In Response to ‘An Orphaned Ruling’ by Dov Liberman

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In response to ‘An Orphaned Ruling’ by Dov Liberman

In response to ‘An Orphaned Ruling’ by Dov Liberman

Dov Liberman’s article was published in the issue for the Torah portion Devarim

There is nothing sound in it

When there is a halakhic opening that may lead to greater equality in the service of God, we must choose that opening. The ruling of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ permitting a woman to recite Kaddish is a proper and clear halakhic ruling by decisors who are attentive to their public. That is the only way Jewish law is decided.

I do not know what experience Dov Liberman has in halakhic decision-making, that he sees himself as qualified to define what a halakhic ruling is and then determine that the ruling of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ on the subject of a daughter reciting Kaddish does not meet that definition. Nor do I know the extent of Liberman’s knowledge and experience that he so confidently declares the ruling full of embarrassing errors and distortions, when in truth the only embarrassing distortion is his own distortion in presenting the ruling, and the embarrassing error is his failure to understand what is written.

More than that, I find the culture of debate difficult. It is legitimate to disagree with this ruling and to think otherwise, but it is not legitimate to write in a condescending style of absolute certainty on the one hand, and crude contempt for those who disagree with you on the other. I have no interest here in repeating the embarrassing and patronizing expressions Liberman used. His request for forgiveness in the introduction to his remarks, addressed to the rabbis who wrote the ruling, whom he says are greater than he in Torah and in years, sounds ridiculous and is wholly at odds with the style of his words throughout the article; it is nothing more than the chirping of a starling.

The rabbi and the great decisor

Twenty-eight years ago, on the eve of the sabbatical year 5747, when I was the young rabbi of Kibbutz Kfar Etzion, I came with my colleagues—Rabbi Elishiv Knohl, the current rabbi of Kfar Etzion, and Rabbi Eliyahu Blumenzweig, today head of the Yeruham yeshiva—to lay before Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, of blessed memory, my many hesitations regarding sabbatical-year questions in the kibbutz. At a certain point, after we had heard from the rabbi much Torah and much judgment in legal decision-making, he told us something that at the time stunned me. He said that he could not decide and rule on these matters, and that I, as the kibbutz’s rabbi, would have to decide myself. The words struck me like a blow—how could I, with my meager knowledge, dare decide and take responsibility in matters that the greatest decisor in the country did not know how, and was unwilling, to decide and take responsibility for? I pondered this for months, perhaps years, and as I matured and acquired experience in decision-making I came to understand an important principle that taught me what a true halakhic ruling is.

A true halakhic ruling is the decisor’s ability to determine what is right and fitting to instruct the person asking or the public asking. For that one must know the various opinions in Jewish law, but also know היטב the public or the individual who is asking, and know how to instruct that questioner in accordance with the reality appropriate to that specific person. In this the young kibbutz rabbi has an advantage over great and important first-rank decisors. There is no doubt that the great decisor knows Torah ten times better than the young rabbi, and therefore the young rabbi must know to turn to the great decisor in order to learn from him the various opinions, the correct judgment—what must be taken into account, what is primary and what secondary, and much more. But the rabbi is supposed to know his own public better than the great decisor, and therefore in the end he will know better and more correctly than the great decisor what the right ruling is for the community or for the individual who asks. He will also know better how to present the ruling to people in the way that is most acceptable and appropriate.

That is his advantage, and that is the only reason there is a need for a community rabbi in an age in which one can easily reach the words of the greatest decisors in the world of Torah, whose knowledge and experience exceed the young rabbi’s many times over.

In light of this, what in the writer’s eyes is a deficiency—that the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ are aware of to whom they are speaking, know the public and the communities, and tailor their words to that public—is in my eyes precisely their great advantage. Someone who rules from the words of the decisors and from books while ignoring and failing to understand the reality of the public he addresses, and without understanding changing reality, is not, in my eyes, deciding Jewish law. It is in exactly this direction that at the end of the responsum the illuminating words of Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg in Seridei Esh were brought regarding celebration of a bat mitzvah: in our times there is great importance in not discriminating between boys and girls, in not saying things that constitute insult and injury to the female ציבור, and in not issuing rulings that distance women from religion. In the eyes of so great and outstanding a decisor as the author of Seridei Esh, such considerations are legitimate and important in halakhic decision-making.

We live in an age in which, for the same reasons given by Rabbi Weinberg, we must aspire as much as possible to achieve equality between women and men in the realms of Jewish law and Torah as well. There are matters that trouble us, but we are prevented from changing clear, definitive, settled laws. Yet wherever there is a halakhic opening to bring about greater equality in the service of God, we must choose that opening, even if some dispute it and even if some adopt the stricter course of not deviating from accepted practice. For in our day that stringency is actually a leniency, causing a great deal of alienation from Torah and commandments and from the Jewish way. A woman reciting Kaddish is not a prohibition, and it is not one of those matters in which there is no counsel and no wisdom. On the contrary: the plain sense of the matter is that there is no problem in it, and therefore there is no problem in saying so to women who wish to act this way.

The young woman said Kaddish

From here I come to the writer’s distortion of the ruling. Precisely out of great caution, and מתוך awareness that not all communities are alike and not all women are alike (and therefore what is right for one is not right for another, and what suits one community may be wholly unsuited to another), the ruling is not absolute and does not say that it is proper for a woman to say Kaddish.

Indeed, there were rabbis in the study hall who thought so, and there were earlier drafts, not ultimately accepted, in which that was written. But precisely because of that caution, nowhere in the entire long ruling does it say that it is proper for a woman to recite Kaddish. What does the ruling say? That some hold that there is benefit even in Kaddish recited by a woman. On the other hand, there are ways no less proper to elevate the soul of the deceased, and many think those ways preferable to reciting Kaddish, especially in the case of women. In any case of disagreement, Kaddish should be avoided, and one should consult the community rabbi; if there is no rabbi, there should be an appropriate and respectful discussion of the matter (all מתוך understanding that not everything suitable in one place suits another). The ruling fairly and honestly cites many decisors who oppose a woman reciting Kaddish, or who permit only minors; and for some reason the writer decided that all these citations—which in truth were brought in the ruling in order to explain the problematic side of a woman reciting Kaddish—were brought as supports for permission, and because of his flawed reading he attacks and accuses the writers of the ruling of distorting the sources.

Liberman is mistaken and misleads when he claims that those who permit spoke only of minors. In the book Kaddish L’Olam the discussion is explicitly about a woman and not a girl. Rabbi Henkin, in Responsa Bnei Banim, speaks about a woman, and he adds that in today’s reality, where Kaddish is not recited by a single mourner but all mourners say it together, it is quite possible that even those who forbid would concede that there is no place to forbid it. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein speaks about a mourning woman entering to say Kaddish (and on this point, in my humble opinion, my friend Rabbi Neria Gutel, whose teaching is measured and precise, and upon whose words the writer relied, was not exact). Rabbis Joseph Dov and Aharon Soloveitchik also spoke of a woman saying Kaddish by herself from the women’s section. So too Rabbi Yisraeli is cited in Responsa Mareh HaBazak, and according to him, if the woman says Kaddish in an ordinary voice, there is room to permit it, and this does not weaken accepted customs.

The writer’s admiration for the precision and marvelous formulation of Rabbi Y. E. Henkin—that a woman says Kaddish in the women’s section in such a way that only the women answer Amen after her and not the men, who answer Amen only after the male orphans—is completely contradicted by the words of his grandson Rabbi Herzl Henkin. The grandson brings his grandfather’s testimony that from his childhood he remembers that a young woman (note היטב: not a little girl and not a child) said Kaddish before the men (note היטב: before the men, not before women) in a community of pious and God-fearing Jews. Therefore the writer’s conclusion that those who drafted the ruling greatly expanded Rabbi Henkin’s permission beyond what he intended is the opposite of reality—it seems that those who drafted the ruling actually narrowed, at least, Rabbi Henkin’s testimony about what took place in a community of pious and God-fearing Jews.

The conclusion, then, is that there truly are those who forbid and those who permit, and it is also true that many of those who forbid outnumber those who permit. Even so, there are great, important, and outstanding decisors who permit, and one may rely on their words. Following the words of Seridei Esh, it may even be that one could have ruled this way even if there had not been great, important, and outstanding decisors who permit, because of the great and meaningful difference between the reality of their generation and period and the reality of our times.

Common sense and logic

And one more thing about proper and responsible decision-making. The Jerusalem Talmud in Sanhedrin (4:2) says that if the Torah had been given in a cut-and-dried form, the foot would have no place to stand. It was not for nothing that the Torah was given in a manner that allows it to be expounded forty-nine ways to declare pure and forty-nine ways to declare impure, for only thus can it preserve its eternity. Precisely because it is not cut-and-dried, and precisely because it was given for interpretation, refinement, and adaptation to every generation and every public—the Torah is eternal.

And if the Torah was not given in a cut-and-dried form, how are we to decide matters and choose among the different views? In this respect the early sages taught us two important rules, and it is fitting that they too stand before our eyes, among the other considerations, as decisors.

One rule is learned from Maimonides, who says that one must always examine statements and interpretations by the test of reason. That is, how ordinary people on the outside see them—and not only Jews among themselves—on the assumption that the voice of the multitude is like the voice of the Almighty. He rejects the position of those who interpret the aggadic teachings of the sages literally, מתוך naive trust in the sages, with the following sharp words, which are true also, and perhaps especially, regarding halakhic ruling: ‘For God said of the wisdom of His Torah, that when they hear all these statutes they will say: Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people. But this group derives from the plain sense of the sages’ words things such that, if the nations heard them, they would say: Surely this small nation is a foolish and contemptible people.’

Another important rule we find in the Talmud in Yoma, which expounds that the name of Heaven should become beloved through you. The criterion is what causes a sanctification of God’s name in the eyes of people, and what, Heaven forbid, causes its desecration in their eyes. For this one must know the public, and one must also be sensitive to how things will be received by it. For that purpose one must often consider not only the codified law but also the fifth section of the Shulchan Arukh—common sense, wisdom, and reason.

After all this, what does the ruling actually say, and wherein lies its importance? In practice, only one thing. Its aim is not to encourage women to say Kaddish, but only to ensure that in cases where a woman feels a deep emotional need to say Kaddish for her parents—her decision is respected. People should understand that the matter is not baseless, and that by doing so she does not become Conservative or Reform, Heaven forbid, nor one of the Women of the Wall.

In conclusion, let me say a few words about the working method of the study hall. The rabbis who are partners in the study hall gather for joint discussions, followed by online discussions, in order to formulate the study hall’s positions and to test the correct and responsible wording of what goes forth into the public square. The study hall learns the relevant sources, discusses them, examines their application and their fit to the reality under discussion, and in light of those sources grounds its positions. If we take, for example, the rulings in the latest booklet, dozens of other drafts preceded the rulings that were published; they were discussed, corrected, and improved by members of the study hall. In the end, what was accepted was something that does not match exactly any one rabbi’s view by himself. Each individual, had he written the ruling, would have written it differently. But its great advantage lies in the fact that it reflects something shared and broad, representing many rabbis who were partners in the discussion, the writing, and the formulation. Therefore, to crown a halakhic ruling that has many fathers, among them decisors of great experience, with the title ‘an orphaned ruling’ is yet another of the writer’s many distortions.

Zeev Weitman

Rabbi Zeev Weitman is the rabbi of ‘Tnuva’ and head of the halakhic study hall ‘Beit Hillel’

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Always: a responsive rabbinate

I am not officially counted among the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel,’ although that is naturally where my home is. The reason is precisely dismissive articles like this one, published last Sabbath, and those published every time a responsum of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ appears. A very large group of women and men, which surely represents the great majority, the substance, the number, and the spirit of religious Zionism, gathers to discuss current issues in a transparent and public way, places itself at the center, and when it tries to find favor and good sense in the eyes of all currents, it finds itself attacked from every side. Such a group of rabbis, male and female, can influence—through cooperation and without issuing official rulings—hundreds of communities and tens of thousands of Jews under the radar of the thought-and-halakhah police, with greater halakhic courage and without any need to apologize.

The halakhic discussion, as well as the responses to it, brings to the surface the halakhic debate and the conclusions, but does not expose the mood and the halakhic and faith conceptions, which are the main thing. As noted, I do not represent in my words the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel,’ but myself and some of my colleagues with whom I am in dialogue. I would, however, like to present a few of the currents of thought under discussion. When certain rabbis attack the concept of a ‘responsive rabbinate,’ they expose the root of the disagreement: whether the needs and wishes of the questioner also stand before the decisor as considerations, and whether Jewish law is meant only to obey the written word handed down to us, or rather to bring it to expression in renewed life.

When we read Rav Kook’s words accusing the religious leadership of causing secularization, because it presented a small, insular religion in the face of a progressing and renewing world; when we understand that a rabbinate must be responsive, as it always has been; when we study the destruction narratives, which accuse the sages of the destruction because they judged according to the strict law of Torah and clung to the written word rather than to the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, who gave it—we have no doubt that a halakhic discussion occupied with fine points of wording in the decisors, without a conceptual clarification, is bound to produce distortion.

Lights and shadows

We look at reality and see in it lights and shadows. The democratic lights of liberty and equality; the lights of a technological world that has spread knowledge and medicine and advanced humanity to the best human condition ever; the lights of the radical change in the status of women, which has brought them to be partners in the human story not as appendages to the male world but as selves in their own right. And we also see the shadows: those of equality and liberty, which led to nihilism and loss of meaning; those of technology, which enslaved man to the work of his hands; and those of feminism, which contributed to the loss of intimacy and the destruction of the family. Yet we believe that the lights are greater than the shadows, and we seek to repair the tools that Jewish law has to offer so that they may contain the lights and repel the shadows.

Whereas the opponents seek to preserve the old social tools as though they were themselves lights, and to reject everything new as though it were the work of Satan, we believe that the modern world has advanced human redemption more than any era before it, and we feel obligated to repair the broken tools so that they may contain the redemption before us.

We believe women when they say that they seek to serve the Holy One, blessed be He, in fullness; and since the halakhic world has left full tools of service only to men, we offer them to women. Indeed, although the sources laid before us do not spread out a red carpet before us, but often rather a red stoplight, we try to broaden precedents because of the needs of the hour and the generation, because of human dignity and desecration of God’s name. Usually this was done only after the fact; we are expanding it to the outset.

We know that when the sages said, ‘What case are we dealing with here?’ they sought to set narrow limits to ancient laws in order to allow Jewish law to renew itself. But those were not external limits; they were limits that grew out of the spirit of the law and the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, and we too sometimes seek to do this. When women sing and we do not understand what indecency there is here, we seek to understand that the one who said ‘a woman’s voice is nakedness’ meant voices of forbidden eroticism, and we narrow the prohibition in one place and broaden it to a man’s voice as well, when that too is erotic.

So too, when we speak with a male or female student with same-sex inclinations, we try קודם כל to listen to their pain, and then to repair what can be repaired—and that is not only the inclination itself. And when we listen to a divorced woman who has met a priest, while both are trapped because of their previous spouses, we do not remain indifferent, even if usually we will find it difficult to find a solution. And when we hear clichés such as ‘I too want to be a priest and serve in holiness,’ we remember that the choice of priests was the result of the sin of the firstborn, and that their very selection also led to destruction.

To innovate

And when we see how great rabbis give advice on educational matters in a categorical way, recommending how to be strict and how to shape, demand, and lead—and they do so as if they know everything—while some of their own children and students no longer observe Torah and commandments, exactly like our children, we do not understand how they dare speak so definitively, without humility and common decency, about liberal education. And when we hear the racism, the narrowness, and the small-mindedness with which students are educated in various yeshivot, when we read an article in one of the popular pamphlets calling upon people not to marry women who are studying toward any future other than childbearing and concern for the husband, we are filled with horror.

A person approaches his sources out of his inner worldview. Some approach them out of fear of Heaven and fear of halakhah, reading the written word, only the black fire and not the white fire. For them, words like ‘love of human beings,’ ‘listening,’ ‘graciousness,’ or ‘humanity’ stand behind Jewish law, and have no independent existence except through what is written in the Shulchan Arukh. Their graciousness will be to explain gently and with a smile why one must endure spiritual or marital bondage, why people must be condemned to wonderful lives of unrealized partnership or parenthood in the name of the good of the collective and of halakhah. And there are those who approach out of fear of Heaven and fear of sin. They seek to serve the Holy One, blessed be He, in the voices that continue to sound through Sinai, a great voice that did not cease. They fear the dangers of losing the halakhic anchor, but fear even more losing the prophetic voice thrown into us fools, and returning life to the four cubits of words frozen in time. We are ready to draw a straight line from Sinai through Jerusalem, Sura, Safed, Baghdad, Prague, and on to Tel Aviv, and we are not willing for the line to stop two hundred years ago—not even today.

It may be that the response of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ does not fit exactly the sources they cited, but that has always been the strength of halakhic decisors. If the plain meaning had been the guiding light of the sages of Israel throughout the generations, and if they had insisted that every response be founded entirely on what was said before it, there would be no Jewish world. The response of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ sought to innovate, to hear within the sources a voice permitting the circle to be stretched so that it could contain new possibilities. They listened to reality and trusted it, because it reveals ‘new aspects of light and goodness in the human soul.’ They turned to the sources to find there the voice that recognizes and directs that light and goodness, and they found it. In their eyes the matter is so simple that they saw it as though explicitly written and handed down. And now, how wonderful, there is already a source permitting a daughter’s Kaddish, still with reservation and caution. In the halakhic rulings with which today’s opponents will answer in the near future, they too will discover the light, and they will already obligate women to recite a daughter’s Kaddish—after all, it is now written.

Shlomo Wilk

Rabbi Shlomo Wilk is head of Machanayim Yeshiva and rabbi of the Yael community in Jerusalem

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Agenda-driven halakhah

Community rabbis, important as they may be, are not experienced in broad public leadership. One must consult the leading sages of the generation and not rely on a public council whose members include secular people and people who have left observance.

Dov Liberman’s article dealt with an in-depth critical textual analysis of the halakhic ruling on a daughter reciting Kaddish issued by the rabbis’ organization ‘Beit Hillel.’ I would like דווקא to expand on the aspect implied between the lines, and on the general spirit blowing from the organization’s publications.

The very motto the organization chose for itself—’responsive Torah leadership’—is enough to arouse discomfort. Has rabbinic leadership until now not been responsive to the public’s needs and welfare? Are all rabbis who are not members of the organization suspect of wanting to be strict and burdensome to the public? I am astonished. But the essence of the matter is not this; it lies rather in the organization’s halakhic approach, which, if we listen carefully enough, we can hear through that very motto.

If a person asks himself what responsive Torah leadership is, the answer will be roughly this: since the organization places the value of tolerance at the top of its priorities, all sorts of other values are pushed aside before it, even where there are no clear halakhic permissions. Listening to the public means, in the end, a halakhic rationale that justifies after the fact why the public’s behavior is desirable and permitted according to Jewish law. There is no call here to elevate public life to more precise observance of Jewish law, but a kind of statement of, ‘Keep acting as you have until now, and we will explain why that is all right.’ At the base of this approach lies an essential question: does a person make his will accord with the will of the Torah, or does he twist the Torah so that it fits his desires? This is reflected in the rulings the organization publishes, which grant halakhic approval to problematic situations without calling to change reality so that it fits the demands of Jewish law. And this is understandable, for an organization trying to position itself as a moderate rabbinic organization, attentive to the needs of the public, cannot allow itself to issue rulings that require the public to change its way of life.

More generally, an agenda-driven halakhic approach contradicts the whole meaning of Jewish law. A decisor faced with a case requiring response must study the issue from its sources in order to aim at the truth of Torah, without a prior inclination to forbid or permit. After he has studied the issue and reached a principled conclusion, he includes in his decision the specific case before him, taking into account the different considerations arising from it—his questioner’s emotional, financial, and family situation, and other factors affecting the final ruling. An organization that מראש presents itself as a ‘moderate’ organization, aspiring to give rulings that will be pleasantly accepted by the public, sins against the divine truth expressed in the study of Jewish law as it ought to be studied, and distorts the will of God as expressed in Jewish law and its directives. A moderate and tolerant organization, with a sane voice, representing the silent majority, will not rule, for example, that a woman must cover the hair of her head, because such a ruling contradicts the organization’s essence and character. Consequently, what we have here is not a complete statement of the words of Torah, but a selective choice of contents that will be pleasantly received by the public, provided they demand no change from it.

In a casual browse through the organization’s website, I encountered the following text: ‘The organization of Beit Hillel rabbis expresses shock at Haggai Amir’s statement that he is proud of his deeds and does not regret them. Bloodshed is among the gravest transgressions in the Torah, and pride in partnership in such an offense is a public desecration of God’s name. The murder of the Prime Minister of Israel was also a grave blow to the existence of the State of Israel as a democratic society. The religious public must disassociate itself from the man and from his extremist supporters, until he repents and returns to the path of the Torah of Israel.’ Why should the organization not also disassociate itself from all those who have left religious observance and publicly desecrate the Sabbath until they return to God and His Torah? Is not the Sabbath among the Torah’s gravest commandments?

The organization does this, so I hope, מתוך a desire to bring the public close to Torah, and for that purpose it presumably chose the figure of Hillel the Elder, who showed a gracious face to people. Hillel himself says דברים in a similar spirit—that a person should be ‘one who loves people and brings them near to Torah’ (Avot 1:12). Here precision is required—as the Lubavitcher Rebbe emphasized in one of his talks on the portion Beha’alotekha—'[Aaron] brought them near to the Torah, not that he brought the Torah near to them… He did not give them the Torah according to their spirit… He did not bring the Torah near to the spirit of human beings, but brought human beings near to the Torah, complete Torah, as it is.’

Another point is the absence of the elders of the generation from the organization. I am not claiming that every Torah initiative must receive the approval of the ‘greats of the generation, may they live long,’ as is customary in Haredi society, for that is a crippling stance that leaves no room for creative Torah life. But when מדובר in an organization whose aim is general Torah leadership for all parts of the people, it is only fitting that the elder Torah scholars in the public take part in it, if only to contribute their experience and דעת in public leadership.

Community rabbis, important as they may be, are not experienced in broad public leadership, certainly not in the halakhic aspects that derive from it. There is in such an act something akin to the sin of Nadav and Avihu, about whom the Midrash says: ‘That they issued a halakhic ruling in the presence of Moses their master… This teaches that Moses and Aaron walked first, Nadav and Avihu walked behind them… and they would say, When will these two old men die, and we will conduct ourselves with authority over the public in their stead’ (Tanhuma, Acharei Mot, 6). To this one must add great astonishment regarding the organization’s public council. There are no halakhic decisors on this council, so what business do such people have in an organization that purports to issue halakhic rulings to the public? All the more so when the council includes secular people or people who have left observance, who in principle do not accept the yoke of Jewish law.

One final point troubles me greatly, and it has enough force to undermine the entire organization. In the organization’s publications, in print and online, there are often photographs of those taking part in its leadership—whether in the study halls or in its public council. I was astonished to discover that more than once photographs were published including women who are members of the organization who are not dressed in accordance with the standards of modesty accepted by halakhic decisors. Similarly, on the Facebook pages of the heads of the organization one can find pictures of women in revealing necklines (for example on Rabbi Ronen Neuwirth’s Facebook page).

I do not understand how a rabbinic organization allows itself to conduct itself in a way that contradicts Jewish law. I am not speaking of women whose head covering is partial—there are plenty of those—but of women dressed in a manner for which no halakhic decisor offers any permission. Let the members of the organization please find me the decisor who dismisses the Talmud’s ruling that ‘a handbreadth of a woman is nakedness.’ If the organization, under pressure, permits the broader public certain things—that is one matter. But at least from members of a rabbinic organization I would expect conduct according to the boundaries of Jewish law, in minor matters no less than major ones. A rabbi who sits in the company of women who are not modestly dressed, and together with them clarifies weighty halakhic issues—this is enough to undermine all his rulings.

Yedidya Vangerober

Yedidya Vangerober studied and taught at the hesder yeshiva in Ramat HaSharon

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Moral halakhah

At times one rules against the law in order to uphold another moral principle of the Torah, and therefore women who wish to say Kaddish may do so.

From Liberman’s words it emerges that he has two foundational assumptions, and upon them two claims, against the ruling of ‘Beit Hillel,’ as follows: a) ‘Jewish law’ is ‘the clarification of God’s will as it emerges from the expanses of the Written Torah and the Oral Torah.’ b) A ‘halakhic ruling’ is committed (almost absolutely) to all the opinions that preceded it. His claims against ‘Beit Hillel,’ by contrast, are these: a) their ruling is guided by a ‘social-cultural agenda that seeks to impose itself’ upon Jewish law; b) the use the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ make of halakhic rulings is manipulative: they narrow the prohibitions and broaden the permissions. Consequently, their final ruling too is unacceptable in his eyes. And I have come to disagree with Dov Liberman completely.

The room Liberman leaves for the decisors of any given generation is very narrow, and it includes only dialogue with those who came before them. Had the sages of the Talmud thought like him, they would never have enacted, and for the sake of a ‘social agenda’ at that, that to permit a woman chained to a missing husband to remarry one may accept, contrary to biblical law, the testimony of a single witness, testimony from hearsay, and even the testimony of a non-Jew speaking casually. And much more of the same kind. It also appears from Liberman that a ‘social agenda’ is something alien to Judaism, not part of Jewish law and not derived from the ‘will of God.’ My claim is the opposite: the ‘social agenda’ of justice and uprightness is precisely the Torah’s goal. Rabbi Soloveitchik relates that ‘Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan once asked R. Chaim of Brisk, what is the task of a rabbi? R. Chaim answered: to plead the insult of the lonely and abandoned, to protect the dignity of the poor and rescue the oppressed from his oppressor. Not instruction… but the realization of the ideals of justice is the pillar of fire of a rabbi and teacher in Israel… Repairing the world through the kingdom of halakhah and renewing the face of creation. Religious ritual is of no use at all if the laws of justice and their principles are desecrated and trampled under the foot of pride’ (Halakhic Man, p. 80). The idea that a ‘social agenda’ is the essence of the Torah belonged to the great sages of Israel in every generation. Out of an immense selection I will bring two examples briefly.

Giving women peace of mind

In Sifra (Leviticus, 2) and also in the Babylonian Talmud, Hagigah 16b, it is said: ”Speak to the children of Israel—and he shall lay his hands’: the sons of Israel lay on hands, but the daughters of Israel do not lay on hands. Rabbi Yose and Rabbi Shimon say: the daughters of Israel may lay on hands voluntarily. Rabbi Yose said: my father Elazar related to me that once we had a calf for a peace offering, and we brought it to the Women’s Court and the women laid their hands on it—not because laying on hands applies to women, but in order to give women peace of mind.’ This principled matter, of ‘giving women peace of mind’ (which Liberman somewhat mockingly calls a ‘social agenda’), was thus the royal road in the halakhah of our tannaitic sages, and it remained legitimate according to the great sages of Israel throughout the generations, as seems from the following responsum.

According to the Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chayim 88, in the gloss), ‘a menstruant woman during the days of her bleeding should not enter the synagogue, or pray.’ But on the other hand, the Shulchan Arukh brings in the name of Maharai that they are permitted to go ‘to the synagogue like the other women, because it is great anguish for them that everyone gathers and they stand outside.’

And thus Maharai wrote (Rabbi Israel Isserlein, author of Terumat HaDeshen, in his rulings, sec. 132): ‘Regarding women during their menstruation, it is true that I permitted them on the High Holy Days and the like, when many gather in the synagogue to hear prayer and reading, to go to the synagogue; and I relied on Rashi, who permits in the laws of menstruation because of giving women peace of mind, for it would cause them grief of spirit and heart-sickness that everyone gathers to be with the ציבור and they would stand outside. And we also find that we permitted them laying on hands [in the Temple] while they merely pressed with their hands…’ Following the author of Terumat HaDeshen went his student, the author of Responsa Leket Yosher, who permitted women to go to synagogue during menstruation ‘so that their spirits not weaken, for we say that women may lay on hands voluntarily, even though it appears like עבודה with sacred offerings, because of the reason above’ (Orach Chayim section, p. 131). So too Ashkenazic and Sephardic rabbis rule today, permitting a woman to come to synagogue during menstruation, although ostensibly the source of the prohibition is not merely custom but the words of the Shulchan Arukh.

Here we have, from the Talmud through Rashi and the author of Terumat HaDeshen, early and later authorities, that they sometimes ruled against the law in order to uphold another moral principle of the Torah. And this is utterly simple in our day, when women wish to say Kaddish. There is no greater grief of spirit and heart-sickness than preventing them from saying Kaddish for their parents. Therefore it is plainly permitted to do so. The rabbis of Beit Hillel would do well to make use of this important factor of giving women peace of mind.

This is not how one quotes

Liberman’s main analysis is devoted to the way the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ analyze their supporting citations, and he defines it as nothing less than ‘a shameful tractate of error and distortion.’ To my regret, the exact opposite is true, and I will demonstrate Dov’s own distortion from the first support he brought (there is no room here for more), from the author of Chavot Yair (Rabbi Yair Bacharach, late seventeenth century, one of the greatest later Ashkenazic authorities), and I will bring it almost in full:

‘A strange thing was done in Amsterdam and is well known there: one man died without a son and instructed… that they should study… in his house, and after the study the daughter should say Kaddish. The sages of the community and its leaders did not protest. And although there is no proof to contradict the matter, for a woman too is commanded regarding sanctification of God’s name… and although the story of Rabbi Akiva, from which comes the source for orphans reciting Kaddish, involved a male son, still there is reason that a daughter too brings benefit and comfort to the soul, for she is his seed. Still, one must be concerned that through this the force of the customs of Israel, which are also Torah, will be weakened, and each person will build a private altar for himself according to his own reasoning, and the words of the rabbis will come to look like mockery and jest, and people will come to treat them lightly.’

Several conclusions emerge from the words of Chavot Yair: a. In Amsterdam a woman said Kaddish before a quorum of ten men, and the city’s sages and communal leaders did not protest. That implies that the matter was accepted by the public (and the public, as is known, has a central role in the acceptance of customs). b. Rabbi Bacharach concedes that from the standpoint of the law not only is there no basis to reject this custom; on the contrary, a woman too is obligated and commanded concerning sanctification of God’s name. c. Although the Talmudic story of the Jew whom Rabbi Akiva met concerned the repair of his male son, ‘a daughter too brings benefit and comfort to the soul, for she is his seed.’ d. Finally, Liberman’s claim that Chavot Yair speaks of a minor daughter has no basis: Rabbi Bacharach speaks of a ‘daughter’/’woman,’ who is certainly an adult.

It is true that despite all these very great and immense merits (and to the best of my knowledge there is nowhere else among the decisors such a positive Torah evaluation and such strong justification for a daughter’s Kaddish as in this response of Chavot Yair), his final conclusion is one of reservation, because of concern for erosion of customs (for the custom of Israel too is Torah, and in principle he is certainly right). But did not Rav Kook teach us for nothing that ‘the old shall be renewed and the new shall be sanctified’? (Iggerot HaRe’ayah I, p. 214). Does what may perhaps have been a proper custom in Ashkenaz of the eighteenth century have no force today? And what would Chavot Yair have said about Rabbi Yose, who contrary to the law (not merely to custom, which would be simple) permitted women in the Temple to lay their hands upon the offering in order to give them ‘peace of mind’? But Dov Liberman revealed less than a handbreadth and concealed three important handbreadths, and that is not how one quotes halakhic sources. How unfortunate.

Amnon Shapira

Prof. Amnon Shapira teaches at Ariel University

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Issue a ruling; do not quote precedents!

The conservatives set the rules, and the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ are playing into their hands. There is no need for a ‘halakhic tradition’ in order to permit what is already permitted.

In last week’s issue Dov Liberman responded to the ruling of the rabbis of ‘Beit Hillel’ regarding a daughter’s Kaddish. He argued that they departed from halakhic tradition and enslaved Jewish law to their ideological agenda. He further claimed that the decisors oppose it, and that even the precedents the rabbis of Beit Hillel themselves cited say such a thing only regarding a minor orphan girl, and conditioned it on smoother accommodations to custom (to combine the recitation with men, to say it quietly, and so forth).

I will say at the outset that in many disputes, in Jewish law or beyond it, I find myself disagreeing with both sides. As I will show below, this case joins them, and in my view these matters have a significance far broader than the argument about a daughter’s Kaddish.

In our case both sides agree that a proper basis for such a ruling is the adducing of precedents and ‘conformity to halakhic tradition.’ Even if responses reach the editorial office explaining why this path does in fact fit halakhic tradition, they will not change the picture in any essential way, because they still surrender to the rules of the game as defined by the conservatives (who, of course, are the ones who define ‘halakhic tradition’). As I understand the discussion, it should be conducted on these implicit assumptions, not on one or another specific implication of them.

My discussion is divided into two parts (a division Liberman did not observe, and that omission joins several other methodological errors in his remarks, which I will not discuss here): halakhah and custom.

First-order and second-order halakhah

As a rule, decisors can be divided into two kinds. First are first-order decisors, that is, those who rely on primary sources (the Talmud, and to some extent the greatest early authorities) and derive the halakhic conclusion from their interpretation of the Talmud and the early authorities. Such decisors use later authorities mainly as illustration, to support and reinforce their principled conception or to show its plausibility.

By contrast, there are second-order decisors, those who rely in their decision on precedents from the responsa literature and the later authorities. Decisors of the second type, even if they discuss in their responses the Talmud and the early authorities, do so only to give general background to the issue. The decision itself rests for them mainly on precedents from the decisors before them (or beside them, the ‘great men of the generation’). Something for which there is no precedent will not be ruled law by them, even if in their opinion it is the most reasonable interpretation of the issue and the most correct application of it to the reality of their time. This division does not necessarily indicate greatness in Torah; no less, it indicates a method of decision-making. Conservative decisors usually adopt second-order rulings and reliance on second-order sources. Decisors who rule at the first order are usually bolder and more original, and are not afraid of changes or of disagreeing with their predecessors or peers.

These matters become much sharper when dealing with questions shaped by changing times, that is, questions in which the relevant reality and the cultural and social assumptions underlying the discussion are very different from those that underlay the various sources. In such a situation, on the one hand, recourse to the sources is far more problematic, since their words were said on the basis of entirely different factual and cultural assumptions; on the other hand, דווקא in such cases everyone feels a strong need to rely on second-order sources so as not to be suspected of Reform, Heaven forbid.

Take, for example, the question of reading books containing problematic passages, or of seeing films and plays. The question certainly depends on cultural assumptions, and it is an established fact that today those assumptions are substantially different from what was accepted in earlier generations (without entering the question of judgment, who is better than whom). So too with more prosaic questions, such as opening bottles or electricity on the Sabbath; but certainly with questions such as women’s integration in the synagogue, or public questions such as qualifying women for testimony and the attitude toward non-Jews (see my article ‘Is There an Enlightened Idolatry?’, Akdamot 19, 2008). In all these questions there will be decisors who rule in light of the words of contemporary decisors and responsa of later authorities, while others will decide them from first-order halakhic sources, with interpretations of their own.

What is not forbidden is permitted

The question of a daughter’s Kaddish is even more problematic—or less so—since there are no relevant first-order sources regarding it. One can, of course, return and rehash the sources about a woman’s voice, but that is an artificial recourse to the Talmudic discussions and the early authorities. Kaddish is speech, not song, and in practice very few of us (at least those living outside seventeenth-century Poland, twenty-first-century Brooklyn, or the Puah Institute) are careful not to hear a woman speaking, even in public. Moreover, several decisors have already written that in the context of a sacred matter the concern about breaching boundaries is lower. Even if they had not written this, one could say it by reason itself (first order), without recourse to precedents (second order). Even the author of Chavot Yair who ‘forbids’—one of Liberman’s main sources—says that there is no halakhic prohibition here at all. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein too writes this as something self-evident, casually, as it were. But as I said, we do not need them for this. What is not forbidden is permitted.

A ‘halakhic’ response on the subject of a daughter’s Kaddish (or of women saying words of Torah in the synagogue) ought to be very short: there is no halakhic or other prohibition here, and therefore there is no impediment. No first-order sources are mentioned because there are no sources relevant to this issue, nor responses of later authorities, because there is no need for precedents in order to permit what is permitted. The one who forbids is the one who must bring supporting texts and proof for his words.

Suspicion of ‘neo-Reform’

Now you will surely ask: why, when the אנשי בית הלל come to permit it, do they too use precedents? Why do they discuss the historical questions of who objected and who permitted and why? One possibility is that they too agree with the hidden assumption in Liberman’s words that halakhic ruling must proceed at the second order. That is perhaps what might arise from the way their ruling is presented (although there is room to see the second-order sources as illustration). If so, then as stated I disagree with both sides.

But allow me to drift a little into psychology. Since I know—and appreciate and esteem, and am also in contact with—some of the people involved, it is quite clear to me that they do this in order to present continuity in decision-making; that is, so that they will not be accused of ‘neo-Reform,’ Heaven save us, and so that their words will be accepted by the public as well-founded halakhic teaching. But if continuity is what we were seeking—meaning, if we are indeed engaged in second-order decision-making—then Liberman is right in his criticism. Their words do not constitute a natural continuation of the way earlier decisors ruled, nor of the approach of the most prominent contemporary decisors. So why the need to play this game? Does it really help?

The people of Beit Hillel are mistaken in trying to present their ruling in second-order form. It is a first-order ruling. And if they do want to play on the conservative second-order field, then Liberman is indeed right in his criticism of them. The time has come for decisors to feel free to decide according to the best of their understanding of the issues and the situation in which they and their communities act, without resorting artificially to precedents that make no real difference.

Incidentally, these remarks apply both in the lenient and in the strict direction. In my article ‘More on the Renewed Conversion Controversy’ (Akdamot 22, 2009), I showed why reliance on lenient precedents in conversion is incorrect and unsuited to the reality of our time. There too one can see the same phenomenon of second-order decision-making, when in my opinion the first-order truth is completely clear, except that in that case it goes in the stricter direction.

To sum up this part: on the halakhic plane, the issue of a daughter’s Kaddish is simply a non-issue. There is no question here that requires discussion. Some recommended it and some did not; each according to his place and time, and according to his dignity and standing. Even if everyone in the past had recommended forbidding it, one must remove from here the categories of prohibition and permission. This is throwing sand in people’s eyes, and it is a pity to cooperate with it.

Even in issues that do require halakhic discussion, the discussion should be conducted mainly at the first order. And certainly where the first order is empty, recourse to the second order is no more than a substitute designed to put artificial flesh around the thin—rightly thin—skeleton of the discussion. But this is unnecessary. If you have nothing to say, and there is no need to say anything—then do not say it. Permitting a halakhic prohibition requires sources and precedents. The absence of a prohibition does not.

A hat is a social custom

The conclusion thus far is that there is no point speaking of permission or prohibition with regard to saying a daughter’s Kaddish. The question whether there was a decisor who ‘permitted’ it is simply a conceptual mistake. But in Liberman’s remarks there also arises the question of deviation from custom. He argues that until now it was practiced nowhere that a daughter—at least an adult one—recites Kaddish. This is probably a correct factual claim. In any case, I will assume it for purposes of the present discussion.

First, it is important to distinguish this question from the previous one (which he did not do). The halakhic question and the question of custom are two different questions. True, there are customs that deal with legal decision-making, such as the custom to rule like the Mechaber, the Rema, or Maimonides. But the custom under discussion here is a non-halakhic custom, that is, a social custom (for, as stated, there is no halakhic impediment to a daughter’s Kaddish). There is no doubt that its basis lies in the social norms customary in earlier generations. Without entering the question of which norms are preferable, there is no reason to apply norm-dependent customs to a society whose norms are different.

Does Liberman suggest that we should return to wearing what people wore in earlier generations? Some a kapoteh—an overcoat—and some a hat—a second head covering. Incidentally, both of these are mentioned by the decisors (sometimes in fully halakhic language), and any second-order ruling or customary conservatism would immediately lead to the conclusion that we were forbidden to change our dress and must go back to wearing those clothes. Not to mention pronunciation and enunciation of the divine Name (and Rav Kook’s well-known view on this—see his approbation to Responsa Mishpetei Uziel and elsewhere). In all three of these matters the norms are preserved in their old form in Har Nof and in Brooklyn until our own day, and for the very same reasons—second-order conservatism. Not to mention women’s Torah study, the status of women in society (‘the honor of the king’s daughter is within’), and the like. Indeed there are decisors who criticize this in a way similar to Liberman’s criticism of Beit Hillel, but that criticism suffers from the same error of simplistic second-order ruling.

The error of all these people is even more severe because they do it in issues whose essence is custom and social norm, not in halakhic issues. Even if there are laws of modesty, most of them are based on accepted norms. Therefore it is wrong to treat them as halakhic questions that are supposed to be resolved solely from the regular halakhic sources. Returning to the examples above of overcoat and second head covering (the question of pronunciation is even more severe), these too are perceived by some decisors as law, but here the law is derived from custom. If that is the respectable dress in that place, then there is a law to dress that way at prayer. But the question whether it is respectable dress or not is fundamentally a social-cultural question, not a halakhic one.

If so, the fact that until today it was not practiced that an adult woman recites Kaddish is mainly because the question did not arise, and also because the socio-cultural norm did not allow it. The question was not asked, and even if at times it was asked, it was not answered with permission. What does that mean for us? In my opinion, nothing at all.

Until our day people also did not speak Hebrew, women did not lecture in public, and they did not go out to work together with men. Until our day people also did not fly on airplanes and did not speak on mobile telephones. Abraham our father apparently also lived in a tent and herded sheep. The whole subject of customs—precisely because no one can define what is a binding custom and what is merely an accepted norm—has become a monster that paralyzes any possibility of behaving normally. Everything that people did in former times has become in our day a binding custom from which one must not deviate. And the one who breaks through a fence, as is well known, a snake shall bite him.

Like the great ones

One more word to the sharpeners of keyboards mentioned above. I knew full well that my remarks would arouse a feeling of Reform. In the study hall where Liberman studied (his article mentioned that he is a graduate of the Ramat Gan yeshiva), they might call it, with their characteristic moderation, ‘neo-Reform.’ I am not afraid of that label. If what I think right as the will of God and as the instruction of halakhah is ‘neo-Reform,’ then I am neo-Reform. And if someone prefers, instead of confronting the arguments—which are entirely legitimate and entirely correct in the halakhic sphere—to operate on the plane of slogans and labels, then good health to him. I am not sure there are enough snakes in the world of the Holy One, blessed be He, to bite all the ‘neo-Reformers’ like me. And if there are, the chance that I will be harmed by them is in any case rather slim.

And in conclusion, a note for my friends, the rabbis of Beit Hillel. You too need not fear this. Do not try to cloak yourselves in a second-order mantle that does not really cover you, merely in order to escape these political labels. If in your opinion it is permitted—then permit it like the great decisors, that is, on the basis of first-order considerations. There is no need to write impressive halakhic pamphlets when dealing with a clear non-issue such as a daughter’s Kaddish. This is shooting yourselves in the foot and playing into the hands of the conservatives. If this is the correct demand of Jewish law for our time and place, then whoever does not do this is violating Jewish law. If so, let him bring reasons for his position. Presumably those reasons will be second-order reasons only, which usually are not relevant to such questions. It is generally unwise to let your adversary set the rules of the game for you as well.

Michael Avraham

Rabbi Dr. Michael Avraham teaches at the Institute for Advanced Torah Studies, Bar-Ilan University

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The culture of responsive discourse

It is דווקא from the respondents to my words that it emerges that I was right when I wrote of an ‘agenda-driven’ approach that marks the target first and only afterward shoots the arrow. Dov Liberman responds.

What all the responses to my remarks share (except for Prof. Shapira’s response) is anger and disqualification, which did not allow the writers to discuss the matter itself and instead drove them to attack me, each according to his own taste. I apologize to the readers, who now know far more about me than they would have wished: that I am young and inexperienced, conservative and extreme (Rabbi Avraham), that I support thought-police and advocate a halakhah frozen in time (Rabbi Wilk). All this is surprising and saddening, because I weighed my words carefully and was scrupulous about addressing the substance מתוך great respect—with nothing at all of the starling’s chirp in it—both toward the good intention and toward the personality and Torah of Rabbi Weitman. I wonder that there was no room for my criticism within responsive Torah discourse, and I would note that it is not for the first time that criticism directed against ‘Beit Hillel’ or some of its members has encountered an immediate emotional barrier of offense and anger.

General, not communal, ruling

Rabbi Weitman’s words are sharp, and out of respect for him I shall answer only point by point. There is room for a community rabbi’s decision-making, but that is precisely the point—a rabbi instructing his own community in this context is something wholly different from a rabbi publishing his words for the general public. The words of Seridei Esh are important, but they are not the sole supreme principle that should guide ruling on so broad a scale. True, I do not have rich experience in issuing rulings, but I do know the rule that one does not derive halakhah from an isolated incident. And after all, his words were said in the context of a bat mitzvah meal, which changes nothing at all in the order of the synagogue and does not provoke quarrel, unlike this ruling, which from now on may sow conflict in tranquil communities. Rabbi Weitman claims that, contrary to my understanding, the ruling is minor. I believe there is nothing minor in the way this ruling is presented, and all the more so in the way it will be publicized in the media.

Rabbi Weitman also writes about me that I erred regarding the views of several decisors. I do not retract. Rabbi Graivsky did not permit an adult woman, and I cannot prove it without copying roughly two pages from his book (Kaddish L’Olam 11:1-2). My admiration for Rabbi Y. E. Henkin’s precision remains intact, and he too did not rule in accordance with that incident to which he testified (for the details of the testimony, see Bnei Banim II, p. 26). I will nevertheless emphasize again what I tried to stress in my article: I did not come to discuss the ruling itself so much as the question of the reliability of what is written in it and its faithfulness to the ways of halakhah. At the end of his remarks Rabbi Weitman wrote that halakhic decision should be accepted by the reasoning of the masses, and he left me room to wonder whether it might not have been proper also to examine how the masses really receive this ruling: within the original framework that Rabbi Weitman intended for it, or in a wholly different way.

Rabbi Dr. Michael Avraham mocks me for sharpening my keyboard, as he put it, but I find it hard to believe that this really troubles him, because it is hard to find a keyboard as sharpened as his—and that has been so for a long time. In the substance of his remarks he admits that he has no halakhic discourse with me or with the world of decision-making of the last several hundred years, and בכך he has in effect exempted me from responding to him. Nevertheless I would like to come to the defense of the members of ‘Beit Hillel,’ whom Rabbi Avraham suspects of a concealed wish to place themselves in one row with the Rif, Maimonides, Nahmanides, and Rashba. It is unthinkable to say such a thing about Rabbi Weitman or his colleagues. Rabbi Avraham’s conception, which nullifies the force of custom, is not acceptable to me, and I do not know what he will do when, for example, the Rema writes again and again, ‘and so the practice is, and it should not be changed.’

In this connection I must note that the reference to clothing is slightly insulting to my intelligence, and more than that—to his own. After several assumptions he avoids proving and several errors in understanding my remarks, he writes that the question of Kaddish by an adult woman never arose, and that is simply not true, as is obvious to anyone examining the sources of the ruling (the Chavot Yair, for example). In his remarks Rabbi Avraham mentioned the place where I studied and judged me as someone who labels, and thus he himself turned out to be doing the labeling, since my words addressed the matter itself.

The result—halakhic distortion

The labeling tendency becomes much sharper at the beginning of Rabbi Wilk’s response, but I am glad it was written because it illustrates exactly the concern that stood before me. Let it be said again: the ruling on a daughter’s Kaddish does not keep me awake at night; the spirit and the methodology behind it do, and Rabbi Wilk’s words prove the point. Rabbi Wilk begins by calling for listening, and in the process he assigns me to a dark, tight-lipped camp that cruelly mistreats those struck by misfortune who come in their distress to seek God. Let him enjoy that. I too think that listening is a fundamental rule in halakhic ruling. I merely expressed my opinion that in this case it has exceeded its proper measure.

I would further say that those who disagree with me on this matter may understand my concern when they see how this listening leads Rabbi Wilk to long for halakhic rulings in forms that have no precedent, such as the change he proposes in interpreting the prohibition of a woman’s voice so as to adapt it to what is accepted by people today, in his opinion. I do not think there is even one decisor of our generation who would identify with this conclusion or with the methodology behind it. And it is clear to me that when Rabbi Weitman wrote that halakhah must stand the test of the gaze of ordinary people, this is not what he meant.

I would like to classify Rabbi Wilk’s words about same-sex inclinations and a priest marrying a divorcee as a merely conceptual statement, but I have some doubt, because I do not know what the exception is to the sentence ‘usually we will have difficulty finding a permission,’ or how far the white fire will carry him away from the black fire. At the end he writes beautifully about trusting reality, and I am inclined to identify with him, as I have always been drawn to Rav Kook’s teaching that calls for such trust. At the same time, it is clear from his words that all my gut feelings about an agenda that marks the target first and only afterward shoots the arrow—indeed do have something on which to rely. The whole world is mixed of good and evil and requires repair. We place deep trust in the good within it, and no less deep trust in the purity of the instrument by which we sift the good from the evil. That instrument is the Torah, not our human ear, which is personally involved; with that ear we do listen—and will continue to listen—as much as we can and to whomever we can.

I cannot refrain from noting that Rabbi Wilk’s statements, ‘we try to broaden precedents… but usually this was after the fact, and we broaden it to the outset,’ as well as ‘in the near future… they will already obligate women in a daughter’s Kaddish,’ add further support to my words. Do not accept my opinion—ask for a second opinion from Rabbi Wilk, and he too will tell you that the ruling on a daughter’s Kaddish is not local, not after the fact, not ‘in a place where this is the custom,’ but rather contains an attempt to chart a new norm without saying so.

In favor of freedom to decide

Reading Prof. Shapira’s response was pleasant for me despite the gap in opinion, because I was able to read it free of labels and slanders. It is easy for me to answer him, since I believe he did not understand me correctly. The space given to decisors of every generation is very broad, and I did not narrow it at all. The concept of obligation to the rulings of the earlier authorities is a halakhic axiom. There is room to discuss how far one is obligated, who is obligated, and to whom he is obligated, but anyone even slightly familiar with the world of halakhah knows that there is such an obligation, and also knows that the obligation is not absolute. When Shapira compares every young decisor to the tannaim who enacted ordinances, he places before us the question of authority—a worthy question, one of the foundations of halakhah—and it is not proper to silence those who wish to discuss it.

Of course I accept that the Torah has an agenda: the spirit of halakhah and morality that hovers over all the smaller clauses. Of course I do not accept that in this respect each person’s Torah is given into his own hand. So too in our matter: giving women satisfaction—certainly and certainly. A daughter’s Kaddish aloud today and everywhere—not necessarily, and ‘Beit Hillel’ is not the one to decide that.

It should be noted that in one respect Shapira greatly exaggerated when he wrote that early decisors ruled against halakhah in order to uphold another moral principle of the Torah, and his proof was that the prohibition on a menstruant walking into the synagogue is from the Shulchan Arukh. I cannot understand how he reached such a strange conclusion. The Shulchan Arukh included many customs, and their status is not like that of the core laws written there. In any case, the lenient authorities he mentioned preceded it, and in their day it was certainly a matter of custom.

At the end of his remarks Shapira erred in reading my words, and therefore accused me of defective quotation. But as I will show, what I omitted is not relevant at all to what I said: a. Certainly a one-time testimony about an act done before ten men is not enough to establish a custom in Israel, and I am astonished that a man of Torah and academia would write so. b. I did not discuss at all whether there is benefit in a woman’s recitation of Kaddish or not. The decisors tend to think there is. c. I did not say that Rabbi Bacharach does not speak about an adult woman. I said that none of the decisors permitted Kaddish for an adult woman.

In sum: I argued that the reasons given in the ruling ‘A Daughter’s Kaddish’ reflect extra-halakhic tendencies that lead the public far from the sources of Torah, the source of living waters. A genuine response I did not find, but unexpected assistance to my claims—I did find. In a parallel universe I can imagine ‘Beit Hillel’ responding sharply to those who blur the foundations of halakhah, and my hope is that in our universe too their rulings will become more measured, and perhaps more inclusive as well.

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Published in the ‘Shabbat’ supplement of ‘Makor Rishon,’ 5 Av 5773, 12.7.2013

Published on 12 July 2013, in the Devarim 5773 issue – 831, and tagged Beit Hillel, a daughter’s Kaddish. Bookmark the permalink. 120 comments.

With God’s help, eve of the holy Sabbath, Devarim 5773

To the honorable Rabbi Michael Avraham, may his light shine—greetings,

Regarding your words that there is no source in the writings of the early authorities,

See the Ran in chapter 2 of Megillah, who distinguished between Megillah, where there is no change in the formula of the blessing between reciting it individually and reciting it publicly, and zimmun, in which ‘it is evident that there is a joining of people,’ and therefore men and women do join in it.

Accordingly, there may perhaps be room to say that when a woman says Kaddish, which she could not have said alone, the joining of the men is evident, and therefore they refrained from it.

And see Shulchan Arukh HaRav, Orach Chayim sec. 199:7, and compare what was written in Responsa Bnei Banim (by Rabbi Y. Henkin), vol. 4, sec. 4. This requires clarification.

With blessings for a peaceful Sabbath, S. Z. Levinger

Correction:

At the end of paragraph 2: …and therefore men and women do not join in it.

With God’s help, 8 Av 5773

At any rate, Rabbi Yisraeli, of blessed memory, and, may they live long, Rabbi Yaakov Ariel and Rabbi Yehuda Henkin, permitted a woman who wishes to do so to say Kaddish if there is also a man saying it.

I heard of the rabbi of one of the communities, that when there was a woman who wanted to say Kaddish, the rabbi himself would say Kaddish together with her, in order to enable her to say it at any time without dependence on other mourners.

Another possibility is that she say the Kaddish after reciting Psalms or after study in a house or in a room beside the synagogue. Thus Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, may he live long, ruled (a link to his words appears in one of Amir’s comments on ‘An Orphaned Ruling’). This path eases matters for women busy with work and raising children, so that they can say Kaddish without being obligated to be present in the synagogue for the entire prayer service.

Love truth and peace.

With blessings, S. Z. Levinger

Another limitation to which one should pay attention is that the prayer leader must stand in a place where he is joined to the congregation. The one who says Kaddish is, in this respect, like a prayer leader.

Even when there is a partition between him and the congregation, there can still be joining, as explained in Shulchan Arukh Orach Chayim sec. 55:19: ‘If the prayer leader is in the ark-platform and nine are in the synagogue, they join, even though it is ten handbreadths high and four handbreadths wide and has partitions ten handbreadths high, because it is subordinate to the synagogue. And some have written that this applies only when the partitions do not reach the roof-ceiling.’

On this basis Rabbi Yehuda Henkin qualified the permission for a woman to say Kaddish, requiring that the partition of the women’s section not reach the ceiling. In that case the woman is joined to the congregation and can say Kaddish to them (Responsa Bnei Banim, vol. 2, sec. 7, p. 25).

Another problem apparently arising from the words of the early authorities:

The Ritva, in his novellae to Megillah (4b, s.v. ‘for they too were in that miracle’), says: ‘Since we hold like Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi that they are obligated, they can discharge others as well, except that this is not the honor of the congregation…’

Rabbi Yehuda Henkin explained: ‘The Ritva’s intention is that since one who has not learned incurs a curse [as explained in Sukkah 38b: ‘A curse should come upon the man whose wife and children recite the blessing for him.’ — S. Z.], therefore the honor of the congregation is not to appear as though they have not learned…’ (Responsa Bnei Banim, vol. 2, sec. 11, p. 46).

Accordingly, one can say that so too in the case of Kaddish, when a woman says it, there is room for the same concern, that it will appear as though there is no man who knows how to say Kaddish,

The Ritva’s novellae to tractate Megillah were first printed in Livorno in 1792, and they were not before the eyes of Chavot Yair, who was the first to discuss the question of ‘a daughter’s Kaddish’ (sec. 222). Perhaps, had he seen it, he would have explained on its basis the custom that the woman does not say Kaddish. This requires clarification.

With blessings, S. Z. Levinger

In Bnei Banim, vol. 4, sec. 3, Rabbi Henkin also brings the words of Rabbi Avraham min HaHar, Megillah 19b: ‘Certainly, ab initio, she should not discharge others, as we say in the chapter about those whose dead lie before them: A curse should come upon the man whose wife and children recite the blessing for him; and we say in the chapter ‘Sitting and Standing’… But the sages said that a woman should not read in public because of the honor of the congregation.’ These words too he explains in the same way: ‘That it should not appear as though there are not enough men who know how to read the Torah and therefore they brought a woman, and so wrote Petach HaDevir.’

On the other hand, it should be noted that in the words of the author of Chavot Yair (sec. 222) it is mentioned that the sages of the community [of Amsterdam] and its leaders did not protest the daughter who said Kaddish in her home in accordance with her father’s will.

It is difficult to know the exact time of the event, but we are speaking of the second half of the seventeenth century, when Amsterdam was the most important community in Western Europe and a center of Torah and wisdom (Encyclopaedia Hebraica, vol. 4, p. 114).

The rabbi of Amsterdam in that period was Rabbi Isaac Aboab da Fonseca (died in 1693), and after him served Rabbi Yaakov Sasportas, the well-known fighter against Sabbateanism and author of Responsa Ohel Yaakov.

If the matter concerns Rabbi Isaac Aboab da Fonseca, it may be that his agreement to the daughter reciting Kaddish should be attributed to his view that not a single Jew, even the very worst, will fail in the end to come to his repair, and that ‘all the souls will return to their Father.’ (See Wikipedia, under his entry.) This requires clarification.

On Rabbi Isaac Aboab, see also Aviva Krinsky’s article, ‘All the Souls Will Return to Their Father’s House,’ on the Haaretz website, dated 5.8.2010.

The rabbi of the Ashkenazic community in Amsterdam in the years 1685-1706 was Rabbi Moshe Yehuda Leib son of Kalonymus the priest (nicknamed Reb Leib Charif). On him see the booklet ‘Parts of Stones’ by Rabbi Isaac Dov Feld (within: Responsa Nish’al David, by Rabbi David Oppenheim, on the four parts of the Shulchan Arukh and appendices, Jerusalem 1982), p. 266.

I mentioned above the ruling of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, may he live long, on this subject. It is worth bringing the summary in his own language:

‘Therefore, in summary: if someone has departed from this world and left no sons behind him to recite Kaddish for the elevation of his soul, but he merited righteous daughters who wish to say Kaddish for the elevation of his soul, they should be allowed to say Kaddish when a quorum of men gathers in a house to say words of Torah, or after the recitation of Psalms in any place whatsoever. But in the main hall of the synagogue, one should not institute the recitation of Kaddish by a woman.’

(Brought in Yossi Weiss’s article, ‘Rabbi Ovadia Yosef Rules: A Woman May Say Kaddish for Her Parents,’ Kikar HaShabbat, 17 Shevat 5770. The source was brought to my attention by R. Amir Shechter.)

In the comments there it was mentioned that Rabbi Lau forbids in the name of Rabbi Uziel. By contrast, R. Yosef Zakash, one of the commenters there, writes:

‘It is known that the Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank, of saintly blessed memory, died without sons, and his daughters said Kaddish after him from the women’s section.’

It would be worthwhile, in my humble opinion, to clarify whether the daughters said the Kaddish even when there were no additional mourners in the synagogue (for, as I noted above, Rabbi Yisraeli, Rabbi Ariel, and Rabbi Henkin permitted דווקא when there are other mourners also saying Kaddish).

Important halakhic material is brought by R. Amichai Torem, ‘A Daughter’s Kaddish—A Collection of Sources,’ on the Da’at website. ‘Give to the wise and he will become wiser.’

With blessings, S. Z. Levinger

The Kaddish, in its essence, is a prayer for redemption said after the reading of biblical verses or after study of the Oral Torah. Since the midrash implies that reciting Kaddish (or, according to other versions, Barekhu) by the son adds merit to the soul of the deceased parent, and according to the principle that ‘the son gives merit to the father,’ the orphans were honored with Kaddish so that they might benefit their parents.

According to the Chatam Sofer, the great merit in Kaddish lies in bringing the public to answer ‘Amen, may His great name be blessed.’ By contrast, according to Rabbi Y. S. Teichtal, the merit lies in the fact that the son prays for redemption (both views were brought in Responsa Mishneh Sachir by Rabbi Teichtal, vol. 1, sec. 11). Yet certainly it is not only Kaddish that contributes to the merit of the deceased; rather, all good deeds, whether between man and God or between man and his fellow man, that are done by a person’s descendants, add merit and honor to him.

Since even someone who left no sons but only daughters requires rectification for his soul, the idea arose that the daughter too should say Kaddish. This idea was accepted by some decisors with various reservations and conditions, as mentioned above. Whereas in all recitations that require a prayer leader there was insistence that the prayer leader be one of the components of the quorum (as Rabbi Kapach wrote in his commentary to the Laws of Prayer 12:17), here an exception to the rule was created in order to allow even a daughter to add merit to her parents.

And see Prof. M. B. Lerner’s article, ‘The Tale of the Sage and the Dead Man—Its Literary and Halakhic Transformations,’ Asufot 2 (1988), pp. 29-70.

Levinger,

You like playing ping-pong, right?

But with yourself?

You reply to yourself, then correct a few lines, and so on. You are great. I admire you.

To KShM 2 —

The group of notes here relates to the ruling of ‘Beit Hillel’ on the subject of ‘a daughter’s Kaddish.’ Several new sources have been brought here that were not mentioned there—I brought the Ran, the Ritva, and Rabbi Kapach, from which a problem may emerge; and the testimony about Rabbi Frank’s daughters and the ruling of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, from which support, at least partial support, on this issue may be inferred.

I also tried to open a path for researchers to determine the identity of the rabbi in Amsterdam who gave backing to Kaddish recited by an orphaned daughter. It is possible that additional relevant material will yet be found. Amsterdam Jewry in the vibrant period of the seventeenth century has been much researched, and there is abundant material about it in print and manuscript. One may expect that important information about the affair of a daughter’s Kaddish is hidden there as well.

With blessings for a peaceful Sabbath, S. Z. Levinger

P.S. In any treatment of a disputed issue, it is important to know the complex system of considerations, the forty-nine facets in each direction, and the full range of relevant sources and their historical background. In that way the reader can understand over what and why they disagreed, and perhaps even formulate a position of his own.

My words at the end of the first paragraph, ‘from them there emerges at least partial support…’ refer to the testimony about Rabbi Frank’s daughters, who said Kaddish from the women’s section of the synagogue. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef certainly does not support the ruling of ‘Beit Hillel’ to say Kaddish in the synagogue, and he limits his permission to a house or a side room (following Shevut Yaakov and Teshuvah Me-Ahavah). Yet in his words there is a warm and encouraging attitude toward the very desire of ‘righteous women’ to say Kaddish for the elevation of their parents’ souls.

In the meantime an important article by Dr. Esther Chazon, ‘Responses to Previous Issues’ (Shabbat supplement, Vaetchanan 5773), has been published, and it contains several testimonies from Lithuania and from the United States concerning the recitation of Kaddish from the women’s section.

With God’s help, eve of the holy Sabbath, Ekev 5773

In a note to Dr. Esther Chazon’s article, ‘A Daughter’s Kaddish,’ on this site, Rabbi Yechiel Goldhaber brought testimony to a ruling of Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Levinson, son-in-law of the Chafetz Chaim, who instructed the daughter-in-law of Rabbi Moshe Yehuda Schneider to say Kaddish for her father. Credit is due to the one who brought us this drink.

With blessings, S. Z. Levinger

The truth is that I do not understand Rabbi Wilk here

Rabbi Wilk devotes an entire paragraph in his article to attacking the ‘lack of listening’ of conservative rabbis, as though they do not care about considerations of distress and simple humanity, and the like.

Why, exactly, does he think they do not care about these important matters?

Because they are forced to say, and not infrequently with great pain, that not everything can be permitted, even when one is dealing with heartrending and difficult situations?

After all, Rabbi Wilk himself also writes the very same thing, that in such cases “sometimes we will find it hard to find a solution,” so what exactly is his complaint against the rabbis he attacks, if in the end he acts in the same way?

In the end, Rabbi Wilk too admits that Jewish law is a binding framework, whether in “white fire” or in “black fire.”

So what is the dispute here, really?

S.Z., the problem with commenters like KSHM 2 [he is apparently Roi L. under a pseudonym] is that they do not deal with what is actually said and with the content, but with the framework and the side issues.

What interests commenters of his type is fussing over the style of the responses and who is responding and how he is responding, instead of discussing the substance of the matter. Such commenters discuss the responses as such, not their content, which is what really matters.

This characterizes either bloggers or people who fancy themselves creators of an “internet community,” and what interests them is empty preoccupation with trivia and witch-hunting of “trolls” — these are people without substance who talk about what surrounds the issue instead of what is inside it.

Therefore, it is not worthwhile for you to answer that caricature of a commenter, whose nickname suits him well, but rather to ignore him, since he is simply a waste of time.

Just a note to Dov Liberman regarding changing customs:

You gave an example from a common formula used by the Rema, “and so is the custom, and it should not be changed,” but there are in fact cases where the Rema writes this and yet the custom did change, and I will give an example:

In the Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 37:3, the Rema writes regarding the age from which one should begin putting on tefillin: “Some say that this minor means specifically one who is thirteen years and one day old, and so is the custom, and it should not be changed.” Yet the prevalent custom today among most Ashkenazim is to begin putting on tefillin earlier, something like a month or a bit more before age 13, and this is indeed confirmed by the Mishnah Berurah in subsection 12: “And nowadays the custom is to put them on two or three months before the time,” following the Magen Avraham, who writes this.

Another good example is this coming Shabbat, Shabbat Hazon, about which the Rema writes that the custom is to dress in weekday clothes, and yet for several generations this has not been the practice, and I do not think there is today any community or yeshiva that actually does so.

So the matter is not all that absolute.

I agree with you in general about the importance of preserving customs, and I did not come here to undermine that by means of these examples. I only came to point out that the matter is not so absolute even when the Rema states, “and so is the custom, and it should not be changed.” Indeed, the question of the authority of customs, and how strictly one is required to adhere to them, is not a simple question even if one accepts in principle the idea that “the custom of Israel is Torah.”

It seems to me that on this specific issue, both in your words and in the words of those who disagree with you, the question arises in full force, since according to most decisors, foremost among them the Havot Yair, the problem raised by a woman’s recitation of Kaddish is not the act in itself but the weakening of custom.

Here one really has to ask whether, as a result of changes in time, place, and communal style, a renewed inquiry is needed regarding the existing custom — as the Seridei Esh wrote regarding celebrating a bat mitzvah — or whether, in synagogue customs, as you wrote, the caution in preserving communal customs is many times more strongly maintained in the tradition of legal rulings. This perhaps stands in contrast to a bat mitzvah celebration, or the question of when a boy should begin putting on tefillin, and the like, which do not so prominently affect public prayer.

In short, there is something to discuss here.

Amir, I certainly did not mean to claim that the words of the Rema establish an absolute definition for custom. I wanted to give a very simple example of the force of custom in the legal authorities, and this against Rabbi Abraham’s words, which seem to dismiss it completely.

Dear Dov Liberman,

Rabbi Michael Abraham tried to explain the distinction between a legal custom (that is, something that has a source in the Gemara and/or in the major early authorities, where the custom determines according to whom one follows the law — for example, the Ashkenazi custom to rule according to the Rema) and a social custom, that is, one that has no binding source in the Gemara or the early authorities, but arose from the conditions of life in a certain period (for example: wearing a hat or an overcoat). There is no source at all in the Gemara or the early authorities that forbids a woman from saying Kaddish (perhaps apart from the one brought above by the commenter Lewinger, and even there the matter is far from clear), and therefore the matter is permitted. The fact that this was not the custom in earlier generations should not prevent us from permitting it. The only argument one can use to prohibit it is that of the slippery slope (fear of Reform and so forth, as Rabbi Guttel himself notes in his article on a woman’s Kaddish, that this consideration is central in the rulings on this issue). But here we are already dealing with a judgment call — whether such a permission will lead to a slide toward Reform, or whether it will prevent it. The rabbis of Beit Hillel chose, for understandable reasons, the second option, and they have every right to do so.

By the way, you were right that most of the sources they brought referred to a minor girl saying Kaddish, although they too were right that there were also sources speaking about a woman. In my opinion they should have qualified the ruling somewhat and included in it the distinctions and conditions mentioned by the decisors they cited. But it does not seem to me that their relatively minor lack of precision justifies such a harsh response. What do you say?

Eliyahu, I already wrote in my article that my main intention was not to argue with the conclusion of the ruling but to comment on the way it was formulated. I do not agree with you regarding community customs and ancestral customs whose basis is not in the Gemara; I think they have a more binding force than appears from your words. As stated, the ruling itself is not the main focus of my criticism, but rather the disparagement of custom, the disingenuousness about it, and above all the leap to issue a ruling in a place that, in my opinion, ought to be reserved for the greatest of our rabbis — since this is a matter with implications for all synagogues.

A note to Dov Liberman — everyone marks the target first and only afterward shoots the arrow. Since Moses our teacher, no objective person has ever been born. Rather, people differ from one another in the goals they choose. Tell me what your goal is, and I will tell you who you are.

Have a good week. Over Shabbat it became possible to read all the responses in the supplement itself. It was worth getting through Dov Liberman’s foolish abusive remarks two weeks ago in order to receive Rabbi Weitman’s enlightening words, Rabbi Wilk’s courageous and moving words, and above all Rabbi Abraham’s sharp and accurate ones.

By contrast, we received more of the same from Dov Liberman — the wails of the wronged and confused Cossack, in which there was not one coherent sentence.

In between, we had comic relief in reading the babble of Yedidya Wangeruber, from which I understood that the pictures of women on Rabbi Neuwirth’s Facebook page arouse his passions. That does indeed indicate a problem, and I would recommend that Wangeruber look for a suitable professional solution to it instead of sending tabloid-style comments to the newspaper.

It seems that the debate around a woman’s Kaddish reveals a more interesting debate here, about the question of the plasticity of Jewish law and the sense in which a rabbinic ruling creates legal force. Moreover, there is no necessary connection between the questions, so it is possible that on this issue different people will belong to different sides.

Rabbis Wilk and Weitman, if I understand them correctly, think that there is some legal space that is subject to the free decision of rabbis according to their will, and that the very act of deciding creates a legal effect of prohibition or permission where none existed before. It is hard to understand Rabbi Wilk’s words otherwise when he says that “when the Sages said ‘what are we dealing with here?’ they sought to set narrow boundaries on ancient laws in order to allow Jewish law to renew itself,” and that “if the plain sense had been the guiding light of the Sages of Israel throughout the generations, and if they had insisted that every answer be based entirely on what was said before it, there would have been no Jewish world.” According to this view, the Holy One, blessed be He, gave His Torah to the Sages not as interpreters trying to aim at the truth (and if they erred, then it was an error), but as creators who define the rules of the game of religion.

Rabbi Abraham (full disclosure — a friend of mine), by contrast, comes with complaints against the rabbis of Beit Hillel for even playing at proving things from the Havot Yair or from Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, when these decisors themselves openly admitted that they had no “first-order” legal source for what they said. According to this approach, the decisor is more or less an interpreter of primary sources whose authority lies in honest interpretation offered in good faith, and when he is not functioning in that role, he can at most enact regulations for the people of his town or for those who heed his teaching, but he is not a binding authority. It is clear to me that Rabbi Wilk does not understand the situation this way, and therefore in his view it matters very much what Rabbi Moshe Feinstein said, since even if his words have no basis whatsoever, and even if they are the opposite of the truth, they create a legal effect that must be dealt with.

It seems to me that the people from Yeshivat Ramat Gan who wrote here also agree with Rabbis Weitman and Wilk on this point. After all, if this is just a trivial matter, as Rabbi Abraham presents it, then there is no room for criticism of the absence of “the elders of the generation” from the organization, at least not in the present context. But perhaps I did not understand them properly.

In any case, it seems that this is a far more fundamental point. I have already written about this in “Shabbat,” and people have also written against me, yet I still have not managed to understand how anyone who has studied tractate Horayot can hold the first view presented here. Recently I tried to summarize the issue from my point of view (of course) in the following article http://woland.ph.biu.ac.il/uploaded/703.1pdf, but regardless of that, it seems that clarifying the question of how and by whom Jewish law is decided is more significant, especially if it turns out that it lies at the root of the dispute presented here.

And I still have not managed to understand how anyone familiar with the entire history of creative legal decision-making from the school of “It is not in heaven,” from Hillel the Elder’s prozbul to Rabbi A.Y. Kook’s heter mechirah, can hold anything other than the first view.

http://cochva.blogspot.co.il/2013/06/blog-post_26.html

Nadav, in my humble opinion, the discussion of a woman’s Kaddish raises another interesting discussion in its own right, namely the force of preserving synagogue customs.

After all, most of the decisors brought on the subject of a daughter’s Kaddish who expressed practical reservations, foremost among them the Havot Yair, rejected the matter because of fear of “the weakening of the force of customs.” And it is well known that the tradition of legal precedent regarding synagogue customs and public prayer is very conservative, sometimes more so than is usual in other areas of Jewish law.

The question is how closely one must adhere to synagogue customs, and what is included among those customs that are never touched at all, and what is included among those customs that are more flexible.

After all, it is known that among the issues disputed between the Hasidim and the Mitnagdim was the matter of the Hasidim’s change in prayer from the Ashkenaz rite accepted for generations to the Sefard rite, and the Mitnagdim sharply opposed this change.

And yet, in the perspective of time, this change was accepted in practice, and today no one says a word against it.

Old melodies are also changed today, at least in our religious-Zionist public, and even in very conservative communities and yeshivot, Kabbalat Shabbat in Carlebach melodies is something routine, as are new melodies for some of the liturgical poems of the High Holiday prayers.

And to these things as well opponents arise — regarding Kabbalat Shabbat in Carlebach melodies, the head of the yeshiva high school where I studied was a fierce opponent of the matter, and he told us at the time that this would create a breach leading to praying with an organ on Shabbat, and that one does not move from the familiar melody that was sung in Lodz, Warsaw, and Vilna, etc. etc. I personally do not hold this view; I brought it merely to show an example of zealous preservation of prayer customs.

In the synagogue of the community in which I grew up in Tel Aviv, for years there was a split into a younger and an older minyan, when the older members insisted on preserving customs they had brought from the Diaspora that had no connection to Jewish law, while the younger members wanted to refresh things and, for example, have even young boys serve as cantors, and not only older men as the elderly members of the synagogue insisted.

So the question here is: what is the boundary?

Why are there things over which people insist that they not be changed, even though from a purely legal point of view it is possible, and why are there things that have been accepted by the overwhelming majority of the public [it seems to me that in this matter the head of the yeshiva high school where I studied holds a fairly rare position, even from a conservative starting point]?

In my opinion, the difference is that in matters of melodies and the like, and even a change in the prayer rite, the change is not all that substantial, and in the end, when necessary, an Ashkenazi worshipper can find himself in a Sephardic synagogue and vice versa.

But when we are dealing with bigger changes, such as proposals to call women up to the Torah or women saying Kaddish, that already changes the character of the prayer completely, as is customary in all Jewish communities, without distinction of rite or ideological camp, where complete separation between men and women during prayer is practiced.

I write all this regardless of my personal opinion about the ruling of the Beit Hillel rabbis or about the question of women’s Kaddish, but in a general way regarding the question that arises from this issue of changing synagogue customs.

And this requires further thought.

Kokhava, much thanks!

It is a pleasure to become acquainted with the blog; it is truly a great mitzvah from the Torah to bring links to articles like these here on the site.

Keep it up, and may your reward be complete from the Lord, God of Israel.

Nadav, it seems to me that no one disputes that in certain matters the words of a rabbi do create legal force — for example, all rabbinic commandments and prohibitions, or later enactments that received serious authority such as Rabbenu Gershom’s ban, and the like.

The question is where the boundary lies, and what, in the words of your article here in the supplement, will count as “good advice from an expert,” and what will count as a binding legal enactment?

For example, I saw in the responsa Devar Hevron of Rabbi Dov Lior, may he live long, that he answers a questioner there that it is not fitting for a yeshiva student to wear jeans, because it looks like “street culture,” and so on.

Would such advice count as a legal ruling? To me it simply seems like advice or Rabbi Lior’s personal opinion, which should not be considered “law.”

This question can very much be asked in the present case and in similar matters.

If, for example, a community rabbi forbids women’s hakafot with Torah scrolls on Simchat Torah in his synagogue because of communal and public policy, in order to prevent foreign influences of radical feminism from entering the community, and so on — even though from the standpoint of the matter itself there is technically no prohibition at all — would such guidance by the community rabbi be considered a “legal ruling”?

[I know of such a case personally, involving a community rabbi I know, in whose community the woman who proposed bringing Torah scrolls to the women’s section for hakafot was a feminist activist. Therefore the community rabbi strongly objected and told the sexton who asked on her behalf: “There will be a war over this.” That rabbi told me and my friends explicitly that he had “declared war” on the matter not for purely legal reasons, but for reasons of public leadership and opposition to the infiltration of values that in his eyes were negative in his community, and I will not elaborate.]

What will happen if the women who wish to hold hakafot tell their community rabbi that his personal worldview does not interest them, and that they are interested only in his “professional” legal opinion, as you describe it — namely, yes or no, black and white, permitted or forbidden?

Apparently there are arguments in both directions, and among the Sages, for example, we see that they ruled laws whose purpose was “to remove from the hearts of the Sadducees,” such as abolishing the daily recitation of the Ten Commandments.

With the Hatam Sofer we see many such practices as part of his struggle against the Reform movement.

So the question here, in my opinion, is what the boundary is between what will be considered an “enactment” and what will be considered a non-binding personal opinion or, in your words, “good advice from an expert.”

Kokhava with a sheva or with a kamatz?

The “space” under discussion does not relate to tractate Horayot. It relates to “Rabbi Shimon is worthy of being relied upon in a time of need,” “in a case of major loss one may be lenient,” and the like — that is, there are several positions and one cannot point only to one of them as necessarily correct. It is impossible to prove conclusively that the Rashba, Rabbenu Tam, or even the Shakh or the Noda BiYehuda were wrong, and therefore there are several legitimate options (even if not to the same degree). The decision between them is not final and does not create a “legal effect” — it is simply the exercise of the sage’s judgment regarding how it is proper to rule in practice in the specific situation before him. It may be that it is proper to be stringent, but such a ruling will be ignored; or to be lenient, but such a ruling will lead to contempt for Jewish law in general; or that it is proper to give a clear definition by which everyone will act, but the result will be a blurring of the line and in the end everyone will do whatever he wants.

The root of the matter is not the question of how Jewish law is decided — it is the question of who the addressee of the Talmud and the decisors is. If the target audience were only kollel students in the Hazon Ish circle or professor-scholars from Bar-Ilan, there would have been no need for rabbinic prohibitions and decrees. The target audience is the public that does not know Gemara and does not know Jewish law, and the sage is supposed to instruct it how to act. Since that is so, one does not need “legal effect” for the instruction of the sage to have authority — the authority stems from the fact that this is the basic social structure that the Torah assumes. If the sage instructed X but so-and-so, in his broad wisdom, did Y, he committed no sin and does not need to beat his chest on Yom Kippur. On the other hand, that does not change the fact that it is good that the sage instructed the public as he did, and the public ought to do X. Not because the sage is “handing out hunting licenses in his grandmother’s vineyard in Ben Shemen” (as one sage put it), but because the sage is responsible for guiding the public.

One can argue that this model is gradually losing its relevance when there are so many Torah students and the “public” described above is steadily shrinking — and that is indeed a question that needs to be discussed seriously. But first one has to understand their basic premise, and only then can one discuss the place of the rabbi / sage / decisor today.

God forbid to say that the Torah assumes a certain social structure. The Torah was given as a living Torah for all generations, including our own generation, in which the social structure is dramatically different from what it was when the Torah was given, or when the Sages created the Oral Torah.

Zvi,

I understand the sarcasm in your words (and at least partly identify with it), but it is not relevant here — I was speaking about the form of legal decision-making and public leadership, not about the content.

There was no sarcasm in what I wrote to you. The form of legal decision-making and public leadership has changed beyond recognition in our generation, the Google generation in which everyone is a Torah scholar.

Uzziah.

It is not clear to me whether I understand you.

First, I am not sure that the early authorities, and even the later ones, really saw matters this way, especially that they thought it was “impossible to prove legitimately” that someone was right or wrong. It seems to me that until the very recent period it was clear that even if our wisdom is not mathematical science, one can decide that the Rashba is right and the Ran is wrong, and that this is the role of a decisor.

Second, it seems to me that I need to think a bit more about your model. At some point you draw a line between deciding Jewish law in the sense of making a claim about the meaning of canonical texts (whatever those may be, for the moment), and decisions whose main motivation is sociological, that is, to steer the ignorant public to some better place. Here too I am not convinced that such a separation can be made, and I am even less convinced that this is how the Rashba and the Noda BiYehuda thought.

And third, if we return to our subject: how, through your lenses, do you see the dispute before us about a woman’s Kaddish? Do both sides agree that this is, as Miki suggested, something devoid of legal significance and that the whole dispute is only about the proper guidance of the public? From reading the claims of both sides, it seems to me that that is not the case.

And let us assume that this is indeed the dispute — the situation is rather sad. What is left to do here besides shout? After all, according to your words, there is no connection between the level of “interpretation of the canonical texts” and what is happening here. One person thinks that a woman’s Kaddish will strengthen liberal forces that will introduce more far-reaching changes in Jewish law, and another is not worried about this and, on the contrary, thinks that such excessive stringency drives people away. So what do we do now? Order a public-opinion survey? Consult leading sociologists?

And if, as you say, what business do rabbis with broad shoulders and the elders of the generation have here? Do they claim expertise in the dynamics of human societies? As far as I know, the claim is that these people are experts in the interpretation of legal texts, not in the moods of women lawyers in Givat Shmuel. Is the demand to consult them built on the mystical assumption that by virtue of Torah they have some kind of heavenly assistance?

Nadav,

1. Indeed, Maimonides and Rabbenu Tam did not think this way. But the Beit Yosef already did think this way, and therefore he tried to decide according to the majority of opinions. Of course, there were those in his time who did not accept the method, and I personally very much do not identify with it, but one must admit that in many cases it is genuinely difficult to decide who is right. To put it more bluntly, it is clear that there is a great deal of naïveté in the pretension to decide, a naïveté connected to being earlier in the chain. Maimonides really thought that his rulings were fantastic and that in time everyone would be convinced of them, and the Rid wrote Sefer HaMachria out of a deep belief that anyone who read his proofs would be convinced, and thus the “decision” between the earlier opinions would come into being. I think every serious student of Torah understands that in most cases this is not the situation — even if the Rashba’s position seems more difficult than that of Rabbenu Tam, one cannot say that it is impossible. And then some brilliant analyst will come and prove that it is actually the most reasonable. So do you really think that one can speak today of an unequivocal decision?

(In parenthesis, I will say that I think that sometimes one actually can. But such a decision will come from a not entirely traditional conception.)

2. In the Gemara itself there are examples of different rulings for different groups — “because they are not Torah people,” for example. In the Mishnah at the end of the second chapter of Keritot it is brought that Rabban Gamliel decided to be lenient in the laws of bird offerings in order to stop the inflation in their price. It does not seem that he invented a law — but he certainly chose, from among the existing possibilities, a possibility that would achieve the social goal.

The Rashba forbade the study of philosophy before age 25. Do you think there is sanctity in the number 25, or that this is an interpretation of a canonical text? True, this was a ban and an enactment and not a responsum that purports to be interpretation — but I do not think that for our purposes this changes anything. The fact is that the Rashba saw himself also as a leader and not only as an interpreter of a canonical text. I find it hard to believe that study of his thousands of responsa would reveal that all of them are built on binding interpretation of texts.

His younger contemporary, the Rosh, instructed that utensils forbidden for use on Passover should be put away. The Tur added that they should also be locked up and the key hidden. To the best of my knowledge there is no hint of this in the Talmudic discussions — this is a practical instruction to the public.

Regarding the Noda BiYehuda, he permitted shaving on Chol HaMoed — according to the Hatam Sofer, the reason for the permission is that in this way one who shaves with a razor will not transgress a Torah prohibition because the stubble will be short.

I already think I have overdone it with examples. In general, not a small portion of the responsa of the decisors is built not on “interpretation of canonical texts” but on an attempt to lead the public. The responsum of the Havot Yair forbidding a woman to say Kaddish is exactly an example of such a responsum.

3. The discussion of a woman’s Kaddish is mainly of this sort. There are no doubt a few oddballs who think there is really a problem here of “a woman’s voice is nakedness,” but the argument is mainly about how to guide the public. Therefore I also think that Rabbi Abraham’s words are out of place. Even if we accept the legal conception that deciding Jewish law ought to emerge from the Gemara and the early authorities while ignoring the later authorities — even if the legal conclusion is correct, it may still be a terrible idea as public guidance.

4. The desired situation is not that the elders of the community do the sociological balancing, but rather the balancing of gain and loss. Assuming that the sociological conditions are known, the question is whether it is justified to be lenient in accordance with a certain strained view because of consideration X. For that one indeed needs broad shoulders, because the question is how strained opinion X is and how much one relies on it only when one’s back is against the wall.

In practice, indeed, the sociological situation itself is often unclear, and therefore the use of the great men of the generation, the elders of the community, and the eyes of the congregation is useless and rather foolish (and it also causes harm, because ninety-year-old people may be exactly those who make the worst assessments of the situation).

5. Honestly, I am surprised that they did not answer you this on your article that was published a few months ago, and instead banged their heads with full force against your claim regarding the “creating ruling.”

Uzziah (in response to your last message)

1. I do not agree. The commentaries on the Shulchan Aruch still ignore all the “rules of decision-making” and decide according to reasoning, apparently according to how they thought. Even the Beit Yosef presumably thought that deciding by majority was simply a way to reach the truth. It does not seem to me that despair of the possibility of reaching the truth arose before the last hundred years, since the analytical method invaded the yeshivot.

2. The Shulchan Aruch, it seems to me, included in his book all the rulings for those who “are not Torah people,” so at least he thought that anyone with enough intelligence to open a Shulchan Aruch should be spoken to seriously.

Your examples of studying philosophy and of the key and Passover utensils are worthy, but first, nobody really takes those rulings all that seriously (like Maimonides’ laws of character regarding ways of eating), and second — perhaps more importantly — how much is this out of the whole? Here, in my opinion, we have a disagreement. You wrote that this is “not a small part” of the responsa of the decisors. In my opinion, it is a tiny part.

3-4. This brings me to the next point. I am not arguing with you over the fact that there were various enactments and decrees by this or that rabbi for the people of this or that town, but in our generation it seems that a process is taking place that can be seen as problematic. On the one hand, there are many innovations both in reality and in attitudes, which place before rabbis questions that are hard to discuss by simple analogy. On the other hand, processes of secularization have created among rabbis a heavy fear of every movement, because who knows what may happen, and the third factor is globalization and communication, which have essentially destroyed the concept of the local rabbinic authority and the ability to build a society whose basic units are communities.

The overall result of these processes is that the social situation to which the people of the “right” in this debate are leading is fundamentally different from that which existed in the community of Vilna or Barcelona. The situation to which they are leading, in my opinion, is that ninety percent of Torah — all the interesting and important questions — will be decided on the level of hiding the key, by sociological rather than legal considerations, and this decision will be entrusted not to the local rabbi but to a “great one” who decides without giving any accounting of why he judged as he did, but on the basis of social considerations. If that is the situation, then one should openly announce that studying in yeshiva is a Torah-level waste of time and dismiss 90% of the rabbis who function merely as scarecrows for this one or that one. It is not hard to see where things lead.

And finally, regarding your point 5, to the best of my understanding they really do not think as you do.

1. I do not agree. Even the commentaries usually try to be on the side of “all the early authorities” — the best example is the Shakh, who on the one hand is the most independent among the classic commentaries, but is also the one who always tries to persuade you that in fact all the early authorities agree with him and you simply did not notice. That is, when he is not convinced that he has some brilliant interpretation that is, in his opinion, one hundred percent correct, he simply tries other kinds of brilliance — to take an interpretation that seems more plausible to him and prove that it is the consensus, or close to it. The same is true of the Beit Yosef — he of course thought that a majority decision is a way to arrive at the truth, and only that. Because there is no possibility of deciding on the merits who is right. On this, every fifth-rate rabbi today will agree with you — if all the greatest legal authorities say something, he too will warmly adopt their words. The problem begins when that is not the case (as happens rather often).

2. I did not understand your words about the Shulchan Aruch. As for the ruling of the Rosh and the Tur about hiding the key, people take it completely seriously and it is ruled that way everywhere.

3. What you say is completely correct, and I also do not think that anyone denies it. After all, anyone studying today for rabbinical examinations knows that when it comes to practical Jewish law, the main thing is to see the collection of opinions in Piskei Teshuvot, or what was said about it in Igrot Moshe, Yabia Omer, Tzitz Eliezer, and several other important contemporary decisors, when there is no clear way to decide between them and everything is just considerations of public leadership. I do not think you will find many rabbinical students or yeshiva students who would disagree with this. There is nothing to publicize here, and the time and effort are a waste. The matters are leading nowhere. They have already led, and there is nowhere left to go (that is exactly the problem. So what does one do? A topic for another discussion).

As a bonus, I am prepared to offer here an algorithm for deciding Jewish law that I tested myself (only as a sample) on some of the law books of our time: find three opinions in responsa from the last generation (say, Minhat Shlomo, Igrot Moshe, Minhat Yitzhak). Presumably one is stringent, one is lenient, and one is in the middle. Rule according to the middle opinion in the body of the laws, and mention the lenient opinion in the notes below. That is all.

In that sense, you are right that the overwhelming majority of rabbis are scarecrows of this kind. But:

A. As I tried to explain, there is a reason why it is like this. It is genuinely difficult to decide without breaking the frameworks.

B. Rabbis do have a role, namely to be an external reviewer. For example (if we take your favorite subject of hunting licenses for contraception), even if the laws of when it is permitted to postpone procreation are clear, if there is a clear and lucid ruling on the subject with transparent criteria, many people will probably always conclude that their own situation is exactly the one that justifies it. The same applies to cases of “major loss” in ritual prohibitions or “a place of suffering” on Shabbat. In such a case, the rabbi functions as an external reviewer who makes it possible to examine somewhat more objectively whether the considerations really justify a certain leniency.

Uzziah,

See for yourself what is happening in this issue of a woman’s Kaddish.

The rabbis of Beit Hillel went and issued a ruling, in which they referred to responsa and earlier sources, and it came out as it came out. Dov Liberman, in a previous issue, attacked them on the basis of scholarly arguments (as much as such a thing is relevant in a question with so few sources as this) — in any event, it was a rational argument about interpretation, and even if one cannot be sure it is possible to persuade with conclusive proof, at least one can talk about it.

Now the responses found here have come, and they reveal that this is a completely different story. If you read again what is written above, you will see that Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel are not divided over the fact that the world of legal rulings is a world of falsification and falsehood (that is, unfair interpretation, not in good faith, of the rulings of those who came before you, for one practical reason or another), and both sides openly admit it. What the people of Beit Hillel are saying, in simple words, is: “We are experienced decisors, and who are you, insolent gnat, to muddle our brains?” And against them Rabbi Liberman replies in one key sentence: “The decision does not belong to ‘Beit Hillel.’” Why? Because in his eyes they are too small, and there are other decisors whom he alone regards as worthy of that mantle.

[And by the way, in my opinion you are completely mistaken in the distinction you make between “real” laws and enactments whose basis is in any case sociological. I cannot speak for those who wrote here, but the fact is that on the most severe of severe issues, the question of conversion, rabbis from our community adopted exactly the same tactic of argument.]

At this point, if you will allow me to quote something I wrote elsewhere, a person is supposed to understand that there are in fact two Torahs. The Torah that is written in the books studied in the yeshivot, apparently intended so that the boys will spend their time standing at the lectern and not use that time to speak slander, and the Torah that makes public legal decision-making possible, which is some kind of secret wisdom possessed only by a narrow group of great rabbis who have a deep understanding of the inner essence of the Jewish people and can weigh broad and public considerations. In other words, we have taken the matter away from the method of rational argument, in which two sides try to persuade on the basis of open sources, and turned it into the question of whether I believe in Rabbi So-and-so or Rabbi Such-and-such.

The whole business is more suited to the script of “The Godfather 4” at the Mugrabi cinema than to any study hall. After all, what is left to do here in order to persuade? Either the rabbis of Beit Hillel will slander their opponents enough until they suddenly look great and important, or they will try to perform shoulder-broadening surgery on themselves by the accepted methods of spreading imaginary miracle stories and appearing in public in eccentric clothing. Is this what we recite the blessings over Torah study for? Astonishing.

[And when one takes into account that in the eyes of 95% of serious Torah students, what we have here is a brawl of street-corner idlers, whose appropriate titles range from “a non-kosher pot” (Rabbi Shach) to “Amalek,” the whole thing becomes pathetic. The moment you abandon the plane of argument and move to the question of whose beard is longer, by any standard the ultra-Orthodox eat, for breakfast and without salt, all the participants here and their rabbis.]

1. As you said, the question under discussion has few sources. Accordingly, the entire “scholarly” discussion revolves around questions of public leadership — questions already discussed by legal authorities in the seventeenth century, and therefore one can bring this responsum and that responsum, but the arguments presented in the books of responsa are themselves arguments arising from questions of public leadership. When one deals with public leadership, experience has a great place. There are many things that I think are correct in themselves, but I would be horrified if I discovered that some rabbi instructed the public that way indiscriminately.

2. I am not making a sharp distinction between “cut-and-dried” laws and laws whose source is sociological. I am making a distinction between laws that can be decided relatively easily and those that cannot. The difficulty in deciding easily can stem from two reasons: A. The question is, at its root, a question of public leadership. B. It is difficult to decide, and therefore one has to weigh opinions — where public leadership is a very important criterion. The question of conversion is actually a good example: the definition and scope of acceptance of the commandments are not completely clear. In addition, it emerges from Maimonides that one who was converted improperly is nevertheless validly converted (at least partially). Here is exactly the place for public considerations — perhaps there is room to adopt a lenient position (after all, no one has proof that it is entirely wrong, right?); perhaps there is room for the judges to risk a bit of hell so that in the end there will be fewer non-Jews here; and so forth and so on. What Rabbis Druckman, Rosen, and company did and are doing is exactly this — not to waive acceptance of the commandments entirely (although there are such opinions), but to adopt in practice the more lenient positions on the subject. As stated, it is difficult to impossible to prove that these opinions are mistaken or absurd, and therefore their public considerations certainly have a place (even though, of course, one can argue with them on the merits and with the difficulties in the positions on which they rely).

3. As I said in previous comments, I am surprised that you are surprised by what you are saying. True, practical legal decision-making usually cannot be done today on the plane of argument that you are talking about. On the other hand, this is not about some deep understanding of the soul of the Jewish people. This is about experience and the wisdom of public leadership. Not everything that may be permitted in itself should be publicized, and not over everything that may be forbidden in itself should one wage a world war.

To be precise, legal decision-making is made up of two components: proving that the proposed decision is possible in principle, and “proving” that this is also the proper way to instruct the public. Certain rulings from the school of “Beit Hillel” or those similar to it sometimes run into problems in the first component (if Rabbi Stav’s book Bein HaZmanim has happened to come your way, you can see this in Rabbi Zion Boaron’s interesting approbation to the book). Others (such as the question of Kaddish) run into problems in the second component. In that sense, certainly there is significance to what is studied in the yeshivot. But it is true that this is only part of the whole. Every student in a rabbinic ordination kollel knows this, and there is nothing new here.

A final note regarding the removal of the discussion from the method of rational argument: legal decision-making has been a decentralized business for a great many years, and the method of rational debate was often only for amusement. The decisors generally did not persuade one another, and that is why the concept of the local authority was so important. They did indeed correspond with one another for pleasure, but the impression is that it did not often happen that it changed anything. When did correspondence have significance? When one of them felt inferior to the other and asked his advice as a greater authority. As I write, I recall a responsum in the Noda BiYehuda, where one of his students wanted to use an examination for a woman who sees blood because of intercourse, which is mentioned in the Gemara and in the decisors, and the Noda BiYehuda rebuked him and said that only the greatest sages of the generation can make decisions like that.

Uzziah,

I do not agree with your assessments regarding the nature of legal rulings, nor with what you wrote about the alleged lack of clarity regarding acceptance of the commandments in conversion.

In any case, these are details, and your position — even if it is not correct in my eyes — is consistent. I just do not understand what remains in the end. If engagement in Torah is what you present it as being, there may perhaps be some interest in it as amusing research for anthropologists who are too lazy to travel to Papua New Guinea, but not for any serious person, certainly not for someone who has any aspirations at all in the service of God.

Notice also the pragmatic problem that is created here. On the one hand, the whole matter is built on the idea that laypeople must on no account be aware of the exalted considerations made by the rabbis after consulting angels and holy creatures, since we are not on their level, and therefore everything is done in secret gatherings of authorized decisors. And in the end, when they disagree with one another, the decision — not what the law is in a specific matter, but the much broader decision of who is “great” and who is half-great, who is the eminent rabbi and who is just some little rabbi — of course passes into the hands of the laypeople, who make their learned decision on the basis of intensive study of adaptations from “The Father of Israel” or “The Chronicles of Our Socks” that appear in the pamphlets they read during the cantor’s repetition. The Other Side begins in fellowship and ends in separation.

With God’s help, 12 Av 5773

To Nadav — greetings,

You ask:

1. If the decision is entrusted to great Torah scholars, why should someone who is not on that level study Torah?

2. After all, in the end the decision is in the hands of the laypeople as to whom to choose as their rabbi?

To question 1:

It seems to me that analytical study has value in itself as a fulfillment of the commandment of Torah study even when it does not directly contribute to a person’s ability to decide. After all, many topics are studied that are not practical nowadays (or are not relevant to every person).

A further value lies in the in-depth study of topics that do have practical implications, both for creating awareness in the learner of the questions that exist and for understanding the words of the decisors. One who knows the foundations of the issue can understand why one rabbi ruled one way and another rabbi ruled differently. In practice, a person will act according to his own rabbi, but he will know how to appreciate the dissenting views as well.

Knowledge of the foundations of Jewish law can help a person when he encounters situations of pressure or a social problem that arises because of observing Jewish law as it is formulated in legal books that present the ideal practice. When a person is aware that there are other views as well, then in a case of difficulty he can ask a sage — who may sometimes agree that here there is room for a special leniency, and at other times may find a creative solution without any need for a lenient ruling.

To question 2:

The rabbi is not merely a halakhic information bank. The relationship between rabbi and student is that of father and son. The commandment of Torah study is derived from the verse “And you shall teach them diligently to your children” — these are the students. “Torah” means instruction, education. A person needs an educational figure, an exemplary figure from whom he can learn ways of life, a loving and understanding father figure, someone who knows you and listens to you and can, in his wisdom, find paths to your heart and give you counsel suited to your personality and your situation.

There are many great scholars of Torah and men of education. Greatness in Torah is a necessary condition in order to teach and guide. But every individual and every community need a rabbi who suits them, a rabbi to whom they will be able to connect מתוך trust.

With blessings, S.Z. Lewinger

I too, the insignificant one, will grasp at the hem of his robe and deal with the whole rather than the details.

1. In complete contrast to what you claimed, the conception I presented is precisely the one that raises the value of Torah to an almost absurd level. One is supposed to study Torah for the sake of studying Torah, even though nothing practical will ever come out of it, because one does not think that one’s own reasoning is worth anything that can be relied upon. It is only the service of God (= the learner’s mind clothes itself in the divine mind, blah blah) and nothing else. This is exactly the conception accepted today in the world of the yeshivot.

2. The pragmatic problem indeed remains painfully in force, but its roots have already existed for many generations — except that in a reality where there really is a local authority and a rabbi who lives elsewhere is simply irrelevant, the problem does not arise at all and no one needs to measure who is the greater Torah scholar.

What is happening today is a fairly ridiculous attempt to copy this model when the “locale” turns from a geographical concept into a sociological one. I have already heard from several people, in complete seriousness, that every person is bound to the rabbi of “his public.” That is, if I am a graduate of Har Etzion, I may act according to Rabbi Amital’s opinion, but if I am a graduate of Merkaz, I may not. If I am religious-Zionist, I can act according to Rabbi Lior, but if I am ultra-Orthodox I must do what Rabbi Elyashiv says. With a sufficient number of thumb-twists, one can in this way find a solution for almost every worldview, family status, race, and gender. I do not need to explain to you how idiotic this is, but that is indeed what is happening on the ground (laypeople, after all, read during prayer the pamphlets they happen to like, and elevate the great rabbis they already admire to a greater or lesser extent, do they not?)

3. To remove crooked speech and slander, I am far from seeing the situation that I am describing as a proper one. I did not try to present a legal-theological doctrine, but to describe the existing situation. Precisely because I very much want it to change, I do not see any benefit in heaping up objections and complaints without understanding the dynamics that brought us this far. Sharp writing and harsh language can help a great deal when they come מתוך an understanding of what really lies at the root of the existing situation — when what is involved is merely venting steam, however entertaining that venting may be, only damage is caused. I am fairly convinced that some of those who invented the notion of the creating ruling were dragged into it only because it was obvious to them that your claim was not correct, but they were unable to explain to themselves why (I know that sounds like unfair contempt, but I have already encountered people far more talented than I am who דווקא in this area did not exactly understand what they wanted) — so they latched onto the legend of the creating ruling and tried to mortgage their souls on it. In the end, someone really will believe it — and then we will miss what is happening today.

Just note, Uzziah, that the two of you are both inventing your own rules of the game and amusing yourselves with them. You do not have a shred of evidence against the theory of the creating ruling, and you have not the slightest idea how to refute the hundreds and thousands of historical and textual proofs from which it emerges that deciding Jewish law is a process of human creation.

On the contrary — if you have proofs in favor of the creating ruling, bring them out to us and let us know them. To prevent misunderstanding I will say in advance: in the prozbul there is zero creation, only the use of existing tools (it is not substantially different from what is done today to exempt firstborn animals — one sells their kidneys to a gentile). The same applies to the heter iska. The heter mechirah. Annulment of marriage (assuming that it really works). And presumably a few more of the classic examples that people usually wave around.

By contrast, if by the words “a process of human creation” you mean creation in the sense that discoveries in mathematics are human creation, then there is no disagreement here between you and Nadav or me, and there is also no “creating ruling” here in the true sense.

Uzziah, the attempt to throw the ball back into the other court is demagoguery. I said that you have no proofs, and to ask me for proofs of the opposite approach is not proof. (I have many, from the midrash “It is not in heaven” to the words of the Ketzot in the introduction to his book, but I refuse to be dragged after the demagoguery.)

Zvi,

I do not see demagoguery here, although I usually try to be sensitive to it. After all, both you and I see that the entire legal literature, without exception, is built in the format of interpretation of earlier texts. That interpretation was written on earth and not in heaven, and the Ketzot’s book looks exactly like that. Interpretation is something that reveals — not creates (I am aware of the complications raised by hermeneutics — but let us agree that at least on the level of exegesis, even if not of interpretation, we all view reading as an act that is primarily revelatory). Therefore, I do not see any room for the idea of a creating ruling.

Now I have brought my “proof” against the theory of the creating ruling, and I have also explained why, in my opinion, the burden of proof rests on you. Now you may choose whether to pick up the gauntlet or not.

Anyone with eyes in his head sees that in countless cases this is very creative interpretation. Not only did you fail to bring even a shred of proof, but you intensified the demagoguery by presenting the picture in black and white and hinting as though the approach I represent advocates inventing laws out of thin air.

After all, we all agree that the Written Torah is the basis of the Oral Torah, and the Oral Torah is the basis of all the later generations of legal rulings that followed it. According to your approach and Professor Shnerb’s approach, there is no Oral Torah at all and no process of legal decision-making at all; everything is just a search for mathematical formulas hidden in the Written Torah.

Zvi,

I do not know what you mean by “anyone with eyes in his head knows that this is often very creative interpretation.”

If your claim is built on the very existence of the Oral Torah, which in your eyes is creative interpretation — then here our views differ. For the gap between our reading of the Written Torah and some of the laws of the Oral Torah is so great on the one hand — but the closeness to the text is so great on the other — that it seems to me that what we have is an interpretive tradition that, because of the distance of time, we have difficulty understanding. To infer from this anything decisive — certainly something as revolutionary as the existence of creative interpretation — seems to me to be no more than rather wild speculation over a span of 2,500 years.

Nadav’s claim and mine is that this is a search for mathematical formulas found mainly in the Oral Torah — less so in the Written Torah, whose principles we apply through the prism of the Oral Torah. I did not understand how one can accuse such a conception of implying that there is no Oral Torah.

If, on the other hand, your intention is the phenomenon of the many ukimtot found among the Babylonian Amoraim, then although attempts to understand them as creative are not new to me, I find it difficult to agree with them. In almost all cases, the ukimta can be read quite simply as an attempt to isolate unnecessary accidental variables and deal with the principled law (just as one can challenge the statement that gravitational acceleration is 9.8 m/s² and then answer that “what are we dealing with here? At the equator, without air resistance, and not being exact beyond one digit after the decimal point.” Needless to say, in this case the ukimta is simply the plain meaning of the statement).

You confused me. You wrote a long series of speculations upon speculations, and that is what you call “proof”?

I will make do with the first sentence. Indeed, I have no doubt that the Oral Torah is creative interpretation (as the introduction to Ketzot HaHoshen states). Do you have proof that this is not so?

So that we do not conduct a barren and pointless ping-pong match, here is a concise article on the subject. It shows that there is a range of approaches, that no single approach has a seal of approval from Moses our teacher, and that each person follows his own faith.

http://www.daat.ac.il/daat/toshba/toldot/4-2.htm

Zvi,

1. I did not claim that I have a proof. Rather, I claimed that I think the opposite cannot be proven, in light of the impression one generally gets from reading the Sages, namely that they perceive themselves as interpreters and not as creators. I admitted that there are places where their interpretation appears strange to us, but I argued that this does not come close to proving the existence of creative interpretation. A basic rule is to interpret the minority in light of the majority, not the reverse.

2.. The things mentioned in the article are familiar to me, but articles of this kind only create an effect of confusion. Ketzot HaHoshen can describe what he is doing in metaphysical terms, but the actual practice is simple interpretation according to more or less known rules. If you want to call it a narrow revelatory paradigm or a green cucumber doctrine, that is all the same. In the end, this is only interpretation of the completely ordinary kind. The same is true (though to a lesser degree) of the rest of the article — the Sages in various places gave different meanings to what they were doing. In practice, it is almost always interpretation. Not creation and nothing of the sort. If your impression from reading tractates Bava Kamma or Shabbat is that the Sages think they are creating something rather than interpreting something already there — then we will probably have to stop here, and there is nothing more for us to argue about.

I certainly do not claim that the opposite can be proven, and for that reason I refrain from presenting my personal opinion as though it were proven and agreed upon by all. It would be fitting for you and Professor Shnerb to act likewise, in complete contrast to your way until now. Shabbat shalom.

The introduction of the author of Ketzot HaHoshen is usually quoted only partially, and people ignore his words (following the Zohar) about the great responsibility of the decisor to aim at the truth. When the decisor walks in “paths of truth,” whose sign is that he sometimes arrives at the reasoning of the early authorities, who are the model for upright thinking, and when he makes every effort to aim at the truth, then he merits that the Holy One agrees with him even if he erred.

I brought the words of the author of Ketzot HaHoshen in his introduction in a comment at the beginning of the discussion on “Good Advice from an Expert” (by Nadav Shnerb).

Quite apart from my opinion on legal rulings, I am astonished by the words of Rabbi Weitman: “His tendency is not to encourage women to say Kaddish.”

The Facebook page of “Beit Hillel” conveys a somewhat different message. The organization maintains a list of synagogues in which women say Kaddish (the list also includes the synagogue of Rabbi and Rebbetzin Neuwirth). It is evident that the members of the organization, or at least the manager of its Facebook page, do encourage the phenomenon.

It seems that the legal study hall and the digital department of the organization are not coordinated.

Idan, I do not know whether Beit Hillel encourages the phenomenon or whether they are merely indicating where there are synagogues that operate according to this ruling for those interested.

Note, by the way, the synagogues in the above list: either they are in Jerusalem and in religious kibbutzim, where the trend of “new religiosity” exists, or in English-speaking communities such as Ra’anana and Efrat, where this is accepted.

Note that in Petah Tikva and Givat Shmuel, places where there was potential for such minyanim — speaking generally, in communities that are certainly not ultra-conservative religious-Zionist — there are no such synagogues on the list.

Which proves what I keep writing here constantly: that the phenomenon of “new religiosity” and the like is a very tiny phenomenon that receives utterly unjustified media volume.

I am writing all this regardless of the question of a woman’s Kaddish being discussed here as a legal question in its own right, which is certainly worth discussing, but as a social and ideological symptom.

With God’s help, 8 Av 5773

To Amir — greetings,

The above list also includes Tekoa, where the late Rabbi Menachem Froman ruled this way, as Mrs. Ruth Wolfish wrote in “Beyond the Inner Partition — Responses.” This guidance can be especially suited to the delicate fabric of a mixed communal settlement.

In general, it was Rabbi Froman’s way not to issue an authoritative ruling, but rather to present questioners with a range of methods and a system of legal considerations, and to allow them to decide for themselves, as described in the article by Mrs. Michal Shir-El, “An Enabling Rabbinate,” on the Atra Hadin website.

With blessings, S.Z. Lewinger

In practice, this is the path Rabbi Weitman followed. In his ruling he tried to show the complexity of the issue and the opinions on both sides, so that on the one hand, a woman who wants to say Kaddish will find support for her desire, and on the other hand, she will also understand the other side — and will not create a dispute if the community in which she normally prays does not adopt the ruling of “Beit Hillel.” Would that it be so!

Nadav, regarding your final remark in your response to Uzziah:

Contrary to what you say, the greatness attributed to the leading decisors is indeed connected to viewing them not only as professionals in the Talmud and the legal authorities and the like, but also as people with sound and upright educational and leadership vision, and with a deep understanding of the human soul and the public to whom they speak — and Uzziah is right about this.

The words of the Seridei Esh about the celebration of a bat mitzvah, mentioned in the article by the rabbis of Beit Hillel, are a good example of this, and so too are most of the laws of “making a fence around the matter” among the Sages, or “matters that are revealed only to the discreet,” or the dispute in Menahot over whether it is proper to tell the ignoramus the minimal requirement of Torah study, or whether it is proper to conceal that from him [Menahot 99b].

In short, there are many more examples of this, and in any case the great sages of Israel were distinguished not only by their knowledge and analytical ability in the sources, but also by leadership ability and understanding of the human soul, and so they often issued rulings from the days of the Sages until our own day, especially on public questions.

This is exactly the idea of the Hazon Ish’s “fifth section of the Shulchan Aruch,” and it is not some mystical matter of divine inspiration hovering over the decisors, but a talent for leadership beyond encyclopedic knowledge or impressive analytical ability in the vast sea of the Talmud and the legal authorities.

Here, of course, the big question that I wrote to you about in my comment to you here at 10:27 will arise: when will a decisor’s words on these matters be considered an enactment / a legal ruling, and when will they be considered words of moral exhortation or merely a personal opinion?

A question for the supplement’s editors — among the many respondents, was there not even one woman?

Or perhaps the women are simply sick to death of this bunch of men who take for themselves the right to decide for them what is permitted, what is forbidden, what should be encouraged and what should not…

And thus writes Rabbi Wangeruber:

“While casually browsing the organization’s website, I came across the following text: ‘The Beit Hillel organization expresses shock at the words of Haggai Amir that he is proud of his deeds and does not regret them. Bloodshed is one of the gravest transgressions in the Torah, and pride in participation in this transgression is a public desecration of God’s name. The murder of the Prime Minister of Israel was also a grave blow to the existence of the State of Israel as a democratic society. The religious public must dissociate itself from the man and from his extremist supporters, until he repents and returns to the path of the Torah of Israel.’ Why should the organization not dissociate itself from all the formerly religious public Sabbath desecrators until they return to God and to His Torah? Is the Sabbath not among the grave commandments of the Torah?!”

I am too insignificant to engage in pilpulim of Jewish law when confronted with the above paragraph, which I read in amazement. For clearly there is no difference between murder and Sabbath desecration. Clearly the formerly religious person and the murderer Yigal Amir are one and the same. It is all cast from the same mold. And Torah scholars and fools as well.

Elad Fogel, since from your comments it appears that you do not believe at all in the truth of the Torah and Jewish law, it seems to me that your opinion on the matter and your mockery are irrelevant, because you do not accept the rules of the game, so the “game” is not relevant to you, and neither is your opinion about it.

Just so that you notice

“Even idolatry — needless to say sexual transgressions or Sabbath desecration — are not like bloodshed, for those sins are offenses between a person and the Holy One, blessed be He, but bloodshed is among the offenses between a person and his fellow. And anyone who has this sin in his hand is an utterly wicked person, and none of the commandments he performed all his life are equal to this sin, nor will they save him from judgment, as it is said: ‘A man oppressed by the blood of a soul shall flee to the pit; let no one support him’…” [Maimonides, Laws of Murder 4:9]

Forget it, even Maimonides is outside the game…

So you have turned into “little Oren,” and you are reading thoughts, knowing that the “rules of the game” are not accepted by me?

Are you again sinning in exactly what you advise others not to do, namely not to be the gatekeeper of the site?

And is it not clear that there is no mockery in my words, but shock?

A rabbi who compares murder to Sabbath desecration, and establishes a direct relation between Sabbath desecrators and murderers like Yigal Amir and others — about him

it was said: “Any Torah scholar who lacks understanding, a carcass is better than he.”

Without entering the whole discussion (I really have no strength for it), I am astonished by Rabbi Abraham, who wrote that “what is not forbidden is permitted.” Has he never heard of “a scoundrel within the bounds of the Torah”? After all, the Torah demands of us: “You shall sanctify yourselves and be holy.”

And a note to Zvi,

Please stop belittling in your comments the desire of people for modesty; it adds honor to no one. Clearly, modesty means placing emphasis on the inner rather than the outer, and at times those who preserve modesty fail in this, but like every inner matter, it needs concrete boundaries (just as there are commandments, and it is not enough merely to be religious in one’s heart). The Sages and the decisors established certain boundaries of modesty, and it is hard for me to see how they are not correct, certainly in our day. On the contrary, the real difficulty rests on the one whom this does not disturb.

So please, Zvi, respect us (meaning all the readers and not only those to whom this matters). If you do not believe in this / do not care for it, good for you, but please stop belittling and declaring that everyone who cares about modesty has a blue head, a yellow head, or any other color. In friendship.

Usually I try to avoid answering anonymous writers (are you hiding something?), but since you addressed me directly, I have to protest against the appeal of “correct yourself first.” A respectful attitude toward others is required first of all from those who turn modesty into pornography and make blatantly immodest remarks about the conduct of women and men in whom there is no flaw at all, and of Torah scholars like Rabbi Neuwirth in particular.

Hello Zvi.

I דווקא like the anonymity of the internet; in that way the saying “Hear the truth from whoever says it” is strengthened. What difference does it make that I know that your name is Zvi Lipshitz or perhaps Z.L.? After all, I do not know you and know no identifying detail about you besides your name, so why is your blood redder than mine? You are right that many times this serves as a cloak for abuse and other evils, but each comment has to be examined on its own merits.

And on the substantive issue, indeed Viberger expressed himself in an improper and even nasty way. Does he suspect that Rabbi Neuwirth would publish statuses in which the boundaries of Orthodox Jewish law (as presently understood, if you prefer, Z’) are not observed — boundaries to which every Orthodox rabbi is committed? Presumably Rabbi Neuwirth published this in good faith, and there is no connection between it and the organization, apart from an attempt to delegitimize.

But I still do not think that everyone who wants to keep Jewish law and not look at women who are not dressed according to its rules (again, at the moment it does not matter why they established what they established) is necessarily some kind of deviant or the like. It can also stem from sensitivity, just as someone who gets used to eating healthy food or a certain type of food is afterward affected by every small deviation, but that way in daily life he eats more healthily and it is better for him (the example comes from my personal experience and that of my wife :)).

The fact that there are some who take this to an extreme does not necessarily mean that it is not correct, just as in the opposite direction…

With blessings

Please do not exploit “Jewish law” in order to impose a personal perversion on it. As Rabbi Wilk wrote well here, Jewish law forbids indecency. It does not turn normative behavior into indecency.

Elad Fogel, two points:

1. I did not become the gatekeeper of the site, nor did I try to tell you what opinions to express or in what style to write and how much to comment, and so on, as, astonishingly, someone tried to do to me. I simply wrote that since you do not accept upon yourself the Torah-and-Jewish-law system of values, your opinion on the matter is meaningless — just as if I were to write my own opinions in a Christian forum and intervene in a debate about the nature of the Trinity, which is a debate that is not mine.

I only wrote that your opinion on the matter neither adds nor subtracts, and nothing beyond that — write whatever you like, and as far as I am concerned you can write a whole comment consisting of “Sarah Sarah sings a happy song.” It will have no relevance, and I wanted you to be aware of that.

2. And now you will ask where I get my claim that the rules of the game are not acceptable to you

So know that I derive my words not from divine inspiration or from reading thoughts, but from your response to “Empathy Is Not Legitimation” from June 9 at 7:57, from which it is clearly evident that you relate to the Bible and to Jewish tradition not as the living word of God but as national folklore — “Judaism as culture” — from which one both draws and critiques.

So as far as I am concerned, write as much as you like; I have every right to come and tell you that you are participating in a discussion that is not relevant to you

So if I understand correctly, in your game there is no difference between murderers and Sabbath desecrators. Not that I’m surprised by that.

But it is good to know that mountains of seemingly sophisticated pilpul do not conceal one simple truth, dreadfully banal:

There are people who can write and speak about morality nonstop (or about the word of God) and make distinctions between the object and the person, and in truth they are not moral at all. They are simply rotten.

It is rotten to compare Sabbath desecrators to murderers. And it is rotten to try to justify and defend such a position.

Elad Fogel, do not try to divert the subject

I wrote about you that Jewish law interests you not in the slightest — as is clear from your words in “Empathy Is Not Legitimation,” which I reminded you of — and therefore the sanctity of the Sabbath does not speak to you either. Therefore you are not an integral part of discussions such as these.

Someone to whom Jewish law matters, and for whom the Sabbath and its sanctity are deeply ingrained, can protest against comparing Sabbath desecrators to murderers

And no, I am not comparing murderers to Sabbath desecrators, and do not put into my mouth words that were said by others [if indeed that is what they meant].

Clearly, I view Sabbath desecration with severity and pain, but I do not compare it to murder, and the two are different things

Murder is one of the transgressions about which the Sages say that had the prohibition not been mentioned in the Torah, reason itself would have required it to be written, and it is part of natural morality that applies even to gentiles through the Seven Noahide Laws; see Maimonides’ Eight Chapters, chapter 6.

My “game” is the Torah transmitted to us from generation to generation with all its rules and details, and thus I can discuss the differences between Sabbath desecration and murder and the like.

You do not see the Sabbath in its legal meaning as a value at all, and therefore such comparisons, when they come from you, are irrelevant and, in plain language, “have nothing to do with reality.”

I am not diverting the subject. You are getting involved in a quarrel that is not yours. I wrote to Rabbi Yedidya and about his words. You are the one (or perhaps the duplicate-robot?) who jumps into every discussion. Good for you. And as for the absurd sentence you wrote: “Someone to whom Jewish law matters, and for whom the Sabbath and its sanctity are deeply ingrained, can protest against comparing Sabbath desecrators to murderers.” Well, anyone who does not see how foolish your words are — there is no point in answering him. And anyone who does see knows that there is no point in responding.

How do you sign off? Good luck to you.

Elad Fogel, I will ignore your usual hot-bloodedness and tell you on the substance of the matter that as long as Sabbath observance does not occupy a place for you and you do not believe in its divine sanctity, then you have no case at all for coming with complaints against someone who does believe in it, because you and he are not speaking the same language and do not operate according to the same intellectual codes, which affect the entire way of thinking and way of life. So your claims on this matter simply do not belong. The dispute here is an internal dispute among religious people.

May you also have success; I would be happy to give you lessons in American history — I saw from your comments that you really love it

Godspeed

Elad’s understanding of Rabbi Wangeruber’s words, that he equates murder with Sabbath desecration, is not correct.

When the Sages said, “Whoever humiliates his fellow in public is like one who sheds blood,” it is clear that they did not mean a complete equivalence, but rather sought to express the gravity of humiliating one’s fellow — “character murder” — which contains an element akin to murder.

Rabbi Wangeruber compared the two with regard to the duty of forceful protest, since both are grave commandments included in the Ten Commandments.

I expressed reservations about this statement, from two perspectives::

A. A comparison regarding the duty of protest may be understood by the reader as a complete comparison. Particularly in writing for a newspaper, whose readers are not always people of the study hall, one must be careful about possible misunderstanding.

B. Even regarding the duty of protest, one must distinguish between sins that involve moral corruption, such as murder, adultery, theft, false testimony and false oaths, and contempt for parents and teachers, and sins that arise from error in faith, regarding which Rabbi A.Y. Kook and the Hazon Ish instructed that one should draw people near with cords of love and with proper explanation of faith.

And with God’s help, our Sanctuary, which was destroyed because of hatred, will return and be rebuilt through love.

It is quite possible that the words of Rabbi Yedidya about dissociating from Sabbath desecrators and the formerly religious were not intended to negate a loving attitude toward sons who have cast off the yoke of Torah and commandments, as Rabbi Kook advised in his letters to Rabbi Dov Milstein. As a researcher who deals with Rabbi Shem Tov Gefen, one of the close associates of Rabbi A.Y. Kook, Yedidya surely knows those letters.

What disturbs Yedidya is the participation of “secular people and the formerly religious” in the leadership of the organization, as he wrote explicitly elsewhere in his article.

To this argument one may answer that the organization is, after all, striving to draw near people who have grown distant from the observance of the commandments. There is therefore a need to consult such people in order to see what distances them and what may draw them closer.

Even in the body that elects the Council of the Chief Rabbinate there is a certain representation also for people who are not “religious,” while making sure that the majority are people of Torah, so that the principle of “bringing them near to Torah” may be fulfilled — raising the public as a whole toward Torah and not the reverse, as Yedidya noted — and that is presumably the case in Beit Hillel as well.

Regarding the solution proposed by Rabbi Weitman and his partners in the study hall on this issue and on others, there is of course broad room for discussion and debate, as is the way of Torah.

May it be God’s will that the saying “Et and Hav in Suphah — war through the book, love at its end” be fulfilled in us (Kiddushin 38).

With blessings, S.Z. Lewinger

What infuriates Yedidya — the fact that there are rabbis who are not wild ultra-conservative religious-Zionists — drives him so crazy that he takes the trouble to publicize his pornographic excursions on the internet instead of keeping them in cultural anonymity.

But the problem is not loud fools like Wangeruber and the like, whose total lack of judgment is easy to see, even on the Torah and legal plane.

The problem is those who manufacture these zealots on the one hand and spread well-groomed smiles on the other.

Yedidya Gruber does not deal at all, in his unnecessary and contemptible article, with Dov Liberman’s article, his partner in the cultural agenda.

He prefers to slander people far better than himself, using ignorant and loathsome terminology common among the worst of the demagogic outreach rabbis, such as Rabbi Shalom Arush and Rabbi Amnon Yitzhak.

He goes even further when he exposes us to morbid rummaging through Facebook pages, searching for “women with cleavage,” and gives us a harsh but representative glimpse into the scale of values of the dark, arrogant, and violent culture that raised him.

The editorial staff of “Shabbat” has every right to give a platform to low-grade, shrill, inflammatory writing on the one hand, and to censor the responses of those who dare to denounce and criticize these voices on the other, but minimal fairness requires that an article like Gruber’s not be linked to Liberman’s article, because there is no connection between them.

Drol, tell me, do you have a problem with the whole world?

In Rabbi Navon’s article here in the supplement you viciously attacked the religious bourgeoisie — and the rabbis of Beit Hillel are representatives of quite a few of them, just like Rabbi Navon, who was among the founders of the organization — and now you are viciously attacking the ultra-conservative religious-Zionists.

So what is going to be? Is there any group that does not get hit over the head by you?

Amir —

I am actually glad to see in Drol’s words here a sympathetic attitude toward the moderate religious-Zionist public, a sector he was very far from loving a few months ago, and today he defends them with fervor!

Love for the whole people of Israel does not come in a single moment; there is gradual progress: nach mann, nach mann (in German: one more person, one more person). One should rejoice at every step forward in the direction of understanding and appreciation.

With blessings, Tzvika H[ardal] Dizhonsky

I just want to note that my change of heart regarding the religious-Zionists is connected to the fact that I fled the Hardal synagogue where I prayed for several years and moved to a synagogue affiliated with HaPoel HaMizrachi.

A good point, Amir, and I think one has to distinguish here between people and ideas.

I think the religious bourgeoisie has a great deal to be proud of, and on the other hand everything is open before it. It is part of a free world in which it can express itself and forge religious or intellectual paths, according to what seems right in the changes of the times.

People like Rabbi Navon wrong it, do it a very bad service, when they try to push it back into the narrow intellectual boundaries of the synagogue in Petah Tikva. Rabbi Navon is not like this because he is religious bourgeois; he is simply narrow-minded and boring, who pushed his way into leading a public that really does not need him.

In Hardal it is all the opposite,

There are wonderful, creative, adventurous people in it, incredibly so. I am not talking about Gruber, who is far worse than the average Hardal type and certainly inferior to the brilliant stars in the Hardal heavens, and unfortunately there are many כאלה.

The reason it is ‘unfortunately’ is that all the successful people in Hardal belong to the Hardali religion, which is a kind of idolatry of a Frankenstein-like idol, made from pieces of ideologies and theologies and brought to life by an electric current of fanaticism and extremism.

But let us go one step further and ask: how does this happen? On the one hand, a good religious environment is led by boring little bureaucrats; on the other hand, the apostate city and Sodom and Gomorrah are full of righteous people with good intentions.

The answer is that this is no accident. The exhausting and suffocating atmosphere produced by Rabbi Navon and his like causes the sector’s talents to fall into the abyss of Hardal.

The two go together.

Usually your style repels me greatly, but here you wrote exactly to the point…

With God’s help, 10 Av 5773

To Drol — greetings,

Perhaps the connection between creativity and halakhic conservatism [‘Hardalism,’ in your language] can be explained as follows,

When one sees the principles of the Torah as fixed, and by contrast our present life reality as something that can be changed in order to adapt it to the great demands of the Torah, a person’s creative powers turn inward, toward himself, toward broadening and deepening his consciousness and emotional world, and toward the constant improvement of his personality and way of life.

Such an aspiration is within a person’s power to realize; ‘the matter depends on him alone,’ and every achievement and advance gives him satisfaction.

By contrast, when one sees present-day life’s reality and its conventions as something fixed and established, and the principles of the Torah as something open and even called to ‘repair’ and continual change in order to adapt it to ‘reality’ — a person’s powers turn toward his fellow, to exert pressure on rabbis to change the halakha and the like.

Changing someone else is far harder than changing myself — and hence the constant feeling of frustration!

With blessings, S.Z. Levinger

You are just forgetting one thing, Levinger: Hardal is, through and through, an effort precisely to change other people.

Correction:

In the first line:

Instead of: …halakhic conservatism [‘Hardalism,’ in your language]

It should read: …halakhic stability [‘Orthodoxy,’ to use the foreign term]

Hello, Levinger.

I completely reject your claim linking Orthodoxy to Hardalism.

Orthodoxy is a very broad framework, existing at least since the 19th century, and it includes diverse religious and political outlooks, some of which still exist today and some of which have faded.

Hardal is the product of political circumstances, and its outlook is a parody of the ultra-Orthodox ‘worldview,’ which is a reactionary political tool intended to create a cultural barrier between the ultra-Orthodox population and the rest of Israelis.

Neither the ultra-Orthodox worldview nor its Hardal parody has any halakhic basis, and both rely mainly on demagogic arguments and crude distortions of halakhic literature or Jewish history.

A current example of these distortions is the ridiculous modesty code published in Rabbi Aviner’s name over the past year.

A central claim in the whole edifice of distortions on which the pseudo-worldview of Hardalism rests is that ‘pressure is being put on rabbis to change the halakha in order to adapt it to the realities of life.’

In fact, cases like these have almost never occurred.

The Hardal outlook opposes halakhic reforms even if they have a firm and explicit basis both in the Shulchan Aruch and among historical decisors. A halakhic ruling that has been established does not have to be agreed upon by all decisors at all times. Even the Hardalim, when they want to go up to the Temple Mount or immerse in a heated mikveh on Sabbath morning, are not exactly relying on an overwhelming majority of halakhic opinions, to say the least.

To Drol —

I made it clear that I am speaking about ‘halakhic stability,’ Orthodoxy, which is careful to shape life according to the path of the Sages and our early and later rabbinic authorities. Within this principle there is broad room for different shades, whose common denominator is that they take care that their path has ‘a firm and explicit basis both in the Shulchan Aruch and among the historical decisors.’

With blessings, S.Z. Levinger

In your remarks you tied Hardal and Orthodoxy together, and I sought to clarify that this connection is not a necessary one.

To Drol —

I deleted the term ‘Hardalism’ in order not to get into it. I do not know what ‘Hardal’ is. Rabbi Aviner does not define himself as ‘Hardal,’ nor does Rabbi Navon.

You use this term as a pejorative label for different currents whose common denominator is that they do not find favor in your eyes, and in one breath you tie together those who ascend the Temple Mount with Rabbi Aviner, who opposes this; Rabbi Navon, who supports a mixed youth movement, with Rabbi Aviner, who opposes it.

With blessings, S.Z. Levinger

There is in ‘Hardal’ the same variety as in mustard, which is a blend of sharpness, sweetness, sourness, and saltiness.

With blessings, Tzvika Dizhonsky

If you do not know what Hardal is, do not define it as what it is not.

I never said that Rabbi Navon is Hardal, and I know that among the Hardalim there is disagreement regarding the Temple Mount, and Rabbi Aviner indeed does not think one should go up there.

Since we mentioned Rabbi Haim Navon and the discussion about ascending the Temple Mount, I will quote here Rabbi Haim Navon’s words on the issue of ascending the Temple Mount:

The Temple must be present in our consciousness. Although I do not myself make a practice of ascending the Temple Mount, I think that denying Jews the right to pray there is an intolerable scandal.

At the same time, investing spiritual and emotional energy in promoting the building of the Temple in our day seems to me a waste of strength and resources; we are not there, neither materially nor spiritually.

(In: ‘Who Is Being Realistic Here?’, Olam Katan, issue 407, 5 Av 5773, p. 7)

Rabbi Aviner’s modesty rules are based on the Mishnah Berurah on section 75. A broader clarification of the approaches of the decisors on this issue can be found by the interested reader in Rabbi Elikim Ellinson’s book Woman and the Commandments, Book Two: Walk Modestly.

Without getting into the subject, and without insulting anyone specifically, any fool can write a book and any idiot can read into it things that are not in accordance with halakha.

Many people better and greater than I have strongly disagreed with Aviner and his publications, and this is not the place to elaborate.

S.Z., greetings,

As you saw, I replied to Fogel regarding the issue he spoke about and regarding the difference between murder and Sabbath desecration.

The matter is very simple — a person who does not believe in the importance of observing the Sabbath cannot understand what it means to those who keep it, and therefore when any discussion takes place about the attitude toward casting off religious obligation nowadays and the like, or about the difference between grave transgressions between man and his fellow and those between man and God, such a person cannot understand the ‘between man and God’ side of the matter. Thus, if from his point of view Sabbath observance in its halakhic sense is nothing at all, then he will never be able to understand any comparison between the Sabbath and any other value, commandment, or transgression, because the Sabbath is not a factor for him, and it is obvious to him from the outset that anything will override it, not only the prohibition against murder.

The point is simple, and I am sorry if I was not understood.

In any case, Rabbi Vengrover’s words deserve to be heard: rabbinic leadership should elevate the public and bring it closer to the Torah’s high demands, and not, God forbid, the opposite.

It seems to me that the people of ‘Beit Hillel’ think so as well, except that they believe there are matters in which the law allows leniency, and that this leniency will help draw people closer to Torah, while there are situations in which excessive stringency on one detail or another will be the last straw.

In my humble opinion, every question needs to be examined on its own merits — whether on that issue there is halakhic room to be lenient, and whether that leniency will bring people closer to Torah, or on the contrary increase bitterness and dispute.

S.Z., there are people who do understand the value of Sabbath observance and its sanctity for a believing person even though they themselves do not believe, but it really does not seem to me that this is the case here, and a hint is enough for the wise.

And in any case, a comparison between murderers and Sabbath desecrators is really, really beside the point, and more than that, and of course I do not dispute this.

You wrote well that we, as believing Jews, should have protested this astonishing comparison precisely out of our faith in the sanctity of the Sabbath and our pain over its desecration.

But one must understand that this is an internal argument between people who keep the commandments, and I repeat that someone who does not see the Sabbath as a religious value will not be able, however much he may want to, to take part in the argument.

Just as the debate over conscripting yeshiva students, or the debate over whether shortening service in the hesder track is morally justified, can be substantive when it is an intra-religious discussion — because in the debate over the conscription of yeshiva students, if it is a debate between our public and the ultra-Orthodox, there is a common starting point, namely the supreme importance of Torah study, and the point of disagreement is whether this supreme value justifies refraining from military service, or whether the need for and value of military service is a case of ‘sometimes its suspension is its fulfillment,’ and so on.

A person who does not believe in the spiritual and existential importance of Torah study, and sees this study as equivalent to studying Aztec culture, or in a better case as an important study of Jewish culture but not as a supreme spiritual and existential value, cannot take part in this debate because his point of departure is completely different.

And the same applies to the debate over the ‘hesder’ arrangement: if it is between religious people who both believe both in the importance of Torah study and in the importance of military service, then a discussion can develop over whether, despite the importance of study, there is justification for it to come at the expense of three years of service, or whether it can find expression in combination with full military service, and so on.

Someone who does not believe at all in the spiritual importance of study cannot take part in this debate, because, as stated, he has no common point of departure with the person who believes with all his heart in the importance of Torah study.

If someone who does not believe in the above is gifted with a great capacity for empathy and understanding of views different from his own, and with deep understanding of the human soul, then perhaps he can intervene in such internal discussions, but in any case this is extremely difficult and sometimes impossible, since the points of departure are so different.

To Amir — greetings,

On the question of the possibility of discussion between people who do not share a common point of religious faith, the book Laws of the Army and War addressed this:

If the point of departure is theoretical-religious — I believe that the Holy One, blessed be He, gave the Torah and commanded such-and-such — the conversation ends immediately. The other party to the conversation does not accept this assumption, and therefore it is impossible to reach understanding.

If the point of departure is social, the approach is this: I believe in the binding force of Torah and commandments. You believe in the binding force of democratic/socialist/capitalist principles, etc., etc. Now let us see how people who hold such different approaches will organize their shared lives, their state, and their army, while making mutual concessions…

The conversation may not end in agreement — after all, the points of departure are different. But in such a case, it is most important to clarify why there was no agreement; how the different points of departure or the relevant facts left the question open. Such clarification is almost tantamount to agreement.

(Rabbi S. Man-Hahar, Y. Guelman, Y. Eisenberg, Laws of the Army and War, Jerusalem 1972, section 19, p. 23).

With blessings, S.Z. Levinger

Drol, regarding the modesty laws published by Rabbi Aviner, I did not understand what all the fuss is about. He did not introduce anything new; he wrote simple laws together with stringencies, and he explicitly stated that those were stringencies.

And regarding the religious bourgeoisie — let me refresh your memory a bit: in the discussion of Rabbi Navon’s article ‘The Evil Inclination Has Not Retired,’ you attacked not only him but also the public he represents, which in an angry outburst you called a ‘cracker swamp’ and other similarly ‘complimentary’ names.

Here you praise that same public, and I do not quite understand what your view is.

Can you explain?

Rabbi Aviner’s disgusting booklet contains plain deceptions, not simple laws. His claims have already been refuted by several Torah scholars who objected to the distortions and falsifications, or at least to some of them, but it is better to discuss the matter in a detailed and substantive way and not do so in comments on articles about a completely different subject. If a virtual platform is needed for such a discussion, I would be happy to contribute my blog.

Let us indeed refresh the memory. This was an article from last October in which Rabbi Navon attacked Elhanan Nir’s article on the need for renewal in prayer.

I made a serious mistake then when I connected Rabbi Navon with the public he supposedly represents, but fortunately it became clear to me that many people in the broad and normative religious public do not share Rabbi Haim Navon’s outlook. Here, I hope I made my view clear when I said that Rabbi Navon wrongs his community and the sector to which he belongs.

More than that, I also wrote an article calling on the newly observant not to attach themselves to the ultra-Orthodox and not to attach themselves to Hardal, but דווקא to seek out and find all communal solutions דווקא among the general national-religious public.

Could there be a more emphatic expression of confidence?

The bottom line of my comments on Rabbi Navon’s article remains in place. I still agree with the spirit of Elhanan Nir’s words; that is, I have no doubt that most religious Zionists have no idea how to pray. By the way, that skill does not really exist among the Hardalim either, in all their tribes. Even so, it is neither fitting nor right to judge a large and magnificent public by only one weak point. That is demagoguery, and I am glad not to be party to it. The national-religious public has many great and immense merits, and it is a partner in many important enterprises, whose fruits we all enjoy, and I hope we will continue to enjoy.

Drol, regarding the claims against the laws published by Rabbi Aviner, it is true that this is not the subject here and we will not expand on it, but I would be glad if you could direct me to those refutations you mentioned by those Torah scholars and show me a reference.

Thanks in advance.

As for the rest of what you wrote — it is still not clear whom you meant in your comments on Rabbi Navon’s article when you said it was a ‘cracker swamp.’

Well, Amir,

As I already noted, the many justified objections to Rabbi Aviner’s publication on modesty are not the subject here. I can mention Rabbi Ronen Neuwirth’s sharp criticism on the issue, and with that we will end this discussion, which is not relevant at the moment.

As for the expression you mentioned, ‘cracker swamp,’ it does indeed suit the kind of people who adopt Rabbi Navon’s views on religious renewal, and fortunately it seems to be a negligible minority.

In any case, Rabbi Vengrover, it seems to me, did not try to make a one-to-one comparison between a protest against Sabbath desecration and a protest against the murder of the prime minister; rather, he tried to convey a point — perhaps with a particularly unsuccessful example and wording — about what bothers him about the rabbis of Beit Hillel: in his view they protest matters perceived as severe in general society because that sounds good, but they will not protest what would not be considered politically correct, and that is what bothers him, and that is the impression he got from the rabbis of Beit Hillel.

At any rate, about such things it is said, ‘Sages, be careful with your words,’ and ‘Just as it is a mitzvah to say something that will be heard, so it is a mitzvah not to say something that will not be heard.’

Levinger,

Just note that when it comes to Rabbi Yedidya, a rabbi of the ‘male’ variety, people try to find harmonizing readings of his words and analyses of his intentions, just to uphold his statements — even though the plain meaning is clear to every reader. Rabbi Yedidya wrote that one should compare murder and Sabbath desecration; if he had not wanted to write that, he would not have written it.

By contrast, toward women those same interpreters always try to seek out some hidden intention other than what the writers/speakers explicitly declared in the plain meaning of their words…

If it were not sad, it would be funny.

Yes, Fogel? Did you see in my words a justification of what he said? Perhaps you did not notice that I דווקא criticized him? And as for the male commenters here on the site from the religious-liberal side, whose words I consider empty nonsense — do I not attack their words?

Note that if I opposed things written by women here on the site, it was not because they are women but because of their views, which are identical to the views of men whom I attacked here; whereas views expressed by women with which I agreed I explicitly praised in my comments (Einat Ramon’s article here in the supplement, for example).

In short, enough already with the two-bit conspiracies and paranoias.

If you are fasting, may it be a beneficial fast, and may we be comforted in the rebuilding of Zion.

Elad, what bothers you so much about this ‘Rabbi’ Vengrover? It is obvious that we are dealing with an eccentric who ‘studied and taught’ in a ‘yeshiva’ of eccentrics, and the editors of ‘Shabbat’ felt playful and published his words for the ratings.

Amir, Levinger, and Zvi (in that order…)

I deliberately did not mention a name. I was pointing to a principled phenomenon, not to you specifically. I am glad to hear that you do not justify Rabbi Vengrover’s words. I understood that before as well. Although it seems to me that you and Levinger are mistaken in your understanding of his words. He knew what he wrote, and did so deliberately. Although there is a very simple thing to do: let Rabbi Vengrover respond here and explain what he meant. There is freedom of expression, and it is good that he was given a platform to express his views. If only so that we may get to know the new growth in the rabbinic field.

Zvi,

More than Rabbi Vengrover troubles me, what troubles me is the fact that the commenters immediately rushed to split hairs in jurisprudence, Dworkin-style, in first- and second-order analyses. And they did not trouble themselves to examine this paragraph even a little, though it is entirely a clear declaration of intent.

Come on, really — the commenters. Are they any less eccentric?

Elad —

Mr. Yedidya Vengrover is not presented as a rabbi either in his article here or on the website of the educational nucleus of Ramat HaSharon. You are the one who granted him the title rabbi (and after you Amir and I were dragged along), and you are entitled to revoke the ‘ordination’ you granted him.

Yedidya published in ‘Shabbat Supplement’ an article called ‘All Nature Around Me Is Strewn with Lights’ about the interesting figure of R. Shem Tov Gefen, a Torah scholar and pioneer, a man of science and an original philosopher. He is working on a biographical book about Rabbi Gefen.

Levinger, you are absolutely right!

My mistake regarding his title as rabbi. You have my apologies. Even so, it is still infuriating to read his words.

Elad, it seems to me that neither I nor Levinger were mistaken and that we understood his words correctly. The criticism I have of his words — and, to the best of my understanding, Levinger’s criticism as well, and let him correct me if I am wrong — is that he phrased himself in an unwise way, and he would have done better to convey the point he wanted to make and the criticism he has of the rabbis of Beit Hillel [which, incidentally, I do not share, at least not to the same degree of criticism reflected in Rabbi Vengrover’s words] in a different way.

I am quite sure that he did not literally mean to compare the attitude toward a murderer with the attitude toward a Sabbath desecrator, and it seems to me that the correct points Levinger wrote to him about the difference between the two are clear to him.

It seems to me, as I already wrote, that Rabbi Vengrover wanted to protest before the rabbis of Beit Hillel their focus on protesting grave interpersonal sins that are also seen as important by the secular public, while neglecting — to his irritation — sins between man and God that ‘have no ratings’ in that public.

He took the matter, as polemics often do, to a reductio ad absurdum, and as stated this was not wise and produced — as your responses show — only the opposite effect.

And so as not to distract from the mourning today — ‘If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget. Let my tongue cling to my palate if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.’

To Amir and Elad —

I am enjoying the respectful tone that your debate has reached.

Keep it up!

With blessings, S.Z. Levinger

Drol, thank you for your response, although I did not really understand what you mean; if you want to explain again, I would be glad.

Have a good day.

Do you need any more explanation, Amir, or is the issue clear?

The issue is clear. Have a good day.

In this context it is fitting to quote the apt words of Tomer Persico:

In an interview from yesterday with Avishai Ben Haim (http://news.nana10.co.il/Article/?ArticleID=992052), in response to the question whether a Jew may rent an apartment to a non-Jew, the racist and liar Rabbi Shmuel Eliyahu raises his eyes upward and answers that no, this is the halakha: ‘That is the halakha. What, am I inventing the halakhot?’

But the feigned innocence here is not sincere. Not every ruling is disputed, but many, many of them certainly are not agreed upon among rabbis. About this specific ruling, for example — the prohibition on renting apartments to Arabs in the Land of Israel — Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein said, ‘Reason seems to be impaired,’ because they presented as ‘the exclusive position of halakha’ something that can be interpreted differently. And Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv found it necessary to say of this ruling that ‘I said long ago that there are rabbis from whom the pen should be taken away.’

That is to say, when the racist and liar Rabbi Eliyahu bats his eyes and feigns innocence in the style of ‘I might like to, I might like to, but what can I do, my Father in Heaven decreed it for me,’ he is in fact, well, lying, as usual. There is no settled halakha here, only his interpretation of halakha. In practice, the word ‘halakha’ is used here only to cover up and lend legitimacy to plain racism (just as in other cases — not always, of course — it serves to conceal chauvinism, homophobia, nationalism, and so on). ‘Halakha’ as a license to be racist, and to come out looking like a servant of God. Quite an arrangement.

It should be remembered very well: there is no such thing as ‘the halakha.’ There is interpretation of halakha. And interpretation always rests on the decisor’s world of values. When you hear a rabbi hiding behind halakha, look into his world of values in order to discover where that halakha is coming from.

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Source (Shabbat Supplement): https://musaf-shabbat.com/2013/07/12/%d7%91%d7%aa%d7%92%d7%95%d7%91%d7%94-%d7%9c%d7%a4%d7%a1%d7%a7-%d7%99%d7%aa%d7%95%d7%9d-%d7%9e%d7%90%d7%aa-%d7%93%d7%91-%d7%9c%d7%99%d7%91%d7%a8%d7%9e%d7%9f/