Category: Hashkafa

  • Clergy Vs Rabbi

    Clergy Vs Rabbi

    How The State Made Me A ‘Real’ Rabbi

    September 2018

    have never been fond of the term “clergy” for myself or other rabbanim. It is derived from
    Greek (meaning “inheritance”), and then French (meaning “scholarship,” as historically it
    was often only the priests who were taught how to read and write), it seems to have a
    distinctly non-Jewish connotation.
    In fact, many dictionaries define this term as either “the body of all people ordained for
    religious duties, especially in the Christian Church” or “a priest or religious leader,
    especially a Christian or Muslim one.”
    Although the word “clergy” gave rise to such innocuous terms as “clerk,” there is
    something about this word—when applied to me—that gives me the willies. Not to mention
    that it lumps us into a group with whom we have little in common.
    Nevertheless, there is no way of escaping it. In front of my car I have an official
    laminated card from the New York City Department of Transportation allowing me to park
    in certain no-parking zones in the city. The card says: “CLERGY, Rabbi Moshe Taub.”
    (No, the reader may not borrow it!)
    When I visit people in the hospital, I get validated for parking quite often, but before they
    stamp my parking ticket they always demand to see my clergy ID.
    But the strongest embracing of this term occurs when one seeks the right to officiate at a
    marriage in New York State. As the reader is likely aware, in order for the state to
    recognize a couple as married (which has broad implications, including their tax status),
    they must have an official state marriage license.
    Who is granted the right to marry a couple? Section 11 of the Domestic Relations Law of
    the State of New York gives a list of people who are eligible to perform marriage
    ceremonies in New York State. Among them are leaders of the Society of Ethical Culture;
    the mayor or former mayor of the City of New York; federal, state, or local judges or
    justices; and of course, clergy members or ministers of any religion.
    After I moved to New York City, it came to my attention that my registration was no
    longer in the system. Perhaps because of my new address or job, I was no longer
    recognized as clergy.
    So one free morning, I headed down to the City Clerk’s office on Worth Street on the
    Lower East Side, where one must go to register. I had a wedding coming up, and I did not
    wish to have to explain to this family that I was not recognized as a rabbi by the State of
    New York.
    It was an odd room. Most of the people there were couples who were getting married on
    the spot. There was even a group of entrepreneurial people outside selling everything
    from flowers to veils. I saw two groups of photographers inside offering their services to
    the happy couples when their papers were signed. I guess this is one idea for how to save
    money on making a chasunah!
    I confidently approached the desk when my number was called and presented a letter
    from my shul indicating that I was the rabbi there.
    The man looked at me incredulously. “What is this?” he asked.
    “Well, it’s proof that I serve as a rabbi,” I replied innocently. My heart sank as I realized
    that this was like the DMV for rabbanim, and no matter what documentation you bring, you
    will always be missing that one document that you need.
    He explained that I needed a certificate of ordination or proof that I was listed in an
    official registry of clergy members in my denomination.
    A morning wasted, I dejectedly returned home. The next week I cleared my schedule
    again and returned with my semichah in hand.
    “What is this now?” the man asked.

    Semichah from Lakewood is handwritten and signed by the four roshei yeshivah. I had
    anticipated that it would look like chicken scratching to him, so I had taken the liberty of
    translating it.
    He did not seem all that impressed. He looked at the document as though it had been
    found along with the Dead Sea Scrolls.
    “Please wait here while I go get my supervisor.” Ten minutes later he shuffled back with
    an older gentleman from some secret back office.
    I imagined that this older supervisor had been sitting in that back room for decades and
    was called upon once every 25 years or so. In this Byzantine environment, where time
    was lethargic, it may have been the first time in years he had seen the light of day.
    He looked impatiently at the document and then looked up at me and said, “I am sorry,
    but we just can’t accept this.”
    I was getting frustrated. “You mean to tell me that if I go online and click on one of the
    million websites that advertise ‘Become a clergy member in minutes’—that you will accept,
    but an ordination from the largest yeshivah in the country, and a real congregation to boot,
    is not enough?”
    He looked me straight in the eye and said, “You are coming to me with logic, but this is
    government!”
    After a moment he said, “Look, if you can find someone other than yourself to translate
    your ordination, we can accept it.” Before I could digest this reasonable request, he
    continued, “But you have to find an official state translator of this language.”
    Rabbinic Lashon Kodesh—with its mix of Hebrew and Aramaic—has no state translator;
    of this I was sure. In truth, I should have just called Lakewood and asked them for an
    English-language ordination document.
    It took me months to get my approval from the state. By that time I had already served as a mesader kiddushin.
    Not sure when the marriage certificate I had signed expired, I made my third, and final,
    in-person visit to Worth Street.
    My turn arrived, and I explained the entire story to the (new) man. He told me that there
    was no issue and that he could accept my marriage license since I was now approved. He
    also said that it was a good thing I had come down because after a certain amount of time,
    the couple would have to apply for a new license.
    Of course, it couldn’t be that simple. He took a look at it and said, “Ooh, there is no date
    on this certificate.”
    I started to panic, trying to recall the date of the wedding; I didn’t want to call the chasan
    unless I had to. But then this young African American man shocked me. “Don’t work so
    hard to remember the date. You are a rabbi—you can simply look at the kesubah and
    figure out the secular date!”
    Indeed, I keep a copy of every kesubah after each wedding, in the same marriage folder
    I had with me that day.
    At least he understood that rabbis are not simply clergy.

  • The ‘Mekor’ Program at Yeshiva University

    The ‘Mekor’ Program at Yeshiva University

    A Special Shabbos, With Special Children, & Their Special Rebbe

    June 18, 2018

    Writing in the Washington Post six years ago, acclaimed and Pulitzer Prize winning columnist George Will shared the following very personal op-ed, about his own son Jon.

    “When Jonathan Frederick Will was born 40 years ago the life expectancy for people with Down syndrome was about 20 years. 

    “The day after Jon was born, a doctor told Jon’s parents that the first question for them was whether they intended to take Jon home from the hospital. Nonplussed, they said they thought that is what parents do with newborns. Not doing so was, however, still considered an acceptable choice for parents who might prefer to institutionalize or put up for adoption children thought to have necessarily bleak futures. Whether warehoused or just allowed to languish from lack of stimulation and attention, people with Down syndrome, not given early and continuing interventions, were generally thought to be incapable of living well, and hence usually did not live as long as they could have.

    “In 1972, people with Down syndrome were still commonly called Mongoloids.

    “Now they are called American citizens, about 400,000 of them, and their life expectancy is 60. Much has improved

     “Judging by Jon, the world would be improved by more people with Down syndrome, who are quite nice, as humans go. It is said we are all born brave, trusting and greedy, and remain greedy. People with Down syndrome must remain brave in order to navigate society’s complexities. They have no choice but to be trusting because, with limited understanding, and limited abilities to communicate misunderstanding, they always depend on the kindness of strangers. Judging by Jon’s experience, they almost always receive it.

    “This year Jon will spend his birthday where every year he spends 81 spring, summer and autumn days and evenings, at Nationals Park, in his seat behind the home team’s dugout. The Phillies will be in town, and Jon will be wishing them ruination, just another man, beer in hand, among equals in the republic of baseball.”

    I saved that column when it was published. Beyond chochmas hagoyim, it should galvanize us that if the beauty and complexity of baseball can be shared with such special members of society, then we as am yisroel have an obligation to imbue in them the majesty of Torah to the best of their-and our-abilities. 

    Which brings me to this past Shabbos.

    Mincha, erev Shabbos, began as usual, with seats still waiting to be filled as many were still making their way to the early minyan, or were perhaps waiting to bring in Shabbos later.

    But by the time I finished my shemoneh esreh I could feel a crowd of people forming behind me. I could sense that something was different about this group, as I would soon discover by their response to the first boruch hu u’boruch shemo, and amein of the chazaras hashatz.

    There’s was brash response, almost disquieting, yet powerful nonetheless.

    As a reflex, I turned around to see the group that had arrived. I was informed that this group would be joining us, but I just was not prepared for their teffilos.

    This year is seeing the completion of the first school year of the Mekor College Experience, run out of the Wilf campus at Yeshiva University.

    Rabbi Uri Feintuch, their rebbe and leader of the program lives in Lakewood NJ and had joined us for Shabbos together with his group of seven very special neshamos.

    Mekor is a specialized program for those with intellectual disabilities, from Down Syndrome to Autism.

    While I usually speak following kabalas Shabbos, it was arranged that one of the boys in the program would speak.

    I have heard and read about Rabbi Feintuch and his program, but was still surprised when one of his students, a young 20-ish-year-old man with Down Syndrome, was introduced. I was even more surprised when I witnessed him take out a folded piece of paper and slowly, and deliberately read a dvar Torah that he had prepared himself on the parsha.

    Writing to Rav Chaim Pinchas Sheinberg, Rav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach (Minchas Shlomo 1:34;4) discusses the importance of and the requirements in the chinuch of such special members of klal yisroel. Rav Moshe Feinstein (see Am HaTorah 5752, p. 10-13) also discusses this issue and obligates us to teach them Torah to their abilities.

    Rav Moshe (ibid. p. 12) also beseeches shuls and kehillos to accept such people bsever panim yaffos and to help them answer in the appropriate places.

    And, even if they are not able to learn or daven, they will at least “kiss the sefrei Torah” in shul, writes Rav Moshe.

    But these students, from this program, were not limited to only kiss the Torah, or simply answer amein yehei shmey rabba, they also asked for quite when those around them began to schmooze. 

    Even more, this past week they made a siyum on the third perek of gemara Sukkah!

    By Shalosh Suedos Rabbi Feintuch introduced another one of the students to speak. Before he did so, he gave a brief background regarding what this program seeks to accomplish. 

    Aside for davening and learning, the program also teaches them functionality (how to handle money, etc.) and, in their third year, will seek to have a job-placement program. In short, his wish is that each one of these boys should feel, and be, as much as a member of society as the rest of us.

    He shared with me how he prepares for his shiur with the boys with his chavrusah in Lakewood, and allows the boys to listen to their chavrusa shaft (that he records) so that they can even experience how a shiur is prepared!

    He concluded his public remarks with the following idea. There is a klal -serendipitously we mentioned above from Rav Moshe as it relates to these boys-of greeting every Jew bsever panim yaffos. Now, we can understand what panim yaffos means –a smile, a happy face –but what does ‘bsever’ mean?

    He quoted Rav Avigdor Miller who suggested that sever comes the root of sevara-logic. Chazal are teaching us a valuable lesson. It is not enough to smile on the outside, or even show love on the outside. Rather we must have a sevara, a rationality, why each and every yid we meet is special, deserves a smile!

    These boys, explained Rabbi Feintuch, are not his chesed-project, rather they can be lifted up to be shown the grandeur of yiddeshkeit and the splender of the Riboneh Shel Olam.

    If we had any doubts, the speaker he introduced put them to rest.

    Mi K’amcha Yisroel, Goy Echad B’Aratz!

  • Too Much Change: Halacha & Sensitivity

    What do you do when you receive too much change from a store?

    In 2005, the periodical ‘The Journal of Business Ethics’ published a study titled, “Relationship Commitment and Ethical Consumer Behavior in a Retail Setting: The Case of Receiving Too Much Change at Checkout”

    As one can infer from the title, their study indicated that a person returning mistaken change that they received depended on their prior relationship with the store in question. Should they have an affiliation with the shop then guilty feelings will likely cause them to return the change.

    The Guardian newspaper-in their financial advice section- also wondered about the ethics of keeping extra change.

    There the writer ends with an interesting caveat:  

    “Irrespective of the law, staff are often forced to make up shortages in the till at the end of the day from their own pockets. Hand it back.”

    A few weeks ago, for the shavuos issue, we wrote about the importance of showing our fidelity to the Torah in its entirety, and the need to recommit ourselves to choshen misphat, its monetary laws, especially when dealing with non-Jews, as the Torah prohibition against stealing applies to both Jew and Gentile (See Beis Yosef on siman 259, Rif and Rosh on Bava Kama 113a, Rambam, Shulchan Aruch Choshen Mishpat 348 with Gra, Shach and Be’er Hagolah in the name of Sefer Chasidim. Cf. Rashi on Sanhedrin 57a, s.v. Yisrael, that it is d’Rabbanan. Almost all disagree with Rashi; see Nesivus siman 348)

    .

    Now, some may wish to point out that there is also a halachah called ta’us akum. This law states that in regard to certain errors that could occur in a business transaction, we are not responsible to return what was mistakenly given to us.

    This is a very complex issue, one that arises much less frequently than most assume—and even then, according to many, we must often communicate to the akum in person, via phone or email, that we are relying on their calculations. (See Shach siman 348:2 and Yam shel Shlomo, Bava Kama 10:20)

    Even in cases when it would be activated, there is one other hurdle to overcome—chillul Hashem.

    The poskim (see Rama ad loc.)rule that a chillul Hashem often overrides any heter (should there be one).

    However, assuming that we are dealing with a Jewish-owned store, there would be an absolute obligation in all cases to return the mistaken change due to hashavus avieda.

    The other week I received a related shailah that turned into an amazing lesson of sensitivity.

    It was late at night when my phone rang, and I was concerned that this was a question of life and death.

    To my relief, it was a question of money.

    Someone had just retuned from a restaurant where they had ordered take-out.

    He was not sure if he should get the large dinner or the small, he had initially ordered the large. He quickly changed his mind and asked if it was not too late to change his order to the small.

    As he waited for his order to be ready, he paid for his (small) dinner.

    He now arrived home and sat down to eat when he realized that they had given the large dinner, when he only paid for the small!

    “Well call them back and explain the error” I quickly suggested.

    “I can’t, they are now closed”.

    We both knew that they were not going to take back a cold dinner tomorrow.

    “Well then, you have to pay them back”.

    This case, I explained, can be even more severe than a case of receiving too much change.

    In the case of a store misplacing the change, it is deemed a lost object for which one must simply notify them (one is not obligated to expend extra money beyond this), and if he does not know which store the extra change came from then he should make a note in his ledger so that Eliyahu Hanavi can reveal to him to whom it belongs when Moshiach comes.

    However, when one actually takes an unpaid item from a store, then we are dealing with potential geneiva/theft.

    Ironically, precisely because this theft was not on purpose there are added stringencies according to many. So, as opposed to purposeful theft, here one may indeed have to expend their own money to return either what they had stolen or its value. (See Shulchan Aruch 367 with Nesivus 232)

    After explaining this to the shoel, I was surprised by his response.

    “Let me think about it, Rabbi”

    Think about it?! “You have to pay the store back” I gently reprimanded.

    But he explained his concerns. The young man behind the counter was a simple man who was struggling to find parnasa. As the Guardian indicated above, often the store-owner will make the cashier pay out of pocket for such errors, or worse, fire them!

    “I can’t have this person being fired because of my showing the store and its owner his error”

    His concern stopped me in my tracks. “Let me think about how to resolve this. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

    The next morning, I was shopping at Wasserman’s, a local supermarket and butcher here in Queens, when R’ Shulem Brach, the store’s manager, ran over to me.

    “Rabbi Taub, do I have a maaseh for you! It is perfect for Ami!”

    He asked me to follow him into his office, explaining that he needs to show me something.

    As we are walking there he begins to share with me the details of the incident.

    A few weeks prior, a woman received too much change from the store. She called and tried to explain how the error came to be. It was complex, as it seemed that the store made an error in forgetting to bill her for something (leading to a potential case of geneiva b’shogeg). The manager was impressed with her honesty and told her not to worry about it.

    But she persisted, calling again and again that she has a mitzvah of hashavas aveida and a question of geneiva.

    Curious as to what made this story so special, I interjected, “Well, I am sure this happens all the time, after all ‘mi k’amcha yisroel’…”

    “Ah, but this was different”, Shulem continued, “I have never seen such sensitivity. Today I received a letter in the mail where she not only paid back the mistaken money, but included this…”

    The ‘this’ was the receipt of her purchase. What was amazing was not that she kept calling again and again trying to explain how she received too much change back, nor that she actually mailed back the money, not even that she included the receipt.

    While all of that was wonderful, she did something else. If the reader looks closely at the image, she took a razor blade and cut out the section of the receipt that states who the cashier was that made the initial error!

    While one can argue, perhaps, that this too is a shailah – for perhaps the manager needs to know who is prone to error – R’Shulem could not have been more b’simcha.

    “Can you believe the customers we have here?! What honesty! What chesed! What sensitivity! She wished to pay us back but feared doing it in a way that could harm another human being!”

    I responded in astonishment. “You are not going to believe this, but just last night I received this very shailah-how to pay back a store without risking loss to the person who made the initial error!

    R’ Shulem looked at me with a smile and said, “I told you this would be great for Ami!”

  • Old Shul/New Shul

    Be Careful in Questioning The Minhagim of the Past

    Last week we spoke about interesting minhagim regarding lecha dodi, and how they possibly developed.

    This week, I wish to take this same topic into a wholly different direction.

    In his later years Rav Meir Shapiro declared that it was always his dream in life to serve the klal in all ways; that is as both a rosh yeshiva and a city rav. In 1930 that dream came true. Immediately following finishing his commencement shiur at Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin he was given his appointment contract as the new rav of the Maharshal shul in Lublin.

    The city was ecstatic at the new hire. The anticipation in town for his first drasha to the city, to be given on Shabbos in just a few days, was palpable. By that time, already, Rav Shapiro has a well-earned reputation as a fiery baal darshen.

    As recorded in Rav Yeshua Baumel’s (hy’d) biography, Shabbos morning began in a somber mood, as the city leaders lead the new rav through town, into the shul and up the podium to the chair of the Maharshal. The Maharshal, Rav Shlomo Luria (d. 1573), was not only a past rav of this shul, but was also among the gedolei hador of his time who served as a bridge between the era of rishonim and achronim.

    Now hundreds of years since his passing, sitting in his chair was no small matter, and was something only the new rav would be allowed to do.

    It was to this trepidation to which Rav Shapiro wished to address head-on. Rav Shapiro opened his address by reciting a pasuk from Mishlei (25:6) u’bemakom gedolim al taamod-in the place if the great do not stand, intimating that the concern of taking over such a position is not the sitting in the seat of those who came before, but the risk of being idle, of standing and not building even further.

    I related greatly to these words when I first read them. I have personally had the zechus of taking over two shuls, both of which had many rabbanim before me. Comparisons to the past are inevitable, and the only task at hand is to move, to not stand idle, and look ahead.

    However, as Rav Shapiro knew well, there are limits to looking ahead. A new rav also must contend with the shul’s history. It is always a challenge to do things in a new way when one is unsure or uninformed why it was done the old way. It is dangerous, and often destructive, to think you know better than those that preceded you.

    I have encountered minhgaim within shuls in which I have served that, at first blush and if I had my druthers, I would discard, only to soon discover the real reason and the wisdom behind why they were instituted.

    Rav Winter, the founding rav of Young Israel of Buffalo, spent hours on the phone with Rav Moshe Feinstien designing the lay-out of that shul, as well its minhagim. In one humorous anecdote, he asked Rav Moshe, “Should we wear teffilin on chol homead?” After a series of back and forths, Rav Moshe ruled that the minhag should be to wear teffilin.

    “But my minhag is not to wear teffilin…” countered the new rav. Rav Moshe responded, “Well it is now!”, meaning the rav would have to change his minhag for the shul!

    This all poses a unique challenge to a rav taking over a shul. On the one hand a shul wishes for their rav to create policy, but on the other hand, the new rav understands that what was already put into place has its own reasoning, some of which based on decades of serving the klal and often hard to articulate to balla battim.

    I have struggled mightily with this issue.

    Several years ago I wished to change a minhag in my shul and contacted all the former rabbanim I could reach. While some were unsure why the minhag was the way it was-and therefore had no concern with my changing it-one of them did recall its reasoning.

    In some shuls –especially those that are out-of-town –they have from time to time what is called a ‘Scholar in Residence’. This is when a guest speaker comes for a Shabbos and gives a series of shiurim from Shabbos through Sunday.

    Generally, as part of his paid duties, he also gives the drasha that week as well.

    But here the minhag was that only the rav speaks from the pulpit. I was a little embarrassed, as the person coming was a known speaker and talmud chacham who often goes away on such speaking shabbosim. He would likely think it was odd that he was not asked to give the drasha.

    But there was a story behind this. Once while the rav was on vacation the shul booked a Scholar in Residence thinking that it was an innocent and uncontroversial choice.

    Before this ‘rav’ came a few months later, the rav of the shul asked him what topics he would be discussing. He said that his drasha will be on the halachos of chatzitza (questions regarding intermediaries that separate, like rings by negel vasser, etc.) . The rav thought this was a poor choice for a drasha, but did not give it much more thought.

    The Shabbos of his arrival came, and indeed he spoke by the drasha about chatzitza…for about thirty seconds. He was just using this topic as a springboard to show how we have the ability to argue with rishonim! (A great line that I once heard –Arguing with a rishon may not make one one a kofer, it just makes them wrong!)

    From that point on the rav of the shul at the time suggested that the pulpit should be reserved for the rav only.

    One never knows where minhagim come from. For this reason, the Shulchan Aruch rules (siman 228) that a minhag of city rabbanim may never be abolished if it was put in place for the purpose of protecting the klal.

    Years ago Henry Kissinger wrote about the contradiction of leadership. A wise leader puts into action rules, regulation and decrees that come only to prevent bad outcomes from ever happening. However –and here’s the rub-should he be successful in preventing it he can’t point to it to show the wisdom of his rule –it never happened! All the remains is the rule, to which many may still question, failing to imagine what would have been without it.

    A few years ago on Sukkos the eruv was down and I wanted to cancel the annual Sukkah hop (for halachic concerns, although far-fetched that I will not go into here). “Let’s just have the kids come to shul instead” I suggested. A balla buss pulled me aside and told me the following (I have never been able to verify this, but it makes sense). “You should know that that concept of a sukkah-hop is no small matter. Rav Shraga Feivel instatutued it in the early days of America to help bolster Jewish education, and have the kids bring home from the new chedarim that he was starting around the country. Minhag America is to have a sukka-hop!”

    No minhag is too small when founded by gedolim. Indeed, they often had us in mind in their creation, and we must be reticent of seeing what would happen in a world without them.

  • The Elderly Members

    Senator Patrick Moynihan once brilliantly said, “There are some mistakes for which one needs a PhD to make”.

    Meaning, due to over-thinking one can become blind to even the most self-evident and intuitive ethics and morals.

     Dr. Ezekiel Emanuel is a man of accomplishment. A renown doctor, Harvard professor, bestselling author, he has served as an adviser to many presidents, and was a chief architect of ‘Obama Care’.

    A few years ago he wrote an article for The Atlantic –itself catering to the (often, over) educated, titled “Why I Want to Die at 75”.

    A lengthy treatise, here are some brief excerpts. It is important to be aware of this new thinking:

    “Living too long…renders many of us, if not disabled, then faltering and declining, a state that may not be worse than death but is nonetheless deprived. It robs us of our creativity and ability to contribute to work, society, the world. It transforms how people experience us, relate to us, and, most important, remember us.

    “By the time I reach 75, I will have lived a complete life… [it] will not be a tragedy. Indeed, I plan to have my memorial service before I die. …

    “…My father illustrates the situation well. About a decade ago, just shy of his 77th birthday [he had a heart attack]…Today he can swim, read the newspaper, needle his kids on the phone, and still live with my mother in their own house. But everything seems sluggish. Although he didn’t die from the heart attack, no one would say he is living a vibrant life.

    “…Over the past 50 years, health care hasn’t slowed the aging process so much as it has slowed the dying process.

    “Currently, the average age at which Nobel Prize–winning physicists make their discovery—not get the prize—is 48…the typical composer writes his first major work at age 26, peaks at about age 40 with both his best work and maximum output, and then declines, writing his last significant musical composition at 52.

    “ [P]arents also cast a big shadow for most children… [T]hey set expectations, render judgments, impose their opinions, interfere, and are generally a looming presence for even adult children… But it is inescapable as long as the parent is alive.

    “Living parents also occupy the role of head of the family. They make it hard for grown children to become the patriarch or matriarch… When parents live to 75, children have had the joys of a rich relationship with their parents, but also have enough time for their own lives, out of their parents’ shadows.

    “…Seventy-five years is all I want to live. I want to celebrate my life while I am still in my prime. My daughters and dear friends will continue to try to convince me that I am wrong and can live a valuable life much longer. And I retain the right to change my mind and offer a vigorous and reasoned defense of living as long as possible. That, after all, would mean still being creative after 75.”

    All of the above is not an argument being made, but rather a disease laid out in public view, and one that is permeating, or infecting, American culture. As one progressive recently put it, “We just have to wait for the older generation to die so that we can put in place the policies we see as just”

    No more does society speak of the ‘sanctity of every human life’ but rather of cogs in a system; a system always in need of new and improved parts. No longer do we see the aged member of society as a precious soul who carries the wisdom of a life lived (see Chinuch 267), the keeper of wisdom of the many generations before him and someone who earned arichas shanim (see Yerushalmi Bikkurim 3:3), but rather as a stumbling block to our own progress. A progress that, using such arguments as laid out above, will soon too be discarded when the next generation comes to replace us.

     While it takes time, American culture all too often infiltrates our Torah hashkafa.

    This past week my wife’s grandfather was niftar. He was 97. He only stopped driving three years ago, and was as sharp as a whip until about a year-and-a-half ago.

    He lived a remarkable life, having raised his younger brother after their mother died in childbirth, and going on to serve in the air force during WWII. After which he built a beautiful family of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

    He was soon unable to care for himself, and as a veteran had free health care with the VA (this forthcoming is not a comment on the VA in general, whose policies and practices outside of this facility I do not know).

    In talking to one of the nurses who was urging the family to sign a DNR (authorization not to resuscitate – a topic beyond the scope of this column), my wife wondered aloud how the nurse would then respond if he starts to choke.

    The nurse was getting frustrated. “Do you want us to schlep up the suction to this floor?!”

    My wife just calmly looked at her and asked, “So the alternative is to let him choke to death?”

    Not being of sound mind anymore, the family stayed with him as much as possible. Every time he was asked if he was thirsty he responded that he was, so the family gave him water to drink.

    Before leaving back home my wife implored the nursing staff, “Please, he is so frail and thirsty and lacks the mind to ring a nurse. Please check on him throughout the day to make sure he is not dehydrated.

    They didn’t, and it was only a matter of time that he was rushed to the hospital with severe hydration.

    I do not know what has become of us as a society. Even a 25 year-old without water will be rushed to the hospital, as this has nothing to do with age or illness.

    While we have boruch Hashem been able to fight back against this menace, I do see small unfortunate changes. The mitzvah d’eoraisa of rising for our elders (at the age of seventy, some say sixty) is a rarity to witness, and it is one of the taryag mitzvos!

    Based on the majority of poskim our standing must be at full height, and even according to those that rule that we can rely on their assumed mechila and only get up a little, it still must apparent why and to whom we are showing this honor (see Moadim Uzmanim 3:285).

    The halachos of honoring the elderly even extends to non-Jews as well (see Shulchan Aruch YD 244:7 with commentaries for details).

    It applies while one is learning and, according to many, even during reciting shema!

    The elderly in our shuls all too often become background. They are often the first to arrive but all too often the last with whom we engage in a conversation, or invite for a meal. The irony of course is that they have the most to share with us.

    Now more than ever we must be a lighthouse to this rotting philosophy, and demonstrate that we do not only tolerate zekainim, we do not only value every second of their life and comfort, but that we treat them and think of them as the best among us.

    Rabeinu Yona (Shaarei Teshuva 2:9) understands that statement in Avos (5:20) “ben tishim l’sichah –a ninety year-old is of bended stature”, as having its root in the word sicha, as in “lasuach basadeh”(Bereishis 26:63), meaning to daven. While perhaps, in most cases, no longer a candidate for a noble prize, and often removed from creative prowess and daily labor, they are able to spend their time saying tehilim and reciting praise for the riboneh shel olam, something that those (sadly!) more occupied with the mundane can not do.

    But even the zakeinim amongst us who have lost their mental capabilities, chazal (Berachos 8b) urge us not only to view them as fully alive, but to even view see them as they once were, using the metaphor of the broken luchos that were placed inside the aron. While Dr. Emenuel worried that once passed we will remember the once strong as old and weak, we obligate oursleves to avoid that even while they are alive!

    The kadmonim teach us that when the Torah promises us long life for honoring parents it is not based on a miracle alone. Rather, when the younger generations see us care for the zekeinim of our dor they will do the same for theirs.

    The Tanchuma (10) teaches us to daven not just for old age, but to have all of our faculties as we get older. Let us hope those teffilos will be answered and, perhaps more importantly, that we will have a world ready to embrace and care for us.

  • Secrets of a Pesach Hotel Kitchen

    Secrets of a Pesach Hotel Kitchen

    May, 2019

    As I wrote in the column immediately following pesach, much transpired over the yom tov that I wish to share.

    The following is an example of this, and one that also relates to the rest of the year.

    Before Pesach this year, two jokes were going around my shul. The first was innocuous take on the news – What does the current president of the United States have in common with us? We both are cleaning out our cabinets for Pesach.

    The second joke is far more biting-When someone goes away for Pesach you wish them a chag kosher v’sameach. However, if they are going to a hotel for pesach then you simply wish them a chag sameach.

    My shul loses about half its membership to hotels on Pesach, and for many years I would myself lead such programs.

    In addition, I have certified a number of hotel pesach programs, as well as have many friends in kashrus who oversee any number of hotels.

    I’ve seen it all, and I’ve heard it all; what follows is all true, with only names and places changed.

    The Case of the ‘Stolen’ Pizza

    Walking downstairs to my office after neilas hachag, maariv and havdala in my shul, I was preparing myself to meet with the goy to whom I had sold chometz.

    Waiting for him to arrive, I turned on my cell phone only to be met with dings, beeps, and alarms, indicating a number of texts, emails and voicemails. A friend of mine was leading a pesach program on the other side of the ocean was trying to reach me, he said it was urgent. With pesach already over, I wondered what his issue could be. I could never have guessed. Like virtually every pesach program, his program offered fresh pizza, pasta and bread motzai pesach. It takes time for those items to be prepared, so usually a hotel will begin serving chometz some time after havdala. This rav explained that he walked into one of the barely used extra freezer spaces on the second day of yom tov and saw pizzas rolled out and sauced. Upon further investigation, he discovered that one of the workers on the first day of yom tov decided on his own to roll out the chometz dough, sauce and cheese the pizza and then freeze it so that it would be ready to serve even earlier than the hotel planned!

    This rav felt it could still be served, and although now long after the incident (due to the time difference) wanted to bounce his thoughts off me (and several others he had called). The issues involved in this case – of amira l’akum, kdei sheyaasu (especially when there is a second day of yom tov) as well the obvious chometz that this goy ‘stole’ from the goy to whom the hotel sold their chometz to – are well beyond the scope of this article, but it goes to show that even in a most well-managed hotel the unexpected can always happen.

    Asking Questions

    I often get asked by discerning congregants and friends what they should look for in kashrus when choosing a hotel.

    The first piece of advice, and perhaps the most important, is to make sure that the entire hotel –every room-is reserved for the program for that yom tov. To have treif/chometz room service etc. operating over pesach is only adding high risk for errors and even malice.

    Second, I urge them to call the mashgiach. There are certain questions that must be asked to ascertain the level of oversight. No matter what hashgacha a hotel is under, the mashgiach is the first-and often last-line of defense.

    I recall a wedding when I was in Buffalo. The chassan wanted to utilize a new hotel in Niagara Falls that never dealt (or likely even heard of!) kashrus. My vaad spent weeks prepping the staff, and days kashering and overseeing the entire process.

    The day of the wedding arrived and I was acting as rav hamachshir and rav of the chosson. The chassan came over to me and informed me that he decided last minute to fly in his family’s rav from Brooklyn.

    “That is beautiful” I responded. “Who is their rav?”

    “Oh” he said matter-of-factly, “Rav Yisroel Belsky”.

    Rav Belsky was not only a renowned posek, but he was also a chief posek at the OU.

    It was too late to throw in extra chumros and I just had to hope he would eat the food.

    Moments later Rav Belsky arrived with his rebbetzen and one of his sons.

    A brilliant mind, he quickly gauges that this was a new building. “Is this your first kosher event in this hotel?” he wondered.

    When I answered in the affirmative, he asks for a tour of the kitchen.

    It goes without saying that he taught me all the right questions to ask in such a scenario, and, baruch Hashem and to my great relief, he and his family partook of all of the food at the wedding.

    What to learn from this is that there is nothing wrong, mean or untoward in asking the rav hamachshir or mashgiach questions or even for a tour of the facilities. So long as the questioner is kind and not accusatory, it is the mashgiach who gest defensive when asked such questions who thereby becomes suspect.

    In fact, sometimes guests asking questions can actually be an aid. We once had a guest in one of our hotels call us on chol hamoed. He was concerned that he saw a mashgiach hand a yartzeit licht to the goy. The goyishe worker was then to light the gas omelet stations with that flame under the mashgiach’s eye.

    While an innocent oversight on the mashgiach’s part, we generally do not rely on the opinion of the Rema who (perhaps only bdieved, see Chelkas Binyanim ad loc.) allows a goy lighting a stove by using a flame lit by a Jew in order to circumvent the issues of bishul akum. (How this does or does not differ from a pilot light is beyond the scope of this discussion)

    Tea Rooms and Beyond

    Many hotels offer all types of delights in their tea room. I was speaking to a chaver of mine over chol hamoed who was overseeing a hotel this year. They wished to serve fresh cotton candy. The problem was, how can such a machine be kashered for pesach. For a number of reasons this is a complex issue, and a direct heat source placed on the metal –he was told-would ruin the machine.

    Then there is the issues beyond kashrus –like an eruv. The kashrus in a hotel my be impecaable, but sometimes complex eruv issues exist. Visiting a hotel a week before pesach (I stayed in my shul for yom tov, with competent mashgichim at the hotel), I walked the outside of the hotel with the mashgiach who was to double as the eruv builder.

    He wisely discerned an interesting issue. Many hotels have fountains and decorative pools in front of it and around its building.

    If he placed some of the eruv strings so that they run in places over water he can build an eruv that is simple, but if he had to go around the water, or not include the water, it would take more time and money.

    Now, water can cause many eruv concerns-like karfeif– but here was another concern.

    Some poskim (see Rav Gedalia Felder zt’l in Yesodei Yeshurin chelek 5) who question if a string for an eruv can ever hang over water.

    The issues in a hotel, you now see, are endless and hard to predict.

    All of the above is not to dissuade people from going to hotels for pesach or other events, rather to turn all kosher consumers into discerning kosher consumers.

    Rashi (Bereishis 28:17) teaches us based on a gemara (Chullin 91b) that the makom hamikdosh is the ‘milon’ (‘hotel’) of the Riboneh Shel Olam. Based on this we can end with a beracha that we be zocheh next year to all be in the ultimate pesach ‘hotel’!

  • A Surprising Siyum

    While I always have a post-yom tov column ready to go before the yom tov even begins, I am always loath to send it in to my (very) patient editors, as I know that by the time yom tov is over so much will transpire, some of which worthy of sharing in these pages.

    This year was no exception. Indeed, I simply do not have the space to share them all in just one column.

    Once in a while something happens in every job-especially rabbanus-that reminds one why they love what they do. In the midst of preparing for this past yom tov, I had one of those moments.

    In many ways, this was a daf yomi yom tov. Not only does each day of sefira happen to coincide with that day’s daf –daf vav (6) was learned on vav (the sixth) b’omer, etc. –but we all began a new mesechta together –Horyios-on the first day of chol hamoed, adding to the simchas hachag.

    While perhaps a trivial aside to many readers, this small fact can be a boon to a rav. My first year in rabbanus I was so busy learning the ropes –what a shul needs to prepare for (a lot!), making a yom tov davaning and zmanim schedule –and of course fastidiously reviewing all the halachos, that I lost track –or perhaps failed to realize –of one tiny yet important detail that, too, fell on my shoulders.

    A siyum for taanis bachoros.

    It’s a responsibility that could understandably get lost in the chaos, especially for a youngest child  (and a kohein, who some suggest need not fast this taanis even if a bachur) like myself, who never had a concern of fasting on this day. By the time I realized my dropping the ball erev yom tov was less than forty-eight hours away and the daf that year was deep in the middle of one of the bava’s.

    I contemplated staying up all night and finishing a small mesechta.

    I quietly took upon myself that no matter how busy Pesach preparations in future years may get, I would never make this omission again.

    But this year, I would venture, I and most shuls had it easy. With daf yomi starting a new mesechta the third day of yom tov meant that untold members of each shul were completing meseches Avodah Zara, leaving every erev yom tov minyan with enough potential misayemim for everyone.

    But my shul did not use this wonderful coincidence as our siyum, rather something even more beautiful.

    A couple of years ago a new family moved into our neighborhood. While we did not know their level of observance, their neighbors encouraged them to come to shul.

    Soon, the father began not just coming to shul each Shabbos, but is always the first to show up. Within a few months he began taking on certain mitzvos that he used to think were in his past (he went to yeshiva day school, but that was a lifetime ago).

    Such is the power of a community shul.

    With just a few weeks before Pesach, he texted me requesting a meeting. That night after maariv we went into my office to talk. I sat nervously hoping that this meeting was not to share any unfortunate news.

    “Rabbi, I wanted to ask you if it would be alright if I made the siyum erev Pesach”.

    ‘Oy’, I thought to myself, “Perhaps he finished a small mesechta of mishnoyos. How will I let him down easy if I feel his siyum is not enough for taanis bachurim?’

    “Well, Mark, what did you complete?”

    “Bava Metzia”

    Bava Metzia is one of the longest mesechtos.

    “You mean mishnayos Bava Metzia, right?”

    “No, the gemara”.

    I was nonplussed, mystified and therefore silent. Before I could speak, he continued.

    “And I am also about to complete meseches Sota. Also, I don’t know if this counts, but ever since parshas Bereishis I have completed each parsha with every Rashi…and every Ramban (!!) using the Artscroll version of each”.

    He brought with him his notes on all of the above, I guess in case I doubted him.

    I was beyond words, and told him such.

    “Mark, when was the last time –before this year -that you even opened a gemara” I gingerly asked.

    “Twenty years ago”

    He then shared something that was both wonderful to hear as well as frightening to consider.

    “Don’t you remember rabbi your sermon on Simchas Torah? You challenged me to do this!”

    On Simchas Torah this past year I gave a very short derasha, if one could even even call it that, which I can only now vaguely remember. The crux of what I said were devarim peshutim –Next year when we dance with sefer Torah let us do so with the feeling of accomplishment. Let us take on to be marbeh sedrah, even if we start with just one aliya a week with Rashi at first. If you do a little learning each day it can add up”.

    That was it. No special sermon, no grand idea or vort, no brilliant insight or emotional story. Just a simple challenge that I could now hardly remember making. While a wonderful reminder of how words can make a difference, it also made me consider the weight of caring for every word I may say in a speech. Frightening.

    It goes without saying that I take zero responsibility for what Mark had accomplished. I just said a few sentences, while he had been climbing mountains!

    He explained that he first tried it for parshas Bereishis, and then Noach, until before he knew it he finished the entire sefer Bereshis with every Rashi and Ramban, using the Artscroll version of each. That is not a simple task even for the learned!

    Feeling a great sense of pride, and becoming closer to Hashem, somewhere around parshas Vayeira he recalled that the last gemara he learned as a youngster was Bava Metzia. He was young at the time and thought gemara was uninteresting, but now was willing to give it a second chance.

    So he started learning, first in-between patients, and then late into the night.

    “I think I am addicted, rabbi” he explained, only half jokingly.

    The pasuk from Yeshayahu (29:9) came to mind –“sheichar v’lo yayin” one can be drunk but not from wine, and how my 11th grade rebbe would use this pasuk to express the potential simcha talmud Torah can bring to one who puts in the effort.

    When erev Pesach came, several arrived to shachris carrying with them their gemaras Avoda Zara in case they were needed for a siyum.

    But to the surprise of many, they watched as Mark arose after davening and carefully explained the end of Bava Metzia. By the time we reached amein yehai shamei rabba of his kaddish many of us who remembered him well from just a few years ago shed a private tear.

    We all went into yom tov proud of Mark and urged in our own growth.

    I have a few more stories to share from this wonderful yom tov, perhaps next week or some later time.

    For now, let me end with the following idea I shared in this space several years ago, that speaks to this theme of tannis bachurim and our ability to grow.

    One of the most interesting minhagim, specifically as it relates to this coming shabbos, is the shlisel challa, where the shabbos after Pesach some either shape their challa like a key, or place a key inside the dough before it is baked (Imrei Pinchos #298; Ohev Yisroel, likutim, shabbos achar Pesach, et al.).

    Many suggestions have been offered for this peculiar custom, and I would like here to suggest my own:

    The yom tov of Pesach, and the word itself, recalls how Hashem passed over our homes when He killed the Egyptian firstborn. He could not enter our homes, for we were on such a low rung of tumah who knows what He would have found inside (see Sephorno)!

    However, before yom tov we clean our home from any and all chometz – which is representative of the yetzer hara -in the hope that Hashem will continue to protect us.

    It is only now, after Pesach, when we have succeeded in that mission and rid our homes from its negative forces – the proverbial seor shs’bisah – that no more do we seek, simply, that Hashem save us by skipping over our homes so as not to see what is inside, rather we offer Him a key to our homes, inviting, kaviyochel, HKBH inside for we are now confident of being saved based on what we have accomplished inside.

    Let us keep our homes clean, continue to be inspired by the growth we see in others, and let it influence our own growth as well.

  • Rules and Advice For A Shiva Visit

    November, 2019

    This was one of the oddest news corrections I have ever seen.

    “Associated Press: FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — In a story Feb. 22 about the Florida school shooting, The Associated Press misquoted Broward County Sheriff Scott Israel in some versions of the story when he spoke about the families of the victims. He said, “I’ve been to their homes where they’re sitting shiva,” not “where they sit and shiver.”

    Well, ‘six by one and have dozen by the other’- as the latter (sit and shiver) often describes the inner turmoil of the former (he who sits shiva).

    Last week we shared some shiva stories, and expressed the gain each visitor can receive from any beis aveil.

    We ended with these words: “It is hard to pay a shiva call, but if done right one will not just comfort the mourner, but will become inspired and indeed learn the beauty found in every life. We just have to make sure to be careful how we pay a shiva call –the important do’s and don’t’s -something we will discuss next week”

    Several months ago a member of my shul lost a parent. Like always, our shul galvanized the troops and chesed committees to bring in aveilus chairs, visitor chairs, an arohn and sefer Torah– as well as plan and arrange meals for all the aveilim for the entire week and for the seudas haavrah.

    When shiva was over, this mourner called me. While he certainly wanted to express his hakaras hatov to the community for all their help, his main purpose was something else entirely.

    “Rabbi, you have to give a shiur, or something, on the halachos and etiquette of making a shiva call. A letter to the community, perhaps.”

    He went on to share horror stories from his week of shiva; from the insensitive comments to the foolish ones.

    I, as well as surely many readers, have witnessed such errors in a shiva home, no matter how good the intentions behind them were.

    As we get closer to Pesach, one example comes to mind from a dark and cold Pesach several years ago. As I have mentioned before in these pages, my wife’s younger brother, Nesanel a’h, was killed erev Pesach on his way to learn bein hazmanim.

    The levaya was arranged, and the entire shiva was brief-a few hours-and its seemed the entire city of Toronto streamed to my in laws that erev Shabbos/Pesach, and through some ness all managed to fit inside.

    Before the levaya I worked with one of my brother-in-laws on his hesped for his beloved brother.

    I shared with him a Ramban and his comments on a midrash that were apropos.

    Briefly, After the demise of Nadav and Avihu, their father, Aaron, had a reaction that has perplexed meforshim for centuries: ‘…vayidom aahron’ ‘…and Aaron was silent…’.

    Rashi (s.v. vayidom) points out that there was something unique, nay, exemplarily, about this silence of Aaron that merited reward. However, what was unique about his silence however, seems mysterious.

    Ramban, in a brief comment on this verse, gives two possible interpretations, both of which change entirely how this episode may have transpired. “For {Aaron} cried out loudly after which he was silent, or, {Vayidom} has the same meaning as in Eichah 2:18, to be still.”

    Aaron’s silence was not representative of his have nothing to say; on the contrary, it represented his holding back. Indeed, in a fascinating, if not spectacular midrash chazal teach us what Aaron’s grief could have brought him to say as well as the “questions” he could have, or may have, been tempted to ask the HaKadosh Baruch Hu (see Shallal Rav pg. 104 where this midrash is discussed at length).

    Instead, in a remarkable expression of faith, Aaron became still, passive, inanimate –Domeim.

    Keep the above in mind, as it plays vital in the next part of the story.

    Soon came the seder Pesach night-with one of the arbaah banim literally missing from the yom tov table. It was a painful mah nishtana, not to mention that we already knew the differencebetween this night-this seder-and all others.

    My father-in-law the next morning awoke for vasikin –as he had done for decades and was not about to change now.

    Someone walked over to him after davening and gave him a hug, and then said, “Your son, in his hesped, I think what he said was apikorsis. How could we say that Arron had questions?”

    Can you imagine this?! Leaving aside that this is a midrash, and even if we would like to assume that his reaction was the correct one, who goes over to a father who just buried his son hours ago to inform him that one of his well-meaning bnei torah surviving sons preached apikorsis?!

    We quoted last week from chazal who teach us that we must wait for the mourner to speak before we do. The Levush explains that this is because until they speak we do not know where emotionally they may be holding, and are therefore oblivious to what type of custom-made nichum aveilim that is needed just for them.

    However, some things we will just have to assume on our own.

    Like the words of Rav Moshe Chaim Lutzatto in his hakdama to the Mesillas Yesharim, we come here not to pave new ground but to remind everyone of the obvious.

    First of all, you are there to offer nechama, most crucially by talking about the nifter. Of course, if the aveil does not speak at all one can start to stay some simple words of nechama, like “I am so sorry for your loss”.

    I myself always ask, “Are you up to sharing with me about the life of your father/mother?”

    However, a shiva call is not the time to assume a rebbe’ish stance-offering reasons why this or that happened, why suffering is a zechus, or how this too will be seen for the best. Indeed, the baalei mussar stress that gam zu l’tova is to be used internally (for one self) and not externally (to tell others).

    By all means, you may, and should, offer any help that they may need.

    Do not ask about missing family members or siblings who may be sitting shiva elsewhere. While usually a harmless question, there are times, sadly, that a family is or has become split.

    You do not need to know about the illness that preceded a death. You are not there to satisfy your own curiosity.

    Your presence alone is a nechama, if you are able to talk about the niftar and help focus the conversations toward that is a bonus.

    Let the aveil know you are there for anything they need.

    And remember the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt”

  • Megillas Esther -How This Book Got Its Name

    Much can be gleaned from the titles of our sifrei kodesh, and this is certainly true of megillas esther.

     However, when investigating the names of our sifrei kodesh, our first obligation is to be sure that we know if the title used is the correct one.

    When I was in 7th grade I first visited eretz yisroel. I remember very little of the trip –or of the many tours our family took. I do, however, remember a joke one of the tour-guides made. As we were driving up a hill he said, “If you look out your window to your right will see the kever of Shmuel aleph, and to your left that of Shmuel beis.”

    As a 7th grader I though this was the funniest thing I have ever heard. However, as I got older I realized how deep this silly joke is. This is due to the fact that there is really no such thing as two books of Shmuel!

    Rather the Christians invented the separation of this single sefer into two, as we discussed in great length in a Shavous feature several years ago.

    The strangest example of this phenomenon is the ‘books’ of Ezra and Nechemia. Not only is sefer Nechemia not mentioned in the listing of all the sifrei tanach found in chazal (bava basra 14-15), in another gemara (Sukka 37a) a pasuk in Nechemia is mentioned as being from sefer Ezra (Nechamia 8:15).

    This is because both Ezra and Nechemia are really contained in one sefer called, simply, ‘Ezra’!

    In fact, the gemara (Sanhedrin 93b) outright asks why Nechemia was not zoche to have the book named after him. The gemara explains that this is a punishment for the fact that Nechemia took too much credit for all that he accomplished.

    As to why we allowed another group’s title to eclipse our mesorah, Rav Reuvien Margilios (Margolios Hayam) quotes the Chida as explaining that chazal did not mean that Nechemia’s punishment was indefinite, and certainly at a certain point in history he would become absolved. This is why Hashem, at a certain point in our history, allowed the division of ‘Ezra’ into two books and for the latter to be called ‘Nechemia’.

    In addition to reminding us to make sure we are aware of the true names of our sifrei tanach, what we see from the above is that the titles of our sifrei kodesh are of great importance and come from much thought and kedusha.

    With this is mind, let us investigate the name ‘megillas esther’.

    If we stop to think about it for a minute, megillas esther is a strange name. None of the other four megillos were named after their author, and even koheles was a nom de plume, a nickname for its author, Shlomo hamalech. In fact, while taken from his words, Shlomo did not even write this sefer, rather it was written by Chizkiya and his assistants (bava basra 15a).

    Megilas rus is another sefer about which we often use ‘megilla’ in the title and that is named after its main protagonist. However, as many sefarim point out, Rus indeed was indeed the main person in the events told, indeed the events would seem monotonous if not also being the story of the great grandmother of Dovid Hamelech. It is the story, or megilla, of Rus. Megillas esther on the hand is not the story of Esther per se, rather the story of an existential crises to the Jewish people. Why not call it megillas yeshua?

    The Shevet Mussar (in B’einei HaEidah) even wonders why not call it Megillas Haman.

    As to the last question, he explains that because we are charged with destroying and erasing Amalek, naming a sefer after one if its members would defeat that purpose.

    Rather, he explains, it is called megillas esther because of the events recorded in the gemara (Megilla 7a). It was initially Esther’s idea to include this megilla in the canon of tanach. While the chachamim initially rejected her idea, they sent a letter back to her that they had soon in fact found a proof from the Torah to include it.

    In other words, it is only because of Esther’s initial request that we even have this sefer. So the name ‘megillas esther’ is a description of whom is responsible for its inclusion in tanach.

    (This being the case, some wonder if it is not inappropriate to so publicly take credit as to name the book after one self. See shu’t Divrei Malkeil, hakdama where he explains why so many gedolim including their own names in the titles of their sefarim, and how how this is a lofty and important thing to do)

    Many more ask questions on the title of this sefer, including why, if for whatever reason it is named after Esther, did she or we not use her real, Hebrew name, Hadassa (see Megilla 13a)?

    Rav Yonsan Eibishitz (Yaaros Devash 2:17) explains that one of the mains themes of the megilla is the hester panim (‘hiding’ the face) of Hashem. For this reason, explain many, is Hashem’s name not mentioned in the megilla. 

    Indeed, chazal famously teach (Chullin 139a), “Where do we find an allusion to Esther in the Torah? From (Devarim 31:18) ‘hester aster panai’ (I shall surely hide My face)”.

    Being that this is the main feature of the events of Purim, the megilla is titled ‘Esther’ to allude to this, and, for this reason we use the name Esther and not Hadassa.

    Many other explanations are offered as to why this megilla is given this particular name.

    However, the one that struck me the most is brought in the sefer Tenufah Chaim and others. They explain, as did Rav Eibishitz, that ‘Esther’ alludes to the hidden nature of the Riboneh Shel Olam.

    But this only explains the second word in its title. Megillas esther would then simply mean, “The Story (megilla) of (Hashem’s) Hiddenness”.

    However, the word megilla itself holds dual meanings.

    The root of this word is ‘giluy’, to reveal.

    In other words, megillas esther means “The revelation of the hidden”! This is both a perfect description of the events of Purim, and also a teffila to have once again such a giluy, as the navi teaches, a day when ‘umuchah Hashem Elokim es dimah ma’al kol panim’ (yeshayahu 25:8).

    This may also serve to explain why the yom tov of Purim will be the one yom tov still to be observed in the days of moshiach. For like our days in Persia, we will once again have a ‘megillas esther’, a revelation of the hidden.

    May it come soon!

  • Costumes on Purim: Background, History, & Meaning

    Costumes on Purim: Background, History, & Meaning

    March, 2019

    Many years ago, a young boy sat across from me the night of Purim dressed as Haman. He had the hat, the vested garments, and was wickedly mustachioed.

    It was, I had to admit, a great costume.

    The laining of the Megillah commenced and before we knew it Haman’s name was mentioned. Now, the first and last time his name is mentioned is always the loudest and longest, and that laining was no exception.

    I looked, and this boy was in one hand wildly shooting his cap gun (remember those?!) and in his other violently shaking his enlarged and very loud gragger. He was enjoying the laining immensely.

    With each mention of Haman’s name, I watched how deeply into blotting out the name of Haman he was.

    I watched him because I could not help but wonder how incongruous it all was.

    How can one be dressed in the likeness of someone while also acting out the need to blot them out of history?!

    As a side note, while some do bring down that we should not dress like a rasha, or a non-Jew –see Shulchan Aruch Hamikutzar –many, such as Rav Ephraim Greenblatt, are lenient, and the custom among many is indeed to be lenient. However, the Klausenberger rebbe and others are quoted as urging choosing costumes that represent tzadikim.

    But this then led to another thought –why do we dress up at all on Purim?

    The questions started to grow: How can we wear a costume during davening? What if a costume is so good that it will distract others from their davening? Does anyone check their rented costumes for shaatnez? Etc.

    While we cannot focus on all of the myriad issues Purim costumes touch upon, we can try to unlock some of the core mysteries, and perhaps explain why so many dress like Haman.

    Although beloved by many, there is no source or allusion to this minhag of wearing costumes found in chazal.

    Now, at first blush this does not seem too concerning, however some have pointed out a fear that this minhag came from non-Jewish festivals around this time year, i.e. Lent and the Roman carnivals that took place at its time.

    If correct, this could potentially be in violation of b’chukoseheim lo seileichu.

    However, the Steipler (Orchos Rabbeinu) says that this is not the case at all. In fact, it would be hard to argue that such a non-Jewish custom-followed in only a handful of places around Purim time –would have caused a spontaneous minhag to develop all over the Jewish world.

    Some even suggest that it is the other way around –some non-Jewish communities began to imitate the already burgeoning Purim minhag of dressing up to do the same during their holiday that took place around the same time.

    So where does our minhag come from?

    The earliest mention of this minhag is actually referenced by the Rama in the Shulchan Aruch. The Rema brings a teshuva from the shu’t Mahari Mintz, from a century earlier, who discusses some concerns with the costumes worn on Purim in his day in Italy, particularly relating to the issue of lo yilbosh (dressing only in clothes of one’s gender). Rav Yehudah HaLevi Mintz’s life spanned the entire 15th century (he was born in 1405 and died in 1508!). At the age of sixty-two he left Germany and became the rav of Padua in Northern Italy, and, due to his long life he was able to serve them for over forty years.

    It was here in Italy that he first sees this custom.

    While it is certainly possible that this minhag existed in fits and starts before his mention of it, it seems unlikely it was popular.

    The question still remains as to why we dress up.

    The most famous answer given is similar to why we eat kreplach on Hoshana Rabba. Kreplach –with its hidden meat-represents the hidden nature of that day, and costumes on Purim best represent the hidden nature of the miracle of Purim.

    However, as pointed our relating to Hoshana Rabba, there are far less drastic ways to reflect this type of ness.

    Others, like Rav Soloveitchik and Otzar Taamei Haminhagim point to all those who dressed up or who hid who they were in both the Megilla and throughout Jewish history. Eliyahu pretending to be Charvona; Haman saying he was Memuchan; Esther not revealing she was a Jewess; Mordechai being dressed by Haman in the kings royal clothing; Mordechai placing upon himself sackcloth.

    Our doing the same as the above is explained as either a way to recall the ness of the story of Purim, a persumei nissa in action, or, to remind ourselves that just like in this story, the outside is not what matters rather only the pnemius.

    The Ktzos HaShulchan and many others (see also Shalmie Todah p. 326; Nittei Gavriel p. 409, inter alia) explain this minhag brilliantly. In Bamidbar 21:1 the Torah teaches us of how after the passing of Aron and the removal of the ananei hakavod, Arad and the canaanim attacked bnei yisroel.

    Chazal teach (see Rashi ad loc, Yalkut Shimoni, and Tosfos to Rosh Hashana 3a) that in fact this was Amalek who gave over the appearance as if they were Canaan so that they would not be recognized.

    Based on this, some suggest that on Purim, when we recall Amalek, we poke fun of their failed plans by also dressing up.

    Others use this Midrash to explain costumes on Purim in a different way, also explaining how we can dress as Haman. Chazal teach that although they acted and spoke like Canaan, we still recognized them due to their clothes which were amaleki clothes! We therefore dress in the clothing of Amalek to make fun of how they foiled their own evil plan by not also changing their mode of dress.

    Another fascinating explanation (see Shalmei Todah ad loc. and others) to our minhag of costumes is based on a pasuk in the Megilla (8:17) regarding how many Gentiles converted to yiddeshkeit after the ness Purim. The Vilna Gaon on this pasuk points out that we did not accept these converts because although they made themselves look likeJews, this was only on the outside, and they did this out of fear. Based on this, we too dress up to recall this episode.

    Others point to the language of the targum (Ch. 3) in the Megilla who explains Haman’s hate for Mordechai as stemming from Yaakov tricking Eisav into selling his firstborn rite. Yaakov, of course, was correct in this action –an action facilitated by his dressing up and ‘stealing’ the berachos!

    This last explanation perhaps also explains why some dress like Haman, or other reshaim, for that is precisely what Yaakov had to do!

    The Maharam Chagiz (Eleh Hamitzvos #543) suggests another explanation for our minhag of dress-up. Chazal teach (Megilla 12a) that just like the Jews only bowed to Haman from the outside, internally holding strong to their yahdus, so too did Hashem only give the appearance as if He was to destroy klal yisroel, but internally knowing He will save them. To recall that this whole episode only happened in ‘outside appearance’ we conceal faces and outside appearances. The Bnei Yisachar records a similar explanation.

    The sefer Kol Aryeh and others suggest that the reason we dress up on Purim is to solve a technical problem. On Purim there is not only a mitzvah to give out mattanos le’vyonim, but to give tzedaka to anyone who asks.

    Because of this and all people who have fallen on hard times could use this day to their benefit. However, how can we prevent some of them the shame of asking for help? We do so by asking everyone to dress up, thereby never knowing to whom we just handed money!

    Based on this last answer, the Nittei Gavriel (siman 30 in the back of his sefer) teaches us something brilliant.

    Have you ever wondered why on Purim-more so than any other Yom Tov-we always ask friends, family, and even strangers for a vort on the holiday or Megilla?

    He explains that this was due to the above. Because we give tzedaka to anyone on this day, and, because we dress up to help facilitate this, there is a real fear of some taking advantage of this Jewish kindness. We therefore have a secret code to make sure the receiver is worthy!

    This may also explain why ‘Purim Torah’ is synonymous with strange and humorous divrei Torah. Perhaps this is due to the fact that not all aniyay yisroel were well versed in Torah to give a decent vort over. So to continue the tradition of not embarrassing them, we not only dress up on Purim, but we say over strange divrei Torah so that they will not be embarrassed if when giving over our ‘secret code’ they do not have anything brilliant to offer!

    As we always say –there is so much Torah and beauty in minhagei yisroel!