When imagination is the mother of invention: Tazria-Metzora 5785

This week’s double parashah presents to us a difficult set of rituals regarding a type of disease that evinces physical manifestations. The rabbis associated this disease with the sins of improper speech and personal slander. We no longer have any real knowledge of the disease, its true appearances and effects, its quarantine period and the healing process that restored people to their community and society. The ritual laws of purity and impurity no longer apply in our post-Temple society and, since the Babylonian Talmud offers no specific analysis of these laws, they are not subject to the usual intensive scholarship and study that pertain, for instance, to the laws of money and torts in the Talmud. 

In the nineteenth century a great and learned Chasidic rebbe composed a “Talmud” regarding the laws of purity and impurity. This feat of erudition however met with criticism from other scholars, remaining controversial and largely ignored in modern yeshivot and the world of scholarship. Accordingly this topic remains mysterious and relatively inexplicable to us. When these two parshiyot occur together, as they do this year and in most years, the question of their relevance becomes even more acute and perplexing.

The Torah, which always challenges us to understand it, retains its inscrutability. And perhaps this is the message of the Torah to us. There is a world that is beyond our earthly eyes and rational vision. Modern man dreams of space aliens and universes other than the one we inhabit. An almost innate sense pervades us that there is more to creation than what we sense and feel. It fuels our individual drive to immortality, our dreams and imaginations, and it allows us to think creatively and to invent.

There is a popular saying that necessity is the mother of invention. I do not feel that this is so. Imagination is the mother of invention. There was no real necessity for the astonishing advances in technology that our past century has witnessed, but people who lived in a place beyond our own real world imagined the computer, the wireless phone and the internet. This capacity to deal with an unseen universe and bring it to fruition is one of the great traits of the human mind.

The Torah indicates to us the existence of an intangible world, a world of purity and impurity, of holiness and of the human quest for attachment to the Creator of all worlds. Even though our mindsets do not quite relate to this concept, the Torah wishes us to realize that such a world does exist beyond our limited human vision. And that is a very important and essential lesson in life. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein      

Getting paid the going rate

 Continuing our series of pre-Shabbat posts on the perek of the week, we now turn to Avot Perek 2.

The mishnah in Avot that was most frequently cited online last year is taught by Rabbi Tarfon (Avot 2:21):

לֹא עָלֶֽיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמוֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לְהִבָּטֵל מִמֶּֽנָּה, אִם לָמַֽדְתָּ תּוֹרָה הַרְבֵּה, נוֹתְנִין לָךְ שָׂכָר הַרְבֵּה, וְנֶאֱמָן הוּא בַּֽעַל מְלַאכְתֶּֽךָ שֶׁיְּשַׁלֶּם לָךְ שְׂכַר פְּעֻלָּתֶֽךָ, וְדַע שֶׁמַּתַּן שְׂכָרָן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים לֶעָתִיד לָבֹא

It is not up to you to finish the task, but neither are you free to quit it. If you have learned much Torah you will be well paid—and your employer can be trusted to pay the price for your work. And know that the righteous get paid in the World to Come.

To be frank, it’s only the first part that gets cited, about not being able to finish the job or to abandon it—and that’s often by politicians, civic dignitaries, communal leaders and captains of industry. But the mishnah taken in its entirety paints a comforting picture for us:  we keep on toiling in Torah and God picks up our labour costs, settling up with us in a better world than this: a world where there is lots of leisure and no household chores, no taxes, plenty of opportunities to learn a bit more Torah, and so on. In other words, a great incentive.

But in last week’s perek, Antigonus Ish Socho teaches (Avot 1:3) a mishnah that begins:

אַל תִּהְיוּ כַּעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס, אֶלָּא הֱווּ כַּעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב שֶׁלֹּא עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס

 Do not be like workers who serve their master on condition that they will receive payment. Rather, be like masters who serve their master without the condition that they will receive payment.

So while Rabbi Tarfon reassures us that we will get paid even if we don’t finish the job, Antigonus cautions us not to work in the expectation of being paid at all. Are these rabbis arguing with one another. And, if they are, can they both be right?

One answer is that even though you know for sure that you will be rewarded (as Rabbi Tarfon says), you have to put that prospect out of your head and just get on with the task of learning Torah. But if it completely slips your mind that you are going to receive a reward, you can’t truly be doing it only for the pay-off (as Antigonus suggests). There is an analogy here with top footballers, tennis players and other athletes who receive vast sums of money for their work. When they are involved in their sport in mind and body, the only thing that matters is the game or competition in which they are engaged. All thoughts of pay disappear.

Another answer is based in the Hebrew words themselves. Rabbi Tarfon’s word for payment is שְׂכַר (sechar). This is typically the going rate for the job. Antigonus however uses the word פְּרָס (peras), which is more like a tip, a gratuity that the worker receives in addition to any regular pay. On this basis it is reasonable to work for one’s ordinary pay, but one should not work in the expectation of picking up unearned bonuses.

The Torah being what it is, there are many other commentaries and explanations based on the theme of reward versus altruism in the service of God. The words of Torah are always open to us and there is no end to the way we read and understand them.

Why are sirens called sirens?

Why are sirens called sirens? Classical scholars among the Hanassi membership may recall reading the  sequel to Homer's Iliad, this being the Odyssey--an epic poem that relates the ten-year journey faced by Odysseus on his way home from the siege and eventual fall of Troy.  On his way, his ship encounters sirens. These are female beings that resemble humans but possess irresistibly alluring voices. The best way to cope with their songand not to fall into their clutches is either to stop up one's ears with beeswax, which is what Odysseus told his crew members to do, or (as he did himself) be tied to the mast so that he would not be compelled by the attraction of these voices to throw himself after them into the sea.

The tale of the sirens raises an interesting point of Jewish law. Would the enticing songs of the sirens be subject to the halachot relating to kol ishah? Do those rules apply only to human female voices? And, to come to think of it, would the same issues arise in respect of female voices generated by AI? That's something to think about!

Sirens: the sounds of warning

 Rabbi Wein wrote the following opinion piece a few years ago. Now that our lives are conditioned by an increased need to listen out for sirens, these words  (which have been slightly updated) are of particular relevance.

One of the many skills that those of us living here in Israel rapidly acquire is the ability to discern between the different sounds of similar-sounding sirens. We live in a noisy environment and it is more than likely that in everyday living here we will hear some kind of siren. Most of the time the siren is from an ambulance transporting people to the hospital for treatment. The wail of that type of alert is easily recognizable and becomes almost part of the background noise that marks life in a large city. The wail of an ambulance siren is more of a staccato nature, with pauses in the noise before it resumes its sound.  

As I mentioned earlier, we are all accustomed to this siren, and it is mainly produced to warn oncoming or crossing traffic that an ambulance is about to pass, which will not necessarily observe the speed limit or even stop signs. Extra caution is needed by all the other automobiles on that street at that time, to avoid an accident or collision. The ambulance services here in Israel are quite efficient, and they provide life-giving assistance with alacrity and compassion. No one likes to hear the sound of an ambulance, indicating that someone requires dire and instant medical treatment. However, the sound of an ambulance siren does not strike fear or terror into the hearts and minds of those who hear it, for we think of it as a part of the ongoing regular cycle of life as we know it to be.

 

There is another type of sound or siren that is often heard here on the streets of Jerusalem, and that is the siren of a police or security vehicle. The sound of this siren is much lower and more growling than the ambulance siren. It is easily recognizable, and its purpose is, as was the case with the ambulance siren. to clear a path in traffic, to allow the police vehicle to arrive where it is needed quickly and safely. The police siren is often accompanied by a spoken warning emanating from the loudspeaker of the police vehicle, so that in most cases the purpose and mission of the police vehicle is immediately understood by all those that otherwise would somehow block the street or go through the intersection. 

 

Police sirens often engender anxiety and worry. They usually mean that there is a bad accident or an act of violence that had been reported, and the police are rushing to it, to sort matters out and help restore the situation to some sort of normalcy. If we hear a large number such as three or four police sirens one after another speeding down our streets, we are immediately concerned that the matter is indeed serious, one that the radio will inform us of quickly. If we do not hear any news regarding any special occurrence, then we are immediately filled with relief caused by the police sirens.

 

However, there is a third type of siren that we have recently experienced, here in the holy city of Jerusalem. That sound is the up-and-down wail of the siren announcing that an attack, usually concerning rockets and or missiles, is taking place. It was once rare for us here in Jerusalem to hear that siren and, until quite recently, I heard it only a few times. It now signifies rocket attacks by Hamas and the Houthis at Israeli targets throughout the country. 

 

That siren sound does cause an immediate emotional response. It not only warns of imminent danger, but it opens a vista of a very unknown and dangerous future prospect. When that type of siren sounds, one is to find shelter and await confirmation that all is clear, when one can return to one's own apartment. The effect of this siren is long-lasting, so that even after it was last heard, which could be weeks later, its echoes remain vivid in the ears and minds of the civilian population of the city. 

 

The prophet Amos already stated that when the morning siren of the shofar is sounded in the city, the people will be filled with terror. The sounds of this last type of siren fit that bill and description accurately.

The Book of Books, by Azriel Eisenberg (Book of the Month, Iyar 5785)

The Book of Books is one of the more handsome tomes you will find on the shelves of Beit Knesset Hanassi's Marvin N. Hirschhorn collection. 

In this volume Azriel Eisenberg, himself a seasoned educationalist, takes the reader through the mysteries of the Torah scroll, starting from the specific way the scribe copies the Torah on to the parchment scroll to the illuminating history of the Bible text and the important role the Sifrei Torah have played in the life and history of the Jews. It's an enjoyable and easy read, with large, clear print and plenty of illustrations. 

This engrossing book is said to be the only comprehensive guide in English to the many facets of the Torah scroll, the most sacred and precious possession of the Jewish people.

The Marvin N. Hirschhorn collection is located in the Beit Midrash, at the far end of the raised area that is reserved as an Ezrat Nashim during davening times. This Shabbat we marked Marvin Hirschhorn's 5th yahrzeit.Chaim arukhim to Myrna and all the family. 

Holiness and hubris: Shemini 5785

The death of the two sons of Aaron remains one of the great mysteries in Torah narrative. Midrash and the commentators offer various explanations as to the cause of this tragedy: the sons did not want to marry, they had drunk wine and were inebriated, and other faults were ascribed to them. Since the work of the priests was so holy, they deserved to die. However, this is a difficult way to explain—if human beings can ever explain—why bad things happen to good people.

Some commentators see the deaths as retribution against Aaron himself for his role in allowing the Golden Calf to be created, causing the Jewish people to be seen in such a hideous fashion immediately after receiving the Torah. The problem with this explanation is that we learn that the sins of the father are not to be visited upon the children, nor the sins of the children to be visited upon their parents. Because of these difficulties, no matter what type of explanation we wish to explore, it seems to me that the response of Aaron to this tragedy is really the only response that human beings can make. That response is silence.

Aaron does not say anything and, in that silence, there is an acceptance of the fact that the judgment of heaven is always inscrutable to humans. Despite our best efforts and the wisdom of our commentaries, many times in life the question remains stronger than any potential answer that can be offered—and this itself draws the line between the Creator and the created, between heaven and earth.

 While we would naturally like to be able to understand everything, it is basically hubris on the part of human beings to assume that they can figure everything out for themselves. You will notice that this trait is ever-present within young children, who want to do everything on their own, and who believe that they can. This human trait has a positive side to it because it allows us to be creative and inventive, to attempt new things, and to gain new insights into life. However, it also has drawbacks. We eventually run up against a wall of ideas that we do not understand and which, to our mind, are irrational and even unjustified. We are, therefore, left in confusion and disappointment. The only solution is silence, acceptance, and, so to speak, to be able to move on even if we do not understand the events themselves.

Whenever there is a major crisis in our lives and in our society, there will be many who will assign reasons and causes for its occurrence. However, whatever reasons and whatever ideas are assigned, these will eventually be found wanting on the scale of human judgment and rational understanding. We must accept events for what they are and attempt to move on. Just as Aaron did, we will move forward and accept the judgment of heaven and renew ourselves in the service of God and of Israel.

 Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Cry, the Beloved

 To mark Yom HaShoah, we are reproducing here the latest published work of our dear member, poet and author Pessy Krausz. The relevance of this poem to Yom HaShoah is self-explanatory. 

CRY, THE BELOVED

Grandfather Berel last seen thrown off a bus

limping after it at the Polish-German border

forgot his velvet bag with Tefillin for daily prayer

the leather box on his brow with strings attached

He and grandma Malka – though strung along

to Holocaust's killing machine – arise from its fiery furnace

embrace fledgling Kfir and little/big brother Ariel

don't cry on Mama Shiri's lap snatched from Nir Oz

Yarden, husband, father October 7th survivor of the Bibas family

my heartstrings with yours entwine – our history

dictates we not be taken hostage to a brutal past

but prompts us bravely to sing a different tune

"Cry, the Beloved" was first published in ESRA Magazine, just before Pesach. You can find the original here.