Archive for the ‘Ask the Rabbi’ Category

Posted on August 19, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Rabbi,

There is just something uncomfortable about your position regarding “Women at the Wall,” and with your response to Richard R., the matter may require even more fleshing-out.

The fact of the matter is that in Judaism, among Jews, there has always been a hierarchical structure of adherence to ritual. Whether ritual and liturgy are prescribed in the Torah, Talmud or Midrash, the fact of the matter is that we — and you — have no personal knowledge of the “detail” of Temple worship. The texts simply do not operate in the doctrinaire way you seem to believe; any knowledge we claim to possess is grounded only in belief. I do not mean to discount belief — yours or others’ — but to recognize its presence in this calculus of “Women at the Wall,” and the need to respect and allow for belief. As you know, even “Orthodox” liturgy in the various siddurim has differences in content, wording and order. In fact, the true detail of Temple worship will not be known until the advent of the Messianic age. For you or others to contend to already have knowledge is an affront to all the streams of Judaism.

—Norton R.

Dear Norton,

Your remarks seem to evade numerous tractates of Talmud which describe in great detail the worship in the Temple. In fact, an entire order of Mishnah is dedicated to the Temple worship and many other sections of Mishnah and Talmud as well. Please keep in mind that many of the sages quoted in these teachings were rabbis who lived during the Second Temple and related firsthand information of what they actually witnessed. Although there are disagreements on minutiae, these concern only the minutest of details. With regards to all major issues, the sages are in agreement of what transpired in the Temple worship.

These details apply not only to the rituals observed in the Temple, but to the actual physical structure of the Temple as well. An entire tractate, called Midot, is dedicated to the construction and constitution of the structure of the Temple. Some details, such as the balcony for women to separate men and women during the Temple worship and ceremonies, are outlined in the Talmud based upon verses in the Torah (see Tractate Sukkah 51b-52a). This is all a matter of knowledge, not of belief.

I’m not sure why you maintain that our knowledge of what transpired in the Temple should be an affront to any “stream” of Judaism. All Jews should be proud of our history and the knowledge that we have. It would seem that those streams are choosing to do what they do despite that knowledge, not out of ignorance of it. And even if some stream would take offense to that knowledge, I hardly think this would be a reason to erase hundreds of pages of Mishnah and Talmud to alleviate those feelings.

The differences you mention in the traditional siddur (prayer book) are similar to the above. The basic foundation of the siddur is outlined in the Talmud, mainly in Tractate Brachot, and was codified by the Men of the Great Assembly in the beginning of the return from the Babylonian exile, during the time of the building of the Second Temple. Among that assembly were the final prophets of Israel. There may be some very minute differences between siddurim (some based on Kabbalistic thoughts), but the basic structure remains the same with all. Any traditional Jew would be comfortable praying in any type of synagogue — Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Chassidic — and would find his or her place in the siddur despite different tunes, etc. May we all remain united in this way!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on July 8, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

I would like to inquire about the three weeks of mourning being observed by Orthodox Jews. Why need we mourn something that happened so long ago? I always thought Jews don’t mourn the loss of a loved one forever; we accept God’s will and eventually move on. Why is this different?

—Jonathan P.

Dear Jonathan,

The period you are referring to, known as the “Three Weeks,” is based upon a verse in Lamentations which mentions the mourning period “between the borders.” This is the three-week period between the 17th of the Jewish month of Tamuz and the ninth of the month of Av, known as the fast day of Tisha B’Av. The latter fast will begin on Monday, July 19 and end Tuesday, July 20 at nightfall. During this time we mourn, among other things, the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem, both on the same Jewish date of Tisha B’Av.

The destruction of the Temples is the focal point of our subsequent exile and dispersion among the nations of the world. It punctuates the downfall of the Jewish people from its greatness to becoming the punching bag of the nations. This event also epitomizes the spiritual distance we created between us and the Al-mighty, from the Shechinah or Divine Presence. The Temples stood as “G-d’s dwelling place” among our people. Our understanding is that all subsequent calamities which have befallen our people are outgrowths of the distance between us and G-d, which was finalized by the destruction during this period.

During this period we are not simply mourning what happened “once upon a time,” although that’s a part of it. We are not merely bereaved over the loss of that edifice called the Temple, as terrible as that loss was in its own right. We mourn the physical distance between most of us and Israel, the spiritual remoteness between the Jews and the Shechinah. We continue to mourn all the pogroms, inquisitions and expulsions we have suffered over the years. We mourn the Chemelnitzki massacres; the unspeakable Holocaust; the suicide bombings of Israeli cafés and buses which plague us until today. We also mourn the “silent holocaust” transpiring right in our midst: the complete assimilation of hundreds of thousands of Jews right in our front yards.

To understand this a bit deeper: The Talmud says that “any generation in which the Temple was not rebuilt, it is as if they destroyed it.” This means that there were certain misdeeds and sins which brought about the destruction of the Temple. The Second Temple’s destruction relates most directly to us as we currently are living in the exile wrought by its annihilation. The Talmud cites the reason this Temple was ruined: hatred between fellow Jews. Combining this with the previous statement, we learn that if the Temple has not yet been rebuilt in our generation, we still harbor a level of loathing between one Jew and the next which would be sufficient to have the Temple destroyed if it were standing today!

Hence we have a more profound understanding of the mourning of this period. We lament the present state of our people: lacking the love and understanding and brotherhood which would make us the Jewish community that we should be. Your question is correct. We truly don’t practice open-ended grief for the loss of a loved one. We accept G-d’s judgment as true and just; we mourn for a period of time and then move on with our lives. The bereavement of these three weeks is different: The reason for the loss is alive and well and needs to be dealt with. Its purpose is to wake us up and make us take notice of our situation and, it is hoped, cause us to rectify our circumstances in a way which is redeeming. In this case, going out of our way to build love, trust and respect for our fellow Jews would be a great start. Who knows, it just might tip the scale!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on July 1, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

A short time ago in your column you addressed the issue of talking in synagogue and attributed the problem, in part, to the lack of connection most Jews today have to the prayer service due to our deficiency in Hebrew. You suggested that shuls should have training programs to educate the congregants in the understanding and nuances of the prayer service. If my place of worship does not offer such classes, what do you recommend I do to become educated and connected to the service?

—Curious but Clueless

Dear Curious,

You could check the community calendar and see what courses are available for you to study Hebrew. The problem, however, with most such classes is that they will focus on modern Hebrew and not the classical Hebrew of the siddur (prayerbook). I will add your e-mail to the DATA list to keep you apprised of the courses we offer, from time to time, on Hebrew reading and comprehension based on the siddur and classical texts which would be helpful in your quest.

Next is what I have recommended to many for private self-study; most have reported back that this was helpful for them and they achieved success. That is to pick one blessing of the Amidah, or the first line of the Sh’ma, and work on understanding each word of that particular prayer. That line or prayer should be recited in Hebrew until you totally master it; the rest, pray in English. Once you are completely fluent in that prayer, then move on to the next one and do the same. You will find each prayer successively easier, as many words are repeated throughout the service which you already know from the previous blessing or line.  You’ll pick up a few new words with the next. Never move on to the next prayer until you’re confident of the one at hand.

While studying the translation of each prayer, it’s a great time to focus on its meaning as well. Whether using your own thoughts or by studying a commentary, try to understand what that prayer asks for and how to make it relevant to your own life. In the Amidah, it’s relatively easy to connect to requests like those for healing and material success. It’s more difficult, for many, to personally connect to those asking for the return of the Judges, or rebuilding Jerusalem or the Davidic dynasty. For that I recommend the ArtScroll Siddur, which has a concise but meaningful commentary. To go more in depth, I suggest “Rav Schwab on Prayer,” a powerful, profound commentary which explains the far-reaching significance of each prayer and how it affects our lives and the Jewish people.

Even the prayers for health and the like have a deeper layer of significance. If you look carefully at the wording of all the prayers in the Amidah (the focal point of the daily service), you will find that they are in the plural; we are not simply requesting for ourselves, but for all of klal Yisrael. This raises our focus to a higher level and creates a much bigger picture. It opens our hearts much wider whenever we pray, for we not only focus on our own individual needs, we force ourselves to be constantly aware of the needs of the entire Jewish people.

This is the deeper meaning of the Sh’ma, which is not actually a prayer per se, rather an affirmation of our belief in G-d. This proclamation begins with the words “Sh’ma Yisrael,” “listen Israel,” which means that we accept G-d’s Oneness not as individuals but as part of klal Yisrael. The custom is to cover one’s eyes when reciting the Sh’ma, for concentration. One rabbi, however (R’ Moshe Scherer ob”m), used to explain that when one’s eyes are open they can see only the Jews in the shul. When one’s eyes are covered, however, they can see all the Jews in the world!

Lastly, if there’s an interest among the readers to create a new, in-depth class to understand the prayers, I will make sure it happens. Just e-mail me and let me know!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on June 25, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

Our literature is filled with the notion that we are the “Chosen People.” Although I’m not sure what exactly that connotes, one thing I do know is that it smacks of racism, that we’re better than everyone else. How can we continue, in this day and age, to promulgate a concept that flies in the face of the Western ideal that all people are equal?

Mort W.

Dear Mort,

In order for the concept of the Chosen People to be racist, claiming we are racially superior, we would need to be a race. But every race is counted among our ranks. There are Asians, Europeans, Scandinavians, Ethiopians, Caucasians, African Americans, etc. who are all part of the Jewish nation. Jews cannot be defined as a monolithic race; our people are as diverse as all of mankind!

While the term Chosen People does not connote racial superiority, it does imply a uniqueness belonging to the Jewish people. This is defined by the Torah as our unique relationship with the Almighty. “…for you are a holy nation unto the Lord your G-d, the Lord your G-d has chosen you to be a treasured nation from all the other nations upon the face of the earth. Not because you are greater than all the nations G-d desired you and chose you, for you are the smallest of the nations. Rather because of G-d’s love for you…, and you should keep the mitzvah, the statutes and the laws that I have commanded to you today to fulfill them.” (Devarim/Deuteronomy 7:6-11)

The unique love relationship G-d has with the Jewish people was earned by their voluntary acceptance of fulfilling G-d’s will in the world, and spreading the knowledge of G-d to the nations. This mission dubs us a “light among the nations.”

Was this privilege unfairly bestowed upon us? Not if the opportunity to accept the special mission and merit the ensuing privileges was offered to the other nations as well. The Torah tells us that the Almighty offered the Torah to the other nations of the world before he offered it to us, and they turned it down as they felt it entailed too much. (See Rashi to Devarim 33:2 and Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah 14:10.)

Privileges do not necessarily imply favoritism or discrimination. If a privilege is offered to anyone who is willing to pay the necessary price, no one can claim it was granted unfairly. A child who refuses to brush his teeth and keep to bedtime can hardly claim that his siblings who did so are racist or arrogant to accept the prize offered by their parents for the children who follow the rules. Nor are the parents considered unjust or preferential in their treatment, since each child was given equal opportunity.

When all the nations rejected the offer to receive the Torah, and the Jews accepted, they assumed the role of ambassadors of G-d to the world. Also, to receive the Torah and all that massive spiritual energy compressed within it, the Jews were endowed with an expansion of their souls to become receptacles for all that holiness and G-dly energy. Anyone born Jewish, or who properly converts and becomes Jewish, receives a “Jewish soul” which is that expanded soul — custom-made to receive and understand Torah, and to radiate the light within it to the nations as a member of the “light among the nations.” This privilege comes with 613 categories of obligations, and only when those obligations are fulfilled does the Jewish soul radiate that light to the nations of the world. When they are not fulfilled, we suffer the consequences and that light is greatly dimmed.

This is far from a racist concept, rather a system of acceptance, obligations and their attendant privileges. May we all merit to be worthy ambassadors and to radiate our mission brightly throughout the world!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on June 17, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

My brother, sadly, recently lost his 7-year-old son, the victim of a rare disease he contracted this past year. Needless to say, my brother and sister-in-law are inconsolably beside themselves with grief. Can you offer any words of wisdom that can be said to them at a time like this?

Jonathan K.

Dear Jonathan,

I’m so sorry for the loss of your nephew, a loss to yourself as well. As you are well aware, our tongues become feeble and our minds become weak to find words that can console the hearts of the victims of such an overwhelming, devastating loss.

The best I can do is to share with you a story. While studying in kollel in Israel, one of my colleagues, an immigrant from France who studied at the same kollel, lost his 5-year-old daughter. She, unbeknownst to her parents, went out of the house and got herself locked into their car on a hot summer day, and was gone before they could find her. A group of us from the kollel made the trek to the outlying area where they lived to pay a shiva call. We sat down before my friend and his wife, an uncomfortable, long silence ensuing. The heavy mood in the room was intense, the profound sorrow palatable in the air, and nobody really knew what to say. What could one say?

I began to tell the story of Avraham ben Avraham, the renowned ger tzedek (righteous convert) of Vilna, converted by the revered Talmudic sage R’ Eliyahu of Vilna in the 1700s. Avraham began as Count Valentine, a Polish nobleman from the powerful Potacki family of Lithuania. Valentine and an educated friend, Zoremba, heard of the brilliance of R’ Eliyahu, known as the Gaon (genius) of Vilna. They received entry to the Gaon, and posed numerous philosophical and mathematical questions to him. Upon leaving, they were impressed beyond words, exclaiming they learned more in that hour than all their years of university. The two decided to change their identities, leaving Poland and entering a yeshiva in France to study Judaism. After a couple years of intense study, they reappeared before the Gaon, with beards and sidelocks, ready to convert to Judaism. The Gaon, recognizing their greatness and sincerity, agreed to convert them. Zoremba soon married and moved to Israel. Potacki, now Avraham, successfully evaded his family’s intense search for him. He began to shuttle around Europe, utilizing his political prowess to bring much peace between Jewish communities and rabbis in Europe. He became engaged to the daughter of a prominent Jew, evoking the jealousy of a man who wanted her hand, who slandered him to the authorities, telling them who he really was. Avraham, after giving the ring, was seized by Polish authorities from under the chuppah and put into prison for an extended period of time. His family and the Roman Catholic Church tried, with no success, to have him renounce his Judaism. Finally, he was burned at the stake on the second day of Shavuot, amid his cry of “Sh’ma Yisrael….”

That night his widow and her father snuck into the Polish side of Vilna. They gathered Avraham’s ashes and buried them in the Jewish cemetery of Vilna. At the site of his grave a fruit tree suddenly began to grow in the otherwise barren cemetery. The Gaon commented that this was a sign from Heaven that Avraham’s short Jewish life was completely fulfilled; he had fulfilled his mission and his life was bearing fruit.

I told my friend that his young daughter, as well, obviously fulfilled her purpose and mission with her short life, and will bear eternal fruit. His wife began to weep, and my friend loudly exclaimed, “You have comforted me, you have comforted me!”

Perhaps you can share this thought with your brother and sister-in-law, and may it bring them some comfort as well.

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on June 10, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

By Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried

Dear Rabbi Fried,

For the past couple of months, my colleague at work has been listening to Christian pop music. She has her own iPod so everyone can hear; it doesn’t interfere with work productivity at all. Over time, I have grown to enjoy it and even sing along! My conscious is telling me this is not okay. Any advice would be appreciated.

-Feelin’ that Jewish Guilt

Dear Feelin’ Guilt,

In Judaism, music and song are considered one of the most powerful forces that exist to affect the hearts of human beings. The entirety of Torah is referred to as a song. When Moses was commanded to write the first Torah scroll, he was told “So now, write this song…” (Deut. 31:19).  This literally is referring to the following portion (Ch. 32) which is an actual song, but is further referring to the entirety of Torah. This is part of the reason why the Torah scroll is not read in the synagogue like a book, rather the reader chants the Torah like a song. Every word of the Torah is accompanied by a note to be sung.

This is for a number of reasons. Firstly, the entirety of the Torah comprises a giant symphony. Every detail represents a type of musical instrument, each one necessary for the wholeness of the great concerto.

Another reason is that music goes straight to the heart. In Judaism, the heart is the place where the physical and spiritual aspects of a human being fused into one existence. The expression of that dual existence is in the power of speech, which was launched at the moment of the combination of soul to body. The zenith of speech is song, which draws upon the deepest connection of body and soul within the heart. This we learn from the classical commentary of Rashi, explaining the profound, prophetic song sung by Moses and the Jews upon witnessing the splitting of the sea. “Then Moses and the Children of Israel sang this song…” (Ex. 15:1). “Then,” says Rashi, means they harnessed a wellspring of emotions and thoughts from their hearts to sing this song. The theme of that song is the fusion of G-d’s presence and providence to the mundane world, which is the cosmic mirror of the same fusion within the heart of man, the microcosm of the universe. The source for such a song is within the depths of the heart, and hence goes directly into the hearts of the listeners; heart to heart.

The Kabbalistic teachings are the most profound explanation of the deepest connection between the Shechina, Divine Presence, and the physical world, the “heart” of the universe. This is why R’ Eliyahu of Vilna (18th century), one of the greatest Kabbalists of all time, proclaimed that only one who has the deepest understanding of music can truly understand the Kabbalah.

Maimonides explains that the prophets, to reach the level of connection necessary to reach prophecy, would play or listen to music. David played for King Saul to bring him to those levels, and later King David wrote an entire book of Psalms, prayers through music. The sages teach that Messiah will teach us the “eighth tone,” which will radically change music to become a Divine connection.

This explains why nations have national anthems, and armies march into battle amid musical accompaniments. Music has a profoundly influential, as well as defining affect. Rock music, with its heavy emphasis on base notes, actually brings out the more physical side of a person.

You should not underestimate the affect Christian music can have upon your Jewish soul. I would not attribute this to “guilt,” rather to a recognition your soul has that it is being watered by a source that doesn’t jive with its essence, and will probably, if continued, have an effect you don’t desire.

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on June 3, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

By Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried

Dear Rabbi Fried,

I recently heard a talk from my rabbi where she explained “an eye for an eye” in the Torah. As society has become less barbaric, the rabbis reinterpreted the verse to mean one pays the damages for the eye, instead of actually taking out the eye of the perpetrator as it used to be done in the olden days. I have a big problem with the fact that the Torah originally had the punishment of taking out someone’s eye. What does it say for the Torah if it began as a barbaric set of laws, and only later rabbis try to smooth it out?

Jodie T.

Dear Jodie,

The verse you are referring to, discussing a fight between two Jews, says the following: “…an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, a foot for a foot; a burn for a burn, a wound for a wound, a bruise for a bruise.” (Exodus 21:24-25).

This verse, taken literally, truly sounds like one must be punished in the way you said, to put out the eye or the tooth, to chop off the hand, etc. I, however, respectfully take strong issue with the assumption of your rabbi that this verse was ever taken literally. There is no evidence anywhere, literary or archaeological, that a literal “eye for an eye” was Jewish practice at any time. Nor is there the slightest hint in the Talmud, the principle body of Jewish law, that this verse was ever taken literally. It is simply an erroneous assumption based on the literal reading of the verse.

Logically it doesn’t follow to say that as Jewish society was becoming more humane and civilized they changed this particular law. There are many laws that would seem to be more barbaric than this one, such as the law requiring the extermination of the Canaanite people, which were allowed to remain unmodified and un-reinterpreted. Why would this law only be subject to the new enlightenment of the Jews?

The Talmud records a lengthy discussion of this verse, (Bava Kama 83b – 84a). The Talmudic sages bring a number of compelling proofs, both logically and from the inference of other verses, showing one should not even entertain the thought that “an eye for an eye” is to be taken literally. Maimonides, the renowned 12th century sage, further cites the verses in Exodus 21:18-19 which openly speak of damages in terms of monetary payment. Hence, a few verses later when the Torah speaks of “an eye for and eye…” it is obviously referring to the same sort of payment. Other early sages bring additional proof: if literal, if the perpetrator injures another and minimizes his sight by one third or half, how is it possible to do the same in punishment, no more and no less?

The key principal is that the Torah cannot, and was not meant to be understood literally. Only with the oral tradition given together with the written can the Torah be understood correctly and accurately.

One big question still remains: If the Torah meant to pay monetary damages, why did it write this the way it did, which seems to be misleading?

The answer offered by Maimonides and Maharal (16th century sage) is based upon a profound sense of responsibility for ones actions. The Torah, by expressing the payment in this way, is teaching an important and crucial lesson. Had the Torah simply ordered the aggressor to pay damages, he might have thought that it is sufficient to write a check to the victim and he is done. The Torah is teaching that if one perpetrates a loss of limb to his fellow, he truly deserves to have the same done to his self. He should contemplate the profound damage to the quality of life of his fellow, his pain and suffering he is forced to endure for the rest of his life. He has done a terrible thing and the slate will not be cleared by monetary payment alone. He must beg forgiveness from the injured party for what he has done, and perform Teshuva, repentance to G-d, coupled with making serious life changes that will ensure a similar act will not be repeated.

With proper interpretation and understanding, lessons can be gleaned from our holy Torah.

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on May 27, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

I’ve heard all the jokes about the bar mitzvah being more bar than mitzvah, but what is the actual meaning of the term “bar mitzvah?”

Joey C.

Dear Joey,

I hope with this we’ll set a new “bar” in your understanding of bar mitzvah.

The word “bar” is an Aramaic word meaning “son,” hence bar mitzvah means the “Son of Mitzvos.” This describes the state a young man has become in Jewish thought and law. A bar mitzvah is not simply the celebration of coming of age, of becoming an adult. It is the celebration of the responsibility and eligibility to partake in the mitzvos as one who is obligated to do so, not as one doing so as merely a trainee. From this point on, the young man’s mitzvos become complete, with the minimum level of true understanding and concentration deemed necessary as an adult, thinking Jew. One more soldier has been inducted into the Army of G-d, performing his (or her, on the occasion of a bas mitzvah) unique role in Klal Yisrael.

When we discuss a young man with his father and praise the boy as being “his father’s son,” we mean he’s following in his father’s footsteps. We recognize the father’s good qualities, maturity, compassion, good nature and often his mannerisms and sense of humor in his son, “a chip off the ol’ block.” This type of praise brings the father much nachas. Similarly, when we call a boy a “bar mitzvah,” the son of the mitzvos, this means that, besides his father, this young man is following in the footsteps of the mitzvos, learning from their compassion, depth, direction and understanding of the world and his part in it.

On one level, this coming of age happens whether the boy did something to prepare for it or not, like any other birthday. The obligation to fulfill mitzvos falls in place whether the boy was called to the Torah, said a speech, or not. Hence, the term “to be bar mitzvah-ed” is not entirely accurate; one is “bar mitzvah-ed” automatically on becoming thirteen and one day.

On another level, however, the affect of the bar mitzvah is profoundly connected to the extent the boy prepares himself. The Kabbalistic sages explain that a bar mitzvah is the boy’s spiritual bris milah, circumcision. When a male baby is eight days old, he enters the covenant of Abraham by undergoing his bris. It is performed on the eighth day, as the number eight in Judaism represents a transcendent state of being (going one beyond seven, which symbolizes nature, i.e. seven days of the week).

A bris is something that others perform upon the baby boy; he did nothing to participate in this mitzvah from the perspective of his own choice, consciousness and understanding. The foreskin, or orlah, represents the “foreskin upon the heart” spoken about by the prophets, which seals off the heart with its impurity. The first stage of removing that layer from the heart is the bris.

It is incumbent upon the boy himself to complete this process. During the next 13 years, he is taught Torah and performs mitzvos. With each word of Torah and mitzvah he is striking at the “spiritual foreskin” upon the heart, the Orlas Haleiv, weakening it with every blow. If the boy worked hard at that process, on the actual day of the bar mitzvah, the day he becomes 13 and a day, the Orlas Haleiv is dealt its final blow and is removed, the spiritual side of the original bris now complete. At that point the “evil inclination” which seeks to block the heart is cut away, leaving the boy free and complete to begin his growth unbridled, to develop into a pious, scholarly and righteous Jew. This is especially appropriate as we celebrate our beloved son Shlomo’s bar mitzvah this weekend. May all Jewish boys experience that profound spiritual ecstasy, enriching themselves and the entire Jewish people!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on May 20, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

Dear Rabbi Fried,

This year we were invited to an observant family for a meal on the eve of the holiday of Shavuot. We’re sort of nervous since we don’t know much about it, and don’t want to sound ignorant at their table. Is Shavuot a minor holiday? Could you fill us in?

Noah and Sarena W.

Dear Noah and Sarena,

Shavuot is the day the Jewish people celebrate the anniversary of G-d’s giving us the Torah. This year it fell on Tuesday night, May 18, corresponding to the Jewish date of the sixth of Sivan, and we are commemorating the 3,322th anniversary of our nation standing at the foot of Mt. Sinai.

Shavuot is not a “minor holiday,” but is mentioned in the Torah numerous times. (Just for the record, although it seems to be a common concept, there actually is no notion of a minor holiday in Judaism. There are Torah-mandated holidays, and later, rabbinically-mandated holidays such as Purim and Chanukah, but even those are not considered “minor.” All the holidays, regardless of their theme, are considered of the highest importance and all made it to the “major” leagues.)

Although Shavuot is such a critical holiday — the source of our nationhood by G-d’s presenting us with His mission as a nation — don’t be embarrassed by not knowing much about it. You’re in good company; I have found that many Jews who are very cognizant about Passover or Chanukah have no idea about Shavuot. I think one reason is that the other holidays have some tangible object around which the festival revolves. Pesach has its matzah, refraining from bread, and the entire seder experience. Sukkot has its sukkah, etrog and lulav. Chanukah has its menorah, and Purim has the Megillah and all the joyous festivities which accompany it.

Shavuot, on the other hand, has no such concrete, touchable item or ritual article upon which to focus the celebration. It’s all about a concept: the receiving of the Torah. The rituals of all the other holidays are available even to Jews who may not study Torah. But the main celebration of Shavuot, besides the usual holiday meals and cheesecake, is the study of Torah. It is customary in congregations worldwide for many to spend a portion of Shavuot night, even the entire night, in the study of Torah. The greatest celebration of Torah is Torah!

This custom, together with the cognizance of the holiday itself, fell by the wayside when a large segment of our people were no longer students of the Torah. Sadly, the “People of the Book” closed the book.

It is a well-known adage that throughout Jewish history any community, albeit observant, that did not maintain institutions of Jewish learning assimilated within two to three generations. Less observant communities that remained staunch in their study of Torah always endured; as the rabbis of the Talmud explain, “the light within it [the Torah] will return them to the path.”

One of my mentors once related an incident which transpired when a friend of his visited pre-perestroika Russia. Customs asked him the reason for his visit; he answered, “Tourist.” They opened his suitcases and emptied out the contents: mezuzot, shofars, tallitot, many pairs of tefillin, and books on the Torah. They said, wryly, “Tourist, huh?” They returned all the other religious items to the suitcases, but held back the books. They told him, in effect, “You can have all this stuff, but the books, those are the ‘enemies of the people.’” Those customs officials realized that the strength of the Jewish people comes from their study of Torah. Let us realize it as well, and may this Shavuot holiday be for you and all of us a renewed acceptance of the study of Torah!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.

Posted on May 13, 2010 - by admin

Ask the Rabbi

By Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried

Dear Rabbi Fried,

In your last column [May 6, p. 26] you mentioned that an incident happened while you were in Israel that inspired you to begin giving classes on prayer which lasted 10 years and transformed your own prayers. If it’s not too personal, I would be fascinated to hear what kind of incident would inspire someone to take on a project of that magnitude! Could you please share that story?

Very Curious

Dear Very Curious,

I’ll tell you the story, but it first needs a bit of background to be able to understand it, so I’ll try to fill you in:

Maimonides, the classical authority on Jewish law (Spain/Egypt, d. 1204), makes the following statement referring to the silent Amidah prayer: “Any prayer which is missing kavanah (concentration) is not a prayer.” This statement is referring to the entire Amidah prayer. In a different chapter of his work, Maimonides seems to contradict himself by saying “the lack of kavanah disqualifies the Amidah if it is missing in the first blessing.” The commentaries question the meaning of his statements; is it the first blessing or the entire prayer that the lack of kavanah disqualifies?

The accepted answer is one offered by Rav Chaim Soloveitchik (popularly known in yeshivot as “Reb Chaim”), that there are two concepts are included in kavanah: the understanding of the meaning of the words, and the cognizance that one is uttering those words while standing before the Presence of the Shechinah. The first is important, but only disqualifies if missing in the first blessing. The second is the “cheftzah of tefillah” or the essence of prayer itself. To utter words of prayer without realizing one is speaking to the King is to rob the prayer of its very spirit; it is not a prayer at all.

Many years ago I was praying in a very special service in Jerusalem known as a vatikin minyan, one which is exactly timed so that the Amidah begins at the moment of sunrise. There was a famous rabbi at the front, one known for his piety and scholarship, a Holocaust survivor, who was praying with a fervor, concentration and love unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I resolved to approach him upon the conclusion of the service and ask this sage how one achieves such an elevated level of prayer.

I went over to him immediately after the service; his head was already buried in a book, and he did not notice my presence for a while. When he finally looked up, I asked him, in Hebrew, how does one merit to kavanah in tefillah. When he fully understood what I was asking him, his entire body began to tremble. He looked at me with penetrating eyes and loudly exclaimed with great emotion and trembling: “To have kavanah in tefillah! That’s the Reb Chaim! Standing before the King! That is the essence of tefillah!”

I sort of crawled out of the shul with my head between my legs, realizing how far I was from where this man was holding. I thought that I needed to do something drastic to even have a chance to get anywhere near that rabbi’s level. That’s when I resolved to begin a weekly class on prayer in a neighborhood yeshiva. The preparation for that class became the greatest joy of my week; I spent many hours on each prayer. I began at the beginning of the siddur (prayer book), and after 10 years got up to Kabbalat Shabbat. (It ended at that point; that’s when I moved to Dallas and became too busy with DATA to find the kind of preparation time I had invested in Jerusalem to go further.) My dream is to continue one day, redo the notes of those 10 years and publish them as a commentary to the siddur. Mainly, I still hope, one day, to achieve the level of that rabbi in his prayers!

Rabbi Yerachmiel D. Fried, noted scholar and author of numerous works on Jewish law, philosophy and Talmud, is founder and dean of DATA, the Dallas Kollel. Questions can be sent to him at yfried@sbcglobal.net.