Category Archives: Halacha

Bikur Cholim – Visiting the Sick

Visiting the sick (or the “not yet well,” as we like to call the temporarily afflicted) is one of the characteristic acts of kindness that define the life of a Jew. It is a simulation of divine chesed. The Talmud (Sotah 14a) cites the verse (Devarim 13:5) that “You shall follow G-d,” and explains: “Can a person really follow the divine presence, which is a consuming fire? Rather, follow G-d’s ways…just like G-d visits the sick, so too you should visit the sick.”
Thus, bikur cholim is an important mitzvah, but – like all mitzvot – it has a precise form and methodology. Often, people with the best intentions can stumble and inadvertently fail to fulfill the commandment properly, or, in the worst case, actually exacerbate the choleh’s predicament. It is important to know that the essence of the mitzvah is to inquire after the choleh’s needs, and especially to pray for his/her recovery. To leave without offering a specific blessing – “G-d should have mercy on you and all cholei Yisrael,” or “May Hashem send you a speedy refuah shleima from Heaven” – does not fulfill the mitzvah.
Beyond the technicalities of the mitzvah is the realization that the choleh is a human being, and not merely – like a lulav, so to speak – a cheftza shel mitzvah, the vehicle through which the commandment is performed. I have heard from cholim who understand well the importance of the mitzvah, the willingness of people to perform it and the necessity to recognize guidelines and limitations. It is not always easy for the “healthy,” so to speak, to empathize with the choleh.
Thus, one overcome by serious illness needs time to adjust to the new reality, the challenge that G-d has sent his/her way. And it is a challenge; as is well known, we cannot always control what happens to us but we can control our reaction to it. Every stage in life is part of our mission to fulfill the destiny that G-d has set for us. Some cholim want to explore the spiritual dimensions of their illness, but others do not. One should be guided by the choleh, and not be too intrusive as to the spiritual state of the person unless the person raises the matter. Granted, the essential mitzvah is to tend to the physical needs of the person, but refuat hanefesh is often a part of a person’s recovery or his way of coping. That matter, nonetheless, is best raised by the choleh.
Even regarding the personal needs of the choleh, each person is different. Someone who is homebound can still be functional – and talk on the phone, daven, give tzedaka, learn Torah and even comfort others. Some look for ubiquitous companionship and others prefer time for solitude or just recovery. The time frame for visits should be determined by the choleh, although Chazal state that one should not visit in the first three or last three hours of the day – early morning or late evening. (The laws of Bikur Cholim are found in the Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah, Chapter 335.) If the choleh says that “now is not a good time,” we must respect that – and certainly not say: “You are depriving me of the opportunity to do a mitzvah!” It is best not even to call early in the morning or late at night. One should first ascertain whether the timing of the visit is appropriate for the choleh – but also for the choleh’s family, which is also great impacted by the illness of their loved one. They too need chizuk – and sometimes just space and a life away from caretaking.
Thus, the choleh’s relatives should always be greeted not with the “pity face” but b’sever panim yafot, with a smile and pleasant countenance. They need not be reminded by your expression of their pain, nor do they need to be distracted from it. The worst reaction – not common but not uncommon either – is to avoid eye contact, to make believe that they are not really there. That reaction – seemingly cold even from otherwise thoughtful people – is an unconscious attempt to avoid causing pain, and even to avoid identifying with that pain that will someday be theirs as well. But little is as painful as that – as if not the illness but the sadness is infectious. Sometimes, the best approach is just to say “hello” with a smile, or send a card or message with simple words that you are thinking of them, davening for them, etc. Certainly, one can call and leave such a message on the answering machine – and do not at a later stage confront the choleh accusingly and ask why your call wasn’t returned? Not every call can be reciprocated. And if you have not called, do not tell the choleh that you didn’t call because you “know that they have others looking after them.” That might be true but it is not relevant, and just an attempt to assuage guilt.
Above all – be normal (a good rule for life in every event). That is hard to do because, again, it can be psychologically painful to see oneself in the position of the choleh and so we try to escape from having any association with that quandary. (Death often evokes a similar reaction in people.) That such is common does not make it acceptable, so, be normal, and supportive to the extent welcomed.
It is very helpful when friends offer to help, but the help should be specific rather than generic – not “can I do anything for you?” or “Please let me know if I can do anything for you” – but specific: “I am going to X Market. What can I get for you?” Or, “can I cook for you [or for your children]?” Can I drive you to the doctor?”
And, of course, whatever you commit to doing – do! Offer to do anything in your comfort zone – but then follow through. Do not say you are cooking, and then (well, of course you will cook, but) expect the spouse to pick it up. Do not offer to drive and then cancel (absent some exigency, of course.) Offering and reneging is worse than not offering at all.
If the choleh accepts your favor, then certainly be discreet. If you drive the person to the doctor, then the patient trusts you. Do not share personal information about the choleh’s condition with others. That is always the prerogative of the choleh. First and foremost, always respect the person’s privacy and dignity.
Visits should be kept brief. Do not stay too long, unless the choleh specifically requests it. Offer chizuk rather than pity, and don’t visit if your visit will make the choleh feel worse. (“Your illness has hurt our friendship and ruined my life!” or “You are not the same person!”) When appropriate, offer words of chizuk or Divrei Torah and even drop off reading material that can enrich the life of the person.
If the choleh wishes to speak about his/her illness, then by all means be receptive and listen, but do not ask about specific symptoms, prognoses or other medical issues unless the information is volunteered. The choleh might be uncomfortable discussing certain matters. If you have a valid reason to suggest a different medical protocol, then do so, but do not suggest that the choleh change doctors in mid-treatment, as that can shake the patient’s confidence and undermine his psychological state.
What should you talk about with the choleh? Certainly tell them what is happening in your life, but do not complain about having to do errands or activities that the choleh would love to be doing but for the illness. If you see the choleh (or relative) in shul davening with kavana, it would be rude and improper to interrupt them for a general inquiry about their welfare. They, especially, need those moments of solitude with Hashem.
Understand, as well, that each person handles illness in a unique and subjective way. There are people whose true needs are known to them only in retrospect, whether they required more support or less. That applies to both the choleh and the family. And just as we would not criticize someone who is public about the illness, so too we should not castigate (even behind closed doors) someone who wants to remain private. There is no one right way, although Chazal do state that it is preferable to inform people of one’s troubles so they can pray for you (Sotah 32b). But, ultimately, the choice is personal, and we must always recall that the illness is not the person and does not define the person. The person remains a human being entitled to respect and consideration, and has a life beyond the illness also.
And perhaps our main contribution to the welfare of the afflicted is to daven for them, to always have them in our thoughts and prayers. Davening helps – it helps the choleh but it also helps others develop a closer, more intimate connection with Hashem. That might be one reason why visiting the sick is a mitzvah whose fruit we consume in this world but whose principal remains for the world-to-come. It is a mitzvah that is not as easy as it looks, and in which we can all easily fall short, but one that properly done invariably makes us better people. With good intentions and even better words and deeds, we can bring great comfort to all cholim, as we pray to Hashem to bring them – and all cholei Yisrael – a refuah shleimah, a complete and speedy recovery.

The Three-Ply Cord

King Solomon stated in his wisdom “Two are better than one, for they get a greater return for their effort.” But three are even better, “for the three-ply cord is not easily severed” (Kohelet 4:9,12). The Midrash (Kohelet Raba 4) interprets this as applicable to family continuity: “R. Zi’era said that a family of scholars will produce scholars, and a family of Bnai Torah will produce Bnai Torah, and wealth will beget wealth, ‘for the three-ply cord is not easily severed.’” One sage asked: didn’t a well known family lose their wealth? To which R. Zi’era responded: “Did I say ‘the three-ply cord is never severed?’ I said “for the three-ply cord is not easily severed.”  But why should a three-ply cord – tough and durable – ever be severed?

A new unpublished study recently brought to my attention has challenging implications for the Torah world – to wit, that 50% of the graduates of Modern Orthodox high schools are no longer Shabbat or Kashrut observant within two years of their graduation. Another study from last year reported the not-quite-shocking news that 25% of those graduates who attend secular colleges assimilate during college and completely abandon Torah and mitzvot.

Those are frightening statistics that should cause us all to shudder. Perhaps the numbers are less dire than they seem on the surface. For sure, a not-insignificant percentage of students enter those high schools already lacking in Shabbat observance – their families are not observant – and they leave the same way. Other teens already fall off the derech while in high school – a more exacting study would measure their observance level at graduation and then two years later. But, undoubtedly, many slide off the path of Torah as soon as they gain a modicum of autonomy. Just as certain, there are some who return to Torah years later as well.

What are we missing? What are we lacking? What are we failing to provide them after spending hundreds of thousands of dollars per child on their Jewish education? What is going wrong? And how can it be rectified?

It needs to be stated that parents who look to blame the schools, the shuls, the youth groups, the Rabbis, the teachers, and/or the greater community are looking in the wrong place. They should start by looking in the mirror. That should be obvious, because parents have the primary obligation of educating their children – “you shall teach [these words] to your children to speak of them…” (Devarim 11:19). Even if parents delegate this task, they still remain primarily responsible. And of course, the general disclaimer always pertains in these matters: there are perfect parents whose kids go off the derech and horrendous parents (absolute scoundrels) whose children are righteous and scholarly. Even such illustrious people as Yitzchak and Rivka produced one of each – a tzadik and a scoundrel. There is no panacea, and we can only talk about the majority. There will always be exceptions.

To me, it all goes back to basics – not just what the parents say, but what parents say and do. The “chut hameshulash” – the “three-ply cord” of our world is Torah study, prayer and Shabbat – and in no particular order. Children who see their parents prioritize shul – not once or twice a week, but every day – see shul as a value. Children who see their parents attend shul once a week and primarily socialize and converse while there see shul as a place to meet their friends. When older, they can just bypass the middleman and just go straight to their friends.

Similarly, children who see parents learning Torah during their leisure time perceive learning as a value. Children whose Shabbat is different than the other days of the week – the Shabbat table is different, the conversation is laden with talk of Torah, ideas, values, and zemirot instead of idle chitchat, sports, and gossip – experience a different Shabbat. It’s just a different day. When Shabbat is not observed as a different day, it stops being a different day.

I have noticed that there are teens who simply do not daven – they will converse the whole time – and invariably they are the children of fathers who themselves don’t stop talking in shul. Children who roam the halls of the synagogue Shabbat morning are invariably the offspring of parents who roam the halls. Like father, like son.

And something else: too many teenagers have absolutely no concept of “Bigdei Shabbat” – the obligation to wear special clothing on Shabbat. I am not even referring to wearing ties and jackets, although that is clearly perceived as dignified dress in America. Many teens come to shul dressed in weekday clothing but even on the lower end of what might be called “school casual.” How do parents not impress on their children from their earliest youth with the idea of “Shabbat clothing?” That is part of what makes Shabbat different. Every child – girl or boy – should have clothing specially designated for Shabbat, ideally a jacket and tie for boys and a nice dress for girls. At age five, I put on a suit and tie for Shabbat, and never looked back. How are children allowed to leave the house on Shabbat as if it is a Sunday – whether it is to attend shul in the morning or meet their friends in the afternoon?

Are we then surprised when Shabbat for them becomes “not Shabbat”? Their whole experience of Shabbat is being told what they can’t do, incarcerated for two hours in the morning in a place where they don’t want to be, to then eat a meal that might be devoid of spiritual substance, the day salvaged only when they meet their friends who have had similar experiences. But if Shabbat is not a different day, then apparently the moment the child gains his independence, or a moment or two after that, his Shabbat becomes Saturday, which, combined with Sunday and Friday night, makes for a long, fun and enjoyable weekend. The fifteen year old who walks around the streets Shabbat afternoon in shorts and sneakers will likely not be observing Shabbat when he is twenty. But no one will make the connection then – so make it now.

“For the three-ply cord is not easily severed.” The three-ply cord of Torah, tefila and Shabbat is not easily undone. The survey is not as surprising as is the persistent reluctance to draw the obvious conclusions and instead cast a wide net looking for the suspects. George Orwell famously wrote that “to see what is in front of one’s nose needs a constant struggle.” The good news is that we need not look very far for solutions. If the parent wants the child to learn Torah, then the parent should learn Torah. If the parent wants the child to daven, then the parent should daven. If the parent wants the child to enjoy Shabbat as a holy, special day, then the parent should make Shabbat into a holy, special day.

Perhaps there is an even more important idea. The Midrash (ibid) also states: “two are better than one – that is, a man and his wife who are better than each alone, but the ‘third cord’ (that fortifies the first two) is G-d who provides them with children.”

Parents have to convey to their children beginning in infancy a sense of G-d’s immanence, a sense of the godly in life, and a Jewish identity that is rooted in the Torah that Moshe commanded us. Children should be inculcated beginning in infancy that what they do matters before G-d, and that mitzvot are not just performances but points of connection to the Creator. When parents enlist G-d in their parenting – not as the Source of all guilt and dire punishment, but as the Source of “the heritage of the congregation of Yaakov,” then “the three-ply cord is not easily severed.”  Anything can happen. There are no guarantees in life, and each person is endowed with free choice. But “the three-ply cord is not easily severed.”

We must reduce our expectations to the simple – what we want for our children, our greatest priority – is the summation of our lives: not that they should necessarily attend Columbia, Harvard or Yale, or become doctors, lawyers, rabbis, or businessmen, but rather “the sum of the matter, when all has been considered, is to fear G-d and keep His commandments…” (Kohelet 12:13). When we speak with pride not of “my son the doctor” or “my daughter the lawyer” but find our true pride in “my son the G-d-fearing Jew” and “my daughter the Shomeret Mitzvot,” then we and they will be prepared for the great era ahead, when G-d’s name will be made great and exalted before the nations.

 

Israel’s Illegal Immigration

(The following was originally drafted for and can be accessed at www.Jewishvaluesonline.org)

What is the Jewish perspective on the illegal immigration crisis in Israel? The Torah commands us to care for the foreigners and immigrants among us. Does that extend to illegal immigrants? Is it right to send them back, as is happening now, or are we obligated to take them in and help them?

    The presence of illegal immigrants in Israel presents a most delicate and vexing issue. Emotionally, it is difficult to turn away any person who flees persecution and suffering, as we are quite mindful of our own recent history and the doors that were closed to Jews who wanted to flee Europe. The situation is exacerbated because these refugees are primarily Christians who are fleeing from Muslim persecutors, and ironically seeking safe haven with Jews.

Rationally, though, we recognize that every nation must place limits on the number of foreigners who wish to reside there. If such is true of the largest countries in the world, including the United States, it is certainly true of small Israel. Illegal immigrants currently number in the low hundreds of thousands – not significant in real terms but most substantial in relative terms. In a country with approximately six million Jews, and over a million Arabs, the character and culture of the Jewish state will be diluted once a critical mass of non-Jews is allowed to permanently reside there. If the gates are completely open, Israel can be overrun with another million or more foreigners – non-Jews who do not share the values and destiny of the Jewish people, and the Jewish State will begin to evaporate.

Obviously, the Torah recognizes limitations on a non-Jews’ right to live in the land of Israel. First and foremost, only gerei toshav (literally, resident aliens) – those who formally accept the seven Noachide laws – are allowed to traverse the land of Israel, much less live there. But the numbers have to be monitored so the foreign influences do not predominate. And that is the problem today, along with the fact that we no longer formally accept gerei toshav.

Rav Shlomo Aviner, the Rav of Bet El and one of the great rabbinical leaders in Israel today, notes that most (not all) of the illegal immigrants are law-abiding and have come to Israel to improve their lives. That they do – despite all the threats and problems in Israel – is a tribute to the remarkable character of the State of Israel. But the primary responsibility of Israel has to be to Jews, not non-Jews. Israel is in the process of gathering all Jewish exiles, including us. They will need jobs, homes, and infrastructure. It is simply not possible for Israel to become the world’s haven; it lacks both the physical space and the material resources. He concludes: “We must distinguish between individual morality and communal morality. It is impossible to run a country based on emotions. Everything must be carefully analyzed.”

Therein lies the critical distinction between the Jewish experience and these illegal immigrants. Jewish refugees often sought temporary refuge in friendly countries (like Shanghai, China, declared an international free zone during the Holocaust) but permanent residence in countries where we would be welcomed, and legal residents. We are obligated to offer temporary refuge to any person, to assist him in his time of need. But the emphasis is on “temporary.” The Torah obligates us to assist non-Jews – their poor, their sick, their homeless – in order to set them again on sound footing. But we are certainly not obligated to provide a permanent solution to an international crisis, a “solution” that will surely undermine the viability of the world’s only Jewish state. To channel Justice Robert Jackson, the Torah (like the US Constitution) is not a suicide pact. Nations can operate in their own interests in order to preserve their viability.

An illegal immigrant should have no expectation of remaining in the country that he has infiltrated. The reference in the Torah to the “strangers among us” relates primarily to those in the land when we arrived, and not necessarily to foreigners who came later. Some did, and all are to be treated humanely, but the notion that illegal immigrants have a moral claim on the country to which they emigrated is novel. It is part of the new American ethos that “illegal immigrants” are not really “illegal” but just “undocumented.”  But they are more than “undocumented;” they carry no “documents” because, unlike millions of others trying to come to America but are obeying its laws and waiting their turn, they chose to break the law and breach the borders of the country.
The same applies to Israel’s illegal immigrants. The Vietnamese boat people who were admitted in the late 1970s by PM Menachem Begin were admitted because of their desperate plight and their relatively small numbers. The new illegal immigrants are far different in scale, and not all are political refugees. Any nation that has porous borders will soon cease to be a nation, and Israel’s margin is much smaller than most other countries. What is required is an international solution that provides a permanent home to these unfortunates. Otherwise, massive illegal immigration will be among the frightening enemies Israel has to overcome in the next two decades.

Temporary refuge – yes. Permanent home – no.  Clearly, the Torah, which delimits the very residence of non-Jews in the land of Israel, endorses the deportation of illegal immigrants, young and old, who would threaten the existence and welfare of the State. Do all have to be deported? Certainly not. But the number of people that need to be deported must be determined by the government which is mainly responsible for the lives and well-being of its citizens. That number will certainly be informed by the humanitarian impulse that characterizes the Jewish personality. As Rav Aviner wrote: “Although we have a great desire to help humanity, our primary obligation is to strengthen ourselves here, and then we can bring a blessing to humanity.

A good part of that blessing should be the concept of universal human rights and dignity, so that human beings are not forced to flee the evil that threatens them in their native lands, and a permanent end to the reign of the tyrants who torment millions across the globe.

“According to His Will”

     “This is the state of the contemporary Liberal world – the fear of giving offense has been self-inculcated in a group which must, now, consider literally every word and action for potential violation of the New Norms” (David Mamet, in The Secret Knowledge).

     That, as well as anything, explains the recent self-immolation of a colleague on the “Orthodox left” (perhaps, better, “left Orthodoxy”) who demeaned and denounced the daily blessing recited by men thanking G-d for “not having made me a woman” and opined that he has stopped saying it, in breach of a Jewish tradition that is several millennia old. Stealing from the non-Orthodox playbook, he castigated Orthodoxy for its “maltreatment” of women, and our “inherited prejudice that…women possess less innate dignity than men.” He even brazenly declared the blessing a “Desecration of G-d’s Name,” trampling any sense of propriety and humility and demonstrating the ability to leap over the spiritual giants of Jewish life in a single bound – quite a stupendous feat.

    To be sure, the condemnation of his remarks elicited from him a standard (and partial) retraction, apologizing for the stridency of the remarks but not their substance. This is the flip side of a fairly typical liberal criticism, the clichéd “it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it,” when, actually it is the substance, often irrefutable, that bothers them. Here, not only was the tone repugnant, but the sentiments were equally abhorrent – and were not only not withdrawn but educed defenders from the “left Orthodoxy” who are adept at finding the one source that seems to support their views (even if it doesn’t) and are blithely contemptuous of Jewish tradition, history, custom and the wisdom of our Sages. It is impossible to read his remarks without sensing that he perceives the Talmudic sages and their spiritual successors down to our day as, G-d forbid, small, bigoted, and immoral people who are his moral inferiors. One wonders why he can respect anything that they say, being so flawed, and why any of his students or congregants should care to study the opinions of those hopeless misogynists. A rabbi must have enormous self-confidence, to say the least, to set himself up as judge and jury over the guardians and transmitters of the divine word, and he must also be inordinately sensitive to feel pain when none is intended.

     Some of my learned colleagues have written eloquent articles about the provenance of this particular blessing, starting with the Yerushalmi (Brachot, Chapter 9) that explains it as referring to man’s obligation in Mitzvot that are numerically greater than those of a woman, a servant and a heathen. (See, e.g., Rav Dov Fischer at http://www.cross-currents.com/archives/2011/08/08/who-hast-not-made-me-a-liberal-rabbi/). Another distinguished colleague wrote beautifully of an encounter with a woman who said that she loved the female version of the blessing – a woman correspondingly recites a blessing thanking G-d “for creating me according to his will.” She understood it as follows: women were the last entity created during the six days of creation, and therefore represented G-d’s special creation – the only entity created perfectly, “according to His will.” It is the man who recites wistfully that G-d did not make him a woman. Not only is that interpretation clever, creative, respectful of Chazal, and reflective of a joy and contentment with life, it also echoes Rav Hirsch’s commentary that women are spiritually superior to males and naturally closer to G-d than men are. I don’t have to agree – I think men and women are spiritually equal before G-d but just given different roles – to respect her satisfaction with her station in life. That is true love of G-d and love of Torah – the exact opposite of the embittered assault on Torah and Orthodoxy (among other sins – batei din, agunot, the lack of female rabbis, etc.) that emanated from the quarters mentioned above. The task of the Rabbi is to teach Torah to the unlearned, not reinforce their basest stereotypes, and one who chooses an interpretation of Chazal’s words that put them in a bad light, as opposed to teaching the many traditional interpretations that are holy and positive, is defining himself and his biases rather than the Torah. Indeed, it is peculiar that a rabbi who claims to be concerned with women’s spiritual dignity would find that dignity not in a uniquely feminine role but in rank mimicry of man’s role.

     We are living through a period of history in which “sensitivity” has become so acute that every word and deed is scrutinized by self-appointed moralists for even the possibility of offense, and in a world in which we try to co-exist with numerous individuals who are always taking offense about something or other. Some people are just thin-skinned, but today there are many who have no skin at all; they are just a bundle of raw nerves, claiming either victimhood or an unrestricted license to protect potential victims as they see it, and using that status as a club with which to beat the less-enlightened who do not share their views. There is little that, read a certain way, does not give offense, so here’s a brief list of blessings that the fastidious might also consider omitting:

     Blessed is Hashem…Hamelamed Torah l’amo Yisrael (who teaches Torah to His peopleIsrael) – might offend the world by singling out the Jewish people for our special relationship with G-d;

 …hamachzir neshamot lifgarim meitim (who restores souls to dead bodies) – might offend those who r”l die in their sleep;

She’lo asani goy (who did not make me a heathen) – might offend non-Jews;

She’lo asani aved (who did not make a slave) – might offend the working man;

 …pokeach ivrim – (who opens the eyes of the blind) – might offend the blind;

 …matir assurim – (who unties the bound) – might offend the incarcerated;
 … zokef kfufim – (who straightens the bent) – might offend the hunchback;

 …she’asa li kol tzarki – (who provides all our needs, i.e., shoes) – will offend Shoeless Joe Jackson;

… hameichin mitzadei gaver (who prepares the steps of man) – might offend the lame;
 …Ozer yisrael bigvura and oter yisrael b’tifara (who girdsIsrael with might, who adornsIsrael with splendor) – really offends non-Jews who apparently were not so blessed with might or splendor;

hanoten laya’ef koach (who gives strength to the weary) – will offend the exhausted who nonetheless wake up every morning;

Yotzer ha’meorot (who formed the luminaries) – offends evolutionists, and sounds too much like the claims of those right-wing creationists.

Habocher b’amo yisrael b’ahava (who chose His people Israel with love) – offends…well, it is obvious. There are many others. It is not that everyone will be offended by everything; it is rather that someone might be offended by some of them, and the sensitivity police will be on the case, poseurs all.

     And, of course, noten Hatorah (who gave us the Torah) – will offend those who do not believe that G-d actually gave us the Torah but assume it is a man-made ball of wax that can be shaped as they wish in order to conform to the prevailing political correctness of every generation.

   But I suppose that is the whole point of this exercise. My colleague prefers to abstain from this blessing citing the Rabbinic dictum “Shev v’al taaseh, adif” (“it is preferable to sit and not do…”) Of course, that dictum is our general recourse when we confront a conflict of laws – when an action will simultaneously fulfill and violate different commandments; it is does not at all relate to a case in which one chooses not to fulfill  mitzva because he has shamefully construed it as a “sin.” And what really is the source of the alleged sin, to add to Mamet’s quotation at the top ?

     One of my distinguished colleagues recently called attention to the introduction of the Steipler Gaon to his work “Chayei Olam.” The Steipler writes that too many Jews are spiritually perplexed – either a consequence of intellectual confusion or uncontrollable desires whetted by what they see in the world around them – and usually because they have gazed in the works of free-thinkers whose words are impure and transmit impurity, and this nonsense is retained in and shapes their minds. And then he writes (translation mine): “It is appropriate to respond to these confused individuals that do they really think that they are the first people ever to have these questions and doubts ? Does it take some genius to be thus confused ? Rather do you not understand that thousands of the giants of Israel in every generation wrestled with every possible question, doubt and angle – and yet their faith remained perfect and complete, in force, and they all served the will of their Creator with fear and reverence because their souls were pure and in the light of their understanding they saw the truth clearly – what is true and what is false and counterfeit… From the simple faith of all our Rabbis, you will be able to understand that for every question and doubt there are clear answers….”

     Part of humility is deference to those whose wisdom, deeds and moral attainments were greater than ours, and teachers of Torah should attempt to inculcate that deference – rather than affect an air of moral superiority. This most recent effort to impose the fleeting morality of modern times on the eternal values of Chazal does more than disparage generations of Jews – men and women – who properly understood the intellectual depth and moral goodness of our Sages; worse, it ordains every individual to pass ultimate judgment on every aspect of the Torah, filtering every detail through a subjective moral code that will differ from person to person. Such lacks more than just humility; it undermines the unity of the Jewish people, our faith in Torah, and our acceptance of the “yoke of the divine kingship.”

      Many have traveled down that road; few have returned. The substance is as shallow as the articulation was disgraceful. Both should be withdrawn, and the honor of our Sages and their formulation of our daily prayers, and the spiritual dignity of men and women, affirmed.