The Other in The Madwoman in the Rabbi's Attic by Gila Fine: A Lesson for 2025

I haven't posted in nearly a year, which is wild because I used to post every few days or at the very least every week. That's life, I guess, with its seasons and struggles and priorities. 

I pondered posting something on Instagram, because that's where I live these days, but the format just didn't fit the content, so here I am. 

I recently started reading The Madwoman in the Rabbi's Attic: Rereading the Women of the Talmud by Gila Fine, and I'm really enjoying not only the content but how it's written. Although I've only finished the introduction and the first chapter, I wanted to share some of what I've read because the introduction presented something so incredibly beautiful that I feel is hyper relevant to the polarized world we're currently living in where everyone is an Other. 

But first, Gila Fine has a footnote as she discusses the difference between what we find in the rabbinic literature. There is halacha, which is Jewish law, and there is aggada, which is the narratives or "stories." Basically, everything you find in the Talmud that isn't halacha is aggada. Fine says (emphasis my own),

"... there is a whole range of aggadic sub-genres: midrash and rabbinic legends and philosophical inquiry and parables and sermons and folktales and epigrams and jokes. But it is not just a multiplicity of form that defines aggada, it is also a multiplicity of content: from the lofty discussions of metaphysics and theology to small, everyday tales of friendship and family, food and money, study and sex. Herein is the profound humanism of the rabbis; nothing is deemed too trivial or mundane to be the subject of a rabbinic story. In aggada, everything is included because everything is important; everything is meaningful, everything carries a lesson to be learned." 

And it's the footnote to this that really hit me. It comes from Rosemary Radford Ruether:

"Classical Judaism produced a literature which looks at first sight like someone's grandmother's attic in which endless quantities of curious things which 'might someday come in handy' have been passed down like so many balls of string lovingly collected over the years and piled on top of each other without apparent concern for distinctions between wieghy and trivial matters ... This apparent jumble of piety and trivia is the medium of the rabbinic message which is the effort to penetrate every corner of ordinary life with God's presence ... "

I've always held to the understanding that everything we need to live our lives is contained in Jewish literature, but that not everything was relevant at the time of composition, but "might someday come in handy" when the time is right and the situation makes sense. It's how we have modern medicine, electrical devices that work on Shabbat, and so much more. I just loved this image of the attic brimming with everything you need at the exact time you need it. 

Okay, now let's roll back to the Other. In referencing how the heroines of the Talmud fit into a specific group (the second one in the following quote), Gila Fine says,

"The relationship with the Other is one of the central themes of rabbinic narrative. Indeed, it's been suggested that the stories of the Talmud all fall into one of two categories: those that show the gap between man and God is smaller than we think, and those that show that the gap between man and man is greater than we imagine."

Wow wow wow. I mean wow. Reread that quote. Do you see it? This is true more now than ever. She goes on to explain how we respond to the Other when they don't see things as we do. Gila Fine is really focusing on what the Talmud has to say and how we react when the Talmud doesn't see things as we do, but I think these responses are ridiculously appropriate for how humans in 2025 view the Other who isn't them. 

I'm going to summarize her take on these responses to the Other here:

• Rejection: We are too different and disagree on too much. This relationship can never be. 
• Accommodation: We're clearly very different, even divergent, but I want this relationship so badly I will change everything about myself to make it work. 
• Subjection: We're different, so if you want this relationship, you have to change everything about yourself. 
• Negotiation: We're very different, and there's a lot we disagree about, but this relationship is something we both want, so I'll come with my opinions and you with yours; we'll figure out a way to make it work. 

Now, she's really relating this to how we read the Talmud. She says some blanketly reject the Talmud, while others (particularly on the right) Accommodate and lose their identity in favor of the text. Still, others (particularly on the left) use Subjection by misreading what's in the Talmud based on contemporary thought. The best approach, she says, is Negotiation: 

"We must give full voice to our beliefs and our biases, and let the Talmud speak its own (for we are no less conditioned by the 21st century than the Talmud is by Antiquity)."

But when I read this ... I saw so much of the way people exist today, in 2025. There is no Negotiation today in our polarized world. 

 

People talk at each other rather than with each other, or avoid the conversation entirely, resulting in complete and utter Rejection of those who are unlike oneself. 

Others have gone out of their way for Accomodation, becoming "politically correct" to the point of embracing the most dangerous and illogical opinions and supporting terror organizations. 

Some have resorted to Subjection to get their way, convincing friends, family, and perfect strangers that the only path forward is to embrace what they believe or else. 

What happened to Negotiation? Our differences are what make the world a beautiful, complex, and fascinating place to exist. Humans aren't a monolith. If HaShem wanted a world of copy/paste humans, he would've done exactly that. We're all created in G-d's image, and if that's the case, then our differences are as godly as HaShem. We should celebrate and cherish those differences, not expect others to change who they are or change ourselves based on agendas that aren't our own. 

At any rate, I really hope this made sense, and I would really, really love to hear what you think in the comments. I can't wait to read the rest of this book, particularly because of how much was held in the introduction and how the chapter on Yalta revealed some fascinating insights that I wouldn't have considered. 

May 5786 be a year of happiness, health, love, and truth!

From Broken Hearts To Healing: Elevating a Year of Tears into Faith and Hope

 “Once the Baal Shem Tov commanded Rabbi Zev Kitzes to learn the secret meanings behind the blasts of the shofar, because Rabbi Zev was to be his caller on Rosh HaShanah. So Rabbi Zev learned the secret meanings and wrote them down on a slip of paper to look at during the service, and laid the slip of paper in his bosom. When the time came for the blowing of the shofar, he began to search everywhere for the slip of paper, but it was gone, and he did not know on what meanings to concentrate. He was greatly saddened. Brokenhearted, he wept bitter tears and called the blasts of the shofar without concentrating on the secret meanings behind them.

 

Afterward, the Baal Shem Tov said to him: "Lo, in the habitation of the King are to be found many rooms and apartments, and there are different keys for every lock, but the master key of all is the axe, with which it is possible to open all the locks on all the gates. So it is with the shofar: The secret meanings are the keys; every gate has another meaning, but the master key is the broken heart. When a man truthfully breaks his heart before God, he can enter into all the gates of the apartments of the King above all Kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.” (Or Yesharim)

As we prepare for the shofar's cry this Rosh HaShanah, we carry the weight of a year marked by unimaginable pain and uncertainty. Since October 7, we, like Rabbi Zev, have lost our sense of certainty, holding only our broken hearts and crying a torrent of tears as we plead for comfort, healing, and peace.

But after so much loss, is it time to set our tears aside? After all, Rosh HaShanah — at its core — is a day of rejoicing. No fasting or mourning allowed. We should be celebrating b’simcha, dipping apples in the sweetest honey, and looking forward to a year filled with good news (and the arrival of Mashiach!). 

Why, then, does Rosh HaShanah bring so much heartache and so many tears? We read about Hagar's despair over Ishmael, the mockery of Chana as she longs for a child, and Rachel’s earth-shattering cries for her children. These stories and the tears shed with them resonate more deeply with us now because we’ve spent nearly a year in continuous mourning and fear. Our tears are more real and painful than ever. 

At various points throughout history, congregations would hire chazzanim based on their ability to move congregations to tears at the right time. In fact, the famed Roedelheim machzor is said to have featured instructions to bochim kan — “cry here” — throughout davening. Even Rabbi Yitzchak Luria, the Ari, is said to have believed it was good to cry (and did so abundantly) on Rosh HaShanah. 

Several sources approach the “to cry or not to cry on Rosh HaShanah” question by saying that crying on Rosh HaShanah is okay and even encouraged, but not because we’re sad or depressed or because we feel like it’s what we’re supposed to do. 

Rather, Rosh HaShanah tears should be shed out of a genuine place of awe, enthusiasm, and devotion. 

This year, we stand before HaShem with not just broken but shattered hearts and beg for the ability to transform our pain into strength. The trauma of this year indeed mirrors the cries of the shofar. The blasts are sharp, sudden, and filled with emotion. Yet just as the narrow opening of the shofar produces a powerful sound that echoes from person to person and place to place, so too can our cries lead us from sorrow to hope, pain to strength, and from fear to trust. 

​​Like Rabbi Zev's forgotten notes, we approach this Rosh HaShanah without clear answers. But our collective cries, like the shofar's blasts, are the master key. 

The shofar’s deeper message is for us to live with love, faith, and trust for HaShem despite the brokenness we feel and see around us. The blasts remind us that after the broken heart comes relief and renewal — if we are open, willing, and present.

As we face this new year with hope and uncertainty, we must trust that the deep suffering of this past year will be answered by HaShem’s boundless love, compassion, and mercy. We pray for the return of our precious hostages, the end of the war, a safe homecoming for all of our brave soldiers, and a mending of our broken hearts. 

Torah Commentary on Mishpatim: The Rules/Laws, Code of Hammurabi, and the Relevance of Religion

To me, this parashah is probably one of the most complex parts of Torah to relate to in modern times. I also think it's what drives a lot of people away from religion — it's outdated, right!?

It's all the regulations about slaves and stuff that seems inhumane and absurd in modern times. Many argue that the Torah is unjust in even creating regulations regarding "slaves" because of what the Jews went through in Egypt. Likewise, our modern construct of slavery is one of abuse, neglect, and racism. The interesting thing about Torah slavery, though, is that it is entirely unlike the slavery of Egypt and the U.S. South.

Slavery in the Torah is often an individual selling their services to repay a debt or to work off bankruptcy. It isn't buying and selling individuals off a butcher's block on a dock somewhere. This is important to note. Torah begins this parashah, following the Decalogue, with the stipulations of slavery for an important — and modern applicable — reason. Having just gotten out of slavery, it's necessary to create rules and regulations for keeping slaves to ensure that the treatment of Egypt is never touched again. It's like a "do unto others as you would have liked to have been done unto you" setup. Anyhow, this is applicable in modern times as a reflection of not wishing ill upon those in a situation which you have presently experienced, I think.

Does Eye for an Eye Really Mean an Eye for an Eye?

Let me be (not) the first to say I love Hammurabi and his codes. Love may not be the right word, but the concept is brilliant, and for those who get all sauced up over history, it's absolutely tickling. The Codes of Hammurabi shaped much of the law in those early years based on the talion, or the basic "eye for an eye" principle. A lot of people come back to this Biblical principle when discussing the death penalty or other punishment. In essence, it seems to make some kind of sense. Why shouldn't the person feel the same pain/anguish that their murderer felt? But luckily, there was wising up, and (most) people realized that in no way does it equate to the original crime. Oftentimes, murderers are conscienceless and will never be able to feel that pain or sorrow.

The Sages agree that people deeply misunderstand "eye for an eye," for the very reason just mentioned. Maimonides said, 

"There never was any Rabbi, from the time of Moses ... who ruled, based on 'eye for an eye,' that he who blinds another should himself be blinded." 

Instead, the principle is a graphic way of explaining that punishment should not be too lenient or harsh, but should fit the crime. Torah has ways with words, it's a beautifully written manuscript and oftentimes says a lot of things it does not necessarily literally intend to say.

I find myself distraught at times over the literal nature of which things are interpreted. Yes, I preach that poetry should not be overly interpreted and that accessibility in writing is one of the most profound problems of writers who must flaunt some earth-shattering style. But Torah was composed so very, very long ago. Words change. Etymology is the key to understanding evolution in texts, darn't. Euphemism and analogy should not be taken for granted or go unused when understanding Torah.

Jews Control All the World's Money ... Right?

Say hello to Ex. 22:24, aka the laws of usury! I take particular interest in this topic, because I once wrote extensively about it for one of my classes, though I forget which. Interestingly, in most Christian texts, this is typically cited as Ex. 22:25. Bizarre, yes? I haven't run into any discrepancies as such before.

My interest in this passage relates to the whole (mistaken) idea that Jews are in control of all the world's finances. Most are unaware that Jews were essentially forced into money lending in the Middle Ages after the Catholic Church outlawed money lending because of this very passage.

 The catch, of course, was that the text says that you shouldn't charge interest to "my people" or sometimes translates as "to your brethren." That, you see, is how the Church figured that it was okay for the Jews to take on the task ... so Catholics were still allowed to borrow, and it wasn't against the law, because Jews were NOT their "brethren." It was a loophole that the Church was well aware of, and in a way it set up the Israelites for years of victimization. Additionally, it became one of the few things Jews were allowed to do at the time, because so many professions and trades were outlawed for them.

So every time someone makes a snide remark about how Jews are incredibly wealthy or run the world's finances, I bring up the fact that it was the Catholic Church who opened this gateway for the Jews. Don't blame the Jews!

Are Religions Like Judaism Still Relevant in 2024?

I read somewhere that many of Torah's laws are like an onion -- there are many layers to the meaning. As time passes, a layer peels away and we must return to the law to seek out it's spiritual meaning so that we do not simply discard it as outdated and irrelevant. Here's an article over at Chabad.org that discusses the different ways we interpret Torah, especially in relation to this parshah.

I'm a firm believer that every rule and law in Torah is completely applicable today, if not from a literal standpoint then from a metaphorical and spiritual standpoint. I highly doubt G-d would reach down and throw out a bunch of essential rules for life, only to have them become outdated in a couple thousand years. Adaptation is, perhaps, a test of faith, intelligence, understanding, and acceptance.

Another great article, "Is Religion Still Relevant?" by Yossy Goldman, is pretty high-quality. It runs with the idea that "everything has changed, but it's stayed the same."

The very same issues dealt with in the Bible -- sibling rivalry, jealous partners, and even murder -- are still the stuff of newspaper headlines today. So what else is new? Has anything changed? Yes, today we have astronauts and space stations and laser beams and laptops, but the basic issues and choices human beings must face remain identical. Once upon a time the question was do I hit him with my club or slice him up with my sword. Today the question is do I call up the nuclear submarines or send in the guided missiles? ...

... Torah is truth and truth is eternal. Scenarios come and go. Lifestyles change with the geography. The storylines are different but the gut level issues are all too familiar. If we ever needed religion -- or in our language, Torah -- we need it equally today and maybe more so. May we continue to find moral guidance and clarity in the eternal truths of our holy and eternal Torah. Amen.

So whenever you think back to the mitzvot or Torah and think, "Psshaw, oxen and slaves are so old school" take another look. Read the commentaries, explore the Torah, examine the Sages, talk to Rashi and Maimonides because there is definitely more to "an eye for an eye" than meets the eye.

(Sorry, had to end like that. It made me giggly silently, hah!)

Editor's note: This was published in February 2007 and has been updated for accuracy and relevance. 

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Ask Chaviva Anything: How Can I Get a Heter To Stop Having Kids in Judaism?

I received an interesting Ask Chaviva Anything submission in September that has been on my mind since it popped into my inbox. I've been tossing around how to answer it for ages and I'm still not 100% positive that I know how to answer it but I feel like I have to try. 

Here's the question:

How did you manage to get a heter (Rabbinic permission) to stop having children after only 3? I'm a convert to orthodox Judaism too and even after 6 kids I can't get a break. Sorry if it's too personal a question, you obviously don't have to answer.

So, before I can answer this question, let's talk a bit about the commandment (mitzvah) to have children in Judaism. The origin of this mitzvah comes from two verses in Torah:

"And G‑d created man in His image; in the image of G‑d He created him; male and female He created them. And G‑d blessed them, and G‑d said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and rule over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the sky and over all the beasts that tread upon the earth." (Bereishit/Genesis 1:27-28) 

Later on, after the flood when everyone leaves the Ark, the Torah says:

“And you, be fruitful and multiply (known as periya u-rviya); swarm upon the earth and multiply thereon.” (Bereishit/Genesis 9:7)

There are many discussions around why this mitzvah is repeated, but we won't get into that here. In the Talmud, there are deep discussions around the age of marriage and when the mitzvah to procreate should be fulfilled, but we also won't get into that here. Interestingly, the commandment to bear children only applies to men, not to women, but without a woman, it's a bit of a non-starter so we also won't get into that here. 

Let's look at the requirements around the volume of children a Jew is obligated to have according to the Talmud. 

In the Mishnah (aka the Oral Torah), there are two opinions coming from the houses of Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. Those who are familiar will note that we typically hold by the rulings of Beit Hillel, but not always. In this discussion in Mishnah Yevamot 61b, Beit Shammai says that one is required to bear two male children, and Beit Hillel says one is required to bear one male child and one female child.

In Shulchan Aruch Even Hoezer 1:5, Beit Hillel's approach wins the day. If you've had one male and one female child, you've fulfilled the Biblical command to procreate. Mazal tov!

So why are there people who don't stop at two or have a dozen kids of all genders anyway? This originates in rabbinic texts and understandings, particularly la-erev, which means to continue having kids even after you've hit your Biblical requirement. It originates in this verse

“In the morning sow your seed, and in the evening [la-erev] do not desist.” (Ecclesiastes 11:6)

Although some rabbinic authorities say that la-erev is obligatory, others do not see it as a strict requirement. 

Ultimately, although Jewish law strongly encourages large families, contraception is permitted! In fact, it's even required in certain situations. There are many instances in which birth control is permitted. The founding rabbinic adviser of Nishmat, for example, ruled the following:

Rav Henkin z”l generally permitted a couple that had already fulfilled the mitzvah of piryah v’rivyah (the Torah commandment to be fruitful and multiply) and had compelling reasons not to have more children (e.g., concerns about the woman’s health, finances, or shalom bayit), to practice contraception indefinitely. (B’nei Banim II:38)

So, it's important to do two things:

• Study the halachot (laws) with your spouse so you know what the reality is
• Speak with a rabbi you trust who understands you, your family dynamic, and your needs

Obviously, you can't shop around for a rabbi who will tell you what you want, but not all rabbis are deeply knowledgeable on every single aspect of the laws of family and family planning. It's crucial to find a rabbi who knows the laws inside and out and that will truly listen to your needs. 

If the problem is with your spouse (i.e., you want to stop having kids for whatever reason and your spouse refuses), then you need to have some very hard conversations with a rabbi and perhaps a therapist you trust to work through those. 

Thus we arrive back at the original question. My answer? I didn't get a heter to stop having kids. I had a boy and then a girl and my third child was the bonus! You don't need to get a heter to stop having kids. Ultimately the decision is between you, your spouse, and HaShem. For us, it was an issue of shalom bayit and finances. 

I'm sorry you're feeling trapped and like you have to keep having kids despite being done having children. You can gain guidance and advice from your rabbi, but if you're being told you must keep having kids, then I advise you to seek guidance from someone you trust or to reach out to Nishmat for help. 

Do you have a question for me about Judaism? Life in Israel? Something else? Submit it to Ask Chaviva Anything! Also, don't forget to follow me on Instagram, where I am much more active these days!

What Would Happen If We All Just Felt More Feelings?

Throughout my life the most stressful and inspiring moments have thrust pen to paper. These moments made it easy for me to sit and write without pause until every single feeling and experience had bled onto the page, leaving me feeling relieved, relaxed, and accomplished. 

Yet, for years, I’ve struggled to get it all out. The pull, the need, is always there, but it’s become impossible to sit down and actually get everything out. I open the document, I sit, I wait, and nothing comes. The thoughts and feelings are there, but the words to express them are lost and hidden away. 

We moved back to Israel in late June 2022, and life has been good since then. The kids made friends, adjusted to school, and picked up Hebrew faster than I could have possibly hoped for or imagined. Work for me hasn’t changed much, and Tuvia got a job working for a company he loves. 

All in all, life is good. We’re okay, we’re doing well, we’re settled. 

Then, October 7, 2023, rolled around like any other Shabbat/Simchat Torah/my 40th birthday ... but it wasn't. 

And that’s where my brain fogs and my fingers glitch on the keyboard. There has been so much in the past few months that I have felt, said, and experienced. By and large, I’ve taken them all and balled them up and shoved them down as far as I possibly can because my focus has been on the well-being — physical and mental and emotional — of my kids, my husband, my mother back in the USA. 

Tuvia volunteered to serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and spent two weeks in training getting the basics before being assigned Sunday through Thursday to an Air Force base near Rishon Leziyon. He's repairing bombs or missiles or whatever it is that we use to destroy Hamas and Hezbollah and preserve the only democracy in the Middle East. 

I'm at home with the kids, working and trying not to feel too much like I'm living someone else's life. 

I think about pre-October 7 and how I was moving in a direction of self-discovery and healing. Or, at least, I was trying. I was going to therapy weekly, I was starting a workbook on self-love, I was prepared to figure out why I'm so sad and angry all the time. Now I just feel numb and tired all the time. 

Also angry. I'm still so angry. 

I miss writing. I miss feeling like I know how to express myself and how to take all of the big feels and anger and push them out onto the screen and not deep down into my gut where they just bubble up into my chest and sit like a scream that won't release. 

My therapist asked me last week: "What would happen if you let yourself feel?" 

And I don't know how to answer the question. I've been thinking on it constantly since our Thursday meeting and I'm blank. Feelings mean vulnerability and weakness for me. Vulnerability and being weak are two things I absolutely abhor in myself. From a pretty young age feelings were something to be locked away and not felt, not addressed, not acknowledged. If you don't acknowledge them, then they'll go away. Right?

The funny thing is, I don't parent or respond to my spouse with this approach. Feelings are good! Feel the feelings! Let them out! Let them out into the universe so you can breathe! Don't be afraid to cry! Don't be afraid to feel!

And, of course, because of that, I have pretty well-adjusted kids who are open about how they feel and what they're going through and we work through everything together as best we can. I would never silence my children or spouse and tell them that vulnerability is bad or that emotions and feelings make you weak. 

So what would happen if I let myself feel?

What would happen, indeed. 

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Nishmat Kol Chai with Printable Chart

So I did a thing. There's this beautiful prayer of thanks called Nishmat Kol Chai (the soul of every living thing) that many women take upon themselves to say every day for 40 days. Here's a little more about it from the woman who popularized this, Charlene Aminoff:

Rebbetzin Kanievsky, a’h, taught us that Nishmat Kol Chai ... is a Tefila (prayer) of immense #Gratitude to Hashem. And when we express immense gratitude to Hashem in the form of this extraordinarily powerful prayer for 40 consecutive days, MIRACLES CAN HAPPEN!! .
Nishmat Kol Chai has become known as a TREMENDOUS SEGULAH ... Whether you’re in need of a Shidduch, Pregnancy, Refuah ... Parnassa, increased Mazal, Simchat Hachaim ... ANYTHING AT ALL, saying Nishmat Kol Chai for 40 consecutive days (preferably before sundown) has been proven to be MIRACULOUS!!

So I decided to make a beautiful printable to help women who take this upon themselves to keep track of their 40 days of progress.  

Download the 40-Day Nishmat Kol Chai Printable Chart (PDF)

Download the Nishmat Kol Chai Prayer

May you merit to have your prayers of thanks answered completely and quickly!

We're Back: Ask Chaviva Anything!

It's been awhile and I honestly don't even know if anyone is interested in this series, but I wanted to bring back the Ask Chaviva Anything series because I'm trying to spend more time here on the blog! Ready? Ask away!

Parashat Re'eh: Worshipping Gods You Didn't Know vs. Just Not Worshipping Other Gods

Boker tov and chodesh tov and Shabbat shalom. It's me, again, with another look at the weekly Torah portion from my favorite place in Jerusalem: the shuk!

This week's parashah is Re'eh (Devarim 11:26-16:17), and it's chock full of blessings and curses we've all heard before. But one thing I've noticed though is the repetition of a phrase: 

(singular you) אֱלֹהִ֣ים אֲחֵרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁר֙ לֹ֣א יָדַ֔עְתָּ

 (plural you) אֱלֹהִ֥ים אֲחֵרִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־יְדַעְתֶּֽם

Gods who you didn't know/haven't experienced

This phrase is used again and again in requests to not listen to others who try and pull you into worshipping "gods you didn't know." The dangers around worshiping "gods you didn't know" or "gods you didn't experience before." All usages are past tense, as well. 

This line appears in Devarim 11:28, 13:3, 13:7, and 13:14.

My immediate thought here is ... does this mean we can worship gods that are new to us? So no idols of Avraham's father but yes to all the others?

Why not just say clearly and definitively, "Don't worship other gods"? Period. Full stop. 

Why the "lo yadata" and "lo yadatem" ... that you didn't know? 

Let's say that the idea here is that the Israelites are supposed to focus on the Gd they do know rather than gods they didn't or don't know. This may be the point of the language because the whole of Sefer Devarim is one big reminder of all the things HaShem did for the Israelites. There is one Gd, HaShem, and He's the end-all, be-all. 

I took you out of Egypt! 

I fed you manna!

I kept you! 

I'm giving you this land!

I promised you'd be numerous as the stars in the sky! 

Look at all I did for you! 

You know me. You didn't know them. You don't know them. 

Maybe? 

It still doesn't sit well with me. There's something uncomfortable about this line that I just don't like or love. Something uncertain and unnecessary. 

What do you think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Parashat Eikev: Are Jews really better than everyone else?

Happy Friday! I am happy to say these words are coming to you from the comfort of Machane Yehuda, aka the shuk, in Jerusalem, Israel, Planet Earth. Let's dive in. 

This week's Torah portion (aka parashah) is Eikev, which I've written about quite a few times before (including here and here). There are so many compelling events in this week's portion! This portion comprises Devarim/Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25 and includes Moshe's final words to the Israelites and retells the infamous story of the Golden Calf. 

Are the Jews better than everyone else? 

It also includes a verse often cited as troublesome for how the world thinks Jews understand themselves in the expanse of humanity. In Deut. 7:14, the Torah says

ברוך תהיה מכל העמים

Baruch t'hiyeh m'kol ha'amim. 

This often translates as "You will be blessed above all people." This is just one of the places where the antiSemitic trope that Jews believe they're better than everyone else comes from. But that's a mistranslation. There is so much nuance with translation, and this translation misses the mark. The Hebrew uses a mem (מ), which means "from" not "above." Mem is a comparative preposition, and when you compare two things, you're setting them apart from one another. 

The better translation here is "You will be blessed when compared to all people." It's an indicator of a different status of blessing, not a status of being above or better than others. And it makes sense. Jews are viewed by the world as distinct, separate from. Even the most non-religious Jews are still considered as different and separate. This was the blessing from HaShem. 

You can embrace that blessing of difference and celebrate it or view it as a negative and something to fight or battle against. 

What's the deal with the different versions of the Golden Calf story?

Later, the parashah retells the sin of the Golden Calf but changes up a major portion of the story, which makes me wonder. If you recall, the scene here is that Moshe went up on the mount to get the Torah from HaShem. He was gone "too long" for the people, so they panicked and fell back on their old "we need an intermediary to check in with HaShem and see what's doing with Moshe" ways. Thus, they built a calf (not to worship, but to serve as an intermediary to their Gd). 

In Deut. 9:21, Moshe says:

"As for that sinful thing you had made, the calf, I took it and put it to the fire; I broke it to bits and ground it thoroughly until it was fine as dust, and I threw its dust into the brook that comes down from the mountain."

But in the original incident in Exodus 32:20, it says:

"He took the calf that they had made and burned it; he ground it to powder and strewed it upon the water and so made the Israelites drink it."

What's missing? The people drinking the water, of course. Why isn't this brought up in this week's portion? 

Ramban says it's because Moshe didn't want to humiliate them, but that doesn't seem to track. This entire portion is an extensive reminder of how the Israelites screwed up. Ramban also says he doesn't want to tell the people because he doesn't want them to know that he did to them what is done to wives accused of adultery. After all, Israel did cheat on HaShem, right? Sort of, anyway.

Okay, stop. Wait. What? Yes, when a woman is accused of adultery, she's forced to let down her hair and drink some sketchy water. In Numbers 5:17:

"And the priest shall take holy water in an earthen vessel; and of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle the priest shall take, and put it into the water."

So is what Moshe did in Exodus and what happened to an accused adulteress the same thing? The former involves burning something and putting the ashes into water. The latter involves some dust from the floor, which could be some ash mixed in with general dirt. The Hebrew word is the same in Deuteronomy and Numbers, but the version in Exodus doesn't use the word for dust/dirt or ash. But the two don't appear to be the same. Even if the ash on the tabernacle floor was from a sacrifice, those sacrifices are out of holiness. The burning of the calf has nothing to do with anything holy. 

All of that to say I don't buy the Ramban's perspective here. But when something in one place in the Torah doesn't match something in another place in the Torah, we have to explain it, right? 

The reality here is that the drinking that is explicitly called out in Exodus is merely implied in Deuteronomy. One can safely assume that there was a single source of water where the Israelites were camped. When Moshe says, "I threw its dust into the brook that comes down from the mountain" the implication is that the people were drinking out of this brook whether they wanted to or not. 

And that concludes this week's thoughts on Eikev. There are a bunch of other interesting sections in this portion, including gobs of talk about conquering and possessing the land, but I've covered that in previous years pretty thoroughly. Until next week ... Shabbat Shalom!

Fun Puns and Alliterations for Celebrating Sukkot in 2022

Yes, Sukkot has come and gone this year, but after many years of creating alliterative names for the nightly meals in the Sukkah, I thought it might be fun to compile a ton so that when next year rolls around and we're hopefully gathering with friends and family ... you can have some fun, alliterative meals!

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Chag sameach! #sukkot #sukkah #beingjewish

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For those not in the know, a sukkah is a temporary structure that is also called a booth or a hut or a tabernacle (the latter most often outside of Jewish circles). With that, I give you the alliterative options:

In the sukkah ...

• Sushi in the sukkah (served with sake in the sukkah)
• Spaghetti in the sukkah
• Make-your-own-salad in the sukkah
• Make-your-own-sandwich in the sukkah
• Sabich in the sukkah
• Sausages in the sukkah
• Smoothies in the sukkah
• Subs in the sukkah (as in, sub sandwiches)
• Sambusak in the sukkah (think: middle eastern samosas)

In the shack ...

These could also be used for "in the sukkah."

• Shakshukah in the shack
• Schnitzel in the shack
• Shakes in the shack
• Shepherd’s pie in the shack

In the booth ...

• Beers in the booth
• Brews in the booth
• Burgers in the booth
• Bagels in the booth
• Banana splits in the booth
• Bibimbap in the booth
• Blintzes in the booth
• Burritos in the booth
• Bourekas in the booth
• Hummus v'basar in the booth

In the hut ...

• Hot dogs in the hut
• Pizza in the hut (this is not alliterative, but a nod to Pizza Hut!)
• Hamburgers in the hut
• Hot pot in the hut
• Herring in the hut
• Heroes in the hut (as in sub sandwiches)
• Hamin in the hut (hamin is similar to cholant)
• Huevos rancheros in the hut
• Hummus in the hut

In the tabernacle ...

• Tacos in the tabernacle
• Tequila in the tabernacle
• Turkey in the tabernacle
• Make-your-own-toast in the tabernacle
• Tajine in the tabernacle

And a few more:

• Pancakes in the palapa
• Pancakes in the payag 

Another one that I came up with was cholent or chile en la choza (chili in the hut), but I was told that choza in Spanish is actually more of a hovel than a hut. If you speak Spanish and can let me know, I'd love to hear it in the comments!

Want to share one I didn't think of? Post in the comments and I'll add it to the list!