The ways of G-d are hidden and mysterious; they have never been crystal clear to man. Only a finite and mortal god can be fully known and understood by finite and mortal man. But who will worship a mortal god? By the same token, only an infinite and immortal mind can fathom the infinite and immortal G-d. But who among us has an infinite and immortal mind?

Given these obvious facts, it is difficult for a mortal mind to fathom the ease and eagerness with which other mortal minds presume to reveal divine secrets. For whenever some major catastrophe strikes, there are always those who leap forward with reasons and explanations. Whether it be a bridge collapse, a massive air disaster or a plague, inevitably a religious leader stands up and tells the world precisely why this happened.

Tsunamis, we are informed, strike certain countries because they disregard G-d; floods inundate populous areas because they are flooded with vice; hurricanes devastate cities because of overweening pride. It is as if every catastrophe were to have its own menu of ... Read More >>]]> I am not able to worship a G-d Whose ways are all crystal clear to me – attributed to the Kotzker Rebbe (1787-1859)

The ways of G-d are hidden and mysterious; they have never been crystal clear to man. Only a finite and mortal god can be fully known and understood by finite and mortal man. But who will worship a mortal god? By the same token, only an infinite and immortal mind can fathom the infinite and immortal G-d. But who among us has an infinite and immortal mind?

Given these obvious facts, it is difficult for a mortal mind to fathom the ease and eagerness with which other mortal minds presume to reveal divine secrets. For whenever some major catastrophe strikes, there are always those who leap forward with reasons and explanations. Whether it be a bridge collapse, a massive air disaster or a plague, inevitably a religious leader stands up and tells the world precisely why this happened.

Tsunamis, we are informed, strike certain countries because they disregard G-d; floods inundate populous areas because they are flooded with vice; hurricanes devastate cities because of overweening pride. It is as if every catastrophe were to have its own menu of cause and effect. For those who have direct lines to the heavenly throne, nothing that G-d does is mysterious or hidden. His actions are always readily understandable; simply check the menu.

THE HAITI catastrophe is the latest case in point. Even before the bodies were buried, the omniscient ones girded their loins and informed the world why all this took place. One well-known evangelist announced that Haiti was struck because of its idolatrous practices. Not to be outdone, others have added their voices to the celestial choir, each with his own explanatory litany.

One wonders: If these revered gentlemen are so certain that Haitian behavior caused the earthquake to occur, why did they not warn Haitians on January 8 – days before the earthquake – rather than on January 13, the day after? An early warning would have been very helpful, and would have underscored their credentials as true prophets. The essential difference between a genuine prophet and a would-be prophet is that the genuine ones – a Moses, a Jeremiah, an Isaiah – declared in advance that abominable behavior would lead to abominable results.

Israel, for example was warned by the prophets that their abandonment of G-d would result in G-d’s abandonment of them, and that destruction, exile and dispersion would follow. They spoke of such things before the disaster. Today’s omniscient ones contribute their insights after the tragedy.

None of this is to deny that such tragedies raise legitimate questions in the minds of mortal man. The issue of theodicy – how to explain divine providence in the face of human catastrophe – has troubled mankind from time immemorial: Where is G-d in all this? How can a good G-d permit such disasters in His universe? Why the Holocaust?

These are not new questions. Mankind has always grappled with them. An entire book of the Bible – Job – deals with this issue. No less than Moses himself, and Rabbi Akiva, and Rabbi Yannai, and others in our sacred literature have all struggled with the ultimate questions of good and evil. Why do innocent people die? Why are there tragedies? – painful and agonizing questions from those who want to believe in a just G-d.

For it is perfectly legitimate to ask, to probe, to want to know why. There is in fact a certain majesty and nobility in man’s persistent attempts to plumb the depths of the infinite. But this must be done not with arrogance but with humility before the one above, in full realization that – although there surely are ultimate answers – these answers may remain hidden from us, just as G-d Himself is hidden from us.

The wannabe contemporary prophets who make confident pronouncements about His hidden ways would do well to consider what R. Yannai declares in Avot 4:14: It is not in our power to understand the tranquility of the wicked and the suffering of the righteous – to which Rashi adds, “The matter is not given over into our hands, but is in the hands of the Holy One blessed is He.” Even Moses, the greatest of all prophets – he who speaks with his creator face to face, and whom G-d describes as “in all My house he is the trustful one” – is not granted the answer to this ultimate question.

In Exodus 33, Moses asks G-d, “Show me Thy ways” and “Show me Thy glory.” What Moses is really asking, according to the sages in Berachot 7a, is why the righteous suffer, and why the wicked prosper.

G-d’s reply is shrouded in mystery. Go down, He says, into the cleft of the rock, and there, after My presence passes by, “you shall see My back, but My face shall not be seen” (Exodus 33:23). That is to say, man might dimly perceive why certain events take place long after they have occurred – after G-d passes by – but mortal man can never fully comprehend the hidden ways of how He chooses to administer His universe. As the psalmist phrases it in 36:7, “Thy judgments are a great deep…”

Were Moses alive today he would not have to bother descending into the bedrock of the universe, there to receive a fearsome lesson in theodicy. He would need only to read the daily papers, dial up some Internet blogs or read the pronouncements of some of our omniscient contemporary religious leaders, and presto! he would arrive at easy answers to all his questions.

TO BE sure, whenever disaster struck Jewish communities, rabbinic leaders tried to strengthen faith and lift spirits by calling for repentance and greater adherence to G-d and Torah. But these were not efforts to enter G-d’s infinite mind. Rather, they were classic attempts to reestablish connections with G-d where the connections had been badly frayed. Whenever disaster strikes, says Maimonides, one must cry out to G-d and not ascribe events to anonymous forces of nature (Ta’aniyot 1: 1-3). But he cautions that His actions are not subject to a one-size-fits-all formula. Those who attempt to enter the mind of G-d, he asserts at the end of Talmud Berachot (citing Bava Kama 91a) have “plunged into mighty waters and emerged with only a broken shard in their hands.”

In the fullness of time our unanswered questions will be addressed. What seems today like a random, kaleidoscopic whirling of events will slow to a halt and will reveal, to all who have the patience and the faith to wait, a divine pattern and purpose. This is what the genuine prophet Zecharia meant when he said, in 14:9, “On that day G-d will be one and His name will be one.” Until then, G-d’s ways remain concealed – even from those who would claim to have full access to His divine chambers.

This article was also published in the Jerusalem Post. The writer was rabbi in Atlanta for 40 years, and is the former editor of Tradition magazine. His latest book, Tales Out of Jerusalem: Seven Gates to the City will be published next month.

Ah, Madoff, ah, Ponzi! They have shown us what real money is. But let us not exaggerate: The Madoff billion dollar losses are only cumulative. After all, individual investors lost mere millions.

For example, Long Island Jewish Health Systems lost almost $6m. But not to worry, they tell us, because this was “less than 1 percent of our portfolio.” Not a bad portfolio, one that exceeds the real money threshold. Yeshiva University lost $110m. This is not that serious, it says, “because it is only 8% of our endowment total, and our work will not be affected.” The Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles lost $18m. and the Technion, Bar-Ilan University, Hebrew University and Hadassah all lost heavy millions, but they all assure us that – even though they will never recoup those millions ... Read More >>]]> The late senator Everett Dirksen of Illinois once famously said to Lyndon Johnson about the national debt: “A few billion here, a few billion there and before you know it, you’re talking real money…” The world economic meltdown is painful, but there is one silver lining: At least we are now talking real money. We no longer deal with mere millions. Billions are the currency of the hour.

Ah, Madoff, ah, Ponzi! They have shown us what real money is. But let us not exaggerate: The Madoff billion dollar losses are only cumulative. After all, individual investors lost mere millions.

For example, Long Island Jewish Health Systems lost almost $6m. But not to worry, they tell us, because this was “less than 1 percent of our portfolio.” Not a bad portfolio, one that exceeds the real money threshold. Yeshiva University lost $110m. This is not that serious, it says, “because it is only 8% of our endowment total, and our work will not be affected.” The Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles lost $18m. and the Technion, Bar-Ilan University, Hebrew University and Hadassah all lost heavy millions, but they all assure us that – even though they will never recoup those millions – they are not broke and will continue to operate and function normally.

AN IMPERTINENT question keeps popping up: If these and other Jewish institutions can afford to lose hundreds of millions of dollars without any affect on their programs, this means that each of their endowment funds runs into the billions. Why, then, are these and the others who lost so much constantly asking for funds? Why are they in a perpetual fund-raising feeding frenzy? Instead of raising money constantly, perhaps they should be giving some of it away.

Here is a modest proposal to save Jewish life: When a Jewish institution reaches $1b. in endowment funds, would it not be a fine idea for it to allocate a mere 1% of its funds to help other similar institutions? (A billion dollars, remember, is $1m. multiplied by 1,000 – a thousand million. That is real money.) Do the math: 10% of $1b. is $100m., 1% of $1b. is $10m. Can you imagine the impact on Jewish life if these behemoths of endowment funds were somehow to shave off 1% of their funds annually to help sister institutions in need? If by their own admission, a loss of $100m. does not affect them, then certainly giving away $10m. would be a mere pittance. Compared to what they already have, that does not count as real money nowadays.

If Technion would distribute $10m. a year to the science programs of Jewish schools everywhere; if Bar-Ilan and Hebrew University would allocate $10m. a year to fund Jewish studies departments in Jewish high schools around the world; if Yeshiva University would allocate only 1% – something over $10m. a year – to struggling small yeshivot and day schools that cannot pay their teachers on time, that are housed in meager facilities and have inadequate equipment, that are living a hand-to-mouth existence, that are valiantly trying to keep their heads above water – if all this were done, it could make a major difference to the future of Jewish life. If institutions like these can survive losses of more than 8% of their endowments, certainly a gift of 1% should be easy to manage. After all, none of them would be giving away any real money.

ANOTHER QUESTION keeps recurring, this time about Bernard Madoff himself. With palatial homes and chateaus around the world, and private planes and yachts and chauffeurs, with all the trappings of super-wealth, with more real money to his name than he or his future generations could ever need, why did he keep running after more?

One answer is that like a drug, the pursuit of money is an addiction, and one cannot simply withdraw from it. Like the smoker and his tobacco, the drinker and his alcohol, such a person in hot pursuit of more money surely realizes intellectually that enough is enough, but somehow finds that he cannot pull back from it. A creeping madness sets in, irrational behavior takes over, he finds himself caught up in a whirlpool from which he cannot escape, and he has to keep moving faster and faster just in order to stay in place. Instead of possessing money, the money possesses him.

In other words, as King Solomon, the wisest of all men, put it in Kohelet 5:9: “He who loves money is never satisfied with money.” Madoff is the living embodiment of that old adage: “Money is a wonderful thing, but it is possible to pay too high a price for it.”

Our real worth as a person was never measured in dollars, not even in millions or billions of them – but in who we are and what we become. To paraphrase Senator Dirksen, a mitzva here, some lovingkindness there; a sympathetic word here, a Torah thought there; a prayer here, an act of charity there – and before you know it, you’re talking about a real Jew.

The writer, a resident of Jerusalem, served as rabbi in Atlanta for 40 years. He is the former editor-in-chief of Tradition magazine and the author of nine books. He is on the editorial staff of the newly published Encyclopedia of Mitzvos. This article also appeared in the Jerusalem Post.

“Shabbat Shalom, rabbi,” they said, and asked to have a word with me.

I sensed that they were missionaries and asked them what the subject was. They replied that they wanted to talk to me about the “Son of God.”

I suggested that while I respected their personal beliefs, in Judaism there is no such thing as a son or mother of God, that ours is a very strict monotheistic faith, and that our God is one, not two, and not three. I added that before attempting to convert Jews, they should consider converting Christians to Christian teachings, because throughout history, Jews had seen very little of Christian love and of turning the other cheek.

End of conversation.

WELL, AT least they were honest. Today, missionaries are much more subtle.

For one thing, they often pose as Jews themselves. And, most significantly, they do not initially ask Jews to accept Jesus as the son of God, nor mention that in Christianity, Jesus is worshipped as a divine being.

Contemporary missionaries realize that Jews – even secular, non-religious ... Read More >>]]> Many years ago, while a rabbi in Atlanta, I answered a knock on my door one Shabbat afternoon. Standing in front of me was a fine-looking couple – obviously non-Jewish.

“Shabbat Shalom, rabbi,” they said, and asked to have a word with me.

I sensed that they were missionaries and asked them what the subject was. They replied that they wanted to talk to me about the “Son of God.”

I suggested that while I respected their personal beliefs, in Judaism there is no such thing as a son or mother of God, that ours is a very strict monotheistic faith, and that our God is one, not two, and not three. I added that before attempting to convert Jews, they should consider converting Christians to Christian teachings, because throughout history, Jews had seen very little of Christian love and of turning the other cheek.

End of conversation.

WELL, AT least they were honest. Today, missionaries are much more subtle.

For one thing, they often pose as Jews themselves. And, most significantly, they do not initially ask Jews to accept Jesus as the son of God, nor mention that in Christianity, Jesus is worshipped as a divine being.

Contemporary missionaries realize that Jews – even secular, non-religious Jews – have a visceral revulsion at the idea of a human being as divine. They also realize that, for Jews, the figure of Jesus symbolizes a church that has for millennia condemned Jews to purgatory and eternal damnation; that the church, in the name of Christian love, has been responsible for oceans of Jewish blood because of the Jewish refusal to accept Jesus as a divine being; and for the belief that Jews deserve to suffer because of this refusal.

Aware of all this, many contemporary missionaries have apparently altered their strategy. They are now appealing to Jews from a pseudo-Jewish perspective. In order to entrap Jews, in other words, much missionary activity has been Judaized. Jesus is no longer Jesus; he is now “Yeshua,” a nice, Jewish-sounding name – as seen in recent missionary ad campaigns on Jerusalem’s buses.

A close reading of some of today’s missionary material shows that the central belief in the divinity of Jesus and his role as “lord and savior” is hardly mentioned. Today’s emphasis is on his supposed role as messiah. Further, many missionaries themselves now refer to themselves not as Christians but as “messianic Jews.” They wear yarmulkes, don a tallit, and even have their own “rabbis.”

The State of Israel is a crucial target for such missionaries, and many so-called messianic Jews are actually born Christians who have given themselves Jewish names and moved to Israel for one reason: to proselytize Jews.

THIS NEW strategy is illustrated by several recent media articles. The Washington Post ran a news article on June 21, picked up from the Associated Press, about “messianic Jews” who claim that they are discriminated against in Israel – a questionable accusation. The article’s description of messianic Jews made not a single reference to the divinity of Jesus. It slavishly followed the news release of the missionary group that issued it – which was careful not to mention the fact that so-called messianic Jews believe Jesus is the son of God.

Even The Jerusalem Post made no mention of the divinity of Jesus in its article last Thursday about the three-day messianic conference taking place that weekend.

An innocent reader comes away from such articles with the impression that “messianic Jews” are simply another group within Judaism. There are Orthodox Jews, hassidic Jews, haredi Jews, and there are messianic Jews – all part of one big, happy Jewish family

WHAT WE see here, in effect, is a renewed assault on the fundamentals of Judaism – not the traditional frontal assault, but, in a shift in tactics, one that attempts to infiltrate through indirect means by blurring the Jesus-as-God aspect of Christianity and stressing the Jesus-as-messiah aspect. Many missionaries feel this roundabout approach is less threatening to Jews, more “Jewish-friendly.”

In view of this renewed offensive against the basic beliefs of Judaism, some obvious truths must be reiterated:

First and foremost is the cornerstone belief of Judaism: God is a pure and unadulterated One. He is singular, the unity of all unities, alone, unique, and indivisible. He cannot be transformed into two or into three – and certainly not into statues or figures. He is not and never was human, and he has no physicality, no father or mother.

Millions of Jews have gone to their deaths proclaiming Shema Yisrael – Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Over and over again the Hebrew Bible prophetically warns against the inevitable attempts to dilute and distort this unity (see Deut. 13).

Further truths follow from this cardinal principle:

1. It is a distortion to claim that one can be a Jew and at the same time believe in Jesus as a god or as a messiah, or a prophet or savior.

2. It follows, therefore, that terms such as “Jews for Jesus,” or “Jewish Christians” are grotesque perversions. Such terms are misleading, misguided, misconceived, and ultimately a miscarriage of truth – for no Jew can believe in any divinity other than the One God, and no Jew can view Jesus as anything other than a teacher of another faith system.

AS FOR the true identity of the Messiah, we have no specific knowledge, as Maimonides states in his Code, in Hilchot Melachim. In Judaism, the Messiah will not be a divine creature but a man born of a man and woman; he will inaugurate an era of universal peace, spirituality and enlightenment, and will gather in all Jewish exiles to the land of Israel, as outlined in Isaiah 11.

Jesus has not fulfilled any of these prophecies. Furthermore, he is worshipped as a deity by another faith. For converts to Christianity to claim that they are “messianic Jews” is thus another pathetic distortion.

Having said this, it is important to state that Judaism has no quarrel with those who choose not to follow the pure monotheism of our faith.

We are not a missionary religion, and the benevolent behavior of the modern State of Israel toward non-Jewish religious minorities demonstrates Jewish magnanimity to those who do not follow Jewish ways. We have only respect for those who wish to worship their own deity in their own way, and to live ethically and lovingly with all people. We condemn those who would demean or use violence against believers of another religion.

AT THE same time, missionaries should know that Judaism disdains those who would entrap unlettered Jews through deception and falsehoods. To try to persuade innocent Jews that there is no real difference between Judaism and Christianity – even when these attempts stem from “love and friendship” for the Jewish people – is an example of such deception.

We welcome genuine evangelical love and friendship and cherish evangelical support for the State of Israel. But evangelicals must realize that words like “love and friendship” are very hollow when they come at the price of apostasy and betrayal of the millennia-old faith of the Jewish people.

Jews understand that the conversion of the Jews to Christianity is a central tenet of many Christian sects. We know that missionary societies around the world budget many millions of dollars annually in order to “save” Jews. If this is a basic teaching of evangelicals, so be it. But Jews can learn from them. We too should be budgeting millions to save fellow Jews around the world, and especially in Israel, from ignorance and Jewish illiteracy.

The old secular Zionist order, in its haste to be accepted by the outside world, deprived entire generations of Israeli Jews of even elementary knowledge of our Jewish heritage – with the result that too many Jews have no idea of what Judaism stands for, or of the deep chasms that separate Judaism from Christianity.

We must become missionaries to ourselves. It is long past time for us to deliver serious Jewish learning to our people. This is particularly needed for newcomers to Israel from lands like Russia and Ethiopia, who are particularly vulnerable to the artful blandishments of clever missionaries. They, together with all Jews, need to know how to reply when the doorbell rings.

Printed in the Jerusalem Post, July 3.

The Talmudic sages in Succa 52a describe temptation as yetzer hara or the Evil Inclination. They suggest that to the righteous, who appreciate the seriousness of sin, temptation seems as mighty as a mountain, and therefore they struggle to overcome it. To the wicked, who discount the effects of sin, it seems as thin as a thread which can be easily overcome.

The point is that no one – not even the righteous – is free from temptation. This is what the Torah means in Genesis 7:21: “The inclination of man is evil from his youth.” This is a warning shot, at the very beginning of history, across the bow of mankind: Watch yourself; be ever mindful of your negative tendencies to cheat, steal, hurt, to be corrupt, to engage in immoral behavior. The temptation to do wrong is built in to every human being. It is a powerful force, and no one is immune from it. And our task as human beings is to be aware of that ... Read More >>]]> The news these days is not at all new. It centers on man’s eternal struggle with temptation, and his occasional spectacular failings – as exemplified by ex-Gov. Eliot Spitzer of New York.

The Talmudic sages in Succa 52a describe temptation as yetzer hara or the Evil Inclination. They suggest that to the righteous, who appreciate the seriousness of sin, temptation seems as mighty as a mountain, and therefore they struggle to overcome it. To the wicked, who discount the effects of sin, it seems as thin as a thread which can be easily overcome.

The point is that no one – not even the righteous – is free from temptation. This is what the Torah means in Genesis 7:21: “The inclination of man is evil from his youth.” This is a warning shot, at the very beginning of history, across the bow of mankind: Watch yourself; be ever mindful of your negative tendencies to cheat, steal, hurt, to be corrupt, to engage in immoral behavior. The temptation to do wrong is built in to every human being. It is a powerful force, and no one is immune from it. And our task as human beings is to be aware of that tendency – and to resist it.

Barati yetzer hara, God says in Talmud Kiddushin 30a: “I have created the Evil Inclination. But I have also created an antidote to it, and that is the Torah.”

Living by the disciplines of the Torah, as well as studying it, can help overcome the Tempter. The Talmud tells us that the greater the person, the stronger is his evil inclination. And the greater is his glory when he succeeds in the struggle. The key is not to underestimate the power of the adversary.

WE ALL sense that the fall of Spitzer is a morality tale of classical proportions. Here is a man who had everything going for him: a trajectory of political success, a straight-arrow Mr. Clean image of righteousness and rectitude, a paragon of virtue crusading against evil, a (sometimes) media darling offering a fresh breeze, a man who had broken up prostitution rings and rackets and who was the scourge of everything dishonest and immoral.

For all of his intimate knowledge of crime and its ways, however, he underestimated the power of temptation. For him it was a thin thread, not a mountain, and once he gave it entrée to his being, there was no way out. What it might do to his relationships, his family, his career, to himself, was all beside the point. Like a fly in a web of the spider, he was hopelessly enmeshed.

Why should a brilliant man behave in so singularly stupid and reckless a fashion? We need not enter the area of pop-psychology that is now springing up all around the Spitzer case. Jeremiah said it all in 17:9-10: “Obscure is the heart of man, and intricate; who can know it? Only I the Lord can probe the heart and know its depths.”

We will never know what came over the governor to risk everything for some illicit adventures. But his deeds underscore the prescient comment of Hillel in Pirke Avot 2:5: “Do not trust yourself until the day of your death.”

This holds true today as it did 2,000 years ago. That is, do not think that you can never succumb to the power of immorality. The Torah says it clearly in Genesis 4:7: “Sin crouches at the door.” Once we come to believe that we are above such things, the crouching Tempter rises up and entraps us.

Gov. Spitzer did not invent or discover immorality. He is preceded by a centuries-old lineup of presidents, kings, prime ministers, and ordinary politicians It is beyond our ken as to why powerful men in particular fall victim to the weakness of the flesh. Hubris and pride and power are certainly major contributing factors.

By all accounts, humility is not one of the governor’s strong traits. He has always been smarter than his peers, richer, and more accomplished. For him not to be completely humble is perhaps understandable. But it is in the nature of un-humble people to persuade themselves that, because they have achieved a certain status, nothing untoward can ever happen to them: they can do whatever they please and their deeds will not catch up with them. He, and untold powerful men before him, are living proof of the warnings of that wisest of all men, Solomon, in the book of Proverbs, that pride is the precursor of man’s fall. Instead of surfing the Internet for illicit entertainment, Spitzer would have done better to surf the Book of Proverbs.

A great sage once said: “When I was young, I wanted to improve the entire world; as I grew older, I wanted to improve my country; later, I wanted to improve my village, and still later, my family. But now that I am very old, I would be most happy if I could only improve my own self.”

To put it another way: If we want to improve the society around us, the place to begin is in the mirror . Of the several lessons we can glean from the Spitzer morality tale, one salient fact emerges from them all. Our material technology may be cutting edge, but our spiritual wherewithal has not moved one iota since ancient times. We are conquering outer space, but are nowhere near conquering inner space. Worse, we are hardly aware that we possess inner space.

This Article appeared in the Jerusalem Post, March 17.

As the day goes on, the snow becomes victim to reality; people have to walk upon it, and drive through it, and before very long its pristine whiteness begins to fade and to turn into gray and brown.

By nightfall, the pure countenance of the morning has been transformed into slush and mud.

Before going to sleep we glance out the window for one last look at the darkened snow. Perhaps it will snow again overnight; perhaps in the morning we will once again be greeted by another blanket of purity and pristine whiteness.

Is there any way to maintain the bright whiteness of a morning snow, any way to keep it from being violated by our human footsteps? Only by constructing a fence around an area of snow, to keep out all human traffic, can this be done. But even as we construct that fence, we know in our heart of hearts that it is inevitable that snow is impermanent. Soon enough – even fenced in – it will shrink, melt and disappear.

Only a hazy memory will remain.

THERE IS ... Read More >>]]> There is nothing like an early morning snow. The brown winter earth is covered by a stunning white tablecloth – pure, clean, and unsullied.

As the day goes on, the snow becomes victim to reality; people have to walk upon it, and drive through it, and before very long its pristine whiteness begins to fade and to turn into gray and brown.

By nightfall, the pure countenance of the morning has been transformed into slush and mud.

Before going to sleep we glance out the window for one last look at the darkened snow. Perhaps it will snow again overnight; perhaps in the morning we will once again be greeted by another blanket of purity and pristine whiteness.

Is there any way to maintain the bright whiteness of a morning snow, any way to keep it from being violated by our human footsteps? Only by constructing a fence around an area of snow, to keep out all human traffic, can this be done. But even as we construct that fence, we know in our heart of hearts that it is inevitable that snow is impermanent. Soon enough – even fenced in – it will shrink, melt and disappear.

Only a hazy memory will remain.

THERE IS nothing like a newly born baby. Its soul is pure, clean, and unsullied.

But as it grows into adulthood, it becomes victim to reality. The world around invades its pristine “whiteness,” its lovely purity begins to fade, and as time goes on, the “whiteness” is only a dim memory. The discoloration of reality has taken over, and what was once pure and sacred and eternal has been transformed into something ordinary and profane. But the memory of the purity does not entirely disappear, and the soul keeps hoping that tomorrow the “whiteness” will somehow return.

Is there any way to maintain the bright “whiteness” of the newly minted soul, any way to keep it from being sullied by exposure to the realities of the world?

The world cannot be kept out. A human being must interact with those around them. Physical fences of wood and stone cannot be built, and if built, will not hold. But it is not inevitable that a human soul must become tarnished. On the contrary, unlike the snow, it is only through contact with human beings and through living a life of holiness that the purity of the soul can be maintained. It is not the Jewish way to cloister oneself into a monastery in order to avoid the taint of human frailty. Through charity and acts of lovingkindness; through learning and living of Torah values; through reaching out to others with generosity and sensitivity; through self-introspection; through reaching out to God by prayer and the study of His Torah; through personal integrity in dealing with others and with one’s own self – all these, collectively and individually, maintain the pristine “whiteness” of the human soul, and in fact enhance it.

Unlike snow, whose whiteness becomes more and more sullied as the day goes on, the human soul’s coloration – if attended to properly – only intensifies as life goes on. Unlike snow, the soul is eternal, and the human being has been granted power over it. Depending on what we choose to do with it, it need not shrink, or melt, or disappear.

In the period between the sunrise and sunset of our lives, we have been granted the power to make it ever more pure.

I LOVE the snow because of its innate stillness and calm, and its ability to force us to slow down the pace of our lives. But I love the soul even more – because, unlike snow, we have been granted the power to choose whether it will turn to muddy slush, or will glow ever more brightly as the day goes on.

This article appeared in the Jerusalem Post on February 18.

What struck me was a sub-section called “Additional Tips for an Easy Fast.”(Free Hebrew lesson: the word for “tips” is tippim.)

It is possible, it informed us, to have a pleasant Yom Kippur even without eating. Among the best ways to take your mind off food is to watch some video, play enjoyable games like Monopoly, do some light reading, and meet with friends and family. It goes without saying that no mention is made of such hoary ideas as repentance, prayer, charity, heavenly ledgers of life and death – or, God forbid, God.

MY INITIAL reaction was one of deep mortification. If they don’t want to observe Yom Kippur, that is their choice. But why refrain from food and yet desecrate the day at the same time? Does God really desire this kind of fasting? Isaiah’s angry words (1:12) ... Read More >>]]> At first I thought it was a joke. A Jerusalem shopping mall recently issued a glossy magazine supplement featuring its latest glitzy fashions. In the centerfold, in honor of Yom Kippur, was a Hebrew-language article entitled, “How to make it through the fast day.” Among the suggestions were the usual pre-Yom Kippur precautions: lots of water, no caffeine, many carbohydrates, and so forth.

What struck me was a sub-section called “Additional Tips for an Easy Fast.”(Free Hebrew lesson: the word for “tips” is tippim.)

It is possible, it informed us, to have a pleasant Yom Kippur even without eating. Among the best ways to take your mind off food is to watch some video, play enjoyable games like Monopoly, do some light reading, and meet with friends and family. It goes without saying that no mention is made of such hoary ideas as repentance, prayer, charity, heavenly ledgers of life and death – or, God forbid, God.

MY INITIAL reaction was one of deep mortification. If they don’t want to observe Yom Kippur, that is their choice. But why refrain from food and yet desecrate the day at the same time? Does God really desire this kind of fasting? Isaiah’s angry words (1:12) came to mind: “Who asks this of you, to trample My courtyards?”

Would it not be better if they gorged themselves on food rather than go through the motions of fasting without thinking of the larger issues of Yom Kippur?

But then a more charitable reaction took over. After all, even though this behavior makes a mockery of the sanctity of the holiest day of the year, at the very least it demonstrates that the memory of Yom Kippur is still alive in the hearts of even the most completely secularized Israelis. These people are not, after all, deliberately desecrating Yom Kippur. They know no better. They have been raised below the religious poverty line. This is what they grew up with, it’s how things were done in their circles.

Perhaps, in paraphrase of that famous hassidic tale, one can say of them that even while they watch videos on Yom Kippur, they still fast on that holy day.

THE ISSUES raised by those Yom Kippur “guidelines” are complex. Several questions come to mind: It is painful to consider that among the people of Israel, some Jews on Yom Kippur afternoon are reciting the narrative of the Romans’ brutal murder of Rabbi Akiva and the greatest sages of our people – the Ten Martyrs – while other Jews are playing Monopoly; that some Jews are recounting the awesome priestly penitential service in the ancient Jerusalem Temple while others are watching awesome video films; that some Jews are beating their breasts in the ashamnu/ bagadnu confession, while others are engaged in light reading and chit-chat.

Without condemning people who know no better, what does this say about the legendary one-ness of the Jewish people? If these Yom Kippur suggestions represent some tenuous attachment to this holiest of days, what of the children and grandchildren of these people: Will they have even heard of a day called Yom Kippur?

On the other side of the coin, a more important question surfaces: What is the hold that Yom Kippur maintains over all Jews, no matter how far removed they are from tradition?

Some claim that for many Jews, Yom Kippur has become a kind of secular national holiday denuded of genuine religious meaning. Perhaps so, but whoever heard of a secular national holiday in which people deprive themselves of food and drink? And how is it that vehicular traffic throughout Israel is way down on Yom Kippur, and that, reportedly, 95 percent of Israelis do fast on this day?

Granted, there are no stats on what percentage of the 95% are playing Monopoly – I dare say very few – but it does appear that the sense of awe that pervades this day has penetrated even the most secular Israeli consciousness.

ONE MUST eschew glib answers, but an idea pushes its way to the fore.

Just six weeks after the miraculous Exodus from Egypt, the Jewish people were dancing around the idol of the Golden Calf – a sin so grievous that it stains all of Jewish history. When he sees this, Moses smashes the first set of the Ten Commandments that he is carrying, and God threatens to destroy Israel once and for all. Moses intercedes, pleads eloquently on behalf of the Israelites, and the people repent. God finally accedes to the importunings of Moses and forgives Israel.

On what day of the year does God grant forgiveness to Israel, and on what day does Moses descend the mountain with the second set of Commandments in his hands? That day is the 10th of Tishrei – which makes it the very first Yom Kippur day. (See Rashi’s comments on Exodus 33:11.) This is the day that becomes indelibly and permanently embedded into the consciousness of the people Israel as the day when the separation between God and His people comes to an end, and when God and Israel become united again as one.

YOM KIPPUR thus represents the essence of the God-Israel reconciliation. It is the flagship of Jewish holy days. More than any other holy day, it is the yearly reenactment of the drama of the Jewish soul as it returns and cleaves to its Creator, and becomes at one with Him (the Day of At-one-ment).

This reunion of God and the straying Jew is deeply ingrained within our national soul; it cannot be obliterated. No matter how far a Jew may drift from his roots – even if 3, 000 years after that first Yom Kippur he forgets all about the meaning of this day – certain elements of this connection to the transcendent retain their pristine force.

Despite everything, Yom Kippur maintains its mysterious grip even on the most distantly wandering Jew. In the Nazi death camps many non-believing Jews fasted on this day. For it is on Yom Kippur that the historic Jewish soul once again returns to its spiritual source, and neither the ravages of millennia of exile nor its resulting ignorance can rip this soul away from its eternal roots.

Monopoly on Yom Kippur? Videos? Grotesque and tragic as these may be, the astounding fact is that most Jews still fast. Somehow, despite everything, that thin, frail, connecting thread remains. Deep in our consciousness we have not utterly abandoned Him, nor has He abandoned us. He waits for us in the wings – for He remembers that first Yom Kippur of reconciliation, and He has faith in us and knows that some day, through the supernatural power of Yom Kippur, the Day of At-one-ment, He and His people will once again be united.

Also published in the Jerusalem Post.

Not so in other countries. In England, politicians who make serious mistakes resign from office. In the US, if the mistake is really bad, they apologize and go into re-hab. In Japan, they commit harakiri.

We are not advocating the Japanese way of expressing regret, but the British have a long history of parliamentary government, and their example should be of some guidance. If you fail in government, you resign and go home. But when Israeli politicians fail, they blame not themselves but everyone else around them, and — unfailingly — they manage to cling to office. Ours is a tradition of non-accountability. Our leaders never admit mistakes. They never apologize.

Instead, they run for office again, get elected again, or get appointed to high office. Being an Israeli politician means never having to say you’re sorry.

Despite their major misjudgments and ... Read More >>]]> If a Jewish Rip Van Winkle (Rip van Finkle?) were to awaken today and read the papers, he would wonder if he had ever really been asleep. Names that were in the headlines when he dozed off years ago — Peres, Olmert, Barak — are still in the headlines. Despite their many errors and miscalculations, they remain in power. Nothing has changed.

Not so in other countries. In England, politicians who make serious mistakes resign from office. In the US, if the mistake is really bad, they apologize and go into re-hab. In Japan, they commit harakiri.

We are not advocating the Japanese way of expressing regret, but the British have a long history of parliamentary government, and their example should be of some guidance. If you fail in government, you resign and go home. But when Israeli politicians fail, they blame not themselves but everyone else around them, and — unfailingly — they manage to cling to office. Ours is a tradition of non-accountability. Our leaders never admit mistakes. They never apologize.

Instead, they run for office again, get elected again, or get appointed to high office. Being an Israeli politician means never having to say you’re sorry.

Despite their major misjudgments and failures, neither Shimon Peres, Ehud Olmert, or Ehud Barak has ever admitted an error, or apologized to the public for their mistakes, much less displayed any contrition. Each one is riding high today, either reaching for, or clinging to, that heady drug called power and influence.

And the Israeli public? It has become so accustomed to these shenanigans that it is no longer shocked or offended by the self-serving ambitions of their putative leaders. Inured to corruption in high places, the public shrugs its shoulders and continues chattering on its cell phones.

IN TRUTH, the Israeli tradition of non-accountability is not Jewish at all. On the contrary, apologies and regrets are an integral part of our tradition. Judaism offers the profound concept of Teshuva — atonement. We are always given the chance to repent and to ask forgiveness from God for our sins. But there is one condition. We have to specify the sin, and we have to state that we regret it. It is not enough simply to approach God and to mumble something about being sorry. In his monumental Laws of Repentance 1:1, Maimonides puts it very clearly: “The act of repentance requires one to confess sincerely and verbally before God…and say, I have sinned, transgressed, violated such-and-such a law; I regret it and am ashamed of my deeds, and will never again repeat them….”

AS A public service to some of our politicians, here are some custom-made samples of prepared confessions — all inspired by the great Maimonides:

Peres: “I ask forgiveness for the sin of Oslo. I sincerely thought that a new Middle East was upon us, but I was completely in error. Oslo was a disaster for us. The Arabs never wanted peace, they want only to eliminate us by any means — even by declaring peaceful intentions. I was too blinded to see this and I pushed hard for the Oslo agreements. This led to misery and to bloodshed, and I sincerely regret it. I am ashamed of my deeds and will never again repeat them. Nor will I ever again ask for the trust of public office.”

Olmert: “I ask forgiveness for the sins of Gaza and the sin of the Second Lebanon War. I agreed with Sharon that by forcing the Jewish citizens of Gaza out of their homes, Israel would win the sympathy of the world and would convince the Arabs of our peaceful intentions. I was wrong on all counts. We achieved no sympathy, we hurt almost 10,000 of our most idealistic Israelis, and we only convinced the Arabs that we were in retreat. I was too blinded to see all this, and it has led to bloodshed and misery for all of us. The current nightmare situation in Gaza — which has become a Hamas and al-Qaida stronghold that bombs Israel daily — is a direct result of my miscalculation. I am ashamed of what I did, and I will never again ask for the trust of public office.

“The same holds true for my sins in the Second Lebanon war. Winograd was right: I made terrible errors in judgment that cost us dearly. The same holds true for all the ethical questions swirling about my financial dealings. I regret all this and apologize as I return to private life.”

Barak: “I ask forgiveness for evacuating our soldiers from Lebanon when I was PM. I thought this would convince the world and the Arabs of our peaceful intentions. I was wrong on all counts. The Arabs want only our destruction, and their several intifadas prove this. I also ask forgiveness for trying to give most of the Old City to Arafat during the Wye talks. All we got in return was more killings and more intifada. I regret all this, and as an act of repentance I pledge never again to ask for the trust of public office.”

I AM happy, as a public service, to make these pre-printed texts available free of charge to any politician who requests them. Each politician can fill in the appropriate blanks as necessary. I’m also making available, again without charge, special training classes for politicians who have difficulty in articulating the following three words: “I-was-wrong.”

These classes will be available in Hebrew, Russian, Arabic, and English. A brief four-week course will train the palate, lips, tongue and mouth to form these words and to pronounce them whenever appropriate.

It is of course highly unlikely that those who need it most will take advantage of these offers. There is something in the gene pool of politicians that prevents them from ever admitting an error. This is because there is only one raison d’etre of a politician: to remain in office. Even when he has some ideals and some principles, these are all subservient to his one purpose in life: to retain power. Phrases like “I am sorry” and “I was wrong” are uttered only when they are calculated to help one remain in office.

What happens to a country when the really good people refuse to enter government, and when only political hacks choose to remain? For the answer, look at the Israeli political scene today. The sadness is that Israel is blessed with a talent pool of brilliant and creative people of integrity — most of whom are not in government. How to attract such people into government office to replace the self-aggrandizing retreads now leading us is one of the great challenges of Israeli society.

In the meantime, move over, Rip Van Winkle. It is time to join you in a siesta. If we are lucky, some new faces will be in place when we wake up.

Published in today’s Jerusalem Post.

During May, 1967, the noose inexorably tightened around Israel’s neck. Egypt closed the Straits of Tiran, UN troops were expelled from Suez, Nasser of Egypt, together with Jordan, Syria, the Saudis and Iraq, were all threatening to throw Israelis into the sea. There were daily call-ups of troops and reservists, the streets were empty of able-bodied men, and a palpable sense of anxiety and tension enveloped the country.

One morning, as we sent our children off to school, we confided our fears to a neighbor: “What if there is bombing while they’re in school?”

“Not to worry,” came the not reassuring reply, “They have excellent air raid shelters at school.”

And when the Torah portion for Shabbat, June 2 – Leviticus 22 – spoke both of living in peace in the Land and of being expelled from the Land, we were not sure which alternative the ... Read More >>]]> Mired as we are in the depths of a national funk of disillusion, it is difficult to imagine the ecstasy and euphoria that swept across Israel exactly 40 years ago in the afterglow of the Six Day War. My wife and I plus four small children were living in Israel during that time, and we remember it vividly.

During May, 1967, the noose inexorably tightened around Israel’s neck. Egypt closed the Straits of Tiran, UN troops were expelled from Suez, Nasser of Egypt, together with Jordan, Syria, the Saudis and Iraq, were all threatening to throw Israelis into the sea. There were daily call-ups of troops and reservists, the streets were empty of able-bodied men, and a palpable sense of anxiety and tension enveloped the country.

One morning, as we sent our children off to school, we confided our fears to a neighbor: “What if there is bombing while they’re in school?”

“Not to worry,” came the not reassuring reply, “They have excellent air raid shelters at school.”

And when the Torah portion for Shabbat, June 2 – Leviticus 22 – spoke both of living in peace in the Land and of being expelled from the Land, we were not sure which alternative the One Above had in mind for us.

AND THEN the war came, on Monday June 5. As we huddled in our (not so excellent) air-raid shelters, glued to our transistor radios, the startling news began to seep in: We were winning on all fronts. The Egyptian air force had been smashed, we were retaking ancient cities like Hebron and Bethlehem, and we were battling inside the Old City of Jerusalem.

Then came the fateful morning of Iyar 28, corresponding to Wednesday, June 7, 1967. The Old City, Temple Mount and all of Jerusalem were once again in our hands. I still remember the trembling voice of the Israel Radio announcer as he declared: “Ani nogea bakotel – I am touching the Wall.”

Special newspaper editions hit the streets. Ma’ariv shouted: “The Place For Which We Have Waited for 2,000 Years.” Yediot Aharonot, hardly a religious-oriented newspaper, carried on its masthead a citation from Isaiah 52: “The Lord Hath Comforted His People, He Hath Redeemed Jerusalem.”

That evening came a live radio broadcast from the Western Wall: The shehecheyanu blessing was chanted by the troops, the shofar was repeatedly sounded, and soldiers fell into each others arms and wept. As did the radio announcer. As did all Israel.

A wave of relief and gratitude inundated the land. In an outpouring of religious awe, tens of thousands of Israelis of all kinds streamed to the Western Wall, to Rachel’s Tomb, to the Cave of the Patriarchs. The world’s media spoke unabashedly of a victory of biblical proportions. The more religiously-attuned were certain they were hearing the steps of the Messiah. We could only think of Psalm 126: “When God returned the captivity of Zion, we were as dreamers.”

THAT WAS 40 years ago. Forty is not an insignificant number. For 40 years the Israelites sojourned in the desert; for 40 days, Moses dwelled on Mt. Sinai.

Much can transpire in 40 years. After the stunning victory in 1967 we were certain that wars between us and our neighbors would come to an end. We were wrong.

Since then we have experienced the War of Attrition, the Yom Kippur War, two wars in Lebanon, several intifadas and relentless terrorism.

The disdain once directed at Jews in the European shtetl is now directed by many Europeans at the universal Jewish shtetl, the State of Israel. While we have a cold peace with Egypt and a peace treaty with Jordan, Iran is openly threatening to wipe us off the map.

Many things have changed, some for the better, some for the worse, while some things remain forever the same.

Torah scholarship, academic learning, and genuine Jewish piety have grown far more intense. Israel today is the source of astounding creativity of all types: religious, historical, philosophical, scientific. The yiddishe kopp continues to amaze.

SOME THINGS are so ingrained in a country’s psyche that they do not change. Tensions, for instance, between believers and non-believers. Israel’s bloated bureaucracy. One still waits hours for service at the Interior Ministry. When a phone is answered at National Insurance or other governmental offices, it is a cause for celebration. Postal clerks are still sullen and resentful of their customers, and take their tea breaks no matter how many people are standing in line. Government workers are still unhelpful and curt. Courtesy and graciousness are the exception and not the norm.

The decibels of public discourse have risen. The so-called talk shows are in reality shout-shows. The media has grown more partisan and more irresponsible.

Not to be outdone, drivers on the roads have grown more aggressive, more inconsiderate, more impatient. Societal polarization and violence are spiraling upwards.

In political life, incompetence, corruption and venality are no longer impediments to public office. Politicians used to run on their records. Now they run on their police records. Good people like Benny Begin, Natan Sharansky and Dan Meridor, who might have elevated the level of public service, have instead left public life. Idealism is in short supply; cynicism lives – as demonstrated by the forced evacuation by Jews of Gush Katif’s Jews, which was not only a security disaster, but morally repugnant.

Despite all this, the Israeli economy has become more stable and is even growing. Unemployment is down. The once lowly shekel is up. Hi-tech is truly high. There are new bridges, tunnels, malls, high rises, office towers, roadways – and many more cars to fill them. National prosperity, despite painful pockets of poverty throughout the land, is no longer a distant dream.

OUR SAGES say “40 is the age of understanding” (Avot 5:21). If not more understanding, we have certainly matured. In 1967 we believed the press clippings that we were supermen. Forty years and thousands of deaths later, we are finally recognizing that what our neighbors really want is our total disappearance.

Something else has radically changed. Soon after 1967 we embodied the empty boast of Deuteronomy 8:17: “My power and strength achieved all this.”

We conveniently forgot that a tiny country does not normally defeat the combined armies of eight huge Arab states, and we scoffed at those who spoke of miracles. We knew otherwise. Yitzhak Rabin publicly exulted that the triumph was strictly a result of “superior planning and superior strategy.”

Today we know better. “My power and strength” has taken a strong hit. In its place, we hear echoes of another famous biblical verse: “Before the fall, arrogance” (Proverbs 16:18). The Winograd report reminds us of the inevitable link between arrogance and failure.

It has been a long, winding road from the euphoria of 1967. If it has taken us from Deuteronomy’s warnings about invincibility to Proverbs’ warnings about humility, then the painful journey will have been worthwhile.

As for the next 40 years, much will depend on how closely we pay attention to both these verses.

Published in today’s Jerusalem Post.

I have in my hands a copy of the eagerly awaited Inter-Ministerial Committee to Re-Examine Yom Kippur Practices report. The reexamination is in response to widespread demands, led by liberals and the secular media, to loosen the Yom Kippur restrictions, which have become a major stumbling block for non-Jewish immigrants who want to convert to Judaism.

Transcripts of interviews with these immigrants reveal that many abandoned the conversion process because of the adamant attitude of the rabbinic courts. The immigrants, most of whom are Russian, were willing to accept Judaism, but balked when told about Yom Kippur.

“These restrictions are 3,500 years old. Why should I have to deny myself food and drink for 24 hours?” asked one potential convert.

“This is the 21st century, not primitive times,” said another. “These uncaring rabbis force things upon us, refusing to compromise. If they cared, they would not prohibit food for a full day.”

OTHER IMMIGRANTS stated they were willing ... Read More >>]]> Item: ‘Government panel to alter conversion policy’ (Jerusalem Post, March 5); Item: ‘Since intermarriage is inevitable, humanist liberals say that conversions are unnecessary’ (Haaretz, March 28); ‘New calls for reform of rabbinic conversion courts’ (Jerusalem Post, March 29); Item: “Conversion in crisis” (Jerusalem Post editorial, April 5)

I have in my hands a copy of the eagerly awaited Inter-Ministerial Committee to Re-Examine Yom Kippur Practices report. The reexamination is in response to widespread demands, led by liberals and the secular media, to loosen the Yom Kippur restrictions, which have become a major stumbling block for non-Jewish immigrants who want to convert to Judaism.

Transcripts of interviews with these immigrants reveal that many abandoned the conversion process because of the adamant attitude of the rabbinic courts. The immigrants, most of whom are Russian, were willing to accept Judaism, but balked when told about Yom Kippur.

“These restrictions are 3,500 years old. Why should I have to deny myself food and drink for 24 hours?” asked one potential convert.

“This is the 21st century, not primitive times,” said another. “These uncaring rabbis force things upon us, refusing to compromise. If they cared, they would not prohibit food for a full day.”

OTHER IMMIGRANTS stated they were willing to go along with other unreasonable demands, such as forswearing bread and eating tasteless matza for the entire Pessah week, and even to suffer the resultant stomach problems.

“We were even willing to celebrate that other festival by eating cold soup in an unheated Succa during chilly autumn nights. But these harsh Yom Kippur demands are the last straw. The rabbis obviously do not welcome us.”

Others complained that though they love the benefits that Israel gives its immigrants, these religious demands are cruel and unusual. “Not only would we not be able to eat, but also not to drink. Have we left one Gulag to enter another? We pleaded with these medieval rabbis, but they would not budge. Do they not know that it is dangerous to go without water? One could become dehydrated.”

Other immigrants were shocked to discover that the Yom Kippur prayers take several hours at night, and then continue from sunrise to sunset the entire next day. “Even Russian Easter services take only a fraction of that time. And one may eat on Easter!”

BELOW ARE excerpts from the committee’s report:

a) We must not put unnecessary stumbling blocks before potential converts. If Israel wishes to have new blood, it has to change these draconian religious demands. A modern state cannot expect people to go without food and water for 24 hours and to remain virtual prisoners in synagogue for an entire day.

b) Rabbinic judges must not insist on primitive halachic norms that were made for the shtetl, where fasting was designed for a food-deprived economy. If the rabbis were more Zionistic, they would be more sensitive to people who want to build up our country. To bring new people into Israel is a social need. What does religion have to do with conversion to Judaism? The rabbis are aggrandizing this power to themselves.

c) It is unconscionable that the rabbinic court system should be dominated only by rabbis. We recommend the establishment of pluralistic courts, with input from all streams of Judaism – including secular modes of observance. It is time to liberalize laws and streamline procedures.

d) It is immoral to deny food and drink on the holiest day of the year to 300,000 Russian immigrants who have made the arduous trek from Russia. In the very portion we read on Yom Kippur, Isaiah 47 says: “Is this the fast I have chosen?… Better to divide your bread with the hungry…”

In ignoring this prophetic dictum, rabbinic judges are imposing their own hidebound standards on innocent people.

e) After careful deliberation, the committee strongly urges the implementation of the following guidelines, which are based on Maimonides. In this spirit we present here a pluralistic approach to the problem of Yom Kippur:

1) Limited eating and drinking will be permitted after returning from the long Kol Nidre service. Out of deference to the occasion, this should be only a light snack, with alcoholic beverages to be avoided wherever possible. In case of great need, vodka in limited amounts will be permitted.

2) Out of respect to ancient Jewish practice, breakfast on Yom Kippur morning will be skipped entirely. In case of great need, coffee will be permitted. So that congregants can have a full night’s sleep in preparation for next day’s prayers, morning Yom Kippur services will begin at 10 a.m.

3) At 12 noon there will be a one-hour recess for tea/coffee, light refreshments and social
interaction.

4) A similar recess will take place at 2 p.m. Since this is Yom Kippur, full meals will not be served, and snacks will be limited to soft drinks, tea/coffee/milk, fruit, cake and cookies. Such breaks will prevent the physical weakness that presently settles over congregants during the afternoon, and that disturbs full prayer concentration. Our research shows that there is no greater aid to spirituality than food.

In order to guard against any discomfort that might disturb one’s prayers, services will end at 4 p.m., immediately followed by a break-the-fast meal.

This revised Yom Kippur protocol will bring Judaism into the 21st century, and will send a message that Judaism is not unbending, but is a flexible way of life consonant with current standards of personal well-being. This in turn will encourage people to make aliya, which will strengthen the Jewish state.

THE MEDIA was ecstatic about the report. Wrote Haaretz: “Loosening the religious stranglehold of the haredim is a historic breakthrough. These unfeeling rabbis want only to preserve their religious monopoly.

The Post editorialized: “It is time to end haredi control over religion and the lucrative sinecures that come with it. These innovations show pluralism at its creative best.

Yediot intoned: “Benighted regulations from obstructionist rabbis are a violation of human rights. The refreshment breaks during services are a model of halachic originality.”

Declared Maariv: The ultra-Orthodox have taken away our bread on Pessah, our comfort on Succot, and deprived us of our food and drink on Yom Kippur. These inventive recommendations will pull Jewish law out of the deep freeze.

ON THE following Yom Kippur, the new procedures were implemented, to great public acclaim. All haredi judges were banned from rabbinic courts; the newly appointed judges swiftly converted 200,000 additional new immigrants.

Encouraged by the enthusiastic response, the government appointed a new committee to reexamine all religious practices that could potentially cause discomfort and inconvenience, specifically targeting kashrut, Shabbat, mikve practices, and all the fast days.

This piece also appeared in the Jerusalem Post.

And finally, four inches below that, the last two words: “More Envy.”

One can appreciate the advantages of driving a car with more power and with more comfort. But what does envy have to do with driving a car?

Furthermore, the ad seemed logically skewed. Power and comfort are qualities we can possess. Envy, on the other hand, is not something we possess; it is something others will feel toward us if we own this car.

But the ad is not skewed at all. In fact, the copywriters fully understand human nature. When they peddle the idea of becoming the envy of others, they are tapping into something very deep within human nature. They know that, for most of us, to be the target of envy is a marketable commodity, as desirable as the power of the car’s motor and the comfort of the car’s interior.

What does envy have to do with driving a luxury car? Everything.

ENVY IS built into us. Say the rabbis: “Except for his child and ... Read More >>]]> Mercedes recently ran a full page ad in The New York Times. It contained only six words. At the top were two words: “More Power.” Four inches below that were two more words: “More Comfort.”

And finally, four inches below that, the last two words: “More Envy.”

One can appreciate the advantages of driving a car with more power and with more comfort. But what does envy have to do with driving a car?

Furthermore, the ad seemed logically skewed. Power and comfort are qualities we can possess. Envy, on the other hand, is not something we possess; it is something others will feel toward us if we own this car.

But the ad is not skewed at all. In fact, the copywriters fully understand human nature. When they peddle the idea of becoming the envy of others, they are tapping into something very deep within human nature. They know that, for most of us, to be the target of envy is a marketable commodity, as desirable as the power of the car’s motor and the comfort of the car’s interior.

What does envy have to do with driving a luxury car? Everything.

ENVY IS built into us. Say the rabbis: “Except for his child and his disciple, a person is envious of everything” (Sanhedrin 105b). Note how envy rears its unlovely head through the narratives of the Torah.

At the beginning of history, the serpent is envious of Adam and Eve – and is responsible for their expulsion from the Garden. Cain is envious of Abel – and kills him. Joseph’s brothers are envious of him – and sell him into slavery. Korach is envious of the power wielded by Moses – and foments a rebellion.

In its efforts to mold our character the Torah wants us to curb and control envy. When the last of the Ten Commandments warns us about coveting, it is also cautioning about the precursor of coveting – envy.

Stage 1: I envy my neighbor’s house. Stage 2: I wish I had my neighbor’s house; it is to die for. Stage 3: I must have a house like that. I will do anything – anything – to get a house like that.

This explains why envy and coveting, which seem relatively innocuous, are on the short list of God’s prohibitions, right up there alongside adultery, theft and murder. Envy can easily lead to our doing anything to possess that which we envy.

Perhaps this is why the “Thou shalt not covet” of this commandment is repeated twice in the same line.

BUT SUPPOSING I limit myself to envy alone and don’t follow up with anything else. Whom does it hurt? One answer is that it hurts the one doing the envying. The Torah is concerned with human happiness, and knows that envy and covetousness, even if they do not lead to any untoward acts, are generators of heartache and wretchedness. To let ourselves be consumed by the sparkling new toys of our friends is to invite lifelong misery, no matter how wealthy we may be.

When Shakespeare referred to envy as the “green-eyed monster,” he knew that it was precisely that: a monster that eats away at our innards. The Mishna anticipated him: “Envy, lust, and pride remove a person from this world” (Avot 4:28).

These attributes, with envy in the number one position, are like a raging river that overwhelms us, despoiling both our spirits and our physical selves. Envy is truly what John Dryden calls “the jaundice of the soul.”

So cognizant were our sages about its pitfalls that they worried not only about our envy of others, but also about its mirror image: engendering the envy of others toward us. That is why they used to pray, “Let me not be envious of others, and let others not be envious of me” (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 4:2).

Although we do not fully comprehend the concept of ayin hara – the evil eye, there is in the Jewish tradition a concern about unleashing someone’s evil eye – his envy or jealousy – against us.

It is not likely that the Mercedes people would utter the same prayer.

ENVY, however, is not always bad. It drives many of the good things we do, and is the engine for many of our achievements. We want our businesses to be the envy of the trade, our skills to be the envy of everyone else, our reputations to be the envy of others.

While the envy within us cannot be entirely eliminated, it can be channeled, and thus become a useful component of the contented life.

“The envy of scholars increases wisdom,” says the Talmud (Bava Batra 21). That is, if I envy my friend’s learning or piety or capacity for kindness, it could be the catalyst for increased learning or piety or kindness on my part. If we succeed in downsizing our toy-envy, and learn to envy that which people are, rather than what they possess, we will have approached a measure of personal serenity.

I do not drive a Mercedes, not only because I don’t like being the target of envy, but because I cannot afford one. But whenever a Mercedes zooms by me on a bumpy road, words like “More Power” and “More Comfort” do cross my mind – plus, I confess, a fleeting twinge of envy.

How much envy? Sometimes more, but I am working on less.

This article appears in today’s Jerusalem Post.

The rest of the chapter, as they say, was commentary: How has she become like a harlot, the city of faithfulness. Once it was filled with justice and righteousness, but now – murderers…

One often turns to the Bible for solace and comfort, but in this instance, the only consolation was in the knowledge that we today did not invent corruption. Greed and selfishness are part of the human condition. This is precisely one of the major purposes of Judaism: to help man transcend his natural inclinations and to become a mentsch and not remain an animal.

That this is an ongoing struggle is evident from the endless string of scandals and sheer incompetence in Israeli public life. When 85% of the Israeli public believes its government is corrupt, it is time to ask: Have we become just another Levantine state on the shores of ... Read More >>]]> I was quietly studying chapter 1 of the prophet Isaiah when from the holy text there leaped headlines from the Jerusalem Post, Haaretz, Maariv, Yediot, as well as the major newspapers of the West: Your leaders have become plunderers, associates of thieves, lovers of bribery, pursuers of payoffs… (1:23)

The rest of the chapter, as they say, was commentary: How has she become like a harlot, the city of faithfulness. Once it was filled with justice and righteousness, but now – murderers…

One often turns to the Bible for solace and comfort, but in this instance, the only consolation was in the knowledge that we today did not invent corruption. Greed and selfishness are part of the human condition. This is precisely one of the major purposes of Judaism: to help man transcend his natural inclinations and to become a mentsch and not remain an animal.

That this is an ongoing struggle is evident from the endless string of scandals and sheer incompetence in Israeli public life. When 85% of the Israeli public believes its government is corrupt, it is time to ask: Have we become just another Levantine state on the shores of the Mediterranean, whose officials are always on the take, and where bribery and cronyism are an accepted way of life? Does Israel now embody the fear of the prophets that some day we would be truly become kechol haGoyim, “like all the nations,” instead of an ohr laGoyim, “a light to the nations”?

The distinguished congregation of suspects is frightening: former Minister of Justice Haim Ramon and the current president of Israel face morals charges, while an earlier president resigned because of financial improprieties. PM Sharon and his sons were accused of financial misdeeds, and former PMs Netanyahu and Barak have been under investigation, even though charges were never formally brought. Star players of a major soccer team are accused of accepting payoffs from gamblers. Even Orthodox political leadership does not always behave in ways that bring glory to the name of Torah.. And now, the frosting on the cake: Israel’s topmost tax officials and businessmen are accused of defrauding the Tax Authority, while Olmert himself could soon be under investigation for other improprieties — all underscoring what Yediot describes as “the tight relationship between the criminal world and the public bureaucracy.” In a recent survey of countries judged the most honest in the world, UPI recently dropped Israel from its former #10 position to the #34 position, along with such exemplars of rectitude as Cuba and Laos. A corrosive culture of corruption surrounds us. One needs more than a lantern to search the dark for an honest man.

Let no one think that it is only “they” who are affected by this. Each one of us is affected. If everyone is cutting moral and ethical corners, why should I not do so as well, lest I be labeled a sucker, a freier? The great threat to our future in this land emanates not so much from the enemies around us, but from the enemies within us — in keeping with another prophetic dictum: Those who undermine and destroy you will emerge from you ( Isaiah 49:17). For whom does the bell toll? It tolls for thee — for the moral climate of the country.

The secular founders of the modern state of Israel wanted to create a new Jew. They would toss Judaism overboard as a Galut phenomenon, and create an Israeli in tune with contemporary times. Not for him the inhibitions and onerous restrictions of Judaism. He would be carefree and joyous, not caftaned in gloomy black, but wearing shorts, sleeved rolled up, arms and legs bronzed from the sun, always smiling, optimistic, carefree. The original Zionist anthem was emended, and lashuv l’eretz avoteinu, “to return to the land of our fathers,” was replaced by lihyot am chofshi b’artzenu, “to be free in our land.” Chofshi — free not only politically, but from any anchor in the past.

They have succeeded only too well. Like any banana republic, the common currency consists of graft, greed and cynicism. Is this what has become of the Zionist dream? Little wonder that men of integrity like Benny Begin, Natan Sharansky, and Dan Meridor leave government for private life.

We are new Jews. The shared suffering of Jewish history, our moral triumphs over savagery, the long, mystic chord of Jewish national memory, the unique Jewish perspective on God, life, morality, and the world around us — such things have been torn away from our being.. And when we do pick up shards of our history, we immediately distort them. We celebrate Chanukah, but we celebrate exclusively a military victory of the few over the many: God’s miraculous intervention is not part of our Israeli narrative. We observe Passover with matzos and special food, but God’s intercession is not part of the story. Shavuos is no more than an ancient agricultural festival, celebrating the first fruits of the land. Sinai and its thou-shalts and thou-shalt-nots are not on the screen. Rosh Hashanah, the anniversary of the world’s creation and a time to acknowledge His sovereignty, is instead a time for trips to the beach and jaunts to other countries.

One has only to look around to see what has occurred. Our youth imitates the worst attributes of the West, with its drugs and instant gratification. The riches of our spiritual and literary tradition are a closed book for them. (In a recent chat with a tenth grade secular boy, I asked if he studied any Mishnah. He had never heard of the word.) Having lost all pride and self-confidence in who they are, and knowing and caring little about the long history of the land, they are unable even to defend the very idea of a Jewish state, much less prepared to sacrifice for it. As for much of our intellectual elite — having discarded their own unique Jewish identity, they parrot the trendy anti-Jewish clichés of intellectuals around the world, and consider Israel to be a colonial occupier of land not their own.

We are in the throes of a struggle for the soul of Israel. Will it be a light unto the nations, or just another corrupt little state, the only difference being that our corrupters speak not Italian or Turkish, but Hebrew? The future well-being of Israel will not be determined by bombs or planes or military might — as crucial as these are to our physical survival — but by our strength of character, by our recognition that there are transcendent forces in life that surmount the dollar, by the realization that our past is precious and of enduring relevance. This is why the moral flabbiness that is so pervasive in our public square is so distressing. Internal rot is much more insidious than external assault.

There are those among Israel’s cultural and academic elite who are not blind, and who realize that there is a Jewish history and sacred heritage that antedates Herzl, and that a radical re-assessment of our educational and spiritual priorities is long overdue. They surely recognize that this slavish genuflection to the values of the West leads only to a dead end. It is time for these opinion leaders — together with the masses of our people who deep within themselves yearn for truth, meaning, and transcendence — to speak up and demonstrate their revulsion, lest Jerusalem the city of holiness becomes Jerusalem the city of graft.

These are dispiriting times, and yet, if Isaiah’s prophecy about thieves and bribery constitute today’s headline, then the following prophecy — from that same first chapter — could also be tomorrow’s headline:

Your judges will I re-establish as of old
and your counselors as at the beginning…
Zion will be redeemed with justice,
and her returnees with righteousness.

This article appears in today’s Jerusalem Post.

What they have in common is man’s total uwillingness to take responsibility for his own actions, and his total willingness to blame someone else. Adam violates Gods edict about eating from the forbidden tree. God confronts him. What does Adam do? He blames his “problem” – Eve: “The woman you gave me talked me into it.”

God confronts Eve. What does she do? “The serpent persuaded me to do it.” She is not responsible. Her problem, called the serpent, made her do it.

Adam and Eve could be in today’s headlines. All that is missing from their story is today’s crocodile-tearful public apology and the retreat to a rehabilitation center, after which they would be re-admitted to their Paradise. But there was as yet no public, and God had somehow forgotten to create rehab centers in the first seven days. Unfortunately for them, the only public they could address — God Himself — is singularly unimpressed with their excuses . He gives them ... Read More >>]]> Adam and Eve in the Garden, and the misadventures of Rep Mark Foley and other public figures: what do they have in common?

What they have in common is man’s total uwillingness to take responsibility for his own actions, and his total willingness to blame someone else. Adam violates Gods edict about eating from the forbidden tree. God confronts him. What does Adam do? He blames his “problem” – Eve: “The woman you gave me talked me into it.”

God confronts Eve. What does she do? “The serpent persuaded me to do it.” She is not responsible. Her problem, called the serpent, made her do it.

Adam and Eve could be in today’s headlines. All that is missing from their story is today’s crocodile-tearful public apology and the retreat to a rehabilitation center, after which they would be re-admitted to their Paradise. But there was as yet no public, and God had somehow forgotten to create rehab centers in the first seven days. Unfortunately for them, the only public they could address — God Himself — is singularly unimpressed with their excuses . He gives them appropriate rehabilitation: they are permanently banished from the Garden.

The Divine message: you and no one else are responsible and accountable for your actions.

It is a message that still has not gotten through to mankind. Fast forward to our times: What do American public figures do when they get into trouble? Note the predictable behavior in these typical cases: 1) Rush Limbaugh, America’s premier talk show host, purveyor of traditional values and conservative virtues, is discovered to be involved in substance abuse. 2) Rep. Patrick Kennedy is caught driving drunk in Washington D.C. 3) Just recently, Rep Mark Foley sends innuendo-filled emails to his young congressional pages.

What do they do? They follow the time- honored , well-rehearsed choreography: 1) they make a public apology; b) they put the blame on their “problem”; and c) they enter a rehab center for treatment. The successful spin is that they had done nothing really wrong — and the public, instead of seeing through the cynical charade, feels sorry for them. Far from being in violation of accepted legal and moral standards, they are metamorphosed into innocent victims of “problems “ over which they had no control.

Since everything American soon becomes de rigueur in Israel, these rituals , if faithfully mimicked, might benefit the current sorry state of public affairs in our Jewish state.

As a free service to the individuals involved , I hereby propose the following resignation announcements for use by some of Israel’s public officials:

PM Olmert: I apologize for my inept handling of the recent war and its aftermath. Our prisoners are still not released, and rockets still fall in Sderot as in days of yore. But it is not my fault that I am PM. If Sharon had not gotten sick, if he had only had the wisdom to take better care of himself, then I would not be here. It is his fault, not mine. I hereby resign and am having myself admitted to a rehab center for treatment for my Sharon problem.

Minister of Defense Peretz: I admit that I have a dismal record as Defense Minister, but it is not my fault. It is Olmert’s fault. He appointed me to this job. He knew full well that I had no experience for it, and that I did not know the difference between a rifle and a cannon. The war was botched from beginning to end, and I am sorry about that . But if Sharon had taken care of his health, and if Olmert had not appointed me, I would still be back in my favorite job of calling national garbage strikes. I have a problem in that I allowed Olmert to persuade me to take this job. I therefore offer my resignation, and will immediately admit myself to a rehab center to treat my Olmert/Sharon problem.

Foreigh Minister Livni: I readily admit that I have no qualifications to be Foreign Minister, but it is not my fault. Olmert and Peretz talked me into it, and I have a problem in that I love having a large staff, a fancy office and a private chauffeur. I need to work on my Olmert/Peretz/power problem, and for this reason I resign and admit myself to a rehab center.

Chief of Staff Dan Halutz: The armed forces did not do well, but I have several problems. One of them is Sharon. He appointed me to this job over a year ago over many more capable people, because I was the only general who was willing to oversee the evacuation of the Jews of Gaza. I have a problem and it is Sharon’s juggernaut personality. My second problem is my stock portfolio which is a great distraction. I also admit publicly that I put more planning into evacuating Jews from Gaza than in evacuating Hizbollah from Lebanon. These are all problems for which I will be treated as I admit myself to a rehab center after my resignation.

There are many other candidates for Israeli rehab centers, but unfortunately there are not enough such centers to meet the demand. American Jewry is initiating an emergency campaign for new Israeli rehab centers , but meanwhile Pres. Katzir, Chaim Ramon, the inner cabinet, most Knesset members and city mayors, the Supreme Court, and the media will simply have to wait their turn. Pre-printed resignation messages will be available for each of them upon application. A similar pre-packaged service will shortly be available for export to public figures world-wide, in fulfillment of the age-old dream that out of Zion shall go forth excuses, and rehabilitation centers from Jerusalem.

In the Shul I attend here in Jerusalem, something occurred at the end of Yom Kippur day that was memorable. Paradoxically, this was not because of the words we uttered, but the words we did not utter.

Somehow, the Neila service had ended a bit earlier than scheduled. We recited the climactic Confession of Faith that marks the end of the day: the Shema Yisrael, followed by “Baruch shem kevod/May His glorious Name be blessed for eternity,” followed by the seven-fold affirmation that “God, He is the Lord.”

Normally, the Shofar is sounded at this point, which, according to tradition, marks the return of the Divine Presence to its celestial abode. But it was too early. It was only 5:38, and the Shofar could not be sounded until it ... Read More >>]]> We each have our own memory highlights of the recently concluded Days of Awe: the Shofar of Rosh Hashana; the magnificent symphony of that day’s Musaf Amida; penetrating prayers like “Who shall live and who shall die, and “Cast us not off at old age”; the emotional Neila service that climaxes Yom Kippur. One does not have to be particularly religious to be moved by one or another aspect of these truly holy days.

In the Shul I attend here in Jerusalem, something occurred at the end of Yom Kippur day that was memorable. Paradoxically, this was not because of the words we uttered, but the words we did not utter.

Somehow, the Neila service had ended a bit earlier than scheduled. We recited the climactic Confession of Faith that marks the end of the day: the Shema Yisrael, followed by “Baruch shem kevod/May His glorious Name be blessed for eternity,” followed by the seven-fold affirmation that “God, He is the Lord.”

Normally, the Shofar is sounded at this point, which, according to tradition, marks the return of the Divine Presence to its celestial abode. But it was too early. It was only 5:38, and the Shofar could not be sounded until it was fully dark at 5:48. Ten minutes to go.

What to do? Would there be a brief sermon from the rabbi? Some announcement by the gabbai? A communal recitation of Psalms to fill the void? There was none of the above. Everyone – a congregation of 500 people – simply remained in their seats and waited. Some looked into their prayer books and reviewed the prayers of the day. Others studied various classic texts: Bible, Mishna, Talmud. Others read some Psalms. Still others simply closed their eyes, meditated, and savored the closing moments of Yom Kippur.

Whatever it was that they did, one fact stood out: no one talked. No one engaged in the most popular activity known to man: conversation, chit-chat, banter. A congregation of 500 people, sitting close to one another, and no one talked. For 10 whole minutes, an unworldly stillness pervaded the air.

UNWORLDLY IT truly was, as befits Yom Kippur day. There are not many places outside of Jerusalem where such a phenomenon could take place. In many synagogues around the world, where rabbis regularly exhort their congregants not to talk during Shabbat Torah reading, one can only imagine the kind of babel that might be engendered by the prospect of 10 whole minutes with nothing to do.

In some ways this silence equaled in its power and inspiration the entire day of prayer. This congregation was not going to destroy the holiness of the moment by empty prattle and ordinary chatter.

And then the anticipated moment arrived. The chazan raised the Shofar to his lips, the awesome blast enveloped the synagogue, and everyone exclaimed Leshana habaa biYeruyshalyim habenuya. But what remains in memory is not only the sound of the Shofar, but the sound of the great silence that preceded it.

It made one think about human speech and human silence. When, at the beginning of creation, God breathes into Adam the breath of life, the classic Jewish tradition, by way of Targum Onkelos at Gen. 2:7, translates it as “God breathed into man the power of speech” – the divine gift that distinguishes us from the animals.

But like anything of value, this is a gift that can be abused. This is why the Torah devotes so much space to the use and misuse of human speech: laws about making vows (which are expressed in Kol Nidre itself); warnings against lying, gossip and slander; exhortations not to use this divine gift for un-divine purposes: a person “shall not desecrate his word” (Num. 30:3). After all, as Proverbs 18:21 puts it: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” So easy is it to misuse this gift that no less than 25% of the numerous al het transgressions that we confess on Yom Kippur involve human speech.

Sometimes even sacred speech is inadequate to express the deepest human feelings. When Aaron’s two sons die suddenly in the Sanctuary, Aaron’s reaction is Vayidom Aharon, “and Aaron was silent.” (Lev. 9:3). When King David wishes to express his utter closeness to God, he writes, in Psalm 65:2, “to Thee, silence is praise,” while his son Solomon tells us in Ecclesiastes 5:1, “…let thy words be few.”

And within Jewish tradition there is the concept of taanit hadibbur, in which an individual may choose to abstain for a full day – not from food – but from speech. Instead of feasting on talk, he fasts from talk.

These are powerful lessons for our cacophonous times that are so inundated by cascading speech. We yak endlessly: we OD on talk-radio, television talking heads, the ubiquitous use of cell phones.

Silence makes us uneasy, but we have forgotten that silence can be therapeutic for the body and the spirit. To sit in silence and watch the sun set or rise; to gaze silently into the distance; to watch without words the ocean waves lapping against the shore; to look silently at the clouds: what can be more uplifting? R. Shimon in Ethics of Our Fathers 1:17 remarks that he was raised among the wisest of men, and that he “found nothing better for a person than silence.”

Although the gift of speech differentiates humans from the animals, occasional silence makes us even more human. Those good worshipers abstained from food and drink for over 24 hours, but their 10 minute abstinence from talk was the exclamation point that gave spiritual emphasis to that holy day.

A little silence goes a long way.

Originally published in the Jerusalem Post.

Having been through Israel’s wars while living both here and in America, I know from experience that the worries and concerns from far away are far more intense than they are here in Israel, even when we are under fire.

In any case, I was doing fine until those calls began coming in. Then I began to worry, to take my pulse and ask myself: How am I doing under all this tension?

Then something else happened. On the fourth day of the war our apartment building’s house committee chairman knocked on my door wanting to know if we had anything of value in the air-raid shelter, since they were cleaning it up and installing plumbing.

“Installing plumbing?” I asked. “Why do we suddenly need plumbing?” We never had it in other wars. He smiled. “It never hurts to be fully ready.”

I began to wonder: Does he know something I don’t know?

A FEW DAYS later the prime minister addressed the nation. He mentioned the name of G-d twice, ... Read More >>]]> I was holding up fairly well under the pressures of this war until four things occurred. First: e-mails and calls from family and friends in the US who wanted to know how we were holding up.

Having been through Israel’s wars while living both here and in America, I know from experience that the worries and concerns from far away are far more intense than they are here in Israel, even when we are under fire.

In any case, I was doing fine until those calls began coming in. Then I began to worry, to take my pulse and ask myself: How am I doing under all this tension?

Then something else happened. On the fourth day of the war our apartment building’s house committee chairman knocked on my door wanting to know if we had anything of value in the air-raid shelter, since they were cleaning it up and installing plumbing.

“Installing plumbing?” I asked. “Why do we suddenly need plumbing?” We never had it in other wars. He smiled. “It never hurts to be fully ready.”

I began to wonder: Does he know something I don’t know?

A FEW DAYS later the prime minister addressed the nation. He mentioned the name of G-d twice, and cited the prophet Jeremiah at length. It was a well-crafted speech, beautifully delivered.

But our secular PM mentioning G-d in public and citing the Bible? Ehud Olmert? I began to worry: Why has Olmert suddenly got religion?

Then came another blow to my serenity. Since the war began, morning davening in synagogues around the country has concluded with communal recitation of three special Psalms: 83, 130, and 142, in which King David asks G-d to rescue him from his enemies.

David lived 3,000 years ago, and even then he and the Jewish people had no lack of enemies. In Psalm 83 alone, he lists 11 enemy nations! Our Sages’ comment that Esau will eternally hate Jacob was as true in his day as in ours; nothing, it seems, has really changed.

Since the beginning of this war, then, specially printed sheets with these Psalms have been distributed daily in my shul, and they have been a source of strength and comfort as we ask G-d to render our enemies “like stubble before the wind” (83:14).

These Psalms have kept us going through the ups and downs of the war: G-d will surely not forget us, just as he did not forget King David, and as he preserved our people 3,000 years ago, and 1,000 years ago, and 500 years ago, and 100 years ago, and 50 years ago.

Until yesterday, when those same Psalms were handed out, but in a different form: laminated.
“Laminated?” I said to the gabbai, in a feeble attempt at humor. “Does it mean the war is going to last so long that paper alone will not do?

“I don’t want laminated,” I protested. “I want plain disposable, temporary, old-fashioned paper.” He ignored me.

It was the crowning blow. Instead of giving me strength and comfort, those laminated Psalms have created new concerns.

Does the gabbai know something I don’t know?

I WILL STILL read those special Psalms every day. But not from the laminated sheets.

Why? Firstly, the Psalms are eternal, even on ordinary paper. More importantly, a laminated beseeching of God implies something that is not true: that the Gates of Prayer are closed, and will take a very long time to open.

I believe those gates are always open, and that we need only give them a firmer push so the One Above heeds our petition.

I will have my Psalms on plain paper, thank you. For I know that by the time that paper wears thin our prayers will have been answered, and (a) we will all be doing fine so our American friends can stop fretting; (b) our air raid shelter with its spanking new plumbing and supplies will be totally unused and will gather dust; and (d) laminated special Psalms will be buried in the cemetery along with other unusable holy texts.

OH, YES: Ehud Olmert and the Name of G-d. May it be G-d’s will that all our prime ministers use His holy Name and cite the Jewish Bible not only when things look grave, but when they look up as well.

That way, G-d will surely look down upon them and upon His holy land with divine mercy, and grant us the age of peace we so long for — an age when utilizing His divine Name will be a sign of recognition that, after all is said and done, we are His people and this is His land, and no power in the world can dislodge us from it.

And this last prayer can definitely be laminated.

Also published in the Jerusalem Post.

A few days ago the group was scheduled to spend the entire morning at the beach. They waited expectantly for the bus, but before it arrived the rabbi of the school that was sponsoring the day camp called all the children together.

“All of you know,” he said, “that there is a war going on, and many boys and girls of your age who live in cities like Haifa and Safed have had to leave their homes and go and live in other places to be safe.

“These children had to leave their toys and their books and their favorite games behind. I am thinking that maybe today we should do something special for them. What do you think we might be able to do?”

The children listened carefully and quietly. Finally, one youngster raised his hand.

“I think we shouldn’t go to the beach today at all. I would feel bad having fun at the beach while they aren’t having such a good time away from their homes. I think we should pray for them and say psalms for them, and then we can find something else to do.”

THE ... Read More >>]]> One of our grandchildren attends a summer day camp for six- and seven-year-olds in Jerusalem.

A few days ago the group was scheduled to spend the entire morning at the beach. They waited expectantly for the bus, but before it arrived the rabbi of the school that was sponsoring the day camp called all the children together.

“All of you know,” he said, “that there is a war going on, and many boys and girls of your age who live in cities like Haifa and Safed have had to leave their homes and go and live in other places to be safe.

“These children had to leave their toys and their books and their favorite games behind. I am thinking that maybe today we should do something special for them. What do you think we might be able to do?”

The children listened carefully and quietly. Finally, one youngster raised his hand.

“I think we shouldn’t go to the beach today at all. I would feel bad having fun at the beach while they aren’t having such a good time away from their homes. I think we should pray for them and say psalms for them, and then we can find something else to do.”

THE CHILDREN agreed enthusiastically. It was unanimous.

So when the bus came it did not take them to the beach; instead it took them to the nearby synagogue, where they prayed and recited Psalms 83, 130, and 142 together. After that, instead of taking them swimming, the bus took them to a museum, where they had a fine time.

It was just a minor incident – but maybe not so minor. Had they gone to the beach, these children would soon enough have forgotten about it. But they will not soon forget something much more important: their participation in the pain of others.

“Whosoever shares in the difficulties of the Jewish people will be deemed worthy of sharing their joy,” say the Sages. Without being aware of this talmudic dictum, and without being told that they had to do this, these youngsters instinctively felt a kinship with their peers in the North.

They lived a profound lesson in caring, one that transcends times of war and will help them grow into exemplary human beings and Jews.

How sensitive and wise was the rabbi who spoke to them. More so, how sensitive were these youngsters who saw immediately what their rabbi was driving at.

HERE IS the historic power of the Jewish people. Kol Yisroel arevim zeh lazeh: All Israel is responsible one for the other. We are never alone; we have our God above us, and we have the Jewish people beside us.

We are fighting an implacable enemy whose hatred of the Jews goes back millennia.

They are proud of one of their major weapons: their youngsters who strap bombs to themselves in order to maim and kill innocent civilians.

But Israel has a much more powerful major weapon, one that also goes back millennia: our children who wrap themselves in sensitivity to the suffering of others.

History teaches us that the love and humanity of the one will ultimately triumph over the brutishness and hatred of the other.

A remarkable sense of unity and purpose now pervades Israel. Many of us on the home front are saying special prayers daily for our soldiers in the battlefield, are increasing our giving of tzedaka, and trying to improve our behavior toward others.

ALL OF THESE will surely help the cause of Israel in the eyes of the Almighty One. Israel’s wars, after all is said and done, are fought not only on the ground, but on a higher dimension as well. It is of this higher dimension that Isaiah speaks when he prophecies of Israel’s ultimate redemption: “…and a little child will lead them.”

Our little children are leading us. May we be wise enough to follow their example in thought and in action, so we will be deemed worthy of sharing in the joys of the people Israel.

Also published in today’s Jerusalem Post.

Then came the tragic news that Asheri had been murdered by his captors. The country was saddened and once again stunned by this latest evidence of the depravity of our enemies. When I walked into Shul the next day, the sign was still there, but the name Eliyahu Pinchas ben Miriam had been crossed out with two brisk, horizontal pen strokes.

I was taken aback. I turned to a fellow worshiper and said, I realize the boy is gone, but how could anyone do this kind of thing – to strike through his name? Isn’t that terribly insensitive? Why would anyone do that?

The man shrugged his shoulders. You’re right. It is kind of grotesque. But listen, the kid is dead. Those ... Read More >>]]> After Corporal Gilad Shalit was taken captive, a small notice appeared in our Jerusalem synagogue. Above Shalit’s Hebrew name, Gilad ben Aviva, was a hand –lettered request to recite Psalms and to pray for his safe return. When young Eliyahu Asheri was kidnapped a few days later, his name, Eliyahu Pinchas ben Miriam, was added to the notice.