As it getting closer to Passover, I would like to share some ideas about the holiday over the next couple of days. Of course, since my family reads these, I will lose out on something to say at the seder, but I figure it will at the very least elicit conversation, which is the essence of the seder.

Did WE Leave Egypt?
Pesach is the quintessential family holiday. The Haggadah is designed as a lesson for the parent to teach the child. We are commanded to tell the redemption story. Not only that, but the Haggadah also obligates one to feel as if G-d redeemed him/her from Egypt (B’Chol Dor V’Dor Hayyav Adam Lir’ot Et Atzmo K’Ilu Hu Yatza MiMitzrayim). There is a custom among certain Sephardim to act as if they themselves are leaving from Egypt; one thing they do is carry matzah on their shoulders. However, for others who do not have these customs, the story we read is the same every year, potentially leaving many somewhat bored. Part of the command of V’Higadeta L’Bincha is to tell the story to each person according to his/her level, which we see from the section about the four sons. Nevertheless, how do we make the story come alive, allowing us to truly experience redemption while sitting at a nicely set table in the twenty-first century?

The story of the four sons is perhaps a good starting point. As just mentioned, the story provides a model for how to approach different types of people. (The Lubavitcher Rebbe z”l, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, claims that there is a fifth son, one who doesn’t show up. He tries to explain that the rasha, the wicked son, is not as evil as he first appears, for at least he comes to the seder). However, even the four models leave one scratching his/her head.

First, when looking to find a difference between the hakham and rasha, it seems pretty clear from the father’s response that they are polar opposites. However, the texts of their stories are almost grammatically identical! Both the hakham and rasha address their questions using the grammatical conjugation for you (chem), as in etchem (hakham) and lachem (rasha). However, when searching for original nuschaot, we find that both the Mechilta (Bo 18) and the Talmud Yerushalmi (Pesahim 10:4, 37d) have the word otanu for the hakham, modifying his words to be inclusive as opposed to the rasha’s, which remain exclusive. (For more information about the texts of the four sons, see Haggadah Shleimah, R. Menachem Kasher, pages 120-123, chapter called Arba’a Banim.) Once we recognize the potential textual difference between the hakham and rasha, we can better understand how to approach the people at our table.

In other words, for the ones who verbally include themselves in Jewish experiences, we don’t have to treat the redemption as a history lesson but instead can focus on how to fulfill the obligations of Pesach. For the tam and the she’aino yode’a lish’ol, the job is simple; we merely incorporate them into the activities by telling them stories. However, when it comes to the rasha, the answer is strange. After excluding him/herself from the experience of redemption, he/she is called a heretic, and told, “if you were there, G-d would not redeem you, unlike me, who is worthy of redemption.” The answer to the rasha’s question seems odd because the only discussion of Jews not leaving Egypt is in a Midrash, quoted by Rashi (Mechilta d’Rabbi Yishmael, Bo 12 d”h V’haya Ki among other places), regarding the word Hamushim. Hamushim indicates that only one out of every five (or 50 or 500 as the Midrash indicates) Jews left Egypt alive. Hence, what is the essence of the parent’s answer to the rasha? Furthermore, is the rasha’s question so bad? Don’t we all, at times, want to understand how the other perceives religious events?

Part of the problem the rasha faces in explaining why he/she excludes him/herself is the inability to relate to the Egyptian redemption. It is quite difficult to capture the power of redemption merely from reading the same text year in and year out. The format leaves some people feeling dry or confused. For example, where does Arami Oved Avi fit into the story? Yes, we do explain the series of verses that we said when bringing Bikkurim. However, do those explanations really convey the spirit and essence of redemption from Egypt?

Perhaps the answer lies in the response to the rasha. If a person excludes him/herself, we, as a people, lose another voice. In other words, the Midrash might be teaching that the loss of Jews in Egypt is tragic in that we lose their voices, their stories. By attempting to scare the rasha, we are telling him/her, “If you exclude yourself, we will lose your voice, just like the voices of people in Egypt, who for whatever reasons, also excluded themselves.” Pesach is the story of triumph over adversity, and while it contains a set format to explain how G-d redeems us, one of the most important elements is that the given text is not meant to be the be all and end all of everything we say that night. The stories of our past, triumph and tragedy, need telling.

The experience of redemption is both positive and negative. On the one hand, we, who include ourselves in the story, enhance it by telling our stories or other people’s stories. The negative part of Pesach is the feeling of loss that we, the Jewish people, have experienced throughout our history. We have lost people with stories, stories which could enhance our experiencing redemption. Nevertheless, we should not make our seder into another Tisha B’Av. Instead, we need to remember those who have suffered and continue to suffer for being Jewish. And we also need to remember how we do not suffer, how we are blessed, telling those stories. Pesach is the time for family stories, family reminiscing and of course, (at least this is what happens in my case) family debate, making the ancient redemption from Egypt relevant to our lives.

After receiving a very thought provoking email responding to my blog, I have decided to clarify one factor about my blog. The statements on my blog are my opinion, meaning that it is the reader's choice whether to accept what I say or reject it. Furthermore, all comments I make are said with the utmost respect for all the authors or the people whose opinions with whom I might disagree.

After Heaven II

I just finished reading a very fascinating book on spirituality in America since the 1950s, After Heaven by Robert Wuthnow. After spending six chapters analyzing the change in spirituality since the 1950s, Wuthnow presents a model for the continuation of American spirituality into the 21st century, which he refers to as a practice-oriented spirituality. He says that Americans are finding that in order to be spiritual beings, they need some sort of action to accompany their spirituality, whether it comes from being dwelling-oriented or it comes from individual seeking. Part of me wonders whether there is anything innovative in Wuthnow's thinking. However, when contemplating his ideas thoroughly, I realize that his major assessment is not that people should not be individually oriented, but that the individualism can only result from a base system - which I might add is the same speculative point I made the other day. People searching for spirituality, while each will approach it differently, must approach from certain common elements. I think that is one of the main lessons of his work, namely the need for a base discipline when looking to rise above materialism, even if the base is not the place of worship.

I am in the middle of reading a highly fascinating book, After Heaven, by Robert Wuthnow. So far, one of his main goals is to show how American spirituality has changed since the 1950s, having evolved from a spirituality centered around a dwelling (home, church or synagogue) to a spirituality of seeking, which is less communally focused and more individually focused. I have so far read his discussion of life in the 1950s and 1960s/1970s. I am now up to his presentation of religion in the 1980s, which he sees as a period of fundamentalism.

One idea which I have found quite interesting and would like to share (though my thinking might change upon finishing the book) was that people began to realize that spiritual diversity was dangerous. The problem with spiritual diversity before the 1980s is that it left parents unable to provide children with absolutes, meaning children were told that whatever they wanted mattered. This removed the ideas of discipline from children's lives, making more difficult to inculcate certain values into their lives. While I am an advocate of diversity, there are dangers to lacking discipline in one's search. While people should not be monolithic, at the same time, the lack of an approach to life is also dangerous.

Religion, on some level, can provide that discipline. I am not advocating a monolithic approach to religion, where everything must result from one path. Incorporating ideas from other places is important when they can enhance. I am, however, saying that one needs to stick to a certain base religion, thus creating the discipline. Without the base, the enhancements can not be effectively used.

I have to wonder about the practice of women covering their hair (a general outline of sources can be found here) with another piece of hair (שייטל - sheitel). If we assume that one of the reasons behind the law of covering hair is that hair entices, then how does a nice sheitel prevent enticement? For some women, a sheitel allows them to have nice hair for the first time. I feel that our whole system is quite stubborn about this. While I am not arguing about the halachic issue of covering one's hair, I find it highly difficult to accept that a woman, by putting on a fancy wig, is truly fulfilling the purpose behind covering her hair in the first place.

And of course, as with most things, this too costs much money. On sale, a decent sheitel, which still needs to be shaped for the particular woman, may cost anywhere between $450 and $1000. If you ask me, the price for "modesty" seems to be ridiculous. Now, I am not arguing that women should feel uncomfortable in the workplace by wearing a hat, but perhaps we need to reevaluate whether the whole enterprise is truly worth the money spent on it. Of course, one could say the same for many religious items. However, the issue here is one where the reason behind the commandment isn't even being completely fulfilled. Yes, the woman's own hair is not showing, and yes, this would technically imply her hair is covered. However, the practice has gotten out of hand. Presently, women go out of their way to appear as if they are not covering their heads by spending exorbitant amounts of money on something that is often ultimately more immodest because it might look even nicer than their own hair.

I would just like to wish a Mazal Tov to my brother Eric and his newly betrothed Suri Hoenig. I would like to formally welcome Suri into the Kinzbrunner family. I am happy for the both of you and wish that your life together be filled with love and respect for each other.

Now for the fun part: This means we will have Shira Kinzbrunner and Suri Kinzbrunner in the family at some point in the future. I should just say that both of you, Suri and Shira, are really brave for taking on such a long last name.

Addendum to my last post:

It seems that upon my completing the reading of the discussion surrounding Reforms in Traditional Talmud Education, I am convinced that we are missing the point. I don't think it is fair to assume Rav Soloveitchik's philosophy as being the true explanation for why we should learn Gemara a certain way. I think we need to encourage our students to question what they read from whatever perspective they feel appropriate (under the guidance of a teacher). There is no need to limit ourselves to one style of learning. We, as teachers (or future teachers) need to be well equipped to answer questions from all perspectives. It isn't fair to the students that we should ignore the questions they ask. Furthermore, the answers we provide need to be well thought and serious. We cannot simply give second rate answers. To simply provide a standard answer to the questions we are asked is both unfair and highly dangerous. If the student wants something more substantial, then quite often the standard answer is not enough. Therefore, it is our job as educators to reform the system of teaching by becoming better equipped to handle all types of questioning and not fall back into standard methodology in order to keep safe. We need to tread on the tight rope in order to better reach our students.

Furthermore, I have a serious problem with the need to force upon all students the same Talmud education just because there is a need to keep tradition. I think it is harmful that many of the students walk out of high school and do not have any appreciation for the non-legal parts of Judaism. The students think those subjects are cool because no one spends much time on them. The problem is that we are ultimately teaching a methodology that creates spiritually deficient people. The need to use Hazal as a springboard is something that i think more educators need to look into. We can no longer ignore the stories about demons or say that those stories are nonsense. Perhaps we need to reexamine how we view the world. I myself always was bothered when we would be in shiur and just glance over a nice piece of Aggadah because it wasn't something traditionally discussed in a class (שיעור). We are providing more harm for our students, living in the contemporary world.

i would just like to draw people's attention to the following discussion about Reforms in the Traditional Talmud Curriculum. While I have not finished reading the proceedings from this discussion, I would just like to relate an experience I had today teaching.

While teaching about Rashi's approach to commenting on Gemara, one of my students pointed out how Gemara cannot be analyzed through the eyes of a grammarian because it lacks the editing that most essays go through before publishing. As most know, the Gemara is a compilation of various discussions had, or assumed to have been had, by the Amoraim. However, most of us don't seem to know the basic structure of the text. As a student of Rabbi Wieder, one of the things he tries to impress upon us is that the Rishonim, when discussing the text, were often aware of the structural problems that are faced.

Therefore, as my students and I were discussing this issue, I realized that it would only be appropriate to quickly orient them to how each sugya is comprised. In other words, many sugyot are a conglomerate of Tannaitic and Amoraic statements, interspersed with comments from either Ravina/Rav Ashi or from some anonymous editor (Saboraim). While many educators will not agree, I think that one of the many problems the students of today face is their lack of understanding of the Gemara's structure. I do grant that if one is working from a purely analytic model of teaching, the text's structure might be secondary, but, as the ATID discussion indicates, such analytic teaching is not enough for many of the today's youth.

I recently took a look at a new book written by Rabbi Barry Freundel, Contemporary Judaism's Response to Modernity. Rabbi Freundel is the rabbi of Kesher Israel, an Orthodox synagogue in Washington DC. His book contains 31 chapters dealing with many of the primary issues that Orthodox Jews face during their daily lives. It is well footnoted, each chapter containing much source material from which one could discuss any of his presented topics.

However, I feel that the book is lacking in two areas.

1. Rabbi Freundel sticks to "standard" Jewish sources. One of the methods for Orthodox response to modernity, and this might be a more general problem, is that there is a need for a more diverse read of Judaism. It is not enough to rely heavily on Maimonides or Heschel. There is a need to evaluate other thinkers like Cordovero (Tomer Devorah), ARI Z"L, De Vidas (Reishit Hokhmah), Ramchal, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, Habad Rebbes, other Hasidic rabbinic courts, and modern thinkers like Levinas. While I am not expecting the work to be academic, it would have been helpful to have a had better range of sources from which to choose.

2. While I do see his book as an introduction to Orthodox Judaism, it is hard to see it as a response to modernity. While most books do have trouble handling Judaism and Modernity sufficiently, one book which does provide a more rigorous philosophical read is Rabbi Wurzburger's G-d is Proof Enough , which I mentioned in a previous post. While one could argue about the lack of alternative sources in his work as well, I found it a somewhat more satisfying book about how we can look at Judaism through modern thinking.

I do recommend that people take a quick glance at the book for there are some chapters more worthwhile than others. However, don't expect it to be a "true" Orthodox response to modernity.

I have decided it is time to restart my daily (or almost daily) attempts at disseminating my ideas to those of you out there who might even pretend to care slightly about one person's views. The last topic I began discussing on this blog was prayer. To continue with the discussion, I would like to turn my attention to an issue which all educators have trouble handling. How do I, the teacher, convey to my students the love or appreciation for something? In this case, let us analyze how one person can convey the meaningfulness of prayer to a student.

The first issue one must face in a school where prayer (תפילה) is mandatory is the problem of discipline. Instead of the teacher being able to properly concentrate on his/her praying, the educator needs to make sure the students aren't misbehaving. Notice that I do not say the educator needs to force the student to pray. Being forceful very often will lead to resentment. I am not saying that a more "stiff-necked" approach is not necessary. However, the educator needs to recognize when tough love will work and when sensitivity will work.

The problem is that once the teacher needs to discipline the students, their prayer becomes uninspired, and the student knows it. Students are perceptive to sincerity in their teachers. Therefore, the question is, how can educators promote the positives of prayer in an environment outside the mandatory prayer? How can educators convey their own personal experiences in prayer? Should educators attempt to convey the experience, for often the powerful experiences felt during prayer are too difficult to explain in words?

One potential solution might be to spend time, maybe once a week, discussing the structure and meaning behind the various parts of the prayer service with our students. One could argue that this is done in elementary school, so why repeat it in the student's high school education. However, just like any other subject that we teach over and over again, the understanding of prayer needs to grow over the course of time. A high school student's understanding of the subject will need to be more complex than an elementary school student. Therefore, devoting time in the classroom to providing practical advice on what prayer is about, through the structure of the text, might be a method that will foster a more meaningful, spiritual, prayer experience for the students, and through them, ourselves.