In January of 1973 a young political-philosophy professor at the University of Toronto named Dr. George Will began to write for National Review magazine. While he would eventually go on to win a Pulitzer Prize and become a staple of the American intellectual elite, at first he was having difficulty coming up with ideas for columns week after week. He approached his boss, the legendary William F. Buckley, the magazine’s founder and father of modern American conservatism.
“I asked Bill Buckley what I now know is the question most frequently asked of a columnist: How do you come up with things to write about. Bill’s answer was: “The world irritates me three times a week and sometimes a little more often. I don’t have any problem coming up with ideas.”
Lahavdil, the other week I was speaking to a newly appointed rav. He was bemoaning his new toil in striving to locate both the ideas and the time for his constant shiurim obligations. Even leaving weekday and Shabbos shiurim/derashos aside, a rav is often expected to speak- albeit briefly- before or after every teffila during the week (allowing for a kaddish derabanan for avelim).
Many talented young men entering pulpit rabbanus quickly discover that their best vertelach, the sugyos of which they are most proficient, their most stirring stories, etc. all get used up very rapidly.
“I do not comprehend how one can possibly come up with thousands of long or short shiurim and drashos each year!” he tiredly commented to me.
I first sympathized with him, and then shared a method that has served me well. “There is a proverb, a famous maamer of mysterious origin, ‘Devarim hayotzim min halev nichnasim el halev’ –things said from the heart enter the hearts of others’(for the source of this adage, see ‘Michlol Hamaamarim V’Pisgamim’ whosources it to R’ Moshe Ibn Ezra [d.1066], while others, see the yarchon Nezer Hatorah, kislev 5769 p. 305, as well as Metzuveh V’oseh p.367, source it to a gemara in Berachos 6).
“Instead of only seeking to come up with topics that you imagine would enliven your audience, which is of course important, consider also sharing with them what is truly on your mind; be it a sugya you are learning or a shailah you’re researching. My first year in rabbanmus I wanted to review hilchosyom tov, and so, between mincha and maariv during the week, and for close to a year, I would share snippets of those interesting or important halachos from that day’s learning. Recently, I intensely felt that I needed to chazerhilchos Shabbos in-depth, so, I made a weekly shiur on it! In fact, Rav Ribiat’s popular and exhaustive four volume ‘Thirty-Nine Melachos’ had its own origin from the shiurim on the subject he had to prepare.
“Not only will this method help you continue your own learning, but the power of ‘ein adam lomed elah mah sh’libo chafetz bo-a person should learn the parts of Torah to which his heart is drawn’ (Avodah Zara 19a) will allowyour own interest to invigorate the audience as well. Attentiveness is not only created, rather it can also be infected”.
In fact, the Ben Ish Chai demonstrates from the next lines of that gemara that this guidance applies both for what one learns alone as well as what one learns with others (Ben Yehoyadah, ad loc.)!
I am sharing this advice here for a couple of reasons.
For one, I believe this can be useful in most other fields as well. As an example, I am mortified should I meet a reader of our Summer Series and hear him refer to me as a ‘historian’. I choose to write in the summer on rabbanim and Jews of early America not because I know much on the subject – quite the contrary! – rather, because I am so curious about it, have access to research material, and, b’chasdei Hashem, have been able to discover material lahagdil Torah u’lihadirah, bl’h. Should a reader appreciate some of those more in-depth columns, it is because it is written from a place of curiosity, perhaps my own marvel and relishing in the new information that serves as a contagion, more so than anything else. We are partners in our history encounters, journeying together.
I believe this concept may extend to the chinuch of our children as well.
A while back, the aforementioned National Review introduced a column on language and grammar. In a recent issue, the respected linguist suddenly shifted gears to talk about parenting and how to better educate our children.
He shares one of his central recommendations:
“When they’re eight or nine, have them write essays. By the time my girls were eight, they’d already written dozens of ‘books’. Soon, they graduated to essay writing. Whenever they wanted something, I’d approve only on condition that they write a three-paragraph essay for me first. I was careful never to make writing a punishment, but instead to make it something for which they’d be rewarded.
“ Perhaps the best essay I ever received was ‘Why I Shouldn’t Have to Write Essays for Dad.’
“I’ll never forget the day my elder daughter came home from school, at the age of about ten, to declare her discovery that her classmates didn’t have to write essays for their parents. She was astonished to find that the culture in her own home wasn’t universal, and of course she begged to be liberated from the requirement.
“I asked her to write an essay about it.”
Initially, I was horrified by his methods. Should parents’ biases and predispositions be forced upon their children? Should activities adored by parents be thrusted into the role of educational modes for the home?
However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he may be on to something, While he is describing an extreme approach (bear in mind, he feels writing is, anyway, an imperative skill), I think there is much to be gained by exploiting the very things we are passionate about as a tool for chinuch.
Joy is a contagious disposition. Children, after all, are impressionists, mimicking what they see at home. If they perceive our own passion in any given subject, middah or avodah they will not only discover its beauty, but ascertain that enthusiasm is a fundamental chelek of learning and growing, and will then take that same dynamism and energy to other subjects and avodos, as well as to their own chosen focuses (the Chida, in his Maris Ha’ayin to the gemara above, quotes the Arizal who shares that due to gilgulim, people will have different miktzoas that pull their interest and that their tafkid is to focus on and to complete).
It is remarkable that after the final tochacha in the Torah, Hashem shares that the described suffering and pain will be because we did not serve him with simcha (Devarim 28:47). Aside for our avodas Hashem, we must be cognizant that to be raised in a home with unhappy parents, to be led by a rabbi not teaching what and in a style he feels is desired, serves no one’s good. Happiness is a chiyuv, but it is also a method of reaching others. We must find the tools within ourselves to make that possible.
The Efficacy of One Zechus for Two People & More than One Reciting Kaddish at One Time & Yisgadel vs Yiskadeish
Over the past few years, when I have yartzeit for my mother a’h, I share with the reader common shailosthat arise on this ominous day, and questions rabbonim receive having to do with these related topics.
Kaddish for More Than One Person?
I receive this shailah at least a couple of times a year. Let me give a classic example. Say someone puts out a mishnayos chart by a shiva. The goal is to complete all of mishnayos by the shloshim. They then see that several mesechtos are not taken; these are usually the most difficult to learn. They will then often ask me if someone who is already learning said mesechta for another niftar can also have in mind this one.
This may also occur in terms of kaddish. Say an avel is ill and cant make it to shul one day. Should he ask someone to say kaddish who is already saying it, or, ask someone who is not.
Simply put, can one action benefit two neshamos with one act?
The Magen Avraham takes an extreme view in this, in that even for a mother and a father this would not be of value -say an overlapping year of aveilus, or if they have the same yartzeit. The Chofetz Chaim (Biur Halachasiman 132) and others explain that we do not pasken like this, and indeed, with parents, one zechus does affect both. Rav Yaakov Kamanetzky writes the same (Emes L’Yaakovsiman 386, note 224).
Rav Shlomo Kluger posits that this is only true by two connected people. However, when it comes to two separate people, then one zechus can’t benefit both of them (shu”t HaEleph L’Cha Shlomo, oh’c 68).
Neverthells, Rav Chaim Kinievsky wrote to Rav Taplin (Taarich Yisroel, p. 514) that in cases of need one can rely on one zechus for more than one neshama.
Rav Aahron Levine brings from Rav Ahron Kotler and Rav Scheinberg that they both l’chatchila allowed a double (or even more) zechus through one action, so long as the family for whom one is saying it is aware that you are ‘double dipping’ (Kol Bo L’Yartzeit, volume 2). This latter psak is echoed by Rav Moshe Feinstein, although he still recommends only one kaddish is said for each niftar at a time, thus dividing them throughout the day (Igros Moshe, y’d 1, 254).
So, in the end, if the two meisim are not connected, it is best to avoid, however, if it is a case of need then certainly it should be done.
Kaddish One At A Time?
Most are aware that ashkanazim had a minhag that only one person would ever say kaddish at a time. Most halachos about who has the right to the amud, etc. stem from this history. Many ask when we changed to the way we have today, where everyone says kaddish together. This is unclear. We know that already in Brisk, under Rav Chaim, kaddish was said by more than one person at a time (Avodos V’hanhagos M’Beis Brisk, 2:54). The Chasam Sofer also wrote that if there is a fear that someone will forcefully start a kaddish before the rightful person has the ability to start, or the like, then a shul should institute everyone saying ot together, so as to avoid machlokos (shu”t Chasam Sofer oh’c 159).
But this change was not solely so as to avoid machlokos. The Maharitz Chiyos discusses another concern. At times, there are people who are embarrassed in that they are unable to recite the words of kaddish. He records shuls in his time (19th century) where the chazan would be surrounded by all the aveilim and he would recite kaddish with them repeating word by word. This was a similar concern mentioned in the mishneh (Bikkurim 3:9) of a concern people will not bring their bikkurim out of the shame in being unable to read.
On this note, an interesting question arises. Must each person saying kaddish say it loud enough so that if he would have been saying it alone everyone could hear him? Like the Maharitz Chiyus mentions, we have all seen people saying kaddish in a whisper along with everyone else. Perhaps they are shy, or are insecure in the reading skills. Is this ok?
The Ben Ish Chei states explicitly that so long as others can be heard, one may say it along with them in a low voice (shu”t Rav Poalim 2:14). Rav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach syays the same (Halichos Shlomo, teffila, p. 230).
It is of interest to note that some poskim were strongly against the minhag of saying kaddish together, for a number of reasons. Some even urged that those saying it should not stand near each other. However, some poskim bring proof from chazal that such a practice dates far back. The Yerushalmi states ‘hischilu’ (they began; Taanis 4:1). The meforshim explain that it refers to kaddish. From the plural we may infer that they would say it as a group (Yesodei Yeshurin p. 242).
Yisgadel or Yisgadal?
The exact nusach and pronounciation of kaddish deserves its own column, but for now let us focus on this most famous of questions. The opeoing terms come from Yechezkel 38:23, “v’higadalti v’hiskadashti…”. The Chofetz Chaim writes that since it comes from a verse, this part of kaddish should keep the Hebrew dikduk and be yisgadeil v’yisgadeish. The Aruch HaShulchan, Vilna Gaon and Baal HaTanya agree.
However, others, such as the Yaavetz, defend the patach (yisgadal…) for kaddish is, after all, an Aramaic teffila. Why then should we use Hebrew grammar for the opening words?
On this note, the Rashba already points out that kaddish is a mixture of both Hebrew and Aramaic (shu”t Rashba 5:54, see there as to why).
May the Great Day arrive when kiddush shem shomayim will be fulfilled not merely with words but with our and His actions.
This past Sunday, a member of my shul lost his sister. She was a very prominent New York physician and professor who had helped thousands of people. The levayah was packed, and many people had to stand.
I could not be inside to witness it since I am a kohen. As I stood outside in the cold rain, my mind traveled back five years, when I had been zocheh to meet with Rabbi Elchanan Zohn about this very issue. Rabbo Zohn is the head of the Queens chevrah kaddisha and one of the leading rabbanim and askanim in the world in all the practices related to chesed shel emes.He is the founder and president of NASCK, the National Association of Chevra Kadisha.
Every major city has its own chevrah kaddisha, but at times they need assistance—for example, getting a meis to Eretz Yisrael or stopping an autopsy. To whom do they turn? Most often to Rabbi Zohn or NASCK. When I was a rav in Buffalo, I often called him in moments of crisis. When I sat in that meeting with him five years ago, calls were coming in from people in cities around the country—from Muncie, Indiana, to Monsey, New York, Miami to Milan—all seeking his guidance.
Why had I requested that meeting? And what about the rain had reminded me of it?
I grew up in Toronto. Major funeral homes there are operated by the Orthodox and have a kohen room whose walls are made of glass. It is next to the room where the levayos take place, which also has glass walls. This makes it halachically possible for kohanim to feel that they are participating, and it enables a rabbi who is a kohen to lead a levayah without awkwardness.
Once, in Buffalo, a well-meaning funeral home owner built a kohen room without first consulting a rav. Suffice it to say that he spent a lot of money for nothing. I used sit in my car in the freezing Buffalo winters delivering divrei hesped through a cordless microphone.
Aside from the fact that I had no idea if it was working (and it often wasn’t), not being able to see the faces in the audience puts a speaker at a terrible disadvantage (see Brachos 6b, which states that the goal of a hesped is to elicit an emotional reaction from the family and other participants). This set-up was especially uncomfortable for the nonobservant; it was as if a bas kol was speaking to them.
In time, I gave these duties over to other rabbanim, feeling that it would be more bakovadik for the meis.
I was therefore surprised to learn that many Jewish funeral homes in New York are not run by the Orthodox. As a kohen, I am either sent to a trailer, or I simply stand outside listening to the hespeidim over a speaker. Although these homes work well with the frum and offer full Orthodoxservices, the advantage of building our own seemed obvious…or so I thought.
Last week I mentioned the danger of questioning our mesorah, and this is true for practices in kehillos as well. A rav must never make changes without speaking to those who were there before. So when a member of my shul came to me with his plan to build a frum funeral home that would serve Queens and the Five Towns, I responded with great enthusiasm but with some reservation. “We must first go to Rabbi Zohn,” I said, “and get his blessing for such a project.”
I give this congregant a lot of credit. He did not hesitate to put his business on hold for the sake of mesorah and kavodkadmonim. Indeed, he yielded to Rabbi Zohn when he was told that this could not yet be done.
Rabbi Zohn was very humble and didn’t assert any path forward. He made it clear that this man was free to do whatever he wished with his own rav. Instead, he simply pointed out that this was not the first time such an idea had been brought to him.
You might wonder what disadvantage there could possibly be in opening up a frum funeral home.
You see, all the local funeral homes provide offer Jewish burial.In addition to a taharah,they offer an alternative to cremation, R”l. Some even hire frum funeral advisors or managers to help with the frumniftarim and their families.
Now, imagine that one opens a frum funeral home and it is very successful. It has state-of-the-art facilities, a beautiful kohen room, and the assurance that everything will run k’das u’k’din. What will happen? The larger non-frum facilities will still operate, of course, only now there will no longer be a demand for kevuras Yisrael. This might result in thousands of families making unfortunate decisions for their loved ones.
Everyone agrees that l’chatchilah it would be best to have our own funeral home. But that is not the situation we inherited, and moving forward isn’t a simple proposition.
Unfortunately, cremation hasbecome popular. Some people say this protects the environment, which is silly, because cremation is actually much worse for the environment than burial. Others cite convenience, saying it is difficult to visit a cemetery that is far way—but who is going to be watching the urn in 40, 70, or 100 years? I’ve heard all the reasons.
A few years ago, I shared a story about taking a family to court when they decided to deny that their daughter was a giyores. They claimed she was still a Catholic and wanted to cremate her.
In a span of only five years—from to 2010 to 2015—the cremation rate in the United States jumped close to 10 percent. In 1979, France had a cremation rate of 1 percent; today it is 50 percent. The United Kingdom is now at 75 percent, and Japan is at 99 percent. According to CANA, a cremation society, the total rate of those who choose cremation in the United States is now close to 50 percent, and in Canada it is close to 70 percent.
To help convince someone of the beauty of kevurah,I strongly recommend a wonderful book called Cremation or Burial: A Jewish View, by Rabbi Doron Kornbluth.
As as I stood in the rain last week, it dawned on me that no two kehillos are alike, and as long as we trust in the chochmah behind what may seem inconvenient, we can share as a group in the zechusim. I turned to the kohen standing next to me and said, “You may have no idea, but our standing here is going to benefit many, many Jews.”
Being With One’s Family vs Chesadim, Mitzvos, & Zechusim
October, 2022
PART 1
Dear Rabbi Taub,
Your columns often address both halachah and hashkafah. My husband and I have been discussing an issue that touches on both. I wonder if you can discuss this issue in your “Shul Chronicles” column. Perhaps there are sources you can cite, or at least make readers aware that they are not alone. Also, as a rav, maybe you have had to answer this question in the past.
My son’s rebbi asked that he come back to yeshivah for Simchas Torah. We do not live in the New York-New Jersey area, so we don’t see our son very often as it is. I don’t know what to do. On the one hand, I want my son to enjoy his friends and yeshivah on Yom Tov, but on the other hand, I want him to be home with his family. I understand that in Europe they used to go away for years at a time. But in this case, he will already be home for the first days of Yom Tov, and to leave doesn’t seem right to me.
I should point out that our area is filled with bnei Torah, and there is no negativity here on Simchas Torah. In fact, if anything, I am concerned about smoking and other things on Simchas Torah in the town where his yeshivah is.
When my son saw me hesitate, he called his rebbi, who offered to pay for his ticket. I was crestfallen! For one thing, this wasn’t a monetary issue. But in any case, if the rebbi was told I was not sure, why didn’t he call me directly—or better yet, teach his talmid a lesson in proper kibbud? But to go behind my back and offer to pay? This doesn’t seem right at all.
Am I out of line? What is the right approach on this issue? This is my oldest son, and I want a proper derech going forward with his brothers as well.
Sincerely,
A Desperate Mother
I have four daughters and a son, bli ayin hara. My son is in second grade, and I have not dealt with this issue on a personal level, but I have dealt with it in the case of husbands and wives.
In fact, several years ago, Rabbi Shais Taub and I had a wonderful exchange about a similar issue regarding a Litvish husband who wanted to go to his rosh yeshivah for Yom Tov, but his wife was against the idea.
This week I will use the case of a husband as a jumping-off point, and next week I will return to the case of a child.
It goes without saying that it is a well-established custom, especially among chasidim, for a husband to leave his family to be with his rebbi for Yom Tov. The Divrei Malkiel (d. 1910) writes of the importance of such a visit, stating that kevodtalmidei chachamim is compared to the kavod we have for the Shechinah (2:75, beginning).
However, the Noda BiYehudah and other Litvishposkim differ.
I was delighted when I found my 2014 email to Rabbi Taub, and here is a synopsis of what I wrote:
The Gemara (Sotah 17a) teaches us in the name of Rabi Akiva that a home with shalombayis is worthy of the Shechinah’s presence. This is a critical first step, for according to the Aruch Laneir, the reason we visit our rebbeim is in order to replace our visit to the Makom HaShechinah on Yom Tov now that we can no longer go to the BeisHamikdash. Therefore, to cause the loss of the Shechinah by damaging shalombayis for the purpose of giving kavod to a rebbi, which is only compared to the Shechinah, seems specious at best.
Of course, I am speaking about a case where the wife doesn’t want her husband to go, and the husband is not from a community where that is the custom, so she had no knowledge of such a concept when she got married.
One person challenged me based on a gemara in Shabbos 152a that states, “Rebbe said to his student, Rav Shimon bar Chalafta, ‘Why did you not visit me on Yom Tov?’” But the student answered, “Had I visited you, peace in the home would have been sullied.”
The Gemara (Sukkah 27b) quotes a braisa that discusses the issue of leaving one’s wife on Yom Tov: “Rabbi Ila’i went on Yom Tov to visit his rebbi, Rabbi Eliezer, in the city of Lod. [Upon seeing his student, Rabbi Eliezer] said to him, ‘Ila’i! Why are you not among those who rest properly on Yom Tov?’ This is because Rabbi Eliezer held that one should not leave his home on Yom Tov [even to visit teachers], for it is written, ‘[On the festivals] you rejoice with your household’ (Devarim 14:26).” Rashi explains that his teacher was reprimanding him for not staying home and celebrating Yom Tov with his wife.
However, the Gemara then seeks to find support for Rabbi Ila’i’s decision to leave his wife, closing the discussion by saying, “It is allowed when he returns that evening, and not allowed when he must also stay away from home overnight.” (Regarding whether women too have such a mitzvah,see Mishnah Brurah and Magen Avrahamsiman 301, as well as Maharatz Chayus on Rosh Hashanah 16, and Chanukas HaTorah, likutim,#200, which explains that women went during the year and men went on Yom Tov in order to avoid pritzus.)
The main source for the Litvish approach comes from shu”t Noda BiYehudah (#94), which states that the obligation to visit a teacher on Yom Tov (but not overnight) only applies when the BeisHamikdash is standing. Proof of this is the fact that although the Shulchan Aruch omits this law, Rambam includes it (chap. 5, Hilchos Talmud Torah). In contrast to the Shulchan Aruch, Rambam cites all halachos, including those that will once again be applicable only when Moshiach comes.
To be clear, all agree that it is a mitzvah to visit one’s rebbi, regardless of the time of year, although not a chiyuv (see Rambam ibid., and Shulchan Aruch 554:12 with Magen Avraham). And some poskim say that visiting a rebbi on Yom Tov actually is a special chiyuv, even today (see Magen Avraham 301:7 and Rav Shternbuch).
What about visiting the kever of a rebbe? The Shevet Sofer (shu”t, OrachChaim, 18) says that some people are allowed to leave their wives to go to Uman for Yom Tov. He offers a novel idea, suggesting that in our time, when we don’t have the BeisHamikdash, the level of obligation in the mitzvah of simchasYom Tov is weakened, and one can therefore leave his wife on Yom Tov if he must do so for a living, or even to visit the kever of a rebbe. (See Tosafos on Mo’ed Katan 14b, stating that today, without the shalmei chagigah,the mitzvahof simchas Yom Tov is only mid’Rabbanan. However, the Rambam seems to disagree; see Emek Davar in the name of Rav Chaim Soloveitchik.)
Of course, both approaches can find support in the Gemara quoted earlier. Rav Eliezer in the Gemarain Sukkah was likely Rav Eliezer ben Horkanus, who lived both during and after Bayis Sheini, thus enabling each side to argue a different position.
It would seem from all of this that chasidim who have the custom to leave their wives on Yom Tov, and whose wives knew about this when they married, may—and perhaps must—continue this practice.
However, a man married to someone who was unfamiliar with such a minhag when they married must ask a sh’eilah before leaving his family overnight on Yom Tov—unless, of course, he has specific and sincere reshus.
The case of a child returning to yeshivah for Simchas Torah will be discussed next week, be”H.
Part 2
Last week I shared a question from a mother who was torn about wanting her 16-year-old son to stay home for Simchas Torah rather than going back to yeshivah as she hadn’t seen him for some time. She also felt wounded when she expressed her concern, and in response, the rebbi told her son that he would pay for the ticket, assuming it was a financial matter; in her view, he went behind her back rather than addressing her directly.
I discussed some of the major sources for the halachos involved in visiting one’s rebbi during Yom Tov, especially when that person will be missed by his family.
A Few More Sources
Before moving on to the case at hand, I’d like to share a few additional sources.
The great Litvish posek Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson (d. 1875, Shu”t Sho’el U’meishiv 3:464), says that since one is already at home with his family and fulfilling the mitzvahof “v’samachta b’chagecha,” he should not nullify this positive act with another.
Rav Shlomo Kluger (d. 1869, Shu”t Shenos Chaim 334) and others disagree, stating that the halachic requirement to visit one’s rebbi during Yom Tovis still applicable today (see Rav Elyashiv’s Sefer He’aros on Sukkah 10b). Some even posit that the main requirement is in our time (see the Chida, Simchas Haregel on Sukkah 27b).
Of course, everyone agrees that there is a general mitzvah to visit one’s rebbi regardless of the time of year, although perhaps it is not a chiyuv (see Shu”t Tzitz Eliezer 17:41).
I myself spent countless Simchas Torahs in yeshivah. Even when I attended high school locally, I used to drive to Cleveland with chaveirim for the Yomim Nora’im to daven in Telshe Yeshiva with Rav Gifter. And I would hope that when my son is of age, iy”H, he will want to be with his rebbeim on Simchas Torah.
The Empty Shul
When I was a rav in Buffalo, the shul used to bring in boys from YU’s beis midrash program to liven up the ruach on Simchas Torah. One year, one of the young men commented that some of his friends stayed home and went to his own shul in New Jersey to bring some enthusiasmto the dancing there. I noted the irony; if all the boys stayed home, many of those shuls would be supplied with the ruach they needed!
In fact, the mother who wrote to me bemoaned the fact that there were no bachurim in her shul on Simchas Torah.She said the dancing was very shvach, and worse, the younger kids missed out on the opportunity to see and learn from their older brothers’ enthusiasm and love for Torah (see hakdamah to Shu”t Chasam Sofer, Yoreh Dei’ah, and his comments there on Bereishis 18:17-19 regarding sacrificing one’s aliyah for the aliyah of others).
However, this issue is perhaps one left for the rav of the shul, possibly in concert with the pertinent roshei yeshivah.
Second Home
When I was 18 years old, I had a medical episode and thought my lung had collapsed. After a series of tests, I was waiting in the hospital at midnight for the results when Rav Meir Stern, my rosh yeshivah, came in. It was frightening enough to see him there, but what he said next changed my hashkafas hachaim. “I spoke to the doctors. They feel you should go home,” he told me.
My mind raced. Was my condition so serious that I had to go back to Canada? And would my insurance cover this?
“To Toronto?” I asked weakly.
He explained, “Moshe, the doctors feel it was a false alarm. But Toronto? I said home. That means your yeshivah!”
In order to thrive, a yeshivah bachur must view the beis midrash as his home, or at least his second home.
This mother’s desire to spend Yom Tov with her son is understandable, of course, since she sees him so seldom, but the answer depends on individual circumstances. As parents, we must balance our personal wants with the needs of our children, and as children, we must measure our own wishes against the need for kibbud av va’eim.
Parents are sometimes “victims” of their success. They spend large sums of money on chinuch, and they should rejoice when their children view yeshivah as being “home” for Yom Tov. But every case is unique, and the boy’s rosh yeshivah should be consulted.
A Parent-Rebbi Partnership
Allow me to highlight what I feel is the most crucial message in this mother’s letter.
Why is our mesorah to begin a child’s study of Gemara with the perek of “eilu metzios,” which discusses the halachos of hashavas aveidah, returning a lost item? Why not make the Gemaracome alive with subjects that are far more relatable, like maseches Brachos? The students would learn about davening, tefillah, brachos and many other relevant halachos.
Over the years I have heard many explanations for why we teach “eilu metzios” first. Rav Moshe Feinstein offers the “secret” behind this mesorah, and his answer not only changed the way I teach, it addresses the issue in this mother’s letter (see Reb Moshe, pp. 121-122).
We have been through many stages of galus. There were times when there were many children in yeshivah whose parents were not so serious about Yiddishkeit. If the boys learned about zmanei tefillah or brachos but their parents didn’t keep those halachos, not only would their learning go out the window, but they would reason that Chazal say things that are not to be taken seriously, chas v’shalom. Instead, we introduce them to Chazal using cases that, although relatable, would not necessarily come up at home.
Not only is this an example of trusting the logic of our mesorah,but it should serve to remind teachers of an important yesod. Short of a serious halachah or hashkafah issue,we should never force a child to choose between his rebbi and his parents. He should never have to struggle with divided loyalty.
This is especially true in our day. Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky refused to sit at the head of the table when he visited his children for Shabbos or Yom Tov. He explained that in our generation, a parent’s role is paramount, and a child must always see his father and mother as unimpeachable in their function. “I will not be in the home every day to guide your children,” he explained to his children. “We therefore mustn’t sully your status as leaders in their eyes.”
Perhaps an eleventh-grade rebbi will become a lifetime mentor of this mother’s bachur,or perhaps the bachur will soon become attached to another rebbi or rosh yeshivah,but his parents will remain a constant.
Today, baruch Hashem, most parents are products of a yeshivah education. Their sons will need their guidance throughout life, and aside from special situations, we must consider the importance of this need in comparison to a short-term gain.
And although I do not know the rebbi’s side of the story, I think we can all agree that if we hear from the bachur that his mother said no, the last thing he should do is collaborate with her son behind her back on a plan to circumvent her ratzon.
For her part, the mother must not share her disapproval of the rebbi’s course of actionwith her son. We must always nourish holy relationships and never try to stifle them.
See also: ‘Hoshanos: Understanding the Hoshana Chart & Daily Order Found in the Siddur’
Sukkos 5783
There are certain questions a rav always receives at certain times of the year. For instance, I am writing this article on Tzom Gedaliah, and I was reminded again this year that the most common sh’eilah a rav receives on Rosh Hashanah is “Rabbi, I am so tired! Is there any heter to lie down this afternoon?”
On Sukkos, every year without fail, I will be asked a series of questions regarding Hoshanos. It is not that the daledminim, hilchos Yom Tov, and the sukkah don’t carry their own sh’eilos, but rather that certain very specific aspects of the Hoshanos are mysterious to many people.
The Story of Hoshanos
When to say Hoshanos is always the first question I am asked. It is rare that such a universal element of the siddur is recited at different points in the tefillah depending on the shul where one davens. In fact, sometimes it can change in that same shul, depending on which day of Sukkos one davens there!
To explain this phenomenon, a little background would be apt. Hoshanos were recited in the Beis Hamikdash on all seven days of Sukkos, culminating in seven circuits around the Mizbei’ach on Hoshana Rabbah. They were done with aravos by the kohanim, as only they can walk around the Mizbei’ach (see Bi’ur HaGra 660, who asks why even Yisraelim do it nowadays).
The Ohr Zarua (315) contends, amazingly, that in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, even Yisraelim were allowed to circle the Mizbei’ach because of the holiness of this act!
Eventually, Jews living outside of Yerushalayim implemented a similar practice in their shuls, mirroring what was done at the Mizbei’ach. After the Churban, we adopted this practice in order to recall the days when we had a Mikdash.
When to Do Hoshanos
It seems that there are three historical minhagim regarding when to recite Hoshanos. The first is cited by the Tur (siman 660) in the name of Rav Saadia Gaon. Hoshanos was said right after krias haTorah. Oddly, and as the Tur himself points out, although this makes the most sense, it was not the accepted practice anywhere then, and it is not today either. The reason this seems to be the best time for Hoshanos is because the Torah is already out for leining, and taking a Torah out for any reason other than leining is something we typically avoid.
The second opinion comes from the Bach and others. They argue that since Hoshanos in the Mikdash were recited after that day’s Mussaf offering, we should say them after we davenMussaf.
The third approach is to say Hoshanos after Hallel. Various reasons are offered, but Rav Moshe Feinstein (Orach Chaim 3:99) posits that perhaps once one is already holding his daled minim for Hallel, putting them down until after Mussaf may appear to be an example of the principle of ein maavirim al hamitzvos—not passing over a mitzvah that is in front of you. However, reciting Hoshanos then leads to the question of whether the Torah should be returned to the aron before taking it out again immediately for leining.
While shuls choose either the second or third option, many change the practice during Yom Tov. On Yom Tovthey will do Hoshanos after Mussaf; on Chol Hamoed (save for Hoshana Rabbah) they will do it following Hallel. The Chazon Ish has a similar minhag (Dinim 22:17).
It is likely that this is often done for baalei batim who have a heter to work on Chol Hamoed and may have to leave early. This way they will already have said Hoshanos.
What’s With This Order?
“Rabbi, can you explain the Hoshanos? Why does the order change depending on which day Sukkos falls out?”
I should first point out that, as in the case of Selichos, there are many minhagim about what is recited and when. Sephardic, German and Chabad kehillos have their own systems. What follows is a brief explanation of the nusach found in the most influential compendium of hilchos tefillah in our time—the ArtScroll siddur. There are several special Hoshanos that are said on specific days, and they change depending on when Sukkos falls each year.
The Machatzitz Hashekel (d. 1806; siman 663:4) writes, “I have not found reasons for our ordering of the Hoshanos. But the Levush explains…” What follows is based on his words (as well as on Magen Avraham, Pri Megadim, and Mishnah Brurah ad loc #6).
Before we continue, I should point out two constants: The first day of Chol Hamoed Sukkos will always fall on the same day as Yom Kippur, and Sukkos can only begin on a Monday, Tuesday, Thursday or Shabbos.
The HoshanaE’eroch Shu’i is the one we want to say first as it alludes to our fasting and teshuvah on Yom Kippur. However, because such supplication should be avoided on Shabbos or Yom Tov, it is postponed to the first day of Chol Hamoed, which is appropriate in any case as it is always the same day of the week as Yom Kippur of that year.
So then, by default, we must choose which Hoshana should always be the first one. L’maan Amitach is chosen as it describes the characteristics of the Ribbono Shel Olam. Even Shesiyah follows as it focuses on the Beis Hamikdash, which is commemorated by this minhag.
On Shabbos, we always say Om Netzurah as the laws of Shabbos are explicated in it. Should Shabbos be the first day of Sukkos, it is recited then. The next day we go straight to the traits of Hashem with L’maan Amitach and maintain the Yom Kippur reference for the first day of Chol Hamoed with E’eroch Shu’i. On the second day of Chol Hamoed, we go back to the skipped Even Shesiyah.
Because Adon Hamoshiyah references our need for rain, we obviously save it for the last day (before Hoshana Rabbah) so as not to disturb our time in the sukkah. However, when Sukkos begins on a Monday, the penultimate day of Chol Hamoed will fall on Shabbos. This forces us to say Om Netzurah and skip Adon Hamoshiyah entirely that year.
To conclude, it always bothered me why, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, they would do Hoshanos and say, “Hoshia na!” I understand why we say it today, but during that time—especially during Bayis Rishon—hadn’t they already arrived at their salvation?
I think the explanation is that we tend to forget that, as we said during V’chol Maaminim during the Yomim Nora’im, “vadai shemo”—the only certainty comes from Hashem. So whether we have all that we need or desire more, both are given by Hashem. We have to daven not just for what we want, but also for what we have, praying that Hashem will maintains it for us.
May Hashem grant us all of our wants, and preserve and sustain for us all the gifts that He has already bequeathed to us.
& Joie de Vivre Within The Final ‘Kshanim’ HaTovos Of The Year
Erev Yom Kippur, 5782
A recent visit to Toronto allowed me to visit the cemetery before Rosh Hashana. There is where my brother-in-law is buried and where my mother and her parents lay. My mother is buried near the end of a long section, close to the gate. Because we are kohanim, this allows us to stand nearby and daven. The brushes have grown significantly since I’ve been there last, and I had to climb the fence to get a better view of the matzeiva (see shu’t Tzitz Eliezar 15:40, et al).
While a cemetery is never a place where ones feels at ease, as a kohein who is rarely near such a place, I was quite out of sorts. What and how to be mispallel at a cemetery is an enormous discussion in and of itself, and we will discuss this fascinating topic after the yomim tovim, be’H. I managed to navigate my teffilos appropriately, and then looked out into the vast dark and quiet and the sea of matzeivos that lay before me.
The following three thoughts came to mind, and I share them here.
Seeing is Believing
My first thought was one that would come naturally to any child: did my mother know I was there? I do not mean to get into the larger nistar discussion of the awareness of the deceased regarding the lives of their living loved ones; chazal discuss this. Rather, whatever gain there may be in such a visit, do I -standing at a distance from her kever -facilitate it?
In the sefer shu’t Duda’ai Hasadeh #21 (d. 1916, erev Rosh Hashana) he discusses this. First, as to the nistar, he proves from a story recorded in the Zohar (achareimos, 71) that, yes, a niftar is aware of the presence of even a kohein standing at a distance, and, that such knowledge gives the neshama nachas ruach (we would be remiss not to point out that the Gra strongly discouraged the visitation of his mother’s kever).
He then shares a critical point that is found in the MaaverYuvuk (ImreiNoam, 40, at end). The minhag of placing a matzeiva with a description of the niftar upon a burial spot serves to awaken those visiting. So, whether one is able to be up close or a kohein at a distance, simply being reminded of the life of a loved one -or a tzadik -will awaken within them the power to harness their yetzerhatov and unleash their internal kedusha.
This always seemed to me to be the simple explanation as to why Kalev travelled all the way to Chevron to maaroshamachpeleh. Why not just daven directly to Hashem? Or, why not ask Moshe for a beracha (after all, Moshe gave Yehoshua a name change which helped in protecting him)?
I believe Kalev went to be close to Avraham -who had to fend off Terech and the influence of his youth; Yitzchak-who had to battle with Eisav; Yaakov-who had to overwhelm Eisav; the imahos-who had to protect themselves and their children at great cost. Can there be greater chizuk in defeating the influences of the meraglim than reminding oneself of others under similar pressures and who come out victorious?
A Frightening Sermon
When researching the early rabbanim of America, I often come across interesting material that hasn’t yet found a home in a column. One example is the very first Yom Kippur in Buffalo, New York in 1847. It was contemporaneously reported:
“It was on the Day of Atonement that Rev. Itzig Slatsky stood in the synagogue in his white linen robe and white cap. Toward dusk…the congregation could no longer read without lights…they sent for a non-Israelite to light their hall. He, on entering the synagogue, seeing Mr. Slatsky with his pallid face and his long white beard, in full keeping with white attire…was seized with terror -ran out as quickly as he could -and reaching the stairs, fell headlong down the whole flight, causing quite a sensation by his precipitate exit”
(See The First Rabbi, p. 406)
Standing in the dark cemetery, another event, from five years earlier, came to my mind.
Erev Rosh Hashana of 1842 Rav Rice, the first musmach in America, decided that the best place to give mussar to this orphaned populace was at a levaya, surrounded by kevarim.
“I must describe the religious observance at it exits” he begins. He then goes on to describe himself like a doctor who vacillates between revealing the truth and thereby risking panic, or, hiding it so as the patient can be at peace. His choice becomes crystal clear when he admonishes:
“How foolish you are! If you would but open your eyes and look upon these graves hereabout and realize the transitoriness of life on earth…”
Eleven days later, on Yom Kippur, he completed his words. “You have forgotten the grace of Gd that brought you here…the very fact that are synagogue is closed from one Shabbos to the next is the clearest evidence of your irresponsible behaviors in this land…one thinks that here he is no longer in the presence of Hashem, and that in this land human destiny lies only in the accumulation in vast riches…”
Perhaps, one of the reasons for the minhag of visiting cemeteries during these days is due to the fact that noting opens one’s heart to the foundational truths, to seeing error, like being faced with the one truth from which no one escapes.
Life vs. LIFE
In 1780 the world was first introduced to the Chassidic machshava with the publication of Toldos Yaakov Yosef.
Rav Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye was a dedicated student of the Baal Shem Tov and recorded the teachings of his master in this volume.
In the section on hallel, he details a question from the holy Baal Shem Tov. “Lo Emus, Ki Echyeh –I shall not die, because I shall live”.
What is the point of this redundant prayer? Either just ask for life, or request that one should not die!
The Baal Shem Tov explained that the word ‘ki’ has many functions. One of these is ‘Because’, and yet another is ‘When’.
This teffila is not meant to be translated ‘I shall not die, because I shall live’ rather, “I shall not be dead when/while still alive”!
In other words, it is describing those who are Dead-Men-Walking.
How many of us go through life not appreciating all that we have? How many of wake up dreading the day ahead? Questioning what others have while ignoring the bounty of our own lives?
Rav Steinman once met with Rav Shach this time of year and asked why in u’nesanah tokef –when we describe some agonizing methods of departure from this world –we also mention ‘mi yichyeh?’.
“Why are people prone to crying at those words? Is not that the very thing we are all asking for?”
He answered his own question, and Rav Schach concurred. We are asking ourselves, ‘Will we be able to enjoy all that Hashem did grant us?” Who is alive but not vivaciously taking for granted every moment, every gift?! (Divrei Siach, 196)
A cemetery reminds us that not only are we alive, but we must take advantage of every moment, and be thankful for this gift.
My eldest daughter drove me to the airport to leave for Toronto. I asked her, “What is the last teffila we say each year?” She responded croecctly, “mincha, erev Rosh Hashana”. I then shared that it always bothered me at we say then, in shemoneh esreh, ‘uvareich shenuseinu kashanim hatovos -Hashem should bless this year like the best years’, “We only have seven minutes left!” I asked, “What are we supposed to have in mind?”
She thought for a moment, and the said, “Perhaps at this point we are not asking about the future. Perhaps we are asking Hashem to help us be able look back at this past year and see all of the positive He gave us, and we had accomplished. To appreciate what we do have”
I have much to share with you before Rosh Hashanah, from recent tales in the rabbinate to interesting teshuvah ideas for the pulpit. The very fact that a coronation is taking place on earth —that of King Charles III—at the same time, l’havdil, as our own coronation of the One True King is amazing in and of itself.
But instead I’d like to write on a personal note this week.
For the second time, I sent a daughter off to seminary. I find that at such moments, I tumble back in time, reflecting on the child’s life from the time she was born until now, and more crucially, reviewing how I was mechanech her—and all my children. The fact that these trips to the airport take place around the YomimNora’im only adds fuel to my cheshbonhanefesh.
The morning after her flight, I arrived at Shevach High School in Queens, where I am zocheh to teach halachah to the twelfth grade. I learned that an expert on technology was coming to speak to the students about its dangers. The new menaheles and I began discussing this issue, which many agree is the nisayon of our time.
These two moments forced me to consider the fact that perhaps I have been going about this issue in my professional and familial life in a way that could use improvement.
Such a reckoning applies not only to this particular challenge, and not only to teenagers, but to all of us during this period of din.
In 1987, Bob Greene, who wrote a column for the Chicago Tribune that was syndicated in over 200 newspapers, asserted that it was an urban legend that soldiers returning from Vietnam were spat upon. He challenged his readers to respond if they had ever witnessed it.
“So if you are a Vietnam veteran and you were ever spat upon by a civilian after you returned home, please drop a line to this column,” he wrote. “No jokes, please. If it really happened, it is no laughing matter. It would help if you provide approximate dates, places and circumstances.”
The response was enormous, and his promised column to revisit the issue turned into four. He ended, “There were simply too many letters, going into too fine detail, to deny the fact.”
These letters—234 of them—were then compiled into a book. One assistant who helped him curate the book stated, “The raw honesty of emotion from individuals I might have stereotyped as unemotional macho men… As I touched each letter, I felt as if I was being allowed to touch the life of the person who wrote it.”
Looking back, it may be hard for us to imagine acting in such a contemptuous way toward soldiers. After all, there was a draft; on top of that, they hadn’t asked to be born at a time that would make them the right age to fight.
Why do I mention this? Today’s dor is warned frequently about the innumerable poisons they must avoid. Sometimes when we give these warnings, we must also share the following message: “It is not your fault that you were born in this generation. You never signed up to live in a spiritually decadent environment. As Chazal teach regarding Noach, you are like Avraham b’doro. You are like Yosef in Mitzrayim!”
If there were a midrash describing a time in history when anything one imagined could appear on his desk with the tap of a finger, we would’ve assumed it was a complete exaggeration.
I should have told my daughter that I never had to suffer the challenges she has faced, and how proud and amazed I am that she succeeded. The fact that so many of our teenagers can enter forbidden worlds fairly easily, without being discovered, and yet either avoid it or walk away is a neisnigleh!
This message is critical for two reasons. First, it’s true. Secondly, there are teenagers who do fail from time to time in certain ways, and they need to know how special they still are. They need to know that they are still irreplaceable members of our nation. We must avoid yi’ush among our legionnaires.
There is a message here for all of us as well. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz and many others write that yi’ush and sadness lead to more aveiros, not fewer, and it certainly doesn’t help in the teshuvah process. Rav Chaim Kanievsky explains in Derech Sichah that in OlamHaba we are judged not only by Hashem but by a panel of gedolim from our own dor, as only they can understand our challenges.
I am not suggesting, chalilah, that aveiros today have less substance or impact. But we must remind ourselves that we live in a generation of unprecedented challenges. We need to remember that we are still here, still learning the daf, making time for Torah study, doing chesed. We need to be proud that we haven’t given up and that we are still striving to grow and succeed.
Here’s an interesting analogy. Antivenom is an amazing innovation. How is it made? Venom is taken from snakes, placed in a syringe and injected into a horse. The horse becomes ill, but because of its large body mass, it can withstand the poison. Once the horse recovers, its antibodies are collected—and that’s the cure.
Our successful bnei and bnos Torah have this rare antivenom. Some critical mass in their neshamos has been large enough and strong enough to withstand the poisons around them. We should be asking them how they succeeded and what tools they used.
As we go into the Yom Hadin, we plead with Hashem to have mercy on us during this dangerous time, confident that He will see the private battles that we win—and knowing that if we lose, we can get up and keep striving.
As we asked Hashem on the first night of selichos: ‘pneh nah el ha’t’laos, v’al l’chatos -Look toward the suffering, and not the sins’
“A PERSON IS OBLIGATED [BY TORAH LAW]1 TO BE HAPPY AND IN GOOD SPIRITS ON THE YOMIM TOVIM; THE HUSBAND, HIS WIFE, AND THEIR CHILDREN…”
– SHULCHAN ARUCH ORACH CHAIM 529:2-
April, 2022
Unfortunately, in spite of the above requirement, not only do many women not enjoy Pesach, but they often dread its arrival. The sad irony is that chazal teach that Pesach and the geulah it comes to celebrate are owed specifically to the Jewish women and their merits (Sota 11b).
Rabbanim have seen all too often the joy of Pesach sullied, the anticipation for this yom tov frustrated by unnecessary behavior done in the name of halacha.
We must put Pesach chumros in perspective.
There was a famous frum psychologist in Monsey who used to write to the Steipler Gaon regarding interesting cases. Many of those published letters discuss people with certain compulsive disorders hiding behind stringency in halacha. Of course, I am not suggesting a comparison, but it’s a useful metaphor that while there is room and even great importance for certain chumros, if left unchecked Pesach could be abused for unwarranted self-harm.
It should be said at the outset that there are various wonderful chumros relating to Pesach, as well as innumerable minhagim, all of which must all be observed in their respective homes. We all know the words of the Arizal that he or she who is careful about even a trifle of chometz will be protected from sin throughout the year (See Baer Heitev, siman 447:1; See also Zohar, parshas ki seitei as brought in Kaf HaChaim).
What follows are a few rules of chumros that one must keep in mind:
Chumros do not exist in a vacuum bound by no rules whereby they can potentially metastasize into adversities that are unrecognizable even to their creators. Chumros too are restricted by halacha. In fact, we need to be machmir regarding chumros, to learn when chumros are unnecessary and, sometimes, even forbidden.
In addition, by confusing chumros with real halacha we can create an atmosphere where what has to be done is eclipsed by what one desires to be done, leading to unhealthy consequences. In the words of the Netziv, “…we run away from the fox but into the mouth of a lion.”4
What follows is meant as informational; all final ruling must come from one’s own personal rav (See introduction of Rav Yosef Karo to his Kesef Mishna and his Beis Yoseph. See also Maharal, Nesivos Olam, Nesiv HaTorah 15).
A chumrah must have a source – All chumros – aside for one’s familial/ group’s minhagim – must have a source, a singular opinion, for instance, found in the poskim, and it certainly cannot go against a ruling of chazal. A stringency made up out of whole cloth is not acceptable unless it is a specific tradition (by tradition, we don’t mean “well, I did it last year”).6, 7
A chumrah cannot conflict with a clear halacha – If a newly decided-upon chumrah would be in direct conflict with a clear halacha it must be abandoned. Examples abound, and halacha is vast, so a rav should always be consulted. In my view, this includes taking on a new chumra that could severely harm one’s simchas Yom Tov and/or shalombayis.8
Chumros relating to medicine in pill form –When Rav Moshe Feinstein, Chazon Ish, Ksav Sofer, etc. were asked about pill-form medications that was known to contain chometz, they all allowed it on Pesach. This is because a pill is not edible to a dog (and is in fact produced to be that way) which the Torah itself allows. While we can’t be stricter than the Torah (baaltosif), there is a minority view (the Rosh) who posits that there would still be a rabbinical concern when such permissible chometz is actually consumed, and not just in one’s home (achshivei). Yet, even if one wished to follow this minority/rabbinic concern, the poskim explain that it would only be in effect when such indelible chometz is eaten, not when swallowed whole. While some kedoshim wish to still be machmir, one should not be machmir and refrain without speaking to a rav. That’s the only shailah they should ask about pills -if they are allowed to be machmir! Personally, I am trying to say every word of pesukeid’zimra, and work on my middos, before assuming a chumrah on a derabbanan that can impact one’s very health, and that the poskim do not reccomend.
Taking on a chumrah for someone else – One cannot take on a chumrah for someone else – or for one’s wife (see Igros Mosheeh’e 2:12 at end, et al., that a husband cannot be machmir against the basic din when it affects only his wife).
If a husband desires to take on chumros -especially when it comes to cleaning for Pesach – that are new and not a part of standard practice in their family, he is more than welcome to do so, and his wife should show him where the cleaning supplies are kept. Yes, we must be vigilant, machmir even, when it comes to the laws of Pesach, but never at the expense of others.
A wife foregoing her family minhagim for her husband – the concept that a wife forgoes her family customs so as to follow the minhagim of her husband is not as simple – or as ancient – as many assume. There are times when she would not, could not. This topic was explored several years ago here, and one should speak to their rav.
Cleaning for Pesach–
If one fears there may be chametz behind a large appliance or shelf space (e.g. a bookshelf) that cannot be moved without great effort (e.g. unscrewing panels, or very tricky lifting) there is no need to remove it, especially if any chametz there would be inedible (Shulchan Aruch HaRav, some understand his words as applying to even large pieces of chametz).
While it is praiseworthy to clean seforim / books of tiny crumbs, it is not an obligation (Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, et al.). Nevertheless one should not bring unchecked seforim to the table where a crumb could fall into food (Rav Moshe Feinstein). Pockets of clothing, however, must be checked (Rema).
All areas of one’s home and property (e.g. car) must be cleaned of chametz, save for an area where one is certain no chametz has entered. In homes where young children are present, even such spaces must be checked unless the children have no way of entering.
All areas that are to be sold/rented to a non-Jew for Pesach need not be checked or cleaned for chametz (Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach; cf. Mishnah Berurah 436:32). Nevertheless, any such chametz must be out of view over Pesach (behind a mechitzah / barrier of at least 38 inches high). Regarding one who is selling their entire home, speak to a rav.
Deracheha darchei noam -the Torah and its laws are pleasant. We must never forget that. As chazal teach, just as one gets schar for doing, they sometimes also get schar from pulling back (Kiddushin 57a).
Wishing everyone a chometz-free and anxious-free home this Pesach!
Rabbis get the most interesting visitors to their offices, reporters, priests, politicians, etc.
But by far, at least for me, the most noteworthy visitors are those who express a desire to become Jewish. It took several years for me to learn the best way to handle such a situation.
On the one hand, we want the process of conversion to be painless, but it does have to be rigorous. Chazal often speak about the dangers of pushing a potential convert away, in one instance even blaming the birth of Amalek on such misconduct (Shabbos 88).
On the other hand, we are taught the dangers of accepting those who come with ulterior motives, and the havoc that can be wrought by a beis din that accepts a ger too quickly (see Yevamos 109b with Meiri). Some poskim even recommend waiting a full year from the day a person expresses his wish to convert so that all parties are certain it’s the right thing to do (see Mishnas Rabbi Eliezer, to the effect that this has been the longstanding custom of batei din).
Most famously, we are commanded to inform the potential convert of the difficulty of abiding by the Torah (Yevamos 47b) and the hardships experienced by the Jewish nation (ShulchanAruch 268).
One such convert was a young woman named Miriam. She came to my office fresh out of a local Catholic high school and was clearly nervous. It was obvious that stepping into a rabbi’s office frightened her, as if she were breaking some code. Interestingly, when she spoke, she came across like a Bais Yaakov girl. She was very eidel, and her tznius was remarkable.
She told me that she had known for some time that she wanted to convert but needed to wait for the right moment. I began my shpiel in response, but I had forgotten to consider that she had grown up in the age of the internet: She had come to my office well informed and had already geared up for her long journey.
Miriam ended up spending a year in seminary, and she continued to move toward geirus until she and the beis din felt that she was ready. I was living in Queens when she called to ask if she could come to my office to take the geirus test that had been prepared by the Toronto beis din. I explained that the test consisted of close to 1,500 questions and that people generally took it over the course of several days.
“How long would it take if I did it in one shot?” she asked, undeterred.
“I don’t know. Maybe eight or nine hours,” I surmised.
She was so anxious to become a member of the am hanivchar that she didn’t care if her arm fell off from writing. She just wanted to be a Jew! She filled out question after question—queries about hilchosShabbos, Yom Tov, the Jewish calendar, important expressions and terms, cultural ideas, history, minhagim, kashrus. Yiddishkeit covers everything, and so did this exam! No potential convert is expected to ace this test—and few frum Jews would either—but Miriam excelled. She converted very soon afterward.
Sometime after her conversion, she got engaged to a wonderful young bachur who is now a kollelyungerman. Some five years later, she is a true eisheschayil and rebbetzin to this talmidchacham, and they live in the Five Towns.
For the first several years, like many other geirim, she found it easier to call a rav she knew in case her question would make it obvious that she hadn’t grown up frum.(Not that it matters, but her questions were always informed; in fact, she knows more than most people.)
There is a reason I am sharing her story this week, at a time when Jews around the world are reeling from the petirah of Rav Chaim Kanievsky, zt”l.
We all know where we were when we found out that Rav Chaim was niftar. I was on the phone with my father in Eretz Yisrael, and we stayed on the phone for a few minutes in relative silence, taking in the news. After I hung up, I composed a message for my shul and sat in silence again. Then I got a text that shook me to the core.
It was from Miriam, wanting to know if and when she was required to tear kriah!
It was only after hearing this holy sh’eilah that I broke down, the full weight of the loss of Rav Chaim crashing down on me like a tidal wave. It made me realize how personally his passing is affecting so many diverse people in klal Yisrael. After composing myself sufficiently to call her back, I found her in tears, sobbing for the loss to our nation and hardly able to speak.
I told her how much her sh’eilah meant to me and to all of us. Sometimes we need our very own Yisro to open our eyes! I explained to her that Chazal made her point when they stated: “Chacham she’meis hakol kerovav, when a chacham dies, we are all his relatives” (Mo’ed Katan 25a).
Indeed, the Shulchan Aruch rules that one is to tear kriyah “for a talmidchacham of whom one can ask any question and he is able to answer it” (Yoreh Dei’ah 340:7). This psak seems to apply clearly to Rav Chaim. Why, then, didn’t we all tear kriyah?
There are several reasons. First, the Rema says that we only do so for our own personal rebbi or in unusual circumstances. The Aruch Hashulchan also explains that in our time, we don’t have chachamim who can answer on every topic in Torah, in accordance with the teaching of Chazal (Taanis 10) that such a person must be able to answer questions even on the less-studied minor tractates.
But wait! Rav Chaim not only knew these tractates inside and out; he wrote sefarim on many of them as well!
Then I saw in the name of the Zachor L’Avraham (Yoreh Dei’ah #11) that the reason we no longer tear kriyah for our gedolim is that there would be no end to it. Even today, we have so many geonim that if we tore kriyah for each one, we would soon have no garments left to tear (see Nitei Gavriel, Aveilus, Cheilek Alef,p. 281, footnote #5).
Accordingly, the fact that most people didn’t tear kriyah for Rav Chaim is the greatest honor we can give him—for it is thanks to him that there has been such a proliferation of Torah scholars in our era.
“There is a zoology course at a distinguished university in which the students were requested to write a term paper on the subject of elephants. The French student writes a paper with the predictable title, “On the Food Habits of the Elephant”; the German student submits a teutonically comprehensive “Introduction to the Bibliographic Sources for the Study of the Elephant”; the American student submits a paper on the topic of “Breeding Bigger and Better Elephants”; and, finally, the Jewish student chooses as his theme —what else?—“The Elephant and the Jewish Question.” (Santer, Johns Hopkins University Press).
While my next sentence may sound like the above joke’s continuation, I wish to discuss ‘Daylight Savings Time and the Jewish Problem’.
The issue of Daylight Savings Time has always been discussed, debated and even experimented with. I am a contrarian. Put me in front of a chavrusah and have him say a pshat that I’ve always thought of myself and, suddenly, I will see its flaws.
I never really thought deeply into Daylight Savings Time, save for every November when I would have a flash-of-a-thought, “Why don’t they just keep the time-gain of an hour of sunlight?”
But then, the other week, I heard on the news that the Senate voted unanimously to make Daylight Savings Time permanent. It was only then when, all of a sudden, I was awakened to the many issues it would cause for bnei Torah.
The bill was titled ‘The Sunshine Protection Act’. It is an odd name, as if they were Yehoshua who can, by fiat, decree the sun stay in the sky longer. In fact, Senator Marco Rubio, who introduced this bill, made sure to explain on his website that, “This bill does not…change the amount of hours of sunlight, etc.”!
According to this law -which still must be voted on by congress and then signed by the president -in 2023 we will change the clock one last time, leaving DST in place for good.
In truth, this is not the first change relating to DST. Let us go back in history for a moment.
DST was enacted in the United States following Germany’s 1916 effort to conserve fuel during World War I. Initially, it was authorized for only half of the year, but in 2005 Congress extended DST to eight months, leaving only four months of standard time. The United States has also gone through periods where we have had year-round DST, including in 1942-1945 and 1974-1975.
Those brief changes, obviously, didn’t last. In the Fall of 1974, a poll was commissioned where opposition to DST outran support by a 53% to 41% margin. The reason was as clear as day -or as dark as night! -people didn’t want to send their kids off to school, or go to work, in the pitch black.
Funny enough, polling hasn’t gotten much better, with over seventy percent in favor of keeping the status quo (CNN, March 14th 2021, ‘Americans Don’t Like Changing the Clocks, But Can’t Agree on a Solution’).
The reader may be wondering what the problem may be for us. After all, Chanukah licht would be at around 6pm instead of 5pm, allowing for more fathers to be home to light on time! In addition, even during the winter, most shuls would be able to expect ballabattim to have returned from work so that everyone can make a unified mincha and maariv each and every night of the year. So what’s the issue?
The issue is davening in the mornings!
Right now, the goal of ST and DST is to have it so that the sun will be rising as most people get up in the morning. Sunrise changes within a two-hour window throughout the year.
So, dear reader, follow me into the future:
Let us fast-forward to March 12th, 2023, the first day of our new permanent DST. In New York City, sunrise, or neitz hachama, will be at 7:12am. From there it will get earlier, reaching its nadir around June 15th, at 5:24am. By November 4th, 2023 – the morning before we would have switched back to ST -sunrise will be at 7:29am.
Now, would laws stay the same, the next day would be a 6:30am sunrise, but if we stick with DST, it will be at 7:30am.
The time for sunrise will keep moving up from there, reaching its zenith in the beginning of January 2024, when sunrise will be as late as 7:20am, even at ST…and 8:20am if we keep DST!!!
It goes without saying -leaving halacha to the side for a moment -that our challenge of getting our young boys and girls out of bed in the morning will only be greatly increased because of this, and, that safety in bussing will also be pushed to its brink.
Yet, it will be the halachic and societal changes that will be the most noticeable. Most insignificantly, no Shabbos of the year will end before, around, 6:30pm, but let’s go back to those sunrise mornings.
Chazal teach that the ideal time to daven is netz (Berachos 30a). But when is the earliest one may daven? While the gemara does allow for an earlier (and certainly, later) time, it is unclear when that is.
The Rambam rules that one could, bdieved, daven at alos, or ‘dawn’ (hil. teffila 3:7).
The Rosh gives a later bdieved staring time, when the eastern sky is illuminated (Berachos 4:1).
Rabbeinu Yeruchem gives, still, a later time than that: when one can recognize a friend at four amos distance (nesiv 3:3; see Beis Yosef to siman 89).
We rule that one should never daven before the time of the Rosh, unless one has no other option.
Now, to be sure, when alos/dawn is exactly is a debate with close to ten opinions. But let us take the most lenient view. Say one wishes to daven at alos (already a great leniency), and takes the view that this is 90 minutes before netz (another lenient indulgence) -even then the earliest minyan would still be after 7am! And this is only if our poskim sanction such a broad halachic allowance. They may instead urge that, like with mincha, people find minyanim near their offices at a more lichatchila time. We cannot overstate how troubling this would all be to the chinuch of our children. Part of yiddeshkeit is the witnessing of thousands coming to and from shul each morning.
In addition, yeshivos and chedarim will have to have learning start much later -as certainly they would never sanction a chinuch of a bdieved. Imagine the amount of bitul Torah this will cause!
Gevalt!
Rabbi David Warshaw, the president of the National Council of Young Israel recently lamented –“Since Covid, shuls need stability now more than ever. This new law will take our shuls five steps back!”
So, what do we do?
I am not sure. The first step, of course, is to inform.
