Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz's Tefillin

A week or so ago, I picked up a wonderful book from the local seforim store. It is called Yahadus, and is a curriculum for learning Yahadus, in a rather nice format. Check out this PDF sample of one of their lessons, on Kiddush Hashem. You can find out more, and purchase it, at their website. I also saw it the other day at the YU Seforim Sale in the children's section for about $10 less than their listed price, so maybe check it out there.

It follows the order of the Rambam's Mishneh Torah, and presents units all all 613 Mitzvos. Such that volume 1 (for grade 4) is Sefer Madda and Ahava, volume 2 (for grade 5) is Zmanim, Nashim, Kedusha and Haflaah. Volume 3 (for grade 6) is due to come out shoftly after Pesach.

My third-grade son has greatly enjoyed these books, and I would highly recommend them.

Anyway, on page 78 of volume 2, in the section on Shevisas Yom Tov, they tell a story of Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz's tefillin. To paraphrase, here is what happened.

A certain Jew came to Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz's town and, for an unspecified reason, without permission, decided to open up Rav Yosanan Eibeshitz's tefillin. He found the boxes to be empty! Since Chazal say awful things about those who never wear tefillin in their lives, he took Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz to bet din.

In bet din, Rav Eibeshitz asked him just when he examined the tefillin. The fellow replied that it had been on chol hamoed. Rav Eibeshitz then explained that his personal minhag was not to wear tefillin on chol hamoed, but that in the town he currently resided, the minhag was to wear it. If he overtly refrained from wearing it, then people might feel compelled to follow his minhag. Therefore, specifically on chol hamoed, he removed the parchment and wore the empty tefillin.

I find this story fascinating, on a number of levels. Not that I am entirely convinced that the story is true, for reasons I'll explain below in item 3.

1) First, why should a random Jew pick on Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz like that? It is almost like a tzitzis-check that some Rebbes in Jewish day-schools do. While talking to one of their young charges, they pat him affectionately on the back, to see if he is wearing tzitzis. Why would someone tefillin-check a Torah-great like Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz, zatza'l? And what was the thought process to suspect this -- that is, why would someone go to the trouble of actually donning tefillin yet remove the parchments inside?

The answer is that R' Eibeshitz was accused by Rav Yaakov Emden of being a secret follower of the deceased Shabbatai Tzvi, and a believer in the perversion of true kabbalah, following Sabbatean kabbalah as formulated by Shabtai Tzvi's prophet, Nathan of Gaza.

Part of the beliefs of these closet Sabbateans was that it was a positive thing to outwardly appear to keep all the mitzvot but to surreptitiously violate all of them. Because in the messianic era, the mitzvos were abrogated. Not mattir assurim (who releases the bound) but mattir issurim (who permits the forbidden). Thus, a closet Sabbatean would indeed outwardly wear tefillin but secretly remove the parchment so as not to fulfill the mitzvah and to be secretly one of the poshei yisrael begufan, those in Israel who sin with their bodies.

2) Second, I find the defense offered by Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz almost as damning as the actual absence of the parshiyot inside the tefillin.

For there is an overt meaning to the words, that he was trying to be non-imposing of his own personal minhag / accepted halacha on the community.

But there is a plausible secondary meaning. Recall that Sabbatean kabbalists held that it was a positive thing to secretly violate the commandments. This was because the mitzvot have a metaphysical impact on Creation and on the Divine. This is, however, time-bound. In the generations past, it was positive to do mitzvos. But in the present, in the messianic era, it was negative and damaging to do mitzvos.

The Talmud is somewhat unclear on whether one should wear tefillin on chol hamoed. On Shabbos and Yom Tov, while it was a matter of Tannaitic dispute, the conclusion is that it is not zman tefillin and is prohibited. Shabbos is already an os, a sign, and we don't need a secondary os. But does this halachic conclusion apply to chol hamoed as well. This was a dispute of Rishonim.

And then, in the late 13th century, the Zohar was revealed, and took sides in this machlokes. It declared that whoever wears tefillin on chol hamoed is chayav misa, as if liable to the death penalty. This naturally had a profound effect on kabbalists, as well as many non-kabbalists. After all, now we have Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, a Tanna, taking a stand on a matter which was left unclear in the Talmud. Even so, many communities stuck with their nigleh (revealed-Torah) based halachic practice, and still wore tefillin on chol hamoed. They should not change their practice just because the kabbalists act otherwise.

Now think about the hidden message. For profound kabbalistic reasons, what the community at large is doing, and which they think is quite positive -- wearing tefillin on chol hamoed -- is actually quite negative. And those who are privy to this mystical secret are not proselytizing to the masses to change their practice. But secretly, they might act in accordance with this profound kabbalistic reason and not don tefillin. And the reason that not putting it on is negative has to do with the timing. At any other day, a weekday, it would be a mitzvah. But now donning tefillin is really a great aveira.

To spell out the parallel, wearing tefillin in general, or doing any mitzvah, in general, is now secretly, for kabbalistic reasons, a very negative thing. It used to be good, but given the timing, of the messianic era, it is actually quite negative.

In other words, the defense could serve well as a pro-Sabbatean argument.

3) Thirdly, here is why I have my doubts that the story even occurred. (Which then would make the story stand as an metaphorical defense of Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz in the other charges.)

The story of the empty tefillin has obvious parallels to a story that actually did happen. I heard this from Rabbi Dr. Shnayer Leiman, and I hope I get the details right.

Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz was a kabbalist, and he wrote kameyot, amulets, for people in need. One possibly suspicious aspect of this amulet-writing was that he made people swear that they would not ever open the amulets and examine the contents. (One could imagine that he specified this requirement to protect their sanctity; or to protect against false charges based on misinterpretation; or because they contained heretical Sabbatean kabbalistic ideas.)

However, he wrote an amulet for an ill woman, and the amulet was not effective. She died, and her husband gave over the amulet to Rav Yaakov Emden to examine. Rav Yaakov Emden published a copy of the amulet in a sefer and, being a kabbalist himself, analyzed the amulet. He demonstrated references to Shabtai Tzvi.

Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz's published response was that this was a misreading of the amulet. Was Rav Emden asserted was a tav, for instance, was really a chet. They look similar, you see, so it is easy to understand his mistake.

Then, Dr. Shnayer Leiman came across a bit of evidence. It was a reproduction of the amulet, with all the details as described by Rav Yaakov Emden. It was notarized by a French court, and signed by two students of Rav Yonanan Eibeshitz, who declared reluctantly that indeed, this was what the amulet looked like.

Given that Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz's response was to challenge the reproduced text, but to admit (as is fairly clear to those who can understand this stuff) that if the text were as Rav Emden said, it would be Sabbatean, the obvious conclusion is that, indeed, Rav Yonasan Eibeshitz was a closet Sabbatean.

But anyway, we have ample documentation for the amulet story, where a Jew opened it up, made a discovery, and there was a rejoinder by R' Eibeshitz which put him in the clear. The opened tefillin just seems like a duplicate of the story, with some details changed.

Tying my tefillin shel rosh

The gemara in Chullin 9a has it as follows:

ואמר רב יהודה אמר רב תלמיד חכם צריך שילמוד ג' דברים כתב שחיטה ומילה ורב חנניא בר שלמיא משמיה דרב אמר אף קשר של תפילין וברכת חתנים וציצית ואידך הני שכיחן

"And Rav Yehuda cited Rav: A Torah scholar needs to learn three things. Writing, ritual slaughter, and circumcision. And Rav Chanina bar Shelemyah in the name of Rav said: Also the knot of tefillin, the blessing of bridegrooms, and tzitzit.  

And the other [=Rav Yehuda]? These are common."

By כתב, Rashi explains it to mean the ability to sign one's name if he sits to be a judge or to give testimony. By שחיטה, Rashi explains that this does not mean just knowledge of the technical laws but actual physical ability to perform a shechita. And in terms of the knot of the tefillin, Rashi explain how there is a skill in getting it to look like a dalet so that all together the Divine name of Shakai is spelled out.

And what is meant by common? Rashi explains that since these are common, of course one would not how to do this automatically.

Another possibility is that all of these things are required to enable Jewish life, even out in the boondocks. And so someone needs to provide kosher meat, circumcise people, and so on. (Ketiva might then be a sort of safrut.) They would also need tzitzis, or someone who can fix tzitzis if it breaks. And so too the tying of the retzuos of tefillin. By saying that הני שכיחן, we are saying that even if the talmid chacham himself does not know one of these skills, someone else will be able to step in, and so it is not critical.

I admit that I don't possess all of these skills. I can sign my name. (Though I never took safrus.) I cannot perform milah. Though I studies hilchos shechita for semicha, I never actually slaughtered an animal. I can tie tzitzis, and know birchas chasanim. But I didn't really know how to tie the kesher shel tefillin.

This became relevant this morning. By accident, I left my tefillin bag in a place accessible to my 2 year old son, who took the tefillin out of the bag. My older son, Junior, saw this and rescued the tefillin. But then he noticed that the baby had really messed up the tefillin, by putting knots in the retzuos of the shel rosh. And so Junior "fixed" the tefillin for me by untying the knots. This morning, I discovered this, and Junior explained what had happened.

So, after borrowing someone else's tefillin for davening, I set about retying the knot. I have a double-daled knot -- that is, a box knot, and so I followed the instructions in this helpful video:




So, that is one off my list!

Hershele Ostropoler and the bone

Relevant to this week's parasha, Vayera.

Hershele Ostropoler grew up poor. And one day, both he and his sister, Sarah, were hungrily eying a leftover chicken bone. Suddenly, he leaped up and grabbed it, and his sister began to cry.

His father said to him: But is says in the Torah {Bereshit 18:14) ul'Sarah bein. So Sarah should get the bone!

Replied Hershele: But if you look at the pasuk, it actually says ul'Sarah vein. Un takeh, zi veint!
(Meaning: and indeed, she is crying.)

Footnotes:
-------------------------
* The pasuk reads:

יד  הֲיִפָּלֵא מֵה', דָּבָר; לַמּוֹעֵד אָשׁוּב אֵלֶיךָ, כָּעֵת חַיָּה--וּלְשָׂרָה בֵן.

14 Is any thing too hard for the LORD. At the set time I will return unto thee, when the season cometh round, and Sarah shall have a son.'

And the ב has no dagesh in it, because of conjunctive trup on the preceding word, combined with the preceding word ending with a ה, and thus an open syllable. beyn in Yiddish means bone while veyn means cries.

Coming late to shul on Rosh Hashanah?!

In his post-Rosh Hashanah reflections, The Jewish Worker includes this point:

It amazes me how people waltz in to shul late on Rosh Hashana. Yes, davening is earlier then a regular Shabbos, but still how hard is it to get to shul on time?

I'd like to offer an alternative perspective. There is a famous story, which I will borrow from NCSY's website:

One of the more famous Chassidic stories is told about Rav Moshe Leib Sassover and Yankel the misnaged, an opponent of the Chassidim, who was visiting Sassov during the yomim noraim period when Jews rise before dawn to recite the selichos. When Yankel came to the shtiebel to daven and noticed that the Rebbe, Rav Moshe Leib, arrived in shul after the selichos service had concluded, he confronted the Rebbe’s followers and asked how can a Rabbi come to shul when the selichos are already over. In unison, the chassidim responded: “you don’t understand, the Rebbe is late because he ascends high into the heavens to pray on behalf of the Jewish people.”

Dissatisfied, Yankel decided to investigate on his own to prove all the chassidim wrong. Early the next morning, Yankel heard the Rebbe rise and leave the house with a package of food and an axe. Yankel followed. Dressed like a peasant, the Rebbe walked into the woods, took out his axe and chopped a tree into firewood. The Rebbe then took the bundle of wood and walked to an old, run-down house. An elderly woman let the Rebbe into her home. Pretending to be a peasant, the Rebbe explained that
he had brought the woman wood and food. When the woman stated that she had no money to pay for these things, Rav Moshe Leib responded: “That’s not a problem. We’ll put it on account and you can pay me when you have the money.”

Yankel watched all of this transpire from the darkness of the night. And when the elderly woman told the Rebbe that she was not strong enough to light the fire, Rav Moshe Leib placed the wood in the furnace and recited the 13 middos: “Hashem, Hashem, Keil, Rachum V’Chanun, G-d, of Mercy and Compassion.”

Yankel ran back to the shtiebel, and when asked whether he had seen the Rebbe ascend high into the heavens, without pause he responded: “Yes, yes, high into the heavens, if not higher.”

There is a more modern version of this story, which I hope to retell accurately:

A certain avrech was consistently late for davening. One of his rabbeim rebuked him for this, telling him that he should try to come to shul on time.

The avrech explained: "You don't understand! There is a woman in this neighborhood who has 5 children, and she had difficulty in the mornings getting them up, dressed, and fed. And so, before going to shul, I help her deal with this."

His rebbe: "Wow! What a great mitzvah! Now I understand completely. But tell me, how can I contact this poor almana, so that I can assist her as well?"

The avrech: An almanah!? Chas veshalom! She's my wife!!

While this was clearly meant as a joke, I think that it has a lot of merit to it in all seriousness. Charity begins at home, and one of the most important aspects of marriage is the opportunity (and perhaps the obligation to desire to find opportunity) to do tremendous chessed for one's spouse. And I also think that this attitude, not of "what can I get?" but always mutual "what can I do for the other person?" leads to better shalom bayit and in general a happier and successful marriage.

It is true that women are patur from mitzvos aseih shehazman gerama, and thus possibly from getting to shul for the beginning of it -- and a large part of this may be the sociological cause that they raise and deal with children, which makes performing many of these mitzvos quite difficult -- even so, I don't think the husband should entirely bow out.

Let us say that one's wife is pregnant and also not feeling well, and could greatly use some extra sleep. Assuming one is not taking all the kids to shul, is it a bigger mitzvah to abandon her to cope with the kids on a given morning in order to daven betzibbur, or to daven without a minyan at home? I think at the very least it should be a question, and I would even lean towards saying that it is a bigger mitzvah to stay at home.

Let me give you an extreme yet practical case from someone I know in the neighborhood. I won't name names so as not to embarrass him. But his wife is pregnant and has another medical condition approaching chronic fatigue syndrome, and he has a few children, who would need monitoring of a parent. His wife wanted to also go to shul. But the kids somehow slept until 9:20, his wife, who had been up during the night, awoke at 10 AM. Getting everyone up and out took him to shul on the first day (when there was no shofar blowing) at about 11 AM. While shul on a typical Shabbos began at a bit after 9 AM, since it was Rosh Hashanah it began at 8 AM. And so he came quite late for davening, and was more than a bit sheepish about this.

He didn't expect this, and maybe he should have arranged to have a babysitter beforehand, to handle such an eventuality would it occur.

But would I look down at him for making this choice? Certainly not! In fact, I would even say that he exhibited good traits and exemplary behavior on the Yom HaDin. To cite Yankel the misnaged, "he went high into the heavens, if not higher."

Of course, not every case is the same as this. Some people simply like to sleep late, or have difficulty getting up for shul in the morning, and did this in this instance as well. But for any individual, not knowing his particular circumstances, I would not judge.

Also, to those others, I would understand them. Shul is indeed earlier than usual. (In some instances, more than an hour and a quarter earler.) So it might be difficult to start the day and get out of the house so early, particularly married men with kids, or even simply people who have difficulty waking up early in the morning and who would not set an alarm clock, since it is Shabbos and Rosh Hashanah. Indeed, even on the morning of Mattan Torah the Jews slept late! People nowadays do not have roosters.

And besides being earlier, Rosh Hashanah davening is more shlepped out. Yes, this was instituted halachically for certain reasons. But the fact is that even on a typical Shabbos, some people find davening boring and shlepped out. And IMHO this can often lead to talking. Could you imagine how such people might relate to the longer, stretched out davening on Rosh Hashanah. They might not appreciate all the piyutim. Coming late to shul might well be a coping mechanism, since it effectively cuts the davening short. And I am not sure that I would always condemn this corrective trend of the hamon am.

All that said, it certainly is good to get to shul on time, and to develop the attitude and approach described in The Jewish Worker's post.

Sefira Beard and Allergies

My sefirah beard and mustache is driving me nuts! Every year, sefirah starts at the beginning of glorious spring. And spring is really nice, except that the pollen really affects me. I have difficulty breathing through my nose, my nose runs, and I get all congested. And I can't stop sneezing. The sneezes sometimes shake my whole body, such that my arms up to the tips of my fingers ache. And my eyes burn.

When walking outside, I have taken to covering my mouth and nose with a tissue, and breathing through it. Even so, my eyes itch. And pollen lands on skin and clothing, and I can breath it in even when indoors.

One of the biggest problems is the beard and mustache. They catch and hold pollen, and the mustache is right under my nose. (Not to mention the effects of repeated violent sneezing into a mustache.) It is easier to wash pollen off of smooth skin. But I think it is the mustache which causes a lot of the problems. (And no, I have no intention of taking antihistamines.)

The beard and mustache itch a bit, because I am not used to it, but I can stand that. If only sefirah did not fall out at the beginning of spring.

I would assume there is halachic justification for shaving in such a situation, but I never looked into it.

Celli "Olive Oil" Ripped Me Off!

The other day I bought the olive oil, pictured fuzzily to the right, for $4.99 at the last minute at the checkout counter at Kissena Farms. I had just finished up my previous bottle on a baked potato, so I thought I would restock.

It is incredibly misleading. They make you think that it is 100% extra virgin olive oil, while in reality it is only 15% olive oil and 85% soybean and sunflower seed oil.

They accomplish this in several ways:

1. They make the words "Extra Virgin Olive Oil" nice and large, in a bright orange color, with normal printed text, and with good contrast with the background such that it jumps out at you.

2. Right above it, they put the words "Mediterranean Blend Oil & Italian." They do not use the names "soybean oil" or "sunflower oil" so that there is nothing the mind might easily interpret. They make it a different color than "Extra Virgin Olive Oil," so that you don't think it is part of the name of the contents, but rather perhaps part of the brand. They use a smaller font, and make sure it is script rather than printed block text, to make the customer less likely to read it. "Extra Virgin Olive Oil" is bright orange on a light green and grey background, which makes it easy to read. For "Mediterranean Blend Oil & Italian," they use a darkish greenish gold, which is harder to see, matches the color of the oil. And the word "Oil" they place on top of the green background, such that the contrast is awful and the consumer is likely to simply read "Mediterranean Blend Italian Extra Virgin Olive Oil." Extremely sneaky.

3. They put 100% on the top, next to "All Natural" in script, to reinforce the idea that it is 100% olive oil. But it is 100% All Natural, but the blend I mentioned above. Extremely sneaky.

My impression is that this has to have been designed deliberately like this, to mislead people into buying the product. It is always possible they simply had incompetent designers, and this happens to work to their favor. I doubt it.

There are laws against false advertising. Perhaps there should be some sort of control for exceptionally misleading and deliberately misleading advertising.

The Resprinklification of Cupcakes

I came up with the following idea the other day, and it seems to work well. You know how some people prefer the tops of muffins? Well, Meir prefers the tops of cupcakes, and on the occasion that I get him one, he only eats the top. This is a waste of a cupcake. So I got some rainbow sprinkles from the local grocery, and sprinkled them on top of the now-barren cupcake. 40 seconds in the microwave to get them to melt on the top, a few minutes in the refrigerator to cool, and they are good as new, and he'll eat more. (I don't first put on a layer of frosting, as they do when they first bake them.)

Vayera: Tales from the Gemorrah

A quick anecdote. One of my father's students was interested in Judaism. But once, she came to him horrified. She had gone into a Judaica store and seen the book "Tales from the Gemara."

And the had read her Bible, and knew that Gomorrah, like Sodom, was an awful place, worthy of destruction. Why collect inspiring stories of what happened in Gomorrah?

Nosein Taam Lifgam, and Aino Ben Yomo

Early last week I had chicken soup, and thought I had finished it up, but I accidentally left some chicken in the bottom of the pot. And since I was incredibly busy last week, I did not get around to washing the pot. The cover was on, so it was not so detectable.

After a week, it was awful. A rotting carcass. And I began to understand noten taam lifgam, and how of course this is not food.

Yet a thought occurred to me. But don't spread it lest people start taking it seriously and imposing a new chumra.

Had I placed the pot in the refrigerator, the food inside would not have spoiled so quickly. I could have even consumed the chicken days later. As such, the be'en, actual substance in the pot, would not have been lifgam. Presumably, the same would have been true for any substance absorbed into the body of the pot.

If so, refrigeration should be able to delay conversion to lifgam, even after ben yomo. Let us say that after cleaning a pot of chicken in the fridge, I had accidentally cooked dairy food in it. Would I say that bedieved, since it was not ben yomo, it would be fine? Or would it pose a Biblical problem since, though not ben yomo, it was also not lifgam?

Chazal did not have such refrigeration, and so did not frame it in these terms, but rather made the equation. Do we now say that that is set in stone (even lekullah), or is this just a good way of making an assessment, which we should reassess nowadays?

Of course, not halacha lemaaseh.

Astro-Turf

So I was picking up Meir today from Nursery School. On the walk back, on one of the blocks, I came across two people having a heated discussion. One gentleman, perhaps from the local public school, was telling another to stay off his block. The other one told him that he was going to leave, and that he was not "disrespecting" him, but that he lived in the neighborhood and would, and should be able to, occasionally visit this block. The first fellow felt insulted by this, and threatened the other gentleman. They then parted ways.

I, of course, crossed the street in all haste so as to keep Meir, and myself, safe from any violence that might erupt.

The rest of the way home, I though about the incident. This is generally a good neighborhood and it would be pretty bad if turf wars started erupting. Secondly, I am not sure in what respect it was the first gentleman's "turf." Perhaps for a side business he had? Regardless, he did not own the block, but felt like he was a big man by claiming the ability to dictate who could and could not enter his estate. Yet all he was was a loser and a thug.

Many of us do the same thing. For example, makom kavua in shul has its merits (and demerits) as an idea, but getting upset when someone usurps you, or confronting someone over it, is silly when we consider the grand scheme of things and how insignificant we really are.

And it goes further than physical claims to space. We draw psychological boundaries, and if someone crosses them, deliberately or accidentally, we might get insulted and "disrespected" -- and try to rectify the situation while making clear to the person that they should not transgress our honor in this way. Are we really that significant?

Josh The Unwitting Shill

So I don't often give tzedaka to the collectors on Main Street, because I have reason to belief they are not authentic or that they are avoiding paying jobs because collecting charity pays more.

The other day I'm pushing a stroller down Main Street and am asked for some money. I tell him "Sorry," but he asks me for an additional favor. He has a was of bills, 20 dollar bills, 5 dollar bills and singles. He asks me to count the money to tell him how much he has. After parking the stroller, I do so. He asks me to count out 10 singles and give him a 10, and then afterwards, changes this to a request to take the 10 singles and 2 fives and give him a twenty. Then, he asks that I add a twenty of my own, while I am at it. It is a good trick, to get the person to start helping you to create a connection, and then continue to request. I say that I cannot. He asks me to put the 20's on the inside and the singles on the outside, and hand it to him. Actually, there was several exchanges from my hand to his throughout all this.

In the meantime, a bunch of passersby saw a yeshivish-looking guy with a button down shirt and a big black velvet yarmulke interacting with this fellow and handing over lots of money. They may have even taken it as an endorsement. Indeed, a woman passing by gave him a dollar in the middle of this exaggerated, extensive process.