That human beings are the supreme creatures in the world is easily derived from the pattern of creation. Beginning with the simplest separation, each day includes items that are increasingly complex. Human beings are the culmination of creation and thus earn a special place. But the pre-eminence of human beings is also inferred from the fact that of all creatures, only human beings are described as being created in God’s image. There are many interpretations of what this means. Rabbi Yehudah ben Bezalel Löwe, the MaHaRaL of Prague, takes the phrase to mean that human beings walk erect and rule over creation, a view shared by Rabbi Benzion Me’ir Hai Uzziel, the first Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel. Rabbi Israel Lifschitz understands the phrase to mean human beings all share intellectual capacity and free will. Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Gur (S’fat Emet on Genesis, VaYera [1888]) writes that it refers to the human soul, a position shared by Rabbi Yosef Hayyim of Baghdad. And Rabbi Hayyim Benveniste explains that being “created in the likeness of God” allows human beings to pursue truth in judgment. For all the disagreement, what all share in common is that human beings are unique and sublime. Of course the consequence of being a supreme creature is not unlimited license to lord over the earth but immense responsibility to protect it.

Question: What is the 'Carlebachian legacy'? I have heard that Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach was an Orthodox Rabbi who brought tens of thousands to Orthodoxy through music and stories. I read recently that Neshama Carlebach, the daughter of Carlebach, announced that she has “made aliyah” to Reform Judaism. What can you say about the Carlebach legacy, if there is one?
[Administrator's note: Shlomo Carlebach was a popular singer and storyteller. Some said Orthodox, others Hasidic. You can find his music and much more about his music and life in an online search. In the interests of full disclosure, one of the panelists who is responding to this question has authored a book on Carlebach.]

Though I met Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach half a dozen times and had a personal relationship with several members of his family, I cannot say I knew him well. It is hard to engage with a legend.

“Reb Shlomo” was an unorthodox Orthodox rabbi. So it is not surprising that his legacy is in dispute. Since his death in 1994, many a rabbi has come forward to proclaim he is the true Carlebachean heir and any number of synagogues have laid claim to being the authentic inheritor to the Carlebachean spirit. Only history will judge which, if any, deserves the title. Beyond dispute, however, is the fact that Reb Shlomo transformed many lives through his music, his teaching, and his presence. His melodies have entered the mainstream of Jewish prayer and ritual. And though his Torah has not been as diligently catalogued and transmitted as has his music, there is hardly a person who encountered Reb Shlomo who has not gone away without a memorable interpretation. This should not be surprising. He was a gifted scholar from his youth. He was also a free spirit.

Unchained by the formalistic ideology of the Orthodox movement, Reb Shlomo moved comfortably among Jews of any background, of all levels of observance, and without regard to gender.

Even so, it would be a mistake to question the reputation (for bad or good) of Reb Shlomo on the basis of the religious affiliation of any of his children. Every competent adult is responsible for his or her own choices. Personal responsibility is a hallmark of Jewish theology (Deuteronomy 24:16). Children will often take a path different from the one in which they were raised. The fact that Yishmael lived a wild life does not diminish the legacy of Abraham nor does the boorishness and poor marital choices of Esav diminish the legacy of Isaac and Rebecca. Jewish history is littered with cases in which children of eminent rabbis have converted or disaffiliated. To accordingly pronounce the life and legacy of those rabbis as worthless, however, is an unwarranted and vulgar revisionism.

Question: Hello,
I am currently converting to Judaism, and am nearing the end of my conversion. One reason I began this process was because I discovered that my mother’s family was Jewish a few generations ago. Apparently they assimilated or converted out because of anti-Semitism. While it occurs on my mother’s mother’s side (far back, however, not very recent) the only “proof” I have is that of a few family traditions and the knowledge of other family members that we “were all Jewish” I also have reason to believe that some of my family who did not emigrate were victims in the Shoah. While I feel the process of converting is valuable for me personally, I often wonder if, with some research, I would be able to prove that I’m already Jewish. One rabbi that I know puts very little weight to this, almost as if my Jewish heritage doesn’t matter, and that I should just focus on my own spiritual journey. I find that hurtful, especially given the whole background of my situation. I don’t want to act as if my Jewish family never existed! Somehow I want my conversion to be an honor to them and a remembrance for them. What are some ways to approach this situation that balances both the doubt about whether or not I am halachically Jewish with sensitivity towards my Jewish heritage and towards my ancestors who evidently suffered for being Jewish? [Administrator's note: Jewish Values Online cannot advise you on your personal situation. For that sort of advice, please see the Rabbi with whom you are working toward conversion.]

When I visited the Czech Republic in 2010 a local rabbinical colleague told me that if you look back far enough into the history of any Czech family you would find a Jewish ancestor. While this might be an exaggeration, it points to the fact that in some European countries at some point in the past when relations between Jews and non-Jews were good, assimilation and intermarriage were not unusual. As much as bad relations (i.e. anti-Semitism) led some Jews to abandon Judaism, good relations –ironically - led to a similar outcome. The absence of reliable records, however, denies us the possibility of confirming the suspicion that many North American descendants of Europeans have Jewish roots. And without any such evidence, those whose lineage is not demonstrably Jewish are presumed to be legally non-Jewish.

Accordingly, those who have good reason to believe they have Jewish ancestry - but no proof - must go through a formal conversion process. There is no harm in studying Judaism as part of a conversion program. And there is no harm in immersing in the mikveh, even though later research may show that a formal conversion was unnecessary. But without a formal conversion now, a person with suspected Jewish roots cannot fully integrate within the Jewish community and be accepted unconditionally as a Jew.

I suggest that you look at the conversion process as a variant of Pascal’s Wager. The seventeenth century philosopher Blaise Pascal argued that to believe or not to believe in God’s existence is actually to wager that He exists or does not exist. If you believe He exists and He does, the reward is eternal happiness. If you believe that God exists and he doesn’t, nothing is really lost. The same is the case if you disbelieve and He doesn’t exist. But if you disbelieve and God really does exist, you lose all eternally. Thus we have everything to gain and nothing to lose by believing in God. Similarly, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose by going through a formal conversion.

Consider your formal conversion an affirmation of your possible Jewish heritage, a tribute to your possible Jewish ancestors, and a re-commitment to the way of life that you suspect was part of your past.

Question: The following question appeared in "the Ethicist " column of the New York Times Magazine. "Some knowledge about hypothermia comes from brutal Nazi medical experiments conducted on prisoners of war. Considering the data came from the destruction of their lives, are there ethical issues when modern-day scientists use it? Could it be considered a form of collaboration with the Nazis? Or does the origin of the data matter if the data is useful? Declaring the data off-limits could lead to preventable deaths, while using the data seems coldheartedly clinical." What is the Jewish response to this seeming dilemma?

In 1988 Robert Pozos, Director of Hypothermia Studies at the University of Minnesota, sought to publish data compiled by Nazi scientists who used concentration camp inmates in Dachau as subjects on the effects of immersion in extremely cold water on human beings. During World War II the Luftwaffe had a particular interest in knowing how long a downed pilot could survive in the cold North Sea before making any rescue attempt futile. Forty years later, doctors had an interest in knowing how long a person who fell through the ice into a cold lake could survive before making any rescue attempt futile. But Arnold Relman, then editor of the New England Journal of Medicine, rebuffed the request to publish. Some later explained that the refusal to publish was justified on the grounds that it would have made Holocaust victims “retroactive guinea pigs.” Whether or not data collected on the survival rates of emaciated and otherwise less-than-healthy subjects was useful was beside the point. The debate began on whether any good could come from the results of what amounted to torture. Some argued that using the data – as flawed as it might be – would make meaningful the deaths of the erstwhile victims. This is an interesting moral argument but a halakhically irrelevant one. From a halakhic perspective, the saving of human life is a nearly supreme value. So while the actual experiments are condemnable, the results of those experiments ought to be used if a life might be saved. Whether or not that would be the case will only be determined by the scientists who would study the data. And to study the data means it must be open and available to study. A review of the literature is accessible through an on-line article of David Bogod published in Anasthesia, the Journal of the Association of Anasthetists of Great Britain and Ireland, 18 November 2004.

Question: (Aside from the obvious answer that the Torah says not to) why can't we mix different breeds of animals? [Administrator note: Presumably this is being asked both in regard to working them, as the Torah states for oxen and donkeys, and in breeding them - mixed kinds, as in 'designer' dog breeds.]

While the pre-eminent medieval commentator RaShI was of the opinion that the statutes against the breeding of diverse kinds of cattle or planting diverse seeds within the same tract of land, or even yoking together different breeds of animals were without reason, Nahmanides disagreed. The latter asserts (Leviticus 19:19) that there are indeed reasons for these statutes but the reasons are hard to grasp. Accordingly, Nahmanides explains that the prohibition against “mixed species” is based on the notion that the order of the universe must be preserved. God designed a world in which only animals of the same species can mate with the resultant offspring able to reproduce in turn. Breeding species of diverse kind only violates natural law. It also constitutes a rejection of God’s intentions. Working an ox and an ass together, Nahmanides goes on to say, may very well result I stabling them together where they come to mate one with the other. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his book Horeb, similarly associates the laws against “mixed species” as a guarantee of retaining the order of nature. He goes so far as to say that the Hebrew word for mixed species, kilayim, comes from the root meaning “to close up.” It is God’s design to keep the integrity of each species intact and to violate this notion is to make a mockery of God’s creation.

Question: Our employee was overpaid as a result of an error in payroll submissions. The amount of overpayment was not insignificant and the overpayment continued for several months (the employee apparently did not notice) before the mistake was found. When the Congregational board president approached the employee about the error the employee balked at repaying, claimed it would be a hardship to return the money and did not feel he was obligated to do so. Ultimately, after demands and threats, the employee did agree to repay the overpayment, but only after negotiating a long repayment plan that spans more than a year (and without any interest). Do Jewish law or Jewish values require that this money be returned? If so, was the employee in violation of either Halachah or Jewish values by refusing to repay the money? Should it have been returned without delay (as soon as the error was pointed out) and without stipulation? Was the Congregation in any way in error in requesting repayment? What is the proper behavior according to Jewish values and ethics?

Honesty demands returned property that is not lawfully one’s own. And further, keeping money to which one is not entitled is tantamount to stealing. The Hafetz Hayim – Rabbi Yisrael Meir HaKohen Kagan – went so far as to rule that even an uncanceled postage stamp cannot be re-used since it cheats the government out of money to which it is entitled. An employer may be exceptionally kind and arrange an easy repayment schedule. But absent such a benevolence, the employee must return every cent the employer overpaid him or her.

Question: In the Bedtime Shema, (Artscroll Sefard Edition), the opening verse says: "I hereby forgive anyone..." but ends with "I forgive every Jew."
Why does it not say "... and every Gentile?" Ultimately, all come from HaShem and all require forgiveness. Why not carry through the universality?

That you have carefully read the words of the recital of Shema Before Retiring for the Night is impressive. A few words of explanation are required before answering your specific question. While some Talmudic sages sanction the recital of the Shema before sleep, others dispute the need. Rabbi Nahman, for example, exempts scholars from the recital (Berakhot 4b) since their constant engagement in study makes the need for any further Scriptural recitation unnecessary. In the Middle Ages, many rabbis saw the bed-time Shema as a means of protection against demonic forces. Moderns, who largely reject the very idea of demonic forces - let alone the efficaciousness of the Shema in warding them off - might still find the Zohar a suitable justification for the practice. The Zohar (Balak 211; Terumah 141) teaches that it is a noble idea to praise God before retiring.

Once the rationale for the universal practice of reciting the Shema before retiring was established, additional prayers were appended to the Shema itself, including a prayer for forgiveness. The Sefardic version of Rinat Yisrael (the “official” Israeli prayer book) includes an introductory prayer for forgiveness from all, that is, no differentiation between Jews and non-Jews. Unlike the Artscroll Siddur, there is no concluding prayer for forgiveness from Jews alone. Your question, therefore, is not directed towards the text of the Sefardic siddur but to the editors of Artscroll. It would seem that the latter have not resolved the conflict between universalism and particularism in Jewish prayer. Consequently, Artscroll features prayers of both type within the same service. You, however, may confidently include only the universalistic version, a version that comports with the opinion of Israel’s Chief Rabbinate.

Explanations for the absence of the name of God in the Book of Esther vary according to how the book is perceived. (See Edward Greenstein’s fine article entitled “A Jewish Reading of Esther” in Judaic Perspectives on Ancient Israel, published in 1987.) For those scholars who read the Book of Esther as a parody, inclusion of the name of God would be sacrilegious. For those who read the Book of Esther as the first case of the salvation of the Jewish people unassisted by Divine intervention, including reference to God would be contradictory. For those who read the Book of Esther as an accurate historical report of miraculous redemption, God is always in the background even though His name is never mentioned. For example, the seemingly fortuitous ascension of Esther to the position of queen consort and the associated possibility of affecting the king’s decisions at the time when such influence is most needed are indications of supernatural control rather than mere coincidence. The text (4:14) even intimates as much. Accordingly, it is possible to still read the Book of Esther as an affirmation of God’s presence even though His name is absent.

Question: How should we respond to a letter signed by 15 leaders of Christian churches on Oct 5, 2012, calling for Congress to reconsider giving aid to Israel because of accusations of human rights violations (see New York Times article published: Oct 20, 2012)?
[Administrator's note: This question seems again quite relevant in light of the vote by the Presbyterian Church USA to divest from companies doing business with Israel in June 2014.]

A sense of frustration is almost inevitable when supporters of Israel are faced with task of trying to influence institutions into changing their policy when these institutions seem to be operating under innumerable misconceptions. When these misconceptions are held to be self-evident truths, the daunting task to try to correct them becomes nearly impossible. Given this state of affairs, the tendency to give up on the project is understandable. But the prophet Isaiah (62:1) reminds us that: “For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not keep quiet.” In that support for Israel – or its absence – is an existential issue, it may even be argued that remaining silent is a violation of the commandment not to stand idly by while your neighbor’s life is at risk (Leviticus 19:16). While discussions with other religious bodies is the task of Jewish organizations better suited to that purpose, every Jew should be personally involved in setting the record straight by writing letters to the editor, organizing petitions, or simply speaking to friends and colleagues who will, in turn, speak to their respective religious leaders. The BDS (Boycott/Divestment/Sanction) campaign against Israel, after all, has been driven by a tiny minority of activists who have hijacked every union meeting or student government they can and then leverage those small successes into greater influence. Jewish tradition has always emphasized the transformative power of truth. Disseminating the truth cleverly and persistently is what the moment demands of us.

Question: Does the mitzvah of pidyon shvuyim (redeeming captives) affect the way we look at prisoner exchanges? Does the mitzvah require us to do everything we can to redeem a captive, or are there limits?

The rescue of hostages – what tradition calls redemption of captives – is a religious duty. The Scriptural narrative (Genesis 14:14ff) reports how Abraham set to the rescue of his nephew Lot even against great odds. The Babylonian Talmud (Baba Batra 8b) counts the redemption of captives as one of the most important mitzvot. Yet at the same time, there is a strain of thinking that suggests that sometimes the zeal with which we should approach the performance of this mitzvah be tempered by a certain degree of pragmatism. Such was lesson of the latter years of the life of no less a celebrated authority than thirteenth century Rabbi Meir ben Barukh of Rothenberg. Captured by enemies that included a renegade Jew, Rabbi Meir was imprisoned by the Emperor Rudolph who demanded an enormous ransom of thirty thousand marks. According to Rabbi Isaac Luria, Rabbi Meir resisted attempts to secure his freedom on the grounds that it would only encourage further kidnapping and extortion. Rabbi Meir spent the last seven years of his life in prison, dying in 1293. While his end was tragic, the scourge of kidnapping subsided. No doubt both the obligation to redeem as well as the political consequences of making exorbitant payments – whether in cash or prisoner exchanges – are in play when the State of Israel, for instance, must decide on a course of action. Understandably, from the perspective of a captive’s family, no effort should be spared and no concession is too great. Yet sometimes a state must consider other factors.

Question: Hello - I'm wondering if there are any laws or guidelines about our obligations to those that help us. I'm familiar with the concepts of tzedakah that refer to charitable acts and methods of giving, but am seeking suggestions or links for appropriate guidelines when one receives or is the one who is assisted. Thanks kindly in advance, Kathryn

There are several rules in Judaism that are designed specifically to preserve the anonymity of the donor. For instance, Purim gifts are delivered through an agent so that the recipient will not know the identity of the giver. Similarly, Maimonides places a gift given anonymously ahead of a gift given when the donor is known. The Talmud tells of a rabbi who would drop coins for the poor in such a way that he would not see them and they would not see him. It seems that our tradition aims at ensuring that the recipient not know the benefactor. It is not just exposing the needy to potential embarrassment that is a concern. It is also an implicit objective to prevent the needy from feeling beholden to another. The receiver may appropriately feel gratitude for the generosity of others but should not feel compelled to repay it in some way. This does not mean that one should not acknowledge a gift given in other circumstances. Propriety demands that when a host receives a gift from a guest that the guest is duly thanked. The same would apply to sending “Thank You” notes for wedding or Bar Mitzvah gifts.

The Ketubah, or marriage document, is – to borrow from current technology – content sensitive. That is to say, while the amounts (for weddings outside Israel) standardized are vestigial, the document still requires precise information for the date, the location, the names of the bride and groom, and the bride’s marital status. Rabbis are responsible for ensuring that before they officiate at a wedding ceremony, the information on the document is accurate. The traditional categories for the bride’s marital status are betulta, giyorta, and armalata: Aramaic for a woman previously unmarried, previously married and divorced, and previously married and widowed respectively. The standardized monetary values assigned to each category (and the wording in the Ketubah) will vary according to her status.

Some confusion lies in the fact that the word “betulta” is usually translated as “virgin.” Hence, if the bride had been sexually active before the wedding – depending upon what sexually active means - some would imagine that this would remove her from the category of “betulta.” But this is not the case. Betulta is not, for the purpose of the Ketubah, an attestation of the bride’s virginity but, rather, an affirmation that she had not been previously married. Her sexual history is not taken into consideration.

There is an interesting response once given by Rabbi Moshe Feinstein to a young woman who led a promiscuous life before she turned religiously observant. She wanted to know whether she had to reveal her history to her fiancé. Rabbi Feinstein ruled that she was under no obligation to report her past, but if asked, she may not deny it. He had no qualms about the validity of a Ketubah that would describe her as a “betulta” even though she was not a virgin.

Question: During the three weeks (of mourning for the destruction of the Temple, between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av) can I get a haircut on erev Shabbos (the eve of Sabbath) or on Rosh Chodesh (the start of the new month) [i.e., what is the custom/minhag during this period]?

One of the outward signs of mourning is disheveled hair. Those grieving a personal loss will abstain from cutting their hair during the appropriate mourning period. The same is true for grieving a national loss. And there is no deeper a national loss than the destruction of the Jerusalem Temples. Thus the regnant custom among European Jews and their descendants is to abstain from cutting their hair during the entire three-week period leading up to and including the Ninth of Av (cf. Rabbi Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh, OrahHayyim 551:4). Subsequent authorities have allowed for a number of exceptions to the custom. First, a moustache may be trimmed should it interfere with eating. Second, one who regularly shaves may shave before Shabbat. Shaving, however, differs from haircutting. Third, haircutting is allowed if disheveled hair would result in a loss of business customers and certainly a loss of a job. Fourth, the principals (that is, father of the baby, mohel and sandek) may cut their hair in preparation for the Brit Milah. Other exceptions might be warranted but only after consulting with a rabbi.

Question: What kind of rules and customs do we have about ner tamid (eternal light) in a synagogue? Should it certainly hang from a ceiling or is it also kosher (acceptable) to put it on a top of the aron kodesh (Ark)?

The Ner Tamid, or eternal light, is at its origin a reminder of the Jerusalem Temple. The westernmost branch of the Candelabrum was kept lit in perpetuity. Early synagogues followed suit by positioning the Ner Tamid on the western side (Babylonian Talmud, Megillah 29a). Interestingly, Medieval synagogues only lit the Ner Tamid morning and evening when prayers were recited (Minhagei Yeshurun 2). From the historical record we learn that both the placement and use of the Ner Tamid have changed over time. While the practice in most synagogues today is to hang a Ner Tamid above and slightly forward of the Holy Ark, there is no requirement that it be so. Some synagogues have affixed the Ner Tamid on the Aron Kodesh itself. Some European synagogues have placed the Ner Tamid inside the Aron Kodesh. Other synagogues (like the Spanish Potuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam) have dedicated one branch of a hanging candelabra situated between the central bimah and the Aron Kodesh as its Ner Tamid. The variants are legion. I recently visited the synagogue in Lisbon. Its hanging Ner Tamid was oil fueled and lit just before Kabbalat Shabbat. As much as it remains a link to the Jerusalem Temple, the Ner Tamid comes to symbolize the eternality of Torah and the enlightenment we gain from its study as well as the call for Israel to be a beacon of light to the world.

In an infamous interview with Playboy magazine in November 1976, former American president and Baptist pastor Jimmy Carter confessed that he had “lusted in his heart” and “committed adultery in his heart many times.” To many Christians this seemed to be a courageous act of faith. But it made many Jews uncomfortable. The idea that what a person might think about or fantasize would be sinful seems foreign to Jews who have been taught that actions alone matter. In a way, that is true. Eighteenth century Moses Mendelssohn wrote that what distinguishes Judaism from Christianity is the fact that the former is a religion of deed while the latter is a religion of creed. Supporting this view are the relatively few commandments in the Torah that circumscribe thoughts. Jews are forbidden to covet and to hate a fellow Jew in their hearts. But holding a Jew responsible for the violation of these mitzvot is difficult, if not impossible, unless the thought leads go some action. There is no “thought police” that can arrest, charge, and punish those who harbor illicit thoughts. Yet that does not mean that God does not punish Jews for having them. And that question – your question - is a different and important one. That the Torah still lists covetousness (jealousy) and hatred as legally proscribed means they are punishable offenses. And that implies that God must be doing the judging…and the punishing. A refrain in the High Holiday liturgy is that God inspects the innermost thoughts of us all, and presumably holding us accountable for improper thoughts. And Rabbi Joseph Karo (Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 240:9) rules that it is wrong to fantasize about other women while engaged in sexual intercourse with one’s wife. But exactly what divine penalties ensue should Jews have improper thoughts remains unstated and unclear.

Question: Lack of rain in Israel used to be a death sentence for its inhabitants—no water to drink, no crops, etc. Now, with modern technology (such as desalinization plants), a lack of rain is serious, but no longer life-threatening. Should we still institute fast days during a dry winter?

Praying for rain in Israel during times of drought has always been controversial. The Talmud (Ketubot 106a) reports that Rav Joseph refused to advocate such prayers and the Jerusalem Talmud reports that third century Rabbi Hanina refused to pray for rain during a time of drought even though Rabbi Joshua ben Levi did. It seems that their objections had nothing to do with whether or not a drought was life-threatening but with the efficacy of prayer in influencing God’s will. Yet the tractate of Ta’anit deals largely with the ritual response to drought and potential famine, recognizing that any shortage of rain is life threatening in a country that relies on rain for irrigation and drinking water. That is true even today. While modern technology has ameliorated the problem of drought, it is has not solved it. Thus praying for rain has not been rendered unnecessary even though it has not been proven effective. Further, Jews operate under the rule requiring all individuals - regardless of their personal views - to join with the community once a prayer or fast has been declared by a community’s recognized religious leaders.

Through a close reading of the text, the Talmud (Megillah 7a) deduces that to fulfill the textual requirement, on Purim we must send two portions of food to at least one friend and two gifts to at least two needy people. The question of how to make fulfilling this requirement “meaningful” demands going beyond the minima of the law. Of course, one could make the case that there could be no more meaningful gift to the poor than providing them the basic necessities of life. Indeed, seeing the faces of the needy receiving an unexpected and appreciated gift would provide the donor with the sense of happiness that 20th century Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein says is the reason behind the requirement in the first place. Giving to a worthy charity is an alternative. The consensus among modern authorities is that writing a check to a charitable organization fulfills the Purim obligation. Consequently, a Jew may decide to donate to an educational, relief, or research organization. There is no source I can find that relieves us from the requirement of giving portions of food to friends, directly or indirectly (through an agent). In fact, in today’s depersonalized society the most meaningful way of celebrating Purim may be connecting face-to-face with another human being in a magnanimous way.

Individual Jews who do not know which day was the day of death of a relative for whom they were obligated to mourn would arbitrarily pick a date and observe it annually henceforth.But at one point in Jewish history the Tenth of Tevet became the popular one to serve that purpose.After the Sho’ah, the number of deaths whose dates were unknown were, as can be imagined, were great.The initial attempt to designate a date for the memorialization of all the dead during the Sho’ah – including those whose dates were unknown – was the Fourteenth of Nisan – the date of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising.But traditionally, the month of Nisan could not include sad events so other dates were proposed.And, besides, the Fourteenth of Nisan was day before Passover!Both a leading Orthodox scholar as well a Conservative one argued for Tish’a B’Av.And indeed, many observances of that date will refer to the Sho’ah.In 1953 the Israeli Kenesset designated 27 Nisan as Yom HaSho’ah, despite the same misgivings expressed by those who objected to 14 Nisan.But this date has now become standard as the official commemorative date in the Federation world.Still, the final words has not been spoken on the matter.

Question: Is it appropriate to criticize Israel when other nations and states commit the same actions, and much worse, without any comment from the world community? At what point does self examination become almost masochistic?

Knowing how to properly criticize was a concern as far back as the time of the Talmud. Rabbi Akiva claimed that the tact necessary for criticizing is a rare personal quality. In our own day, Natan Sharansky has properly noted that when criticism is directed against one party exclusively when it could rightly be directed against others, it reveals a bias or prejudice that undermines the very substance of the criticism. This helps us identify and distinguish between those who are fair critics of Israel and those who are (or try to be) discreet anti-Semites. An additional problem is faced by those who dispute some of Israel’s policies but fear that adding their voices to those of Israel’s detractors will only isolate Israel further and will do nothing to address their point of concern. Waiting until such time that fair criticism may be offered without worry over how it will be perceived may not be practical. After all, can we ever imagine a time when Israel will have no enemies? So offering sincere and loving criticism as the case demands is legitimate. But the key is to offer it privately. That is to say, rather than take out ads in the media or call press conferences, the criticism ought to be shared in writing with the ministry that has responsibility for the actions in question.

Question: With Oscar season upon us, I find myself once again so disappointed in how much more my kids know about Hollywood than about their own culture and texts. My daughter has spent literally hours talking about what she thinks and has heard and read that the stars will wear. Any ideas of how to make Judaism glamorous / engaging for teens?

It is a strange irony that matters of a person’s inner life (character, values, meaning and purpose of existence) are never as interesting as matters of a person’s outer life (appearance, accomplishments, etc.). I say that is an irony because it is precisely the inner life that ought to be of critical importance. This observation holds true for adults as well as teens. Judaism concentrates on one’s inner life so it should come as little surprise that only the exceptionally self-aware will give it more time and consideration than fashion, among other such things. Add to this rampant commercialism and the cult of celebrity, it is no wonder that young Jews are generally more interested in film stars than in Torah. It is unlikely that any attempts to change this situation would succeed, except, perhaps, for the emergence of a charismatic, observant Jewish film star. Fortunately, as children mature, their interests do change and at some point matters of their inner life become a topic of concern. It is then that Judaism would need an effective public relations campaign to convince our young people that in the marketplace of ideas, Judaism is a good deal. I am, by no means, an advertising expert. I would therefore humbly submit a few slogans. “Judaism: Making the World Better for 4000 Years.” “The Jewish People: Still Around for a Reason.” “Torah: The Better Way.” “Judaism: To Perfect the World Under the Kingship of God and the Fellowship of Humanity.”

Question: The actions of Israel's ex-President, convicted on several counts of rape and sexual harassment, are truly disturbing, especially in light of the fact that he considers himself to be a 'religious' person. What can Judaism teach men in powerful positions about how to treat the women who work for them, before one gets to a place of criminality?

By the wording of your question, you appreciate that there is a difference between what Judaism teaches (what you call TRUE Judaism) and how Jews behave. The case in point is but one example of how even observant Jews do not live up to the standards expected of them. There seems to be a “disconnect” between the noble principles of the Torah – broadly understood – and the Jews who are commanded to observe them. Sometimes, this is a result of “compartmentalization,” that is the conscious or subconscious decision to relegate Jewish values to only one area of life. This explains how some Jews will be dishonest in business but still insist on a strictly kosher diet. The ritual area of Judaism is paramount while other areas are not. More subtly, there are those who uphold ethics in business but argue that applies only to Jews.

The first thing necessary to overcome this is the realization that Judaism is an all-encompassing way of life and that observing one area but not another is not just inconsistent, but hypocritical. This requires considerable courage, particularly if the community of which one is a part acts differently.

The second thing necessary is training. Sexual urges are, as we have learned from the study of psychology, very powerful. And if they are to be curbed and controlled, it requires considerable discipline. Not all Jews can be like Joseph who, at age seventeen, was able to steadfastly resist the temptations of Potiphar’s wife. To overcome these urges required discipline. Perhaps surprisingly, that is one of the purposes of kashrut observance. If one can say ‘No’ to certain albeit tempting foods despite the urge to eat them, then one can say ‘No’ to anything. (And the urge to eat is at least as powerful as the urge for sexual gratification.)

The third thing needed is a full understanding of Judaism that requires “kavod ha-briot,” that is, a full respect for all people. Rape, we are told, is less about sex and more about power. To respect all people means ceding power over them. Tolerance, as an example of respect, means accepting others as they are rather than as you want them to be. That requires abandoning the notion that you can somehow “make” others submit to your view. The same is true in other kinds of human relations.

Unfortunately, the Jewish education system has devoted lots of time to the study of texts (as important as they are) and almost no time in teaching the values that emerge from those texts. Perhaps when this deficiency is corrected, further such episodes will be avoidable.

Historically, rabbinic authorities have worked to minimize the hardships created by the agunah problem because it has consequences for the entire Jewish community. For women who cannot remarry because they are technically “chained” to a marriage that, in effect doesn’t exist, it is a personal tragedy. But to the community there is a larger concern. Should an agunah choose to remarry under civil law or even with the approval of legitimate rabbis who feel she is being done some injustice, any child born to such a marriage is by definition a “mamzer” and that will have a ripple effect. Mamzerim cannot marry anyone other than other mamzerim or converts to Judaism. Some will not discover this fact until it is time to secure a rabbi to officiate at the wedding causing all kinds of grief. Rabbis conforming to tradition will also be compelled to investigate the status of any couple to be sure that each party is marriageable. And for those agunot who found relief through the creative efforts of certain non-Orthodox rabbis, it is not always the case that any such resolution will satisfy all segments in the Jewish community. That means that subsequent children may be categorized as mamzerim by a significant part of the Jewish community. Since we never know who our children will want to marry, they remain at risk of discovering that their marital ambitions might be thwarted. All this means that the agunah problem is more than just a localized problem related to the unwillingness of the religious authorities of one branch of Judaism to use the strategies available to them to solve it.

The Torah is the ultimate authority on Jewish practice. But the Torah is rather terse and was rooted in ancient times. That is why the Torah itself anticipates that new questions would arise under new circumstances and later authorities would be needed to address and solve them. The operative verses are Deuteronomy 17:9-11 which instruct us to follow the decisions made by Jewish religious leaders “in those days,” meaning, in our time. This passage is the warrant for the rabbis to apply the principles of Torah to issues not directly covered by the Torah. In effect, it is the Torah that authorizes the rabbis of the Talmud to make decisions on matters of Jewish law.

Rabbis today are the successors to the rabbis of the Talmud. Hence, to question the authority of the rabbis of the Talmud would essentially call into question the legitimacy of contemporary rabbis.

Question: What are acceptable means of teaching children about matters such as pregnancy and its potential complications? What does Judaism say about how we should teach our children values?
Former President George W. Bush shared in his memoir that when he was a teenager, his mother, Barbara Bush, showed him her miscarried fetus in a jar. Is this kind of approach condoned in Judaism?

In his extensive four-volume Hebrew study of the history of Jewish education, Simhah Assaf cites hundreds of sources from a wide variety of Jewish communities that show just how important it was to inculcate Jewish children with the means of living their lives as knowledgeable and committed Jews.These sources include the syllabi and curricula of Jewish schools, teaching standards, evaluative techniques and more.The reader will notice, however, that the goals in formal Jewish education were to convey information (i.e. teach texts and their meaning) and to provide the practical means for earning a living.Jewish values were not taught apart from texts and skills but were incorporated in them.For example, students learning texts about returning lost property will ineluctably learn about respect for another’s property, conflict resolution, personal responsibility, etc.And students learning about how Moses instructed Joshua to carry out God’s command to attack the Midianites and destroy them rather than do so himself because Moses took refuge in Midian, would also learn the principle that one never forgets a favour.Yet, there is evidence to suggest that values were not always successfully learned or that the subject was too sensitive to teach.For example, the Talmud (Berakhot 62a) reports how a certain student hid under his teacher’s marital bed to learn about sexual intimacy.Clearly, sex education was not part of formal rabbinic studies.

Parents share in teaching their children.In fact, according to the Torah, parents are the primary educators.But not every parent is equipped to succeed in the endeavour and not every method is going to work.Object lessons are sometimes useful and so are physical exhibits.However, care must be taken not to cancel the promotion of one value at the expense of another.Judaism advocates a strict observance of the principle of respect for the dead.So displaying a miscarried fetus may have some educational value in teaching about child development and even sexual responsibility, but it comes close to undermining the value of respect for human remains.Jewish parents may avail themselves of the many books on the market that are less graphic yet equally efficacious in teaching about fetal development.More importantly, Jewish parents should verbalize that sexual activity is not simply a matter of knowing the “plumbimg” but in having self-discipline as well as respect for others and the sanctity of human relations.

Question: How should Jewish workers balance the issues of being treated fairly in the workplace, with maintaining necessary services and infrastructure? A case in point is the recent protests in France by hundreds of thousands of workers who felt mistreated, but whose actions threatened to lead to strikes that could cause gasoline shortages, cuts in train and air travel, bedlam at schools, and cuts to electricity. How does one balance the competing values of self-care with maintaining communal services?

The Talmud (Yoma 38a) reports on what might be considered the first recorded strike in human history.The House of Garmu held the secret of how to prepare the show-bread that was prepared for the Temple.They refused to perform their function unless they received higher wages.In order to break the strike and end their monopoly, other workers were brought in but the substitutes were not as competent and unable to reproduce the same quality bread.Ultimately, the House of Garmu returned to their jobs.

It is particularly since the establishment of the modern state of Israel that workers rights have intersected with essential services.That is to say, should utility workers strike, the entire State may be in jeopardy and the needs of the majority cannot be trumped by the demands of the minority.(See Moshe Silberg’s excellent study Talmudic Law and the Modern State.) Workers rights to organize has been validated by sources as early as Maimonides (Laws of Sale 14:10) and as recent as Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, Hoshen Mishpat 1:58, 59).Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook orally ruled that workers in Israel have a right to organize, press for better working conditions, and even strike if necessary.Yet Rav Kook and Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg advocated submitting any labour dispute to a rabbinic court for resolution.It seems as if rabbinical authority anticipated that some matters have grave consequences and cannot be held hostage by demanding workers.

In effect, workers benefits and communal services must be fairly balanced.

Having recently returned from Israel, I am pleased to report that our prayers have been answered.Mt.Hermon was covered in 30 cm of snow and most of Israel received a significant amount of rainfall.The aquifers are being renewed and LakeKinneret has risen by 3 cm thus averted the impending ecological disaster.

Jews praying for rain in times of drought is not a new phenomenon.It dates back to the early rabbinic period some two millennia ago. The Mishnah Ta’anit is preoccupied with just this procedure.Prayer and fasting and the blowing of the shofar are all included the rituals to combat drought.

The underlying religious doctrine, however, is more complicated.The Torah (Deuteronomy 11) teaches that the withholding of rain is a direct result of national infidelity.In other words, drought is a consequence of sin.Hence, the remedy for drought is not prayer but repentance.Presumably, the rituals mentioned in the Mishnah are predicated on adequate repentance.However, if, as our tradition teaches, the sum total of annual rainfall is predetermined by God at Sukkot, then no subsequent prayers or procedures should be able to change that fact.Otherwise, a significant theological challenge would result.If God’s decision on rainfall can be changed by prayer it suggests that God did not anticipate the possibility that prayers would be offered and accepted, thus calling into question His omniscience.Fortunately, our tradition has chosen to set aside this headache in favour of a favourable practical outcome.

The organization Jews Against Circumcision was established to protest what its members believe to be genital mutilation and a procedure that leaves emotional scars as well as physical ones. Unlike the ancient Jewish Hellenists who avoided circumcision or tried to reverse it, these modern opponents of circumcision are not motivated by a desire to fit in to the majority culture. Theirs is an ethical objection. The claim is that the procedure is medically unnecessary and is tantamount to any other form of intentional injury to a defenceless infant. Parents, on their view, should be protectors of their children rather than instruments for their injury.

Some Jews defend circumcision on the basis of recent medical reports that link circumcision with a significant decrease in penile and cervical cancer and the transmission of AIDS. But this defence is flimsy. Medical reports seems to change: some years doctors advocate circumcision and in other years dismiss it. Besides, Jewish practice ought not be contingent on current scientific opinion which then gives ultimate authority to external experts in determining how Judaism is to be observed. If, for example, nutritionists claimed that kashrut is unhealthy would Jews then be compelled to abandon kashrut?

Interestingly, even those Jews marginally connected with Jewish living still insist on circumcision. It is as much a statement of Jewish identity as it is a mitzvah. So while there will always be some Jews who repudiate circumcision, I do not believe the practice is in jeopardy.

The question that you raise is far more significant. Given a climate in which society has taken a special interest in protecting children from pedophiles, corporal punishment, and other abuses, it may come to a point in which legislation may be proposed to prohibit circumcision. In that case, Jews would be faced with the choice of violating civil law or rejecting Jewish law. First, I do not believe that this will ever happen in the United States or Canada. But in jurisdictions where it might, we may take a cue from the answer given by Moses Mendelssohn to the question of what to do after the Prussian government legislated that burial must be delayed until 72 hours after death. Apparently, a funeral was interrupted when the “deceased” demanded to be released from the casket. He had been in a come and not dead but his pulse was imperceptible. Mendelssohn ruled that the government policy be followed in that it had the function of protecting human life. Thus the Jewish imperative to bury within 24 hours was to be set aside. Jewish boys who are not circumcised are still Jews. And circumcision, if not on the eighth day, may be performed later. Should some government pass anti-circumcision laws, those who go uncircumcised could follow civil law and wait until such time that the government changes its view of the Jews affected move elsewhere.

Question: I consider myself a Conservative Jew, however I have recently begun to consider covering my hair (since I'm married) and only wearing skirts (not pants). I have started by wearing long headbands. What does that make me? Am I still a Conservative Jew? If not, what am I?

The Conservative movement as a movement has not issued rulings on all aspects of Jewish life.And even when decisions are made by the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards of the Rabbinical Assembly, they serve as guides for local rabbis to follow - or not - at their discretion.To the best of my knowledge, hair covering by women has never been the subject of any ruling.I can attest to the fact that there are indeed some women who affiliate with the Conservative movement who do cover their hair and I know some women who affiliate with the Orthodox movement who are lax in covering their hair.Your question suggests that religious identity is determined by one’s dress (a uniform, so to speak) rather than by one’s beliefs or behaviour.Nothing could be more fallacious.(Incidentally, there are ample sources to suggest that hair covering is not a halakhic requirement. See my Perspectives on Jewish Law and Contemporary Issues, p. 369ff. and Michael Broyde, “Hair Covering and Jewish Law: Biblical and Objective or Rabbinic and Subjective?” Tradition 42:3, Fall 2009). So covering your hair will not necessarily disenfranchise you from affiliation with the Conservative movement.What will make a difference is why you choose to cover your hair.Conservative Judaism is rooted in a scientific, historical, and critical – yet respectful and loving – approach to Jewish sources.

If, at the end of the day, after reviewing the sources and analyzing the relevant texts, you determine that the authorities mandating hair-covering are convincing, you are behaving as a Conservative Jew.

In Judaism burial is an inalienable right and rite that cannot be denied even the worst criminal. Burial is predicated on the verse in the Torah (Genesis 3:19) that requires returning to earth what was originally created from the earth. But the laws regarding burial were legislated by the rabbis. From what we may gather from a variety of sources is that, according to the rabbis, the same differences between Jews and non-Jews we uphold in life continue even after death. Thus, while we have an obligation to look after the burial of non-Jews if there is no one else to look after the burial (Gittin 61a), we do not bury them together with Jews (RaShI ad. loc. and RaShBA).

Aside from some exceptions, like the burial of fallen Jewish soldiers among their non-Jewish comrades, the attitude remains that Jews and non-Jews are buried separately.

In his classic study of Jewish Magic and Superstition, Joshua Trachtenberg describes the various strategies employed by humanity in its constant war against the demonic forces inherent in the world. It is particularly in moments of crisis, transition, or happiness that these demonic forces are particularly active and intent in doing harm. Even the slightest opening might allow some advantage to the evil eye or evil spirits. Today, we fail to grasp how pervasive and how powerful this thinking once was. And many of the behaviour patterns we follow are echoes of this way of thinking.

Along these lines, the birth of children is a momentous and happy event but also one of potential danger. Thus, announcing the name of the boy in advance of the brit milah or buying baby furniture before the birth makes the child vulnerable to demonic harm. It alerts the spirit world that a baby is on the way and allows them the opportunity for mischief.

Rabbis, among others, doubted the existence or the powers of such demonic forces – as are most moderns, however, that that did not prevent them from being cautious. Under the motto: ‘It is best to be heedful,’ practices rooted entirely in superstition became part of normative Jewish behaviour. I suppose for some, that is reason enough to follow them.

Among the fundamental differences between Judaism and Christianity is the fact that Christians are obsessed with getting to heaven while Jews are preoccupied with making earthly life heavenly.In other words, Judaism – pragmatically – is more concerned with the “here and now” rather than the “hereafter.”Logically, that is easy to understand:any statement regarding another plane of existence is speculative only.There is no hard evidence to prove or disprove any view about the great beyond.Consequently, Judaism prefers to act on doing those things that are in the domain of the possible rather than debate those things that are in the realm of the imaginative.

Having said all this, it would be wrong to conclude that Judaism has nothing to say about an afterlife or that the concept is foreign to Judaism.Quite the contrary: belief in a “world to come” and its particular manifestations are discussed in the Talmud and Midrash, the Apocrypha, and Kabbalistic literature.But the actual details are subject to wide differences of opinion.

Positing a “world to come” offers an effective response to the thorny question of how evil exists in a world created by a good and all-powerful God.Rather than conclude that God is neither all good nor all-powerful, belief in an afterlife allows for treating the question as one to be answered in due course.What seems to be unjust in this world will be levelled in the next world.If, in this world, good people suffer, in the next world they will be rewarded many times over.And if, in this world, wicked people prosper, in the next world they will be punished many times over.

I would recommend reading Simcha Paull Raphael’s comprehensive book entitled Jewish Views of the Afterlife, published in 1996.

Sometimes directives are not to be followed.There are higher principles at work and these principles trump personal choice. For example, if someone says to another “Torture me,” the imperative carries no weight and any listener would disregard the statement no matter the relationship between the two.Philosophically, the reason is clear: our bodies are not our personal property to do with as we please.Rather, they are on loan from God, as it were, and must be treated with the utmost reverence.The reverence we give to the person extends even after death.Here, the operative principle is “kavod ha-met.”In light of this principle, a number of practices are contrary to Jewish law.For example, leaving a body unattended, or mutilating a corpse, or embalming the dead, or viewing the body are all violations of the principle of “kavod ha-met.”And so is cremation, regardless of any exceptions in early Jewish history.The Jewish ideal is to return the body to the earth from which the very first human being was created (Genesis 3:19), bringing life full circle.With all this in mind, the surviving family members must ignore the instructions previously given by the decedent and not cremate the body. What may complicate things is the fact that not all the surviving family members may be in agreement and the fact that even after knowing what Judaism demands, the family may choose to ignore it.Also keep in mind that many rabbis will not officiate at a funeral when cremation will ensue.

To answer your question on what constitutes the “good life” for Jews, I point to a single word in the Torah and a single book in the Bible. And the latter qualifies the former. The culmination of the priestly blessing is “shalom” (Numbers 6:26). “Shalom” is not simply peace in the sense of the absence of war. “Shalom” is “wholeness” from the Hebrew root “shalem.” The ultimate blessing is feeling whole, at peace. To achieve that desired end, the Book of Ecclesiastes is instructive. In short, the narrative tells of a person of means (who tradition identifies as King Solomon) who tries every conceivable activity to gain satisfaction: wine, debauchery, music, philosophy. Yet everything he tries falls short. He even contemplates taking his own life yet realizes that will make no difference in the scheme of things. Rather than cynically conclude that life is meaningless and happiness is unattainable, the author comes to the surprising conclusion that in the end, the only thing that is worth pursuing is the Torah! In the penultimate verse of the Book (12:13), he says: “…all things having been heard: revere God and keep His commandments for this is the whole man.” If we are, like Ecclesiastes, searching for purposefulness, joy, and fulfillment – the essence of a good life – the message is that we can find it in the practice of Judaism.

The Sho’ah – more than any other event in Jewish history – remains a theological challenge for Judaism in general and rabbis in particular. That is because the Sho’ah exacerbates the already difficult question of theodicy. Monotheists have historically grappled with the problem of explaining how - if God is both all good and all powerful - there can be evil in the world. Either God is content to let evil exist (in that case we question his goodness) or God is unable to defeat evil (in that case we question his omnipotence). In either case, God, as we conceive God, would be deficient. And that would be contrary to the premise that God is perfect. As hard as it was in the past to imagine a way out of this dilemma, it has become infinitely harder because of the scope and magnitude of the evil of the Sho’ah. It is representative of what one contemporary philosopher calls “radical evil.”

Accordingly, the traditional answers to the provocative questions of why did God allow so many innocents to suffer and why didn’t God intervene, have proven insufficient and unsatisfying. The Torah (e.g. Leviticus 26:3-39) ascribes physical suffering with sin. Yet is would be impossible to argue that the one million child victims of the Sho’ah died because of sin. Minors are not accountable for their actions according to Jewish law and what sins babies could have committed is inexplicable. And the Talmud’s suggestion (Berakhot 5a) that sometimes suffering is a manifestation of God’s love is not very convincing to the victims, the survivors, or to observers.

Consequently, rabbis and thinkers in the post-Sho’ah era have generated alternative answers other than the Jobian Solution that no explanation is possible because human beings can never understand how God operates. For example, Rabbi Eliezer Berkowitz valiantly explained that God was present but temporarily hid His face. In the end, however, God conquers evil. Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe, made the outrageous claim that the Sho’ah was punishment for the sin of Zionism. Philosopher Will Herberg and others argued that the real question to ask was not “where was God?” but “where was humanity?” Elie Weisel admits that “after the Sho’ah it is difficult to live with God, but it is impossible to live without him.” And Emil Fackenheim wrote that despite the unanswerable questions if Jews fail to remain steadfast we would be granting Hitler a posthumous victory. Rabbi Richard Rubenstein suggested that after Auschwitz everything has changed – even the way Jews conceptualize God.

Perhaps too little time has passed for Judaism to have fashioned an adequate theological response to the cataclysm called the Sho’ah. But it is clear that the Sho’ah remains a central concern in Jewish theology.

Question: What are the basic differences between Christianity and Judaism (apart from the Christian belief in the divinity of Jesus Christ)? How do these differences show up in what we are told is ethical and correct behavior?

Trude Weiss-Rosmarin authored a wonderful little book entitled Judaism and Christianity: The Differences. Unfortunately, it is out of print. But locating a copy would be immensely useful. I will not focus on the obvious differences - like Judaism’s pure monotheism and Christianity’s trinitarianism or Judaism’s insistence on God’s indivisibility and incorporeality – but, as you ask, on the differences that impact on ethical behaviour. A caveat: all things I am about to say about Christianity should not be interpreted as disrespectful. I believe that all religions that teach respect for all people and aim to better our world are to be valued. But all religions are not the same and it is important to consider the differences.

First and foremost, Judaism’s conception of human beings is essentially different than Christianity, at least according to the Roman Catholic division. For all Christians up to the time of the Protestant Reformation, human beings were held to be born in sin. How to change that sad circumstance became the subject of much debate among Christians. But the attitude that people are inherently bad was characteristic of Christianity of this period. Judaism held that while human beings are sometimes guilty of terrible crimes, it is not a function of birth but of choice. To put it differently, Christians believed that human beings sin because they are sinners, while Jews believe that human beings sin because they are human. As the Book of Ecclesiates (7:20) puts it: “there is not a righteous man upon the earth that does only good and never sins.” But sinning, in Judaism, is attributed to what we chose to do, good or bad, not the fact that we were born. Human beings, on the Jewish view, are born morally neutral and with the capacity to do good or evil. What we choose to do is what determines our character.

Now since Christianity is based on a fundamentally negative opinion of human beings, it is entirely understandable why Christianity developed as it did. The ideal life for Christians is the monastic. Living in splendid isolation, these champions of the spiritual life are shielded from the evils of the outside world. And the ideal objective for Christians is to get to heaven where they can find eternal bliss, in contrast to this sinful world, a “vale of tears.” Judaism, in contrast, advocated engagement with the world and its transformation. The only monastic order in Jewish history (the Dead Sea sect) had a very short life-span. Otherwise, Jews acted to make this world heavenly rather than find a route to Heaven. Hence, Jews have always been connected with social movements for change, from political revolutions to union organizing. Jews remain the most charitable ethnic group in the world. The much-abused term “Tikkun Olam” is still worth citing as a Jewish pre-occupation. Jews see the world in need of repair and act to fix it, not escape from it.

Judaism also insists on personal accountability. When Catholics confess and request absolution, they do so to a third party and penance, more often than not, takes the form of ritual acts. Jews, however, must reconcile directly with the party wronged and restitution must be made prior to any ritual is performed. Without personal accountability, it is, from the Jewish perspective, impossible to get people to take responsibility seriously.

Lastly, consider our major holidays. While we celebrate the Days of Awe, the underlying theme is one of introspection. We evaluate our behaviour, admit mistakes, and resolve to do better. In other words, our most sacred days are spent in contemplating how we can improve ourselves and the world. This is hardly the stuff of Christmas or Easter.

Question: It seems that as people are increasingly aware of where their food comes from and how the animals they consume are treated while alive, kosher eating might become more popular, even amongst non-Jews. How does the safe treatment of animals for consumption fit within kashrut dietary laws, and what is the modern take on non-Jews eating kosher as a way to eat healthier and more fairly?

According to Menachem Lubinsky, founder and president of LUBICOM, one of the foremost companies tracking the marketing of kosher food in the world, the vast majority of consumers of kosher food are non-Jews. When questioned, non-Jewish consumers report that they believe kosher foods to be purer, healthier, safer, and more environmentally friendly. All of this is good news for the Jewish consumer. It is the purchase of kosher products by the non-Jewish public that keeps the costs down. That is to say, if the kosher food industry had to rely only on Jewish consumers, the range of products available would be smaller and the price of those products would be dramatically higher. So non-Jews have already concluded that there is an advantage to buying kosher food products despite the costs. It is hard to imagine the numbers growing to a percentage higher than it already is.

Temple Grandin, a world-respected authority on animal care (and subject of a recent award-winning documentary) has long insisted that the kosher slaughter of meat is relatively painless and superior to other modes of slaughter, despite the ongoing campaign to ban shehitah around the world (Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and now, New Zealand). The problem, however, lies in the treatment of animals before slaughter. While it is true that Jewish law demands that animals be protected from unnecessary pain, there is wide latitude in treatment accorded animals before that threshold is crossed. Calves raised for veal are still subject to what some may call mistreatment. If kashrut supervising agencies would be willing to certify the mode of treatment of animals before slaughter as well as certifying the propriety of meat during and after slaughter, an even stronger public relations case could be made.

All the surveys seem to show that belief in God is high among Americans of all ethnic groups and religions except for Jews. Perhaps it is because we Jews historically have been trained to be sceptical and questioning. The same scepticism that Abraham had for idolatry, according to our legends, we – ironically – now have for belief in God. Perhaps Jewish belief is a function of higher education. The same surveys indicate that belief in God declines in direct proportion to educational achievement. That is to say, those with advanced degrees tend to characterize themselves as those with weaker beliefs than those without. Since Jews tend to be high academic achievers, we can see the results.

A few observations are in order. First, some people have almost in innate religious capacity. Some neuroscientists today have argued that human beings are hard-wired for belief, although it is not uniformly manifested across the population. Even those people who deny any strong belief in God will, in times of stress, call on divine assistance. (Thus the old saw: there are no atheists in fox-holes.”) Second, people are hardly ever convinced by argument to believe in God. Since the Middle Ages many European thinkers believed that God’s existence could be demonstrated by logical argument and, once presented with the evidence, doubters would have no choice but to believe. Even the Midrash (cf. Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, Vol. 1, p.193) asserts that Abraham engaged in these kinds of polemics. But today, the idea of using reason to convince the head to accept God when the heart refuses has all but been abandoned. Third, the single greatest obstacle to monotheistic belief is the problem of evil. That the God we claim to exist is good and all powerful and yet evil is real and persists is a dilemma requiring either the denial that God is all good or that God is all powerful. In either case, the God that remains is lessened and allegiance to that God is questionable. After the Sho’ah – unimaginable evil - the dilemma is even sharper. Fourth, Judaism has maintained that practice trumps belief. That is to say, what counts is how we behave, not what we believe. Thus, the rabbis imagined God saying; “Would that they [meaning Israel] had forsaken Me and observed My Torah…” (Lamentations Rabbah, Introduction). On this view, belief in Judaism remains an open question. But practice is essential and necessary. Consequently, many more books are published today on Jewish practice than on Jewish belief. Lastly, some authorities have simply made belief in God a command rather than an option. Nahmanides, for example, in his commentary to Deuteronomy 6:4, sees no need to explain how to come to belief but only demand that one believes.

With these observations, I would suggest a heavy dose of Heschel. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel (d. 1972) has written the single most important book on the subject in the modern period: Man’s Quest for God. It would be an injustice for me to even try to capture the stylistic beauty of his prose. But his main idea is easily captured: belief in God is a consequence of standing in awe at the world in which we live. When one feels exposed to a power greater than oneself, one is on the way to God. When one feels a longing for meaning, one begins a search for God. When one’s soul aspires to greater heights, one is living under the influence of God. Ultimately, these are the aspects of belief.

In his role of preaching hope and encouragement to the Babylonian exiles, the prophet Jeremiah (Chapter 29) gives specific instructions on how Jews are to live among their “hosts.” He tells them to settle in: build homes, plant gardens, marry and grow families. He also adds that the exiles should “seek the peace of the city where I [meaning God] have caused you to be carried away captive and pray unto the Lord for it; for in the peace thereof you shall have peace” (v. 7). “Seeking the peace of the city” has historically been understood as participating in the welfare of the countries in which we have lived. Voting in elections can certainly be construed as participation in the democratic process that best assures the welfare of society. While there is no legal obligation to vote, there is indeed a civic obligation and, if not an actual Jewish legal obligation, voting is certainly interpretable as a prophetic instruction.

Question: I don't make a lot of money but I am able to live comfortably. I know the importance that Judaism places on tzedakah, but is there some specific standard that I should be trying to reach regarding what I give to charities?

There are indeed specific standards for charitable giving according to Jewish law. The standards are not just limited to how much one gives but to whom one gives. Here is a brief summary.

The Torah specifically enjoins all Jews to be generous to those who are in need (Deuteronomy 16:7, 8). And since there was always someone worse off than himself or herself, even those considered poor had to give to those who were poorer (Babylonian Talmud, Gittin 7b). It was left to the rabbis, however, to quantify what the Torah meant. Thus there was a rabbinic minimum of charitable giving by a living person (one-third of a shekel annually) and a rabbinic maximum (no more than one-fifth of one’s assets, Ketubot 50a). Anyone who gave away more would risk self-pauperization and make himself or herself a candidate for communal support. If charitable giving is designed to prevent people from becoming wards of the community, giving away too much would defeat that very purpose.

After death, people may bequeath to charity up to a third of the estate (She’iltot D’Rav Hai, Terumah, end), with the bulk of the estate going to family The average person was expected to donate one tenth of his or her annual income (Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 249:1). Thus far, I have accounted for the rules of how much to give.

To whom to give is also a subject of Jewish law. Rabbi Joseph Karo (Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 251:3) includes a hierarchy of giving, beginning with those closest to the donor (parents and then children and then other family members) and thereafter widening the circle of giving to include others (neighbours, fellow countrymen, and those abroad). Interestingly, providing for residents of Israel takes precedence over providing for those who live outside of Israel.

These standards, incidentally, are not enforceable. They are entirely voluntary but quite sensible.

Even during Biblical times the prophets criticized those who mechanically participated in the sacrificial cult while oppressing the poor and ignoring the plight of widows and orphans.The Book of Job is also illuminating.While the rabbis held that Job was not a Jew, the issues in the text are issues with which Jews were grappling.Thus when a friend of Job argues that perhaps his troubles resulted from a delinquency or deficiency in practice, he argues that he committed no ethical violation.Not a single point of defence he offers affirms his ritual rigor but his virtue.What the text comes to teach is that ethical behaviour is the measure of a worthy life.But not everyone measures up.So the disconnect you observe between the ideals of Judaism and what Jews actually practice is, unfortunately, an old and pervasive one.

Part of the problem lies in the phenomenon of compartmentalization by which people focus on one aspect of religious behaviour rather than observe all religious teachings holistically.Thus some will be quite diligent in prayer and kashrut – areas that define a person’s relationship with God - but lax in areas that define interpersonal relationships.Further, some have convinced themselves only those within their own insular community are worthy of being treated with respect and dignity.The Talmud also recognized that sometimes we become victims of ethical inertia.Once an illicit behaviour pattern sets in, it is difficult to break.We simply become accustomed to doing what is wrong – like speeding or jaywalking.And of course human nature plays a role.We are fallible creatures who, while not born in sin, are easily corruptible.

The challenge, as you note, is to change all this.It is not easy.First, a person needs to be self-motivated.Without an inner impulse to admit one’s failings and improve, there is little hope that change is possible.In addition, a person must have the courage to remain true to his or her ideals despite the fact that others violate them.Second, one needs a supportive community, that is, a community that insists on keeping to the standards of ethical conduct.And third, one needs a program for transformation.A revival in the teachings of Mussar is welcome.Mussar was the program by which study and committed observance of Torah is supplemented with directions and insights for noble living.Consider the illustrative story of the yeshivah student who boasted to his teacher that he had gone through the Talmud seven times only to hear his teacher ask how many times the Talmud has been through him.In other words, the objective is not to acquire data but to be ethically improved.

An addendum: Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook once taught that the purely righteous do not complain against wickedness but add goodness.Rather that bemoan what others are doing or not doing – actions outside our control – it is imperative that we look after how we can better ourselves.

Question: Today, in Israel, there is a question of the law as seen by the Rabbinate as opposed to the Knesset. I refer to the book, "Torat Hamelech". I believe the stated rabbinical position would be the end of Israel. What is the position of the Orthodox rabbinate of North America? The Conservative rabbinate? The Reform rabbinate?

I have not read the book so I can comment only on the news reports that have followed the publication of Torat HaMelekh in November 2009.According to the report that appeared in the “Forward,” the authors, Rabbis Yitzhak Shapira and Yosef Elitzur, assert that the Torah’s prohibition against murder applies only to Jews who kill Jews.The implication of this assertion is that there is no such prohibition against Jews killing non-Jews.But that position would be hard to defend.The Talmud (cf. Sanhedrin 57a) teaches that all innocent life is protected by Jewish law.That is to say, unless there is clear evidence that a person is a wrong-doer, the taking of his or her life is prohibited.At the very outset of his articulation of the laws regarding murder and the preservation of human life, Maimonides states categorically:“Anyone who kills a human being violates the negative command ‘Do not murder.’”Maimonides makes no distinction between Jews and non-Jews.And the author of Sefer HaHinukh (Law 34), reputedly Rabbi Aaron Halevi, argues that killing any innocent human being defeats God’s plan of populating and civilizing the world.Again, the author makes no distinction between Jews and non-Jews.These few references are merely suggestive of the entire thrust of Jewish law is to understand that homicide applies to any human being (cf. George Horowitz, The Spirit of Jewish Law, p.191).If the rest of the book includes assertions that are as extravagant as this one, I would have little choice but to view it with the same disdain as many of the critics have already indicated.

Question: I heard that shomer negiah applies to siblings past the age of puberty and other family members. I do not understand why such a law should apply to people who are related. Can you please explain this to me?

Maimonides explains that the Torah prohibits contact of men with certain women as a way of preventing illicit sexual relationships (Mishnah Torah, Laws of Forbidden Sexual Intercourse 21:1). Specifically, he points to the verse in Leviticus (18:6) that warns against “coming near” (in later Jewish literature: “touching”) those for whom a sexual relationship is proscribed. Accordingly, the restriction would apply to any member of the opposite sex categorized as an “ervah,” that is, a forbidden partner. However, Rabbi Joseph Karo (Shulhan Arukh, Even HaEzer 21:7) acknowledges that there are some relationships that we might call “Platonic.” These relationships involve no sexual excitation and no temptation at all, like the love of father for his daughter or for his adult sister or aunt (and, by extension to other familial relations, cf. Beit Shmuel ad. loc).

Of course, we are all painfully aware of aberrant behaviour that seems to contradict the underlying assumption. But Jewish law and its pre-suppositions are based on normal, not abnormal, circumstances. Needless to say, there are those who rigidly adhere to the rules without acceptance of the exceptions allowed under Jewish law. But it is perfectly acceptable for members of the same family to show affection without fear of being in violation of the Torah.

There is a passage in the Talmud (Kiddushin 81b) that allows a man to be alone with and live together with his mother and sister and even sleep together with them (although the Talmud reports how it once led to disaster.) This is followed by another passage in which the Talmud distinguishes between minor family members and those who have reached puberty. According to Rabbi Joseph Karo (op. cit.), the implication of this passage is that no contact whatsoever is allowed between siblings who have reached puberty and between parents and their adult children. But Rabbi Joshua Falk (Perishah, E.H. 21) explains that the prohibition applies only to adult family members sleeping together. Hugging and kissing, he says explicitly, is allowed.

No doubt, you have been made aware of what the Shulhan Arukh says. But Rabbi Joshua Falk is a credible halakhic authority whose view is just as compelling.

Question: Some people feel it is better not to tell a person information that they feel would be hurtful to them. Is leaving information out considered lying and is that acceptable or an act that needs forgiveness?

Most interesting is the fact that the Torah never precludes lying per se. Rather, it commands us to distance ourselves from falsity (Exodus 23:7). So while there is an explicit law against lying for personal gain (Leviticus 19:11) or as a witness (Exodus20:14), there is no law forbidding lying universally. That is to say, lying for good reason is not only justifiable, but meritorious. Compare this view with the categorical imperative of the great German philosopher Immanuel Kant. On Kant’s view, if lying is forbidden, it is forbidden under any circumstance. But we can imagine circumstances in which lying would be ethical. Suppose a (polite) serial killer came knocking on your door asking if your mother was home so that he could dispatch her. And let assume she was indeed at home. I think everyone would agree that if by lying you could forestall the death of your innocent mother, lying would be the right things to do. Kant would hold you accountable for violating an ethical standard but Judaism would not.

The Talmud (Ketubot 15b) records an early scholarly debate on whether or not it would be justified to offer a compliment to a bride, saying she is beautiful and pious, when she - by any factual standard – is not. Jewish law follows the view that says a compliment in this circumstance is precisely what is warranted. The Talmud (Ta’anit 20b) also tells us how a certain rabbi was condemnable because he truthfully told someone he was ugly. Telling the hurtful truth, it seems, is wrong. That conclusion is supported by another passage (Baba Metzia 23b-24a) that allows a scholar to lie if it means preserving humility, privacy, or protecting others from unfair solicitations. Moreover, there are a number of examples in Rabbinic literature (cf. e.g. Yevamot 65b) where lying to promote peace or create harmony – like complimenting the bride - is encouraged.

Rather than lying – even when it is authorized – some people prefer to be more evasive and simply omit some facts or engage in circumlocutions. This is understandable but entirely unnecessary. To be clear, Judaism does not give a blanket endorsement to lying. But our tradition has come to the pragmatic conclusion that an absolute insistence on truth-telling would not serve every social circumstance.

Question: Is there a Jewish viewpoint on the immigration law passed recently in Arizona? Are we supposed to make a concerted effort to welcome others because of our own history of being shut out or expelled from other countries?

There is a significant difference between treating resident aliens compassionately – which is a quintessential Jewish value that emerges from the Torah (cf. e.g. Leviticus 19:33; Deuteronomy 10:19) - and determining which people are to be suitably welcomed as resident aliens. The same Torah that enjoins us to remember our own history of depredation in the attempt to sensitize us to the plight of the resident alien also enjoins us to exclude the Ammonite and Moabite (Deuteronomy 23:4) from residency altogether. Apparently the Torah concedes that there are some people who are “undesirables.” Whether this applies to current events is an arguable point. (A careful reading of the Torah may lead us to conclude that the Moabites and Ammonites are only excluded from marriage with Jews and not from residency among Jews.) But the Torah frames all of these laws in the context of a Jewish society operating by Jewish law. This surely is not the case in the United States. Rabbi David Novak, in another context (The Sanctity of Human Life [2007]), raises the problem of how – if at all- Jewish law is to inform public policy when public policy aims at serving broader interests. It is a question that brooks an easy answer. We would do well to retain our sense of compassion but resist the urge to make it the determining factor of political policy.

The second chapter of the First Book of Maccabees tells of a time in Jewish history when self-defence, particularly on Shabbat, was a debatable Jewish value. Ultimately, the view that costs many of our people their lives was replaced by the view that self-defence is warranted. Today, there is no question that self-defence is justified in Jewish law. The Talmud (Berkahot 58a and parallels) advises that if one comes to kill you, get up earlier and kill him first. Whether or not gun control impedes the warrant to defend oneself is matter of dispute in modern times when guns are accessible and sometimes used, to put it mildly, for unjustified purposes.

I grew up with young adults who spent their summers in Zionist camps learning how to shoot. Under the influence of Ze’ev Vladimir Jabotinsky, some Jews ardently held that good marksmanship was necessary in a world hostile to Jews. This same kind of thinking was endorsed by Rabbi Meir Kahane who once advocated ‘Every Jew a .22!’ To them, gun control was a threat to Jewish survival. In contrast, in 1999 Rabbi Eric Yoffie, leader of the Reform movement, linked guns with genocide and equated the U.S. gun lobby with what he termed “the criminal lobby.” Rabbi Yoffie argues that it was in the best interests of all citizens, including Jews, to restrict the availability of firearms.

There is no uniform position on gun control even in the same religious movement. Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz of Montreal writes that gun control could be justified under the laws of preserving public safety. After the Torah (Deut. 22:8) instructs Jews to build parapets on the roof of their homes, the Talmud (Baba Kama 15b) extends the underlying principle to include the removal of any safety hazard. Similarly, the Talmud (Baba Kama 79a) bans uncontrolled dangerous animals from inhabited areas, extended by the Shulhan Arukh (Hoshen Mishpat 409:3) to other matters as well. And the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 15b) limits dangerous weapons being put in the hands of aggressors or would-be criminals. The implication here is that some significant screening is justified. Nevertheless, Rabbi Steinmetz does not conclude that gun control is contrary to Jewish law. Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein takes a more philosophical position noting that so long as human beings have an urge to do evil, they will find a way. Controlling guns, therefore, will not produce the desired effect.

In 1993 the United Synagogue for Conservative Judaism passed a resolution in favour of gun control, re-affirmed in the 1995 support of the Brady Bill banning assault weapons.

Question: What does Judaism say about regret? I'm not talking about regretting sins that I've committed, I'm talking about choices that I made and things I didn't do that I should have done that would have changed my life for the better. Thanks.

When Jacob our Patriarch appears before Pharaoh he is more than wistful in discussing his personal history; he seems genuinely regretful (Genesis 47). Of course as Jews we tend to be particularly focused on evaluating wrongful deeds rather than mistaken paths, but even the latter finds expression in our tradition. The many ethical wills that have been published are, to a great extent, inclusive of advice given as a result of previous experience. Often, bad experience is what shapes that advice. There is no shame in wondering whether or not things could have been done better or differently. Healthy regret is not a fault but a manifestation of a thoughtful and self-evaluative soul.

The Book of Jonah includes a number of themes but evangelizing is not one of them. Jonah is not asked to convert the residents of Nineveh to Judaism but only in saving them from punishment if they fail to repent from their sins. This corresponds to the Jewish attitude that salvation is achieved through noble action rather than through the acceptance of a particular religious doctrine. This idea finds its classical expression in the Talmudic statement that asserts that all the righteous - whether Jews or non-Jews – have a share in the World to Come. The litmus test for salvation is not religious homogeneity but virtue. Accordingly, there is no need to actively convert non-Jews to Judaism. The prophet Zekhariah, likewise, imagines a future time when all people will come to acknowledge the One God, but that does not necessarily entail the practice of Judaism. In sum, Judaism wants the world to be good and does not need the world to be Jewish.

It is well known that Jewish identity follows the religious status of the mother. If the birth mother is Jewish, the child is Jewish. Thus according to all authorities, if a woman converts to Judaism before her baby is born, the child born is Jewish and no conversion is necessary. However, there is a dispute among the latest rabbinic authorities on the question of whether the birth mother or the egg donor determines the religious status of the baby. There are some authorities who hold that maternal relationship is established by conception rather than birth (cf. sources cited by Rabbi J. D. Bleich in “Test Tube Babies,” Jewish Bioethics, ed. Rosner and Bleich, 1979). But the majority opinion is that Jewish identity follows the religious status of the nurturing mother, that is, the mother who brought the baby to term. Consequently, if the birth mother is Jewish, the child is Jewish and no conversion is necessary.

Question: If a child is called to the Torah as a Bar Mitzvah, if the father has passed away, and a step father is taking the parental duties, how should the child be called to the torah by name, as ben birthfather or stepfather's name? is it possible to call him up as both to respect both men

Respect for parents is a very weighty commandment. And the consensus of later authorities is that the same respect pertains to step-parents (cf. e.g. Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 240:21) so long as the relationship between the step-parent and the biological parent obtains. Respect for parents includes standing in their presence, never calling them by their given names, serving them, and even financially supporting them if they are in need. But none of the sources of which I am aware ever considers adding a patronymic as a way to show respect to a step-parent.

To be sure, the classical authorities may not have ever been faced with this question. But I suspect that even if they were, they would likely not oblige. That is because tampering with one’s Jewish name means tampering with one’s legacy. A person’s given name and father’s given name (the patronymic) is a person’s means of official identification. It asserts paternity and even status (if one’ father is a Kohen or Levi, for example).

Accordingly, any confusion of names may call into question either of those two components. This may also explain why the righteous kings of Israel and Judah are still identified in the Bible as the sons of their fathers who were irredeemably evil. Here, the natural tendency would be to suppress mentioning their fathers’ names which would save their righteous sons from embarrassment. But there seems to be an underlying principle that the patronymic may not be altered. In the case at hand, there is no issue of embarrassment. Rather, it is one of pride and appreciation. Nonetheless, the same principle would be at work.

There are other avenues to honour the step-father during the Bar Mitzvah ceremony, limited only by the imagination of the officiating rabbi and the rules that govern the site where the celebration takes place, whether in a synagogue or elsewhere. But the name by which the Bar Mitzvah should be called to the Torah ought to be with the biological patronymic only. And may our people be blessed with many others who hold their step-fathers in such high esteem.

THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.