I wrote a bit ago about how the Sh'ma seems to be a testament to the failure of human-kind (in its current form) to be able to internalize the Torah, but I think that there is more. So here's more. You don't like it? God gave you a "back" button for a reason, you know.
The third chapter of the Sh'ma prayer is about the fringes that we are commanded to place on the corners of our garments. Why corners you ask? Well the text says (Numbers, 15:39), "That shall be your fringe; look at it and recall all the commandments of the LORD and observe them, so that you do not follow your heart and eyes in your lustful urge." The presence of these tzitzit, the fringes, is supposed to help us control our emotions and fight the temptation to follow our baser instincts, and sin. The next verse continues this "thread" (HA!) and says, "Thus you shall be reminded to observe all My commandments and to be holy to your God." The resisting of the urge to sin will then draw us towards the abiding by all the divine commandments.
There is an intricacy in Jewish law which removes a particular category of obligation from one part of the community -- women are absolved of the performance of positive commandments that are time bound (mitzvat aseh shehaz'man grama). The reason actually gets to the point here. Women are not required to observe this group because they have a different set of obligations (admittedly social rather that ritual) which are considered more pressing. But I think it goes further. Women, it seems, are on a higher spiritual level, maybe because they are expected to be surrounded constantly by the socio-religious obligations and concepts, or maybe because there is something inherent in them which is categorically different and does not need the same positive commandments in order to bring about the larger compliance.
The purpose of tzitzit, according to the above quoted text, is to reduce the urge to sin, specifically, to go astray after lusts. If women are exempt, then there must be no need for that kind of reminder. Why? Because women, it seems, are less susceptible to those urges and negative drives. Women are less tempted towards that genre of sin. Women have somehow internalized that kind of awareness that men can only achieve through the donning of an external reminder. Women can move towards the observing of all other commandments without this particular trigger, unlike men, for whom, the verse says, need the fringes so that they then observe all the commandments. Note that this cannot be turned into "but women, if this paragraph does not apply to them, need not remember the Exodus." That idea is repeated elsewhere as a binding obligation on men and women and in this paragraph it is not causally linked to the fringes; it is an identifying mark related to God, who is relating all the laws.
I'm not trying to justify any patriarchy and I'm not trying to be condescending to women by saying "you are special." I'm just pointing out how, on one particular level within the Jewish construct, the status of women is placed as above that of men. So why do women have to say that paragraph at all? Well, strictly speaking, they don't because even saying it is time bound (and if they take it upon themselves, they need only say the first 2 lines). This makes one wonder if, in fact, the entire Sh'ma=Fail argument only applies to men. Men need the external in terms of teaching (the intellectual outsourcing) and the physical (the wearing of a piece of clothing as reminder).
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Another extra credit list
As a follow up to my earlier post, I have a new list of words. This is still a work in progress -- I'm not happy with some of the words (especially runt, cede, dull, bird, knee) so I will entertain replacements.
moral
muse
cede
cyst
licit
runt
knee
----
dull
bird
per
bow
ploy
able
mitt
nut
rate
me
cape
total
rhea
kneel
----
static
per
bra
moral
muse
cede
cyst
licit
runt
knee
----
dull
bird
per
bow
ploy
able
mitt
nut
rate
me
cape
total
rhea
kneel
----
static
per
bra
Thursday, February 7, 2019
In which I solve nothing
There seem to be a variety of issues at play in the roiling controversy regarding the allowing of female interns at an Orthodox synagogue and the overarching organization's ruling that this is unacceptable, so in an effort not to solve anything, I will just try to use writing to unpack the layers of conflict.
The issue at hand has many components – the first is whether it is good, proper, correct or whatever, for the RCBC to set a policy against the employment of female interns who are working to complete requirements for some sort of ordination. This is not to ask whether it is within the rights of the RCBC to do so, just whether their particular position on this issue is a good one. It certainly is one that it supported by some authorities, at least in some interpretation of those authorities. As we don’t have people like the Rambam walking around, and this specific situation was not addressed in his code of law, we can only interpret and draw inference from his body of writing and decide what applies, how and when. If I had to develop my own take on it, I might fall on another spot on the spectrum, as fully justified and substantiated by other interpretations or classically accepted voices. But the RCBC’s position is also on that spectrum. Like it or not, they aren’t inventing a point of view.
The next question is whether the RCBC has the right to make policy statements that apply to member synagogues. On this, I say “sure – they are the directors of their club. They can make the rules for anyone who wants to be in their club. If you don’t like their club, leave the club.” If enough members walk out, they either change the rules so that they still have a club, or they dissolve. Or they contract so completely as to become a fringe voice, persona non grata in all the communities they have alienated. Most likely (and this is what we fear) they will continue with a reasonable membership, but these strict dividing lines will serve to clearly fracture the community. In this case, the RCBC debated the issue, allowing all voices within the organization to speak their peace. Following their accepted methodology, a vote was taken and a rule passed. This might make the particular congregation be excluded, or it might make the overall organization become pariah and he synagogue, an exemplar of acceptable change.
This leads to the next issue – there are a variety of organizations which all purport to be umbrellas to “orthodoxy” but that term has NEVER been defined in a way that all can agree on (kal vachomer, “modern orthodoxy”). Since the term means different things to different people, membership in the group is not clear and the hazy edges of the envelope include and exclude members differently in different places. For years, there has been an informal understanding that the Orthodox in Monsey would laugh at the Orthodox in Teaneck who would sneer at the Orthodox in Scarsdale but even Scarsdale would look down on Englewood. And don’t get me started on West Orange. Community standards have always made us a religion divided by a shared religion.
But is there room for local tradition and practice, autonomy within the synagogue? Can we accept a range of proper practice and still be united? Back before pervasive mass communication and transportation technology, there were myriad small villages in Europe and, in many cases, they had very different practices. Their local traditions (and even family-based holidays/Purims) plus the case-by-case adjudication of difficult halachic questions (not to be generalized and interpreted as psak for an entire category) by the closest respected authority evolved in to an Orthodoxy with a wide range of local practices. Now that we all know each other’s business and we flit in and out of communities with ease, we expect a homogeneity that an Artscroll siddur can provide. We have created these central authorities in the last 100 or so years and ceded local authority to them in return for said membership and its privileges. They have, in turn, established norms but not laid out every practice in detail, falling back on what is known without being stated, or on the invoking of ancient and accepted authority – when in doubt, we use the following books to answer specific cases. Or at least, our board’s particular interpretation of said book.
So we now get to the more recent question – does the individual synagogue still have a right to allow local community standards to influence positions it takes which have halachic ramifications. The thing is, the larger directing-group (be it the OU, the RCA, the RCBC, or any other organization), trying to subscribe to that label of “orthodox” has always had rules. An Orthodox synagogue must have a mechitzah, and it must have a minimum height. If the community wants one higher than that, in order to present a more religious appearance, then have at it, but the by-laws require a minimum. Would anyone think that a local rabbi could abandon his mechitzah and still claim membership? Or is it reasonable to assume that this particular requirement by the umbrella organization is a fair imposition into local practice? What if the rabbi of that synagogue found writings by an otherwise respected an authoritative ancient voice which (by virtue of interpretation and skillful application) supported this variant practice. Would that make the decision as welcome, or within the pale?
Let’s say that there was a large organization called “The Ashkenazic Synagogues of America” and it, in its wisdom, attempted to establish a baseline and normative set of practices for its members (whether it took the Hungarian Rite, the Polish one or the German on, or allowed individual synagogues to meld them is unimportant right now). Then, one local member shul decided to allow kitniyot on Pesach, citing the burgeoning movement in Israel and other classical objections to the practice. The board of directors which had never clearly stated a policy comes out and says “we don’t have kitniyot, because the Ramo, the central Ashkenazi authority whom we follow, says we don’t.” “But,” says the local synagogue, “in certain cases, practical and accepted Ashkenazic practice follows the mechaber, not the Ramo! Why can’t this become part of that set of exceptions, at least for our community?” “Because,” the national board replies, “then we have divergent practices which fracture our underlying theological position and this leads to quite the slippery slope – anyone can choose anything to be an exception because, yes, there are so many voices that have accumulated in the last 2000 years and we choose NOT to follow most of them.”
So here we are – with an “orthodoxy” ill-defined, probably out of necessity. We have a series of what we thought were sine qua nons, but which are slowly being rethought. We agree on certain baseline ideas except for when we realize that we don't. Nothing, we have decided, in a post-modernist mode, is so absolute as it is accepted without question and across the board. Local synagogues, we insist, should be able to follow the “old Europe” model of local authority, and yet, somehow, maintain their position within the newfangled central organization. The rules have to be there, yet not there. The authority has to be powerful enough but not when it impinges on the rights to explore, that one community decides does not break with any essential, defining religious identity. And if the over-arching authority disagrees, we are left with a solid amount of vitriol because both sides want what amounts, or would lead to, a dangerous absolute authority, either here, or there.
The issue at hand has many components – the first is whether it is good, proper, correct or whatever, for the RCBC to set a policy against the employment of female interns who are working to complete requirements for some sort of ordination. This is not to ask whether it is within the rights of the RCBC to do so, just whether their particular position on this issue is a good one. It certainly is one that it supported by some authorities, at least in some interpretation of those authorities. As we don’t have people like the Rambam walking around, and this specific situation was not addressed in his code of law, we can only interpret and draw inference from his body of writing and decide what applies, how and when. If I had to develop my own take on it, I might fall on another spot on the spectrum, as fully justified and substantiated by other interpretations or classically accepted voices. But the RCBC’s position is also on that spectrum. Like it or not, they aren’t inventing a point of view.
The next question is whether the RCBC has the right to make policy statements that apply to member synagogues. On this, I say “sure – they are the directors of their club. They can make the rules for anyone who wants to be in their club. If you don’t like their club, leave the club.” If enough members walk out, they either change the rules so that they still have a club, or they dissolve. Or they contract so completely as to become a fringe voice, persona non grata in all the communities they have alienated. Most likely (and this is what we fear) they will continue with a reasonable membership, but these strict dividing lines will serve to clearly fracture the community. In this case, the RCBC debated the issue, allowing all voices within the organization to speak their peace. Following their accepted methodology, a vote was taken and a rule passed. This might make the particular congregation be excluded, or it might make the overall organization become pariah and he synagogue, an exemplar of acceptable change.
This leads to the next issue – there are a variety of organizations which all purport to be umbrellas to “orthodoxy” but that term has NEVER been defined in a way that all can agree on (kal vachomer, “modern orthodoxy”). Since the term means different things to different people, membership in the group is not clear and the hazy edges of the envelope include and exclude members differently in different places. For years, there has been an informal understanding that the Orthodox in Monsey would laugh at the Orthodox in Teaneck who would sneer at the Orthodox in Scarsdale but even Scarsdale would look down on Englewood. And don’t get me started on West Orange. Community standards have always made us a religion divided by a shared religion.
But is there room for local tradition and practice, autonomy within the synagogue? Can we accept a range of proper practice and still be united? Back before pervasive mass communication and transportation technology, there were myriad small villages in Europe and, in many cases, they had very different practices. Their local traditions (and even family-based holidays/Purims) plus the case-by-case adjudication of difficult halachic questions (not to be generalized and interpreted as psak for an entire category) by the closest respected authority evolved in to an Orthodoxy with a wide range of local practices. Now that we all know each other’s business and we flit in and out of communities with ease, we expect a homogeneity that an Artscroll siddur can provide. We have created these central authorities in the last 100 or so years and ceded local authority to them in return for said membership and its privileges. They have, in turn, established norms but not laid out every practice in detail, falling back on what is known without being stated, or on the invoking of ancient and accepted authority – when in doubt, we use the following books to answer specific cases. Or at least, our board’s particular interpretation of said book.
So we now get to the more recent question – does the individual synagogue still have a right to allow local community standards to influence positions it takes which have halachic ramifications. The thing is, the larger directing-group (be it the OU, the RCA, the RCBC, or any other organization), trying to subscribe to that label of “orthodox” has always had rules. An Orthodox synagogue must have a mechitzah, and it must have a minimum height. If the community wants one higher than that, in order to present a more religious appearance, then have at it, but the by-laws require a minimum. Would anyone think that a local rabbi could abandon his mechitzah and still claim membership? Or is it reasonable to assume that this particular requirement by the umbrella organization is a fair imposition into local practice? What if the rabbi of that synagogue found writings by an otherwise respected an authoritative ancient voice which (by virtue of interpretation and skillful application) supported this variant practice. Would that make the decision as welcome, or within the pale?
Let’s say that there was a large organization called “The Ashkenazic Synagogues of America” and it, in its wisdom, attempted to establish a baseline and normative set of practices for its members (whether it took the Hungarian Rite, the Polish one or the German on, or allowed individual synagogues to meld them is unimportant right now). Then, one local member shul decided to allow kitniyot on Pesach, citing the burgeoning movement in Israel and other classical objections to the practice. The board of directors which had never clearly stated a policy comes out and says “we don’t have kitniyot, because the Ramo, the central Ashkenazi authority whom we follow, says we don’t.” “But,” says the local synagogue, “in certain cases, practical and accepted Ashkenazic practice follows the mechaber, not the Ramo! Why can’t this become part of that set of exceptions, at least for our community?” “Because,” the national board replies, “then we have divergent practices which fracture our underlying theological position and this leads to quite the slippery slope – anyone can choose anything to be an exception because, yes, there are so many voices that have accumulated in the last 2000 years and we choose NOT to follow most of them.”
So here we are – with an “orthodoxy” ill-defined, probably out of necessity. We have a series of what we thought were sine qua nons, but which are slowly being rethought. We agree on certain baseline ideas except for when we realize that we don't. Nothing, we have decided, in a post-modernist mode, is so absolute as it is accepted without question and across the board. Local synagogues, we insist, should be able to follow the “old Europe” model of local authority, and yet, somehow, maintain their position within the newfangled central organization. The rules have to be there, yet not there. The authority has to be powerful enough but not when it impinges on the rights to explore, that one community decides does not break with any essential, defining religious identity. And if the over-arching authority disagrees, we are left with a solid amount of vitriol because both sides want what amounts, or would lead to, a dangerous absolute authority, either here, or there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)