulchan Aruch HaRav, concluding with an enthusiastic "Yeyasher Koach (good for you!) to the inhabitants of Eretz Yisrael, who bless daily". Chabad tradition maintains that there were three things that he wished to institute, but felt that he did not have sufficient authority. One of these was Birkat Kohanim every day. (The other two were the recitation of the Song of Songs before Shabbat, and the observance of the second day of Yom Tov even in Eretz Yisrael). The Jewish community in Eretz Yisrael was almost completely Sepharadic until the late eighteenth century. There was a large Ashkenazi "aliyah" at that time, consisting of both Hasidim and their opponents, the "mitnagdim". Many Sepharadic customs were accepted by both groups as "Minhag Eretz Yisrael". Among these, was Birkat Kohanim, either daily, or at least on Shabbat. To this day, Ashkenazim in E.Y. bless daily in most parts of the country, but only on Shabbat in the Northern part of the country. There are, however, exceptions. Chabad, for example, only bless on Shabbat everywhere in E.Y. Considering Rabbi Shneur Zalman's enthusiasm for this mitzvah, I find this rather ironic. An interesting proposition was suggested by Rabbi Shlomo Chaim of Koidanov (1797–1862), founder of one of the three Hasidic groups that existed in Lithuania. His proposal was as follows: When there is a service that would be appropriate for Birkat Kohanim, but for whatever reason it is not being said, the prayer leader recites a paragraph "Our G-d and G-d of our ancestors, bless us with the threefold blessing written in Your Torah, recited by Aaron and his sons, as it is said 'May the L-rd bless you and keep you...' (the text of the Birkat Kohanim is recited) The Rabbi of Koidanov suggested that the prayer leader always be a Kohen for the morning prayers, and should intend to be actually blessing the people. So as not to openly violate custom, rather than lifting his hands in the usual manner of Birkat Kohanim, he should show his enthusiasm by lifting them as though in supplication, thereby fulfilling the Biblical command, but not violating the custom in an obvious fashion. We see here the clash of folklore cum custom, conflicting with not only halachah, but with an actual Torah command. This is one of the reasons for which I became Sepharadic, and have never looked back. In my next post, I will get back to scientific and medical folklore, and how it is dealt with.

Jewish Folklore 6

One of the most tragic periods in Jewish History was the era of the Crusades (1095-1291). Populations were smaller then, but proportionately, it was the equivalent of the Holocaust, with fully one-third of world Jewry wiped out. A "slight" difference was that the Holocaust lasted twelve years, while the Crusades lasted almost two centuries. The end of this period saw some countries (like England) completely Judenrein through murder. while others had impoverished, decimated communities, many of which chose to emigrate eastward into Poland and other Slavic countries for refuge. The Crusaders, on their way to "free" the Holy Land from the Muslims, decided to vent their insane rage on the "enemies of Christ" in their own countries, and all the countries through which they passed. Now largely forgotten, the Crusades left an indelible mark on Jewish feelings of insecurity, and became the basis for many customs and traditions, whose true origins have mostly been forgotten. Since armies in those days usually fought in the Spring and Summer, thus avoiding harsh weather, numerous days of mourning were instituted locally in memory of great massacres. As time went by, the Spring tragedies became connected with the Talmudic report of the death of Rabbi Akiva's students during the Omer period, although a thousand years had since passed with no mourning period enacted. The Summer massacres became connected with the mournful period of the days preceding Tish'ah B'Av, the anniversary of the destruction of the Temple. To be sure, the Talmud lists requirements for that season, but at this time they were magnified exponentially, in both length and depth of mourning. To this day, the German Jewish "Kinot" (dirges for Tish'ah B'av) contain sections entitled "the destruction of Mainz", "the destruction of Worms", etc. The Jews of the affected communities struggled between maintaining faith and hope, while keeping the memory of the martyrs alive. A prayer in their memory is still recited in Ashkenazi synagogues, either at special anniversaries, or every Shabbat (Av Harachamim). These additions are completely understandable in human terms. More problematic is the virtual abolishing of a Biblical precept in this context. The Torah commands that the Sons of Aaron bless the people. This was done at least daily in the Temple, at a particular point in the Sacrificial service. After the destruction, the Sanhedrin, which had been set up in Yavneh, ruled that this would now be done in every synagogue at the morning service, as well at Musaf services  (Shabbat, Rosh Hodesh, and Holidays), and at Minchah on fast days. This was not merely in memory of the Temple, but is the fulfillment of one of the 613 commandments. The blessing was henceforth performed in all Jewish communities...until the Crusades. The Talmud stipulates that the Kohanim who are blessing the people must do so out of love, and in a joyous mood. If a Kohen dislikes someone in the congregation, he is forbidden to bless. If he is in mourning, he doesn't bless. In a few communities, a Kohen whose wife is menstruating doesn't bless, as he lacks joy at that time.In order to "escape" the obligation to bless, he will walk out of the synagogue when the Kohanim are called. The Ashkenazi communities instituted that there would be no calling to the Kohanim to bless, thereby eliminating the actual obligation. Through the hell of the persecutions of the Crusades, when everyone knew that he, his wife and children, and all his friends had a 30% chance of being murdered any time, usually being burnt alive, many felt that a feeling of joy was no longer possible. To stop the blessing completely, seemed unthinkable. It was decided that it should only be recited on full holidays, when the eating, drinking and celebrating would allow at least some joy. Even Shabbat seemed too short to really forget the world they were living in. Although many Sepharadic communities were terribly affected as well, Sepharadim, more bound to sources than custom, saw the cessation of the blessing as unthinkable. Eventually, the origin of not reciting the blessing was largely forgotten. but was still observed based on the Ashkenazi concept of "a minhag trumps a law". A further blow came four hundred years later. The false Messiah, Shabbaetai Tzvi, was, as we have seen, Manic Depressive. When he was in his manic phase, he would deliberately sin. When he was in his depressive phase, he became a completely pious Jew, with great feelings of remorse. He would, at those times, try also to correct the sins of others. He wrote letters to communities that were lax in any commandment to change their ways. Primary among these were communities that were not careful about drinking non-Jewish wine, not leaving the "pe'ot" (sidelocks), and ...not reciting the blessing of the Kohanim daily. Shabbateans in Ashkenazi countries reintroduced the blessing in their synagogues. Henceforth, the recitation, and the fulfillment of this Biblical command became associated with heresy! I have even seen a book that alleged that NOBODY said the blessing daily anymore until some communities were seduced by the Shabbateans to say it! This is perhaps one of the greatest ironies in Jewish history. Once the Crusades became a distant memory, and even Shabbetai Tzvi no longer seemed relevant, there were attempts to reintroduce the blessing. More on that next time.

Jewish Folklore 5

An area that has been controversial for over a thousand years is the medical and scientific information in the Talmud. As I have pointed out in previous posts, there are some who regard the Talmud as a revealed work in its entirety, dictated to Moses on Sinai. They will go to great lengths to try to give an unscientific statement some "logical" reasoning. Moreover, they are sure that this view is THE view of Judaism, and those who hold different views are heterodoxic. Shmuel HaNagid (eleventh century), a leader of Spanish Jewry who wrote a commentary to the Talmud, still printed in scholarly editions, divides the Talmud into three parts. The first is the oral details of the Biblical laws. This is as authoritative as the Torah itself, as it records the information given at Sinai that is necessary for the fulfillment of the Mitzvot. The second is interpretation of verses beyond their literal meaning. He says that these are the rabbis' own understandings, which should be studied, as the rabbis were far greater than we in these matters; but these interpretations are by no means authoritative. The third division is statements on science and medicine, which simply reflect the knowledge of the time, and should be ignored. A century later, RAMBAM wrote of these areas, indeed, of the aggadic (non-halachic) areas of Talmud in general, that they should be understood as allegories. An example might be the assertion that the reason why women don't menstruate while pregnant is that the body transforms the blood into milk for the baby. This statement is widely used, especially in Hasidic literature, as a symbol of transformation of bad into good. Rabbi Nachman even saw the custom of eating dairy on Shavuot as symbolizing a repair of our character, and a repair of the Universe, through the counting of the Omer, leading from spiritual slavery to true freedom; blood to milk! When confronted with a statement that he believed to be less than factual, RAMBAM accepted later science over the Talmud. The Torah forbids a man with mutilated genitals from marrying. RAMBAM faithfully lists the types of injuries that, according to the Talmud, would render a man incapable of fathering a child. Then, he says that this is to be overridden by later medical advances, and we "accept the views of the great doctors".. MAHARAL, writing in the sixteenth century, simply calls the scientific statements in the Talmud "the best knowledge of the day". The fact is that in most yeshivot, these sections are skipped. But many have become matters of folklore. Some rabbis will say that these statements WERE valid, but "the human body has changed", and therefore they no longer apply. There is even a rumor that a ban of excommunication has been placed on those trying the remedies mentioned in Talmud, as they will no longer work, and this might cast aspersions on the Talmud in general. However, we search in vain for any such ban. Sometimes, on the other hand, a scientific statement in Talmud, which may have, at one time seemed ridiculous, has been proven to be accurate. For instance, the constellation Pleiades is called in the Tanach "kimah". Why, the Talmud asks, "kimah"? Because it has "about a hundred" (k'meah) constituent stars. This is very strange, as the unaided human eye can only perceive in this constellation seven, or at most eight, stars. With the invention of the telescope in about 1600, it was discovered that there actually were about a hundred stars in this constellation. That would be about a thousand years after the Talmud! Also, scientific and medical knowledge was sometimes better in Talmudic times than it was for the next thousand years. The Talmud discusses at length the matter of birth by Caesarian section and its halachic implications. RAMBAM, himself a physician in the twelfth century, dismisses this as folklore, as "it is totally impossible for a baby to survive such a procedure", and it is "highly unlikely for the mother to survive". Again, some would chalk this up to the "bodies changing". Others will grant that some things were known, forgotten, and then rediscovered. I will discuss some specific cases in my next post.