Category Archives: Israel

Haredi Follies

Posted on August 26, 2009 | 4 comments

On Sunday, I was driving on a narrow street in the Meah Shearim section of Jerusalem when suddenly, directly ahead of the car in front of me, a group of young Haredi men in their 20’s were gainfully occupied pulling a huge trash dumpster into the middle of the street in order to block it. I was forced to drive on the sidewalk to get through. What the cars in back of me did once the street was fully blocked is a mystery.

Why did they choose to block their street and inconvenience dozens of innocent people ? I do not know, nor, frankly, do I care. I offer here the general and accurate disclaimer that the guilty are only a relative handful of people, not subject to the control or influence of mainstream Haredi rabbis, and a poor reflection on their milieu, their upbringing and on the Torah itself – walking, talking, breathing (but not working) examples of a Chillul Hashem, a desecration of G-d’s name. But these few are reflective of a broader problem.

These individuals have become, like the Arabs (sad to say), people of perpetual and unassuageable grievances, who are at war with society, and even with the rest of the Torah world that has left them in the dust and successfully live normal lives in accordance with Torah law. Perhaps wearing long black coats and hats on hot, humid days nurtures an intense dissatisfaction with life, and understandably so. Perhaps the lamentable fact (publicized last week) that only 37% of Haredi men between the ages of 20-60 are gainfully employed (as opposed to the 80% employment rate of that bracket in the rest of society) is a source of internal frustration and shame that is projected onto the rest of the society via their anti-social acts. And perhaps, therefore, they should keep in mind the resentment generated in the society that supports them through an extensive welfare network, and remind themselves of the Talmudic adage not to “throw stones in the well from which you drink,” or its secular corollary: “don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

What galls most are not the pervasive, threatening admonitions of the modesty police that blanket that neighborhood, nor a parking lot in Yerushalayim opening on Shabbat, nor the arrest of a mentally ill, allegedly child-abusing mother, nor sundry other alleged grievances that lead the unemployed and unemployable “activists” to block streets, set fire to trash bins, attack the police, etc. What galls is rather the shame caused to the public face of Torah by a segment of society that is proudly incapable of applying the Torah to the realities of modern life, that boasts of its unwillingness to educate its children to contribute meaningfully to the world around them, and that has therefore emasculated the Torah and made it a dead document that few normal people – seeing the way they live – would want to embrace.

Where a simple outsider sees “piety,” a more astute observer sees scrupulous observance of some Mitzvot and a wholesale disregard of others. The standard accusation against more modern Jews – that they “pick and choose” the mitzvot that suit them –applies with equal cogency to them: they may dress modestly, but many are public charges – violating the Talmudic mandate that one should “rather treat his Shabbat like a weekday than become dependent on public support.” They dutifully rest on Shabbat but treat its corollary – to “work for six days” – with disdain. They are close-knit but only within a narrowly-drawn circle; the concerns of other Jews, and love of other Jews, are not always readily apparent. If it were otherwise, they would not attempt to propagate their views by inconveniencing others, who are unsure of and uninterested in whatever point they are really making. Their study of Torah and observance of mitzvot are often punctuated by superstitions and irrational behavior that have no place among Torah Jews, including but not limited to fetishizing certain forms of dress. They can adopt every minority opinion – every stringency – except in the areas of Kavod habriyot, Ahavat Yisrael (respect for the dignity of others and the love of Jews), and several others as well.

Their attempt in that small enclave to re-create the European shtetl has succeeded, at least to the extent that they have duplicated the grinding poverty that typified European Jews when we ignore the mythology and the nostalgia. And it is poverty that – just like in Europe – has no escape, as the educational constraints they place on themselves deprive them of any realistic opportunity to better themselves economically. And, as I see it, that is the primary source of their discontent – not the secularism, the immodesty, the Zionism that surrounds them – but the happiness, the satisfaction, and the contentment that so many others derive out of life – especially the Torah life – that they are denied. Unable to contribute or even to discourse with others, their sole recourse is to stones, imprecations, and blockades. How sad… To be given an opportunity to re-create a fully-Jewish life in a land of Israel under Jewish sovereignty, and instead to squander it – in the process, antagonizing even other Torah Jews. Many are misguided, and to a great extent, misled by their leaders. And I am unaware of even one Jew who performed even one mitzva or avoided one sin as a consequences of a stone being hurled his way.

Fortunately, the tide is turning for Haredim, as the astute among them have realized that they can no longer afford either isolation or ignorance. Vocational schools for men and women have opened to teach them trades and allow them to earn a living with dignity, the Nachal Haredi has brought hundreds of Haredim into the IDF, the chesed organizations they administer benefit every segment of society (although the creation of more and more such organizations should not substitute for finding gainful employment) and the most prominent voices are decrying the ugliness that frequently emanates from their midst. All these are good signs, and at a most opportune time – as the rest of society (Torah Jews included) is exasperated. The hooligans who give them a bad name should be forcefully ostracized – excluded from shuls, shidduchim, residence in the neighborhood, etc. – just as someone would be if he, say, purchased a television set or some other moral offense. The outrages committed in the name of Haredim today are not any lesser moral offenses, and they must be eradicated – through a new educational curriculum that emphasizes not personal piety but community responsibility and love of Israel. They are in need of a Rav Kook, who can teach them how the Torah can be the foundation of a modern society and not just the basis of an 18th century Lithuanian village.

As the Haredi population continues to grow, its current economic model is 15 years past the point of sustainability. Whether or not they succeed in adapting to new circumstances and the obligations concomitant with constituting a larger percentage of the general population will, to a large extent, determine not only the survivability of that community but also the very success of the enterprise of Jewish nationhood in the land of Israel in the coming decades. And for that reason, we pray for their success in uprooting the terrorists in their midst and adapting to the reality of modern life – in which the Haredim will play a natural role in presenting to the world the beautiful face of Torah.

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Posted in Contemporary Life, Current Events, Israel, Jewish History

Modiin Journal #4 – Religious Life

Posted on August 14, 2009 | 4 comments

This piece also dates from my mini-sabbatical in 2007, and… I wouldn’t change a word !

The most noticeable change in the daily davening routine is the Birkat Kohanim that occurs every morning (twice on Shabbat) in Israel, except in a few isolated places. As a Levi charged with hand-washing duty, I step outside during every Chazarat Hashatz to take care of business, and, aside from the occasional bout of Carpal-tunnel syndrome (one shul had 18 kohanim !), I enjoy it immensely. The daily blessing is a feature of life that we do not have in the exile, and for reasons that are entirely unclear.

While there are scattered Sefaradic congregations in the exile that duchan every day, the prevailing custom follows the opinion of the Rema (Shulchan Orach, Orach Chaim 128:44): “It is customary in these countries that the kohanim do not lift their hands except on festivals, because then people are immersed in the jubilation of the festivals, and [only] the good-hearted person can bless. On the other days of the year – even on Shabbat – people are overwrought with concerns about sustenance and losing time from work …” And in Israel they are always cheerful, and not running off to work ?!

This inference, needless to say, has been the source of enormous controversy – especially since Birkat Kohanim is incumbent on kohanim, one of the 613 commandments, and essentially not at all related to happiness or joy. The Gemara, for example, never mentions that the fulfillment of this mitzva is dependent on a joyous state, any more than any other Mitzva, or that an absence of joy precludes its observance. There have been several attempts among Ashkenazim to restore the daily practice even in the exile – and all have failed. Most famously, the Gaon of Vilna endeavored to do it, finding the traditional custom unsubstantiated, but the night before the practice was to have been reinstituted in Vilna, the Gaon was arrested on unrelated charges. He interpreted this as a sign from Heaven to desist.

The Aruch Hashulchan (128:64) says there is no good reason why we do not duchan, calling it a “minhag garua” (terrible custom) – but says that it is as if it has been decreed from Heaven that in the exile we refrain from this daily blessing. The question is why, and what does all this have to do with happiness ?

Jewish life here has a natural rhythm to it – part similar and part dissimilar to our experiences. We all have shuls, the davening is the same (except for the above), the noise during davening is about the same, and the forms of mitzvot are identical. There is an ease to the observance of kashrut here – restaurants and marketplaces – but, truth be told, it is easy in Teaneck too. But there is a welcome change in Israel that has happened so gradually that it has taken some people by surprise, and left others in denial. Here is a headline from last Friday’s Jerusalem Post: “Drastic Decline in Israelis who define themselves as Secular.” The Israel Democracy Institute reported that whereas in 1974, 41% of Israelis saw themselves as secular, that figure has decreased to 20% – with the religious population at 33% (but 39% under the age of 40 !) and the traditional at 47%. That is a sea change, and, of course, completely unreflected in the public persona of the state. That 20% secular population controls – with a stranglehold through manipulation of the law and the political system – the government, the army, the media, the police and the judiciary – and partly explains their current desperation to surrender to the Arabs at any cost and in defiance of all logic. But the effect of the demographic shift has a ripple effect on the rest of society. The ubiquity of religious Jews here is a sharp contrast to what we are used to – even in New Jersey.

Modiin is a mixed city, and we live on an especially heterogeneous street – with religious and not(-yet?) religious Jews, Israelis and Anglos, Ashkenazim and Sefaradim. Of the many reasons we chose to live in Modiin, one was my desire not to live in an exclusively religious neighborhood as one finds in most parts of Israel. The cloistering of religious life is not a healthy development, and pleasant interactions in a mixed neighborhood can only bode well for co-existence and harmony among all Jews. “Live and let live” sounds reasonable to us, but, trust me, it is a revolutionary concept in the Middle East. On Israel Radio’s Reshet Aleph, the evening’s all-religious programming is termed Reshet Moreshet (literally, Heritage Network), with the catchphrase: “L’kal Yisrael yesh moreshet achat – All Israel has one heritage”. Indeed.

That is not to say that there aren’t tensions that arise from two divergent world views. But the local disputes, such as there are, are understandable even in an American context: competition for slices of the municipal pie. Should vacant land be used to build a library or a shul, should another plot be a Chareidi elementary school or a religious-Zionist high school, should a temporary shul housed in a school be dislodged so the school can have a computer room ? The reality is that Modiin began 12 years ago with a tiny religious population that has grown exponentially in the last few years (including a disproportionate number of Teanecker’s !), and the current religious population is woefully underserved in terms of its religious needs. But that will surely change in the years ahead, as the politics and the politicians adjust to the new realities – and this is true not only in Modiin but elsewhere in Israel as well.

What Israel lacks most is the sense of religious community that we have, for example, in Teaneck. Whereas our lives can revolve around the shul, and there is a community rabbi to whom we turn, that institution is mostly lacking in Israel, and American expatriates always tell me that is what they miss most. There is a nearby shul located on Shabbat in a school (known to the Israelis as the “American shul”), where they are trying to replicate that American-Jewish experience, with a fine young Rabbi, social and youth activities, shiurim, ruach, etc. – and they are in the early stages of what will surely be a successful endeavor and hopefully a template that other communities can emulate.

But without a central Rabbinic figure, most shuls remain lay-driven (with all the positives and negatives that portends). They exist as a place to daven, period. (A Yemenite Jew, who had duchened – I had washed his hands – was called up for revi’i. When I inquired, the gabbai said he had wondered the same thing, and perhaps the Yemenites have a custom that the kohen can get any aliya. I responded that perhaps the Yemenites have a custom that a Yisrael can duchan too !) Without a central authority, strange things can happen.

The bright side is that people become more involved because the success of each minyan depends on every person. While the local shul here remains to be built, there are minyanim on the street, and an especially beautiful Maariv minyan every night at 9:30 P.M. under the stars in the park on our corner. Literally out of the darkness within a minute from 9:29 P.M., approximately 25-30 people materialize, face Yerushalayim, and daven in the crisp evening air. In addition to a Monday night shiur in English, I have been asked to speak in several shuls (in Hebrew) on a number of occasions – and I have, surely coining a few heretofore unknown Hebrew words in the process.

Religious life, then, is suffused with normalcy, except for the realization – by most people but especially olim – that to build Jewish life in the land of Israel is historic, momentous, and – there is no other way to say it – the way it is supposed to be. And perhaps that is what the Rema meant. Simcha is a sense of contentment and completeness about life, in which an aura of purposefulness and meaning prevails. The Birkat Kohanim reflect that state of being, and when we abstain from Birkat Kohanim in the exile – except when immersed in the joy and sanctity of Yom Tov – we recognize that we either can not or should not have that sense of completeness – the full blessings of Jewish life – on a regular basis.

That feeling is limited to when the Jewish people live in Israel, fulfill the Torah and serve G-d in all aspects of life – as will be the destiny of all Jews, we pray, in the near future.

Shabbat Shalom from Modiin !

4 Comments

Posted in Contemporary Life, Current Events, Halacha, Israel, Machshava/Jewish Thought, Minhagim

Modiin Journal #3 – Gridlock

Posted on August 14, 2009 | 3 comments

This entry also dates from my mini-sabbatical in Israel two years ago, which was also a sabbatical year (2007-2008). It is still timely !

If living in Israel is complicated and eating in Israel is more complicated, then eating in Israel during a Shmitta year is almost an impenetrable maze. In general, the multitude of local Rabbinates, many with standards of Kashrut than are unacceptable to one accustomed to RCBC or OU standards, make kashrut (and shopping or eating out) a treacherous minefield. It is not merely a question of glatt vs. non-glatt; there are even different standards of glatt, different standards of mehadrin – and even a familiarity with Yoreh Deah is not always conclusive. But shmitta adds a dimension that exalts life here – with a constant reminder of the sanctity of the land of Israel – and also confounds, mystifies and bewilders.

First, the good news. The fundamental obligation of Shmitta is to allow one’s land to lie fallow – not to do any work that does more than maintain the land for future use. We administer a small plot of land outside our home, roughly half the size of a basketball foul lane, and I hate gardening. In fact, I am willing to let my land lie fallow for this entire year and for the next six years as well (on the small chance that they have the wrong date for Shmitta). So I have found that aspect of Shmitta to be one of the easier mitzvot in the Torah to fulfill.

But one has to eat too, and therein lay the perplexities. The Torah declares a moratorium on private ownership of the land of Israel every seven years. Theoretically, any person is entitled to walk onto a field and grab enough produce for a day’s meal. On a practical level, two issues arise relating to fruits, vegetables and other produce: first, they have to be treated with Kedushat Shvi’it (meaning consumed in their usual way and not squandered or thrown in the trash). Every shmitta observant home contains a special receptacle to store peels and leftover produce until they decay, at which point they can be discarded. Of course, there is a special significance in consuming Peirot Shvi’it properly, as it is a mitzva in its own right and affords an additional awareness of what it means to be dwelling in a holy and blessed land.

The second issue, though, is where the majority of complications set in: it is forbidden to commercially sell Peirot Shvi’it. So, in a modern economy, how can the producer get the product to the consumer in a way that does not violate the laws of Shmitta ? On this point, there is no agreement, much disagreement (some of it vehement), and whatever method one chooses attracts both support and opposition.

There are three main methods: to purchase produce from an Otzar Bet Din, to purchase what is called Yevul Nochri (non-Jewish produce, either Arab or European), or rely on the famous Heter Mechira, the “sale” of the land to Arabs in order to allow Jewish workers to work their fields (slightly differently than in the other years) and then sell their produce to Jews.

The Otzar Bet Din is, by far, the preferred arrangement. Effectively, a communal body assumes control of Jewish fields and their produce, pays the farmers a sum of money to do the work on behalf of the Bet Din, and then sells the produce – proceeds to the Bet Din – at certain designated stores. This process is mentioned in a Tosefta, and was endorsed by the Chazon Ish, thereby carrying a lot of weight in these parts. But the Rambam doesn’t cite this as a halachic possibility, many authorities don’t accept it, and many farmers (probably for financial reasons) do not wish to be part of the Otzar Bet Din system.

Non-Jewish produce poses the fewest halachic problems, especially if it comes from outside the land of Israel entirely. (The Chazon Ish, for example, ruled that even Arab-owned produce in the land of Israel has to be treated with Kedushat Shvii’it.) But the notion of buying produce from Arabs does not sit well with many people, it is especially abhorrent and repugnant to purchase it from the new “owners” of the hothouses of the former Gush Katif (at least the ones they didn’t ransack), and it is widely assumed that such purchases underwrite terror. Yet, it is the preferred method for Charedim, and has – again – unleashed torrents of abuse against them. One writer (in classic Israeli understated fashion) termed them “Palestinians l’mehadrin.”

Much of the criticism, to me at least, seems misdirected. It is hard to accept that the government of Israel can turn over the Palestinians $60,000,000 in cash – and that “will not fund terror” – but if one wants to observe the law of the Torah and buy a cucumber for a shekel from an Arab, then that is “funding terror.” And for the other six years of the cycle, Israel and the Palestinian occupied territories are each other’s largest importers and exporters – so, then, is it only during shmitta that this becomes a concern ?

Of course, who can verify that it is actually Arab produce ? There were cases in the past of Israeli farmers unscrupulously selling their produce to an Arab “middleman” who then re-sold it as yevul nochri. In the Arab shuk, a few weeks ago, I saw Israeli tomatoes being wheeled to some unknown destination. So who really knows what it is ? (They have tried to compensate for this by sending in mashgichim to Arab-occupied areas with security escorts, but who really knows ?)

The third method is the most controversial – the sale of the land of Israel to an Arab. It is a tactic that is now well over a century old that was endorsed by many gedolim in the past (and opposed by many as well). Rav Kook, in 1904, endorsed its use temporarily, as “an emergency measure to prevent starvation.” Undoubtedly, in the context of his time, he was correct. But no one will starve today, and it is more a question of loss of farmer’s income than anything else. But yet, every shmitta cycle, the “sale” is carried out, with fewer and fewer straight faces.

Some have falsely analogized this sale to the ‘sale of chametz‘ before Pesach, but, in fact, their functions are completely opposite. We sell the chametz in order to fulfill the Torah’s requirement that we not own chametz on Pesach. We don’t want the chametz on Pesach – and so we divest ourselves – we only want to possess it after Pesach. The “sale” of Eretz Yisrael has the exact opposite effect; it is an attempt to circumvent the Torah’s proscription of not working the land during shmitta. The analogy would be apt if a person “sold” his chametz on Pesach, and then transacted business with it.

The substance of the heter mechira, you will surely recall, we studied in depth on Shavuot night in 1999, so I will not re-hash it here while it is still fresh in your minds. But a few points to ponder: What is actually being sold ? (I was told just the topsoil.) So, is there a mitzva of aliya this year, as the land is owned by Arabs ? Will all residents hold two-days Yom Tov ? Is there reward for walking four amot in the land, since one walks on the topsoil ? How does one sell a country anyway ? (Actually, that happens too). I am being half-facetious.

And here is the greatest irony: the proponents of selling the land to an Arab are the group in society most adamantly opposed to surrendering any land to the Arabs, not only on security grounds but also based on the Torah’s prohibition of Lo Techanem (not providing any non-Jew with permanent real estate in Israel). Furthermore, the Religious Zionists – the ones most engaged in implementing the Torah in a modern Jewish state – are essentially conceding through use of the heter that this part of the Torah – observance of Shmitta – is incompatible with a modern state; while those who are not Zionists at all – and not averse to receiving handouts, which sustains the many frum farmers who observe shmitta completely – are in the position of arguing that the Torah – in all its categories and laws – is compatible with a modern Jewish state. Go figure. Of course, keep in mind that the great advantage of the heter is that it supports Jewish farmers, and that itself is an important mitzva.

Add to this the fact that the Chief Rabbinate has been lukewarm in its endorsement of the heter, that many jurisdictions have prohibited use of the heter, that the Rabbanut has been ordered by the High Court of Justice to implement the heter (!) and that a new Rabbinical organization named Tzohar has offered its own hashgacha using the heter and breaking the Rabbanut’s kashrut monopoly in the process – what we have is a major league balagan. Personally, we try to avoid use of the heter, patronize the Otzar Bet Din and mehadrin shmitta stores – but even what mehadrin means is hard to know for sure. Every question has an answer, and every answer generates new questions. Perhaps the balagan was meant to be.

A few weeks ago, we were driving on the Ayalon Highway from north to south Tel Aviv. To be more accurate, we were really sitting in traffic on the Ayalon Highway, and not moving at all. As we entered and were stopped dead in our tracks, the road-sign above read “P’kahk ad Kibbutz Galuyot“, or “Gridlock until the ‘Kibbutz Galuyot’ Exit” (the last Tel Aviv exit on the highway). As I sat there (with little else to do), I contemplated the sign, and saw the deeper message: indeed, there is gridlock – spiritual gridlock – and there will be, until all the exiles come home and until Moshiach arrives. Only then will all these questions be answered, all these problems resolved, and as Torah Jews we will speak with one voice in acknowledging the Torah that comes from Zion, and the word of G-d that comes from Yerushalayim.

Until then, as the old joke ends, the minhag is to fight about it. Until then… which we pray comes speedily and in our time.

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Posted in 1, Contemporary Life, Current Events, Halacha, Israel

Modiin Journal #1 – My New Hat

Posted on August 14, 2009 | 1 comment

Spending this month in Modiin, Israel recalls my mini-sabbatical here two years ago during which I shared my experiences. Here follows one of them (from 2007):

Greetings from Israel !

As my black Shabbat hat has never traveled well, I decided to purchase a hat here and store it with relatives when not in use. My shopping excursion took me late Friday morning to the nearby all-Haredi town of Kiryat Sefer, a suburb of Modiin (its official name is actually Modiin Illit). Where better to find a black hat ? I was right about the hat, but my experiences that day also revealed the subtle stereotypes that inform our snap judgments and often mislead us about the people we meet.

Being off (Rabbinic)-duty and mindful of the warm weather (temperatures every day in the upper 80’s), I was dressed in civilian clothing: a blue polo shirt, with a USS Arizona insignia, picked up on a visit to Pearl Harbor several years ago. The outfit was mild by Teaneck standards but shockingly modern in Kiryat Sefer, which is a sea of white shirts and blacks pants. Kiryat Sefer is a growing city of now more than 15,000 souls, and, unfamiliar with the area, I stopped several pedestrians and asked (in Hebrew) for the location of the nearest hat shop. “What type of hat ?”, they asked, to which I answered, “a Shabbos hat”, to one person, “like the (black) one you are wearing.” Each of them took a glance at my shirt, and burst out …laughing. One person’s laughter was so spontaneous that he rained saliva on our car. The unstated enigma was: what would a person wearing a blue polo shirt want with a black Shabbos hat ? Nevertheless, in true Israeli style, I was told, in rapid-fire Hebrew “straight, left, right, right, left, straight” and there it was.

The store was divided into different individually owned sections, and unfortunately, the hat department of that place was (sort-of) closed – the proprietor had left earlier that morning. Fortunately, I am resourceful, and told his neighbor-merchant that I can’t start Shabbat without a hat, and I would deal with him, a very pleasant Sephardi, who said “Bechavod”, which I took to mean “help yourself.” Within a few minutes, I found the perfect hat that needed steam-cleaning that the other merchant (a shirt salesman) had no idea how to do. Again, “Bechavod”, and I turned on the steam machine (violating, I am sure, some OSHA regulation) and, after burning my thumb on the first attempt, successfully steam-cleaned my new hat, and picked up a handy skill in the process. The Sephardi was genuinely impressed, and asked me if I was ever in the hat business. I paid him – in fact, bought a white shirt from him also – and departed with my new black hat, to accompany my blue shirt.

Fast forward several hours to my first Shabbat, spent in a small yishuv near Modiin. As I entered the shul dressed in my brand new white shirt, my sparkling new black hat and my old black suit I was greeted by hundreds of people clad in white shirts and kipot serugot. I stood out (not that it bothers me), but now in a completely different way. In the early afternoon, I was the “Modern” amidst the Haredim; now I was the “Haredi” amidst the “Moderns”. People assumed they could discern my personality, world-view, or spiritual commitment through my clothing. Somehow, though, I felt like the same person the entire day.

Uniforms serve to bind a person to a team, a cause, a profession and the like. They help us form a superficial judgment of the person before us: soldier, policeman, doctor, Yankee or Met, etc. They tell us little more, and little more that it important. Yet, we often presume to understand an individual, simply by virtue of his/her clothing or facial hair or accent. The prophet Shmuel thought he could identify G-d’s anointed by his external appearance and characteristics, until Hashem led him to anoint Dovid “… for it is not as man sees – man sees what his eyes behold, but Hashem sees into the heart” (I Shmuel 16:7). We cannot see into the heart; would, then, that we not think we know anything about anyone’s inner world.

Jews have a uniform too – a uniform of mitzvot. We cover our heads and men wear tzitzit; beyond that, no dress is prescribed by the Torah, nor does the pious Jew adhere to any particular color scheme (all rumors to the contrary notwithstanding). Clothing, and one’s appearance generally, should be clean, neat, presentable, dignified, modest and unpretentious. And a person’s true nature is revealed through his/her deeds and thoughts, through our values and commitments, and through our goals and aspirations. If, for example, the variety of kippot worn today – each different in size, texture, material and color – tell us with what “team” a person identifies, it still tells us nothing about what type of player he is on that “team”. Our handbook of facile descriptions is often as misleading as it is definitive. It distorts more often than it illuminates, but it is so prevalent that it is nearly impossible to disavow. Yet, that is required of us, so we form an opinion of others based on their discernible qualities of character and not the “team” with which they identify, and so grow in love and appreciation of all Jews.

Shabbat Shalom from Israel !