Sephardis have more fun

My alarm was supposed to go off at 3:45 in the morning on Friday morning.

It didn't.

So at 4:00 Baldachin called and I bustled down the street to meet him and Chaim Cutler and we headed to a Kurdish Shul in Nachlaot (a neighborhood right next to the Shuk) for night Slichot services.

I've come to love Sefaradi/Eidot Hamizrach (Spanish descendants/Middle East communities) slichot. They're catchy tunes, beautiful poetry and after more than a month of saying them, the communities take ownership of them.

At the end of the service, there were blasts of the shofar. According to Rabbinic tradition, the sounds of the Shofar are supposed to sound like human cries, like wails.

This shofar did. And at that moment I decided I was going to head back for Neilah. I wanted to hear this man rock out with a tekiah gedolah at the end of Yom Kippur.

Following a relaxing and enjoyable Shabbat in Tel Aviv with my favorite spokesperson for the IDF (Hackit), I headed back to Jerusalem and a group of us headed to the Kotel for midnight Slichot. Turns out a few other people had the same idea.

The line down to the Kotel plaza went all the way down through the Shuk in the Muslim quarter, backing up to Sha'ar Yafo (for those that aren't familiar with that geography, let's just say that's a long way). Once we finally got down to the plaza, the entire country was standing in every cardinal direction. (See the pictures to see just how many were there).

The slichot were blasting over a series of loud speakers and the entire plaza joined in. People from all over Israel joined in. Thus far there have been a couple of "only in Israel" moments. This was one of them.

Perhaps none more, though, than when we were leaving Aliza's apartment before the fast, and an elderly woman opened the door precisely as we were walking down the stairs and wished us "gmar chatima tovah." It was pretty cute.

The entire country shuts down for Yom Kippur. People in white empty into the streets, kids take to their bikes and declare that the roads belong to them. After Kol Nidre, 92 percent of Americans in Israel stood at the crossroads between Rahel Imeinu and Emek Refaim. Standing, laughing, having a good time.

For Neilah, I headed back to what I will now dub "my" Nachlaot shul. And, man, do they love their slichot. A full month of Elul, plus 8 days of Tishrei, and they kept going. During Mincha and Neilah, they again said slichot. One more chance, I suppose.

Jonah (the book) was chanted to a unique nusach (tune), though anything would have been new for me, quite frankly. Beautiful.

And finally we got to the Tekiah Gedola blast at the end.

Except we didn't.

Because instead of a tekiah gedolah, it was a teruah gedolah. A series of short blasts which were somehow woven together in a fluttering call.

And after that, cars began to empty out back on the streets.

Next up, the festival of booths. Want more pictures? That's what I thought.

Mind control — bathroom edition

Several years ago, Eytan Kenter gave the List College graduation speech in a towel. "90 percent of your best ideas come to you in the shower," he stated. "Now it's time to do something about those ideas."

He then threw the towel into the crowd.

And the crowd erupted in applause.

Using an informal poll, I've discovered just how right Eytan was — people really do some of the their best thinking in the shower.

For example, raise your hand if you have great ideas come to you in the shower.

I thought so.

But there is a legal prohibition against Torah study from entering the bathroom, either the toilet or the bath. There is an underlying ethos that because the bathroom is not a modest or respectful place, therefore Torah should not be present there — but it should be everywhere else. For this reason, for example, a mezuzah is not placed on the doorpost of a bathroom.

So clearly, that means that the Bible is not good bathroom reading. But does it really mean that even thinking Torah thoughts are forbidden? Even during my prime thinking time of the day?

What if these thoughts will ultimately help others? I should really censor these thoughts? After all, this differs dramatically from trying to censor thoughts which have the potential to inflict danger, as I discussed in the previous post. These are thoughts which have the potential to do a great service for people.

I don't have any answers to these questions, but come, let us explore.

The law originates in the Babylonian Talmud (hereafter referred to as the Bavli), Kiddushin 33a. The Gemarra (commentary on the Mishnah) itself notes that there is a difference between voluntary and involuntary thoughts in the bathroom. As I'll note, this is not the way the law is codified, though. (The word "hirhurim" is also used here, the same as noted in the previous post).

From Kiddushin 33a:

ה"נ מסתברא, דאמר רבה בר בר חנה אמר ר' יוחנן: בכל מקום מותר להרהר, חוץ מבית המרחץ ומבית הכסא! דילמא לאונסיה שאני

For Rabbah b. Bar Hanah said: One may meditate/have thoughts [about learning] everywhere except at the baths and in the toilet room. [That however does not follow:] maybe it is different when [done] involuntarily. (Translation: Soncino)

There is a parallel text in Masechet Berachot, as well:

ברכות כ''ד:ב

ומי אמר רבי יוחנן הכי? והאמר רבה בר בר חנה אמר רבי יוחנן: בכל מקום מותר להרהר בדברי תורה - חוץ מבית המרחץ ומבית הכסא

Berachot, 24b
Who said that Rabbi Yochanan spoke thusly? Rabbah Bar Bar Chana said in the name of Rabbi Yochanan: In every place it is permissible leharher with words of Torah — except for the bath house and the toilet room.

Commenting on the Kiddushin text, Rashi (Rabbi Shelomo ben Yitzhak, 11th c. Provence) explains that involuntary thoughts (literally, thoughts "which are forced [into the mind]) occur against peoples' wills sometimes. Even when one specifically decides at the entrance to the bathhouse/modern bathroom that she is not going to think about such topics, sometimes they force their way into her mind and she thinks about them.

רש''י

לאונסיה שאני - פעמים שהוא טרוד ומעיין בשמועתיה לפני כניסתו למרחץ, וע"כ היא שגורה בפיו ולבו ומעיין בה בבית המרחץ.

Legal exegesis of this concept:

Below are a series of the major Medieval legal exegetes and how they rule on the above question of excising particular thoughts from the bathroom.

Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi (hereafter referred to as the Rif, 11th c. Morocco) codifies the legal portion of this Talmudic argument with Rabbi Yochanan's statement that it is forbidden to have hirhurim in the bathroom.

רי''ף, מסכת ברכות, פרק ג

אמר רב הונא תלמיד חכם אסור לעמוד במקום הטנופת שאי אפשר לו בלא תורה. ואמר רבי יוחנן בכל מותר להרהר חוץ מבית המרחץ ומבית הכסא

Ri''f, Masechet Berachot, Chapter 3
Rav Huna said: A talmid hacham (wise one) is forbidden to stand in a place of excrement, because it is impossible for him to be without Torah (ie. existentially, he is a person of Torah knowledge and will always think Torah thoughts). And Rabbi Yochanan said: In all places, one is allowed to have hirhurim — except in the bath house and toilet room.

As codified in Maimonides' Mishneh Torah (12th c. Spain, Egypt, hereafter referred to as Rambam) the laws about proper intention while in the bathroom are listed under the "Laws of Keriat Shema" (reading the Shema) because the Shema requires particular intention in its recitation. The Rambam codifies the mahmir (stringent) opinion in the Gemarra, which forbids even thinking "Torah thoughts" while in the bathroom, or in the vicinity of it, for that matter (Hilchot Keriat Shema 3:4).

רמב''ם ,הלכות קריאת שמע ג:ד

ולא קריאת שמע בלבד אלא כל ענין שהוא מדברי הקדש אסור לאומרו בבית המרחץ ובבית הכסא ואפילו אמרו בלשון חול, ולא לאמרו בלבד, אלא אפילו להרהר בלבו בדברי תורה בבית הכסא ובבית המרחץ...

Rambam, Laws of reading the Shema
This does not apply only to reciting the Shema, rather any aspect [which could apply as] "Holy words" is forbidden to say in the bath house (referring Greco-Roman-style of the Rabbinic age, but applying to any parallel of the particular time) and in the toilet room. And it is even forbidden to say it in a mundane language (anything other than Hebrew). And not only is saying it forbidden, but even to think words of Torah in his heart while in the bath house or toilet room is forbidden...

The Shulkhan Arukh (edited by Joseph Karo, Spain/Tzfat, 15th c.) rules almost identically as the Rambam, which can be seen clearly here — don't even THINK about it.

שולחן ערוך, אורח חיים, פ''ה: ב

אפי' להרהר בד"ת, אסור בבית הכסא ובבית המרחץ ובמקום הטנופת, והוא המקום שיש בו צואה ומי רגלים. הגה: ואפי' הלכות המרחץ אסור ללמוד במרחץ (ר"ן פ' כירה וב"י בשם א"ח). דברים של חול, מותר לאמרם שם בלשון הקדש...

Shulkhan Arukh, Orach Hayyim, 85:2
Even thinking about words of Torah is forbidden in the toilet room and in the bath house and in a place of refuse, defined as a place where there is feces and urine.

Okay, not that much difference, except for the extra details I gave you, which had previously been after the ellipses of the Rambam passage. But here's where it gets interesting.

How exactly do we define Torah? The Hebrew Bible? Halakhic texts? The gamut of philosophy in the Jewish tradition?

Tradition Renewed?

Hebrew grammar?

Yes, that's right.

As an individual who is particularly fond of grammar in any language, amen to that? (I should note that in seventh grade, my dad asked my English teacher if we would be learning to diagram sentences and he was extremely disappointed when the answer was no. "They're very important," he retorted. The dinner table made up for what we lacked in class. In 10th grade, Dr. Hemminger gave me the title "Grammar King," I'll have you know. Such nachas). It should be noted that my love of Hebrew grammar pales in comparison to those who have named their blog after a favorite vowel/grammatical form.

In his commentary on this section of Shulkhan Arukh, the Mishnah Berurah (R. Yisrael Kagan, 19th c. Poland) says that while one is in the bathroom he may not think about Hebrew grammatical details, such as verb tables, because that might lead the individual to think of a Biblical verse with similar constructs.

משנה ברורה פה:ה

בד"ת - וכן אסור לעיין בבה"כ במשקלי השמות והפעלים של לשון הקודש שאין דרך להגיע לידיעה רק ע"פ הכתובים ויבוא להרהר במקרא

Mishneh Berurah 85:5
It is forbidden to study Hebrew noun and verb tables in the bathroom, because there is no way to prevent one from only thinking about the Writings as they are related to the particular word, and he will come to think about the Torah...

I must note that this example is slightly different than my previous ones. One does not refrain from thinking about Hebrew grammar because this in itself is legally problematic. Rather, doing so is a harhaka (distancing) from breaking the actual law of thinking Torah thoughts in a location which is not suitable for them. For grammar aficionados (I'm looking at YOU, Emily Cook), it's also entertaining.

I don't know what it is about the shower that provides such fodder for thought. If you do, please share. Any general comments on such a prohibition?

More examples to come.

Yom Kippur and the West Wing

While this dialogue ranks low on the Aaron Sorkin list of wonders, it is apt for the day and I pass it on for that reason.

During the third season, there is a terror attack in Israel, targeting two Americans who are here/there for a soccer match. The closing scene (below) gives the episode its name, "The day before."

Wishing everyone a meaningful, even joyous, Yom Kippur.

BARTLET
This guy at the dinner, he told me something I didn't know.
On Yom Kippur, you ask forgiveness for sins against God.
But on the day before, you ask forgiveness
for sins against people.
[looks over at Toby] Did you know that?

TOBY
Yeah. It's called, uh...I can't remember...

JOSH
It's... Erev.

TOBY
Erev Yom Kippur.

BARTLET
[nods] You can't ask forgiveness of God until you've asked
forgiveness of people on the day before.

BYOM (Bring your own Marmot)

"Obviously, you're not a golfer."

I am proud to say that my home city hosted a "Lebowski Fest" this weekend. I only wish I had alerted everyone earlier. Coming to a city near YOU, soon.

This isn't Nam, dude. There are rules. So prepare ahead of time.

In other amusing news, please see the following video. Courtesy of Ari for passing it on.

The Silver family also enjoys this one. Because everyone wins when Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a mix-in. Everyone.

Mind control? Do we have control of our thoughts? (A multi-part series)

Last year, one of my friends and classmates sat down for lunch in the JTS courtyard and reflected that as he was going through his alumni magazine, he felt unhealthily jealous of many of the accomplishments that others had attained. And as he noted, he had chosen a different path. He has a beautiful family, the love of friends and is literally engaged in a living dream as he studies Torah each day.

It wasn't as if he actually wanted to be at the top of a particular firm — that would not bring him happiness. But still, it was tough to read about the accomplishments of others and not "covet" their place in life.

Such is the conundrum of the 10th statement/commandment of the Big Ten (15, before Mel Brooks dropped a tablet). Is it really possible ever to fulfill the mandate of not coveting? In broader terms, can thought be legislated?

Exodus 20:13 reads in full:
יג לֹא תַחְמֹד, בֵּית רֵעֶךָ; לֹא-תַחְמֹד אֵשֶׁת רֵעֶךָ, וְעַבְדּוֹ וַאֲמָתוֹ וְשׁוֹרוֹ וַחֲמֹרוֹ, וְכֹל, אֲשֶׁר לְרֵעֶךָ.
13. You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that belongs to your neighbor

As you will quickly note while reading this blog, if you don't know this already, I find great wisdom in the West Wing. In this case, the episode entitled "Take out the trash day" touches precisely on the dilemmas of this verse.

Sam: "There's a town in Alabama that wants to abolish all laws except the Ten Commandments. . . . Well, they're going to have a problem. . . . Coveting thy neighbor's wife, for instance. How're you going to enforce that one?"

and then a follow-up to this rhetorical monologue

Sam: Leo, did you know there's a town in Alabama that wants to (abolish all laws except the Ten Commandments)...
Leo: Yes.
Sam: What do you think?
Leo: Coveting thy neighbor's wife's gonna cause some problems.
Sam: That's what I said. Plus, if I were arrested for coveting my neighbor's wife, I'd probably bear false witness.

That's precisely the issue, of course — how does one mandate thought, let alone legislate against it. Of course it works differently when being enforced by God, an omniscient power (bear with me on the theology for now — I use it purposefully, though could word it differently if this is a deal-breaker) and a state which does not have said powers. But the issue remains. Do humans have control over their thoughts at all, and if not, is it setting people up to fail to legislate against how people should think?

Another episode in Season One of the West Wing (In Exelcis Dio) approaches the same issue, this time in relation to a Hate Crimes legislation. Here's part of the script, which emphasizes the dialectic; it is an argument pulsing with emotion after a parallel in the narrative to the Matthew Shepard attack:

C.J.
Beyond the crime itself is a manifestation of racism, or sexism, or anti Semitism or
homophobia that are only a tip of the iceberg of the pathology troubling this country.

LEO
I’m aware of all that. I’m just not sure it’s right to legislate against how someone thinks.
A lot of people aren’t sure, a lot of ‘em work here and I’m telling ya’ to dial it down.

We could continue with other such examples of whether states should censor particular topics, even the most hateful ones which could eventually manifest violence toward its citizens. What are the results of various European countries banning public displays of anti-Semitism, of denying the Holocaust?

Is there merit in banning books? In excommunicating the most heretical members of a society? EVER? If so, what are the ramifications of such actions?

These are not perfect parallels. But the similarities provide fodder for discussion.

During Yom Kippur, we will recite the Vidui repeatedly throughout the liturgy. We will recite various sins which we have transgressed, beating our breasts in rhythm and turn. We will recite "our sins that we have committed by hirhur halev" (inner thoughts; I prefer to translate it as reverberations of the mind) — על חטא שחטאנו לפניך בהרהור הלב.

(A note: Many cringe at the word sin. They prefer a P.C. term such as "missing the mark." Sin, after all has fire and brimstone connotations, Fundamentalist overtones. But I insist on it. Rabbi Richard Hirsh, my rabbi when we lived in Evanston, framed it best when he said:

Often Jews mistakenly dismiss the reality of sin, substituting the gentler but weaker image of “missing the mark.” This suggests that sin lies only in failing to do what we should rather than in failing to be who we should be.

Reducing sin to the status of an almost inadvertent error hardly seems tenable in the light of our awareness of the horrors of which humans, individually as well as collectively, have proved capable. The very nature of human nature lies before us as an open question.
There is a dark side to human nature, an impulse to evil which distorts and corrups our best intentions... Sin is not only what we do, or do not do it is also a question of who we are. In order to confess sin, we must first confront sin. (From Siddur Kol HaNeshama))

Today during the weekly sicha (discussion) at the Conservative Yeshiva, Reb Shmuel suggested that the confession of sinning because of inner reverberations is the paradigm for all of the statements where we confess our sins. Everything builds from this. These "reverberations of the heart" are real, intended thoughts. And they lead to tangible manifestations of negating that the human in front of us is an entire world to herself. They negate our humanity and place in the wider world.

Yes, there are times such unintended thoughts creep into our minds, but that does not imply that we cannot work on conditioning these "in-between moments," as Reb Shmuel suggested. It is an endless task, certainly. But fundamentally "an understanding of an ideal moral state is through trying to achieve it."

Before today, I questioned strongly whether it was possible to restrict said hirhurim from entering the mind. The question still is reverberating around my own mind. But again, as Reb Shmuel suggested, cleaning up one's act is largely about cleaning up one's mind. Moreover, almost all theories of psychological health try to make the unconscious, conscious. In sum, "there is nothing more powerful than denying what you want to know about yourself."

It is important to note that this is not an all-in phenomenon — it would be self-defeating and overwhelming to suggest that such a repair could be.

The notion that restraining thought, or more accurately restricting it, is at the forefront of the "10th commandment." Abraham Ibn Ezra (12th c. Spain) introduces his commentary on the verse with a self reflective question — "Many people are astonished about this mitzvah! How is it possible that one can not covet something beautiful in his heart if it is so beautiful in his eyes?!"
לא תחמוד אנשים רבים יתמהו על זאת המצוה?! איך יהיה אדם שלא יחמוד דבר יפה בלבו כל מה שהוא נחמד למראה עיניו

I will not quote the entire passage, which includes a parable which leads to an answer. But such a rhetorical introduction notes the inherent difficulty in this mitzvah. How does one restrain hirhurim?

And thus is the challenge.

As Amichai Lau-Lavie notes, the mandate of "do not covet/ לא תחמד" ultimately protects the very fabric of society. If only people were more punctilious about it:

"The tenth commandment does not refer only to the sins of lust. It lists the types of properties one must not desire – someone else’s spouse, servant or ox (or laptop). Like the other nine commandments, this one is a pretty good idea, an early form of ethical norm making. But, unlike the other nine, it is the only one that prevents one from even thinking about transgression. It’s an early version of mind control. But how well does it work?

Coveting, in all its manifestations, can easily, perhaps too easily, be identified as the possible root of so many evils – consider consumerism or adultery, and useless wars and crashing markets. Have I mentioned global warming? Throughout human history, it seemed, with an eye always on the next big thing, our healthy appetites became binges of craving, crashing delicate eco-systems of propriety, and destroying lives, homes and countries. Now it may even be the planet."

As I enter Yom Kippur, I think about the uncontrollable and know that it is a cop-out to frame it as such. It is a continual task to be aware of when these ideas come to my mind — and there are most certainly commonalities among them — and proceed onward from there. Because these thoughts are sins in themselves. But thoughts also affect the very fabric of an individual.

Intellectually, I'm also curious — when are we commanded to refuse certain thoughts from entrance to our minds? Why these cases?

I've assembled a few examples to illustrate this — for now "negative" examples. When can I not think certain things? What are these thoughts?

But that's for a later post. For now, on to Shabbat in Tel Aviv and Yom Kippur in Yerushalayim. Hineh Ani Ba, indeed.

Milot HaYom Madhimim (Awesome words of the day)

Tonight I wrote down good words that appeared in the midst of laughs and a conversation with Aliza, Guy, Iris and Avishai. As part of said conversation, periodically I would ask them to think of a fun word that I should know, and subsequently use it in context. That worked better at some points than others. What words would be a good feature for the blog/my life, or as they say in Hebrew, bishvil hablog בשביל הבלוג?

I asked the waitress for a word, as well — she was less helpful in this regard, but quite amusing throughout the entire meal. In that regard, I would highly recommend the restaurant "Diez" on Shlomzion HaMalka, next to Misrad HaPnim.

So here are the words from the evening. Props to Mishlachat 2000 for this help.

ברוגז, brogez: a fight between two people, usually kids, where they stubbornly refuse to talk to one another. No real English equivalent that can be summed up in one word.

שולם, sholem (pronounced in a Yiddish accent): after two people make up from having a ברוגז/brogez, they make שולם/sholem

שיווק, shivuk: marketing. A marketing specialist came to the Yeshiva today to see why people go there, what the institution can do better, etc. Pizza lunch was an unexpected treat, as well. לדעתי, זה דווקא שיווק טוב להביא אוכל לסטודנתים. In my opinion, it is good marketing/shivuk to bring Pizza to students.

קרציה, qirziah: tick (the animal). Refers colloquially to someone who is being annoying and a nuisance. Used in a joking matter. "Stop being such a tick." נו עליזה, תפסיקי להיות קרציה.

מתיש, matish: exhausting

לגהץ, legahetz: Literally to iron. It is also the verb used for "to swipe a credit card." It should be noted that if you are ever at Jen and JAR's and need to iron your shirt, they keep the maghetz/מגהץ in the kitchen.

פרוטקציה, protekziah: another false cognate. Rougly translates as nepotism. Shady dealings which give you connections, particularly for jobs. ''?מי צריך קשרים כשיש לך פרוטקציה'' is a common phrase. ("Who needs connections when you have protekziah?")

ויטמין פי, Vitamin P: פרוטקציה, Vitamin P is an amusing way to say protekziah.

פצצות לגבות, petzatzot l'gavot: Literally "explosions to the eyebrows." Means that something is awesome. The equivalent to "the bomb," you could say. "The bomb diggity," even. I wouldn't say, but you might.

My sister is an expert at finding amusing blogs

If you thought Zooborns was high on the 1 - cute scale, now see what said zooborns look like when they say "laila tov daf reik."