Bikkurei Ramaz 5782

‫ביכורי רמז‬

BIKKUREI RAMAZ

Torah Insights from Ramaz Upper School Students & Faculty

Shavuot 2022

‫ שבועות תשפ״ב‬‎

In memory of Loren Norman - Leah Batya bat Baruch z"l A devoted and loving mother, daughter, sister, aunt and fiancé.

Loren was a shining light to everyone who knew her. Her joy and kindness touched so many lives. She was a blessing and an inspiration to her family, friends and the many children she worked with.

May this Ramaz Student Shavuot publication be a blessing to her memory.

The Davidson Family

In Honor of the Yahrzeit on Erev Shavuot of Daniel Schacter and In Celebration of the Graduations of his Great-Granddaughters, Caroline & Lily Schwartz

Table of Contents Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz

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Introduction

AFTERLIFE: Chloe Kotulsky '23

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God's Greater Plan

Rebecca Silber '23

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Mourner's Kaddish

PHILOSOPHY: Eliza Binstock '23

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The Power We Share

Manie Dweck '23

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A Rational Belief in God

Noah Libin '23

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What Should Drive One's Belief in God?

Emily Vayner '23

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God Doesn't Exist

SCIENCE & LAW: Noa Itzhaky '23

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Creation

Jacqueline Landy '23

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Adoption in Halacha

Racheli Moskowitz '23

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Brain Death: Is it Considered Halachic Death?

Tova Solomons '23

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Sanhedrin in Modern Times

Cover Art: Tissot, James Jacques Joseph. Ruth Gleaning. c.1896-1902, The Jewish Museum. Gift of the heirs of Jacob Schiff. https://thejewishmuseum.org/collection/26473-ruth-gleaning

Words of Introduction

‫אקדמות מלין‬ We are very proud to present this compilation of essays by Ramaz Upper School students on various topics related to Judaic Studies. This publication is designed to offer a glimpse into the learning experience of our students. The essays represent the culmination of a research and thought into subjects that we are passionate about. None address issues that are simple; all of the topics are multifaceted.

We have a tradition that when the Jewish People received the Torah on Shavuot, flowers miraculously blossomed at the foot of the desert mountain. This miracle did not occur out of practical necessity, but it was important enough for the laws of nature to be suspended. The Torah was the most incredible gift that we have ever received. Despite its spiritual identity, the beauty of the Torah needed to be reflected through an external, aesthetic representation. This inspires us to connect even more deeply to the spiritual essence of the Torah.

This publication itself is a manifestation of this idea. The hard work of our students in deepening their spiritual and intellectual to the Torah is encased in their articulate words and in this dignified publication for all to enjoy and appreciate.

Sincerely, Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz

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God’s Greater Plan Chloe Kotulski '23 Throughout our lifetime, the thought of what happens after someone passes is bound to cross our minds. Many of us fear this thought. After all, the unknown is scary. No one has been able to report back what it is that happens. The ideas of what happens after you pass vary from nothing at all to something so great such as being reunited with passed family members. Many people carry different opinions. From a young age, the stereotypical idea of an afterlife usually consisted of heaven and hell.

I always thought this was a simple explanation because there was no easy answer. However, what truly happens when someone passes away based on Judaic law?

In Judaism, we believe there is the present world and a future world to come, known as the Olam HaBa. The Olam HaBa is only illustrated with extreme greatness. In the Mishna, it is said that "This world is like a lobby before the Olam HaBa. Prepare yourself in the lobby so that you may enter the banquet hall” (Pirkei Avot 4:21). This means that we should spend our time on earth to prepare ourselves for the greatness to come. This idea is hard to grasp. It seems like we spend so much time trying to live out our best lives throughout our life on earth that the idea of something with even more significance than life is a complex image. To prepare ourselves for this greatness, we must spend our time on earth being good people and following the laws in the Torah.

There are many forms and ideas of what happens when someone passes away; all hold similar concepts but are articulated differently. A popular notion is resurrection. However, this can and will only occur when there is complete peace, known as the Messianic Age. Only when this happens can Messiah return. When he returns, the honorable good people return into this world to experience the true peace that their future generations had worked to achieve. However, not everyone who had passes will return. Those who are evil will not return. We talk about this multiple times a day when we say the second blessing of Shemoneh Esrei. The Mishna expresses the extreme of believing in resurrection: ‫ֲׂשה יָדַ י‬ ֵ ‫יקים לְ עֹולָם י ְִירׁשּו אָ ֶרץ נֵצֶ ר מַ ּטָ עַ י מַ ע‬ ִ ‫ ֶׁשּנֶאֱ מַ ר (ישעיה ס) וְעַ ּמֵ ְך ֻּכּלָם צַ ִּד‬,‫ּכָל י ְִׂש ָראֵ ל יֵׁש לָהֶ ם חֵ לֶק לָעֹולָם הַ ּבָ א‬ ‫ ַר ִּבי‬.‫יקֹורס‬ ֶ ‫ וְאֶ ִּפ‬,‫ּתֹורה ִמן הַ ָּׁשמָ יִם‬ ָ ‫ וְאֵ ין‬,‫ּתֹורה‬ ָ ַ‫ הָ אֹומֵ ר אֵ ין ְּת ִחּיַת הַ ּמֵ ִתים ִמן ה‬,‫ וְאֵ ּלּו ֶׁשאֵ ין לָהֶ ם חֵ לֶק לָעֹולָם הַ ּבָ א‬.‫לְ ִה ְתּפָ אֵ ר‬ ‫ וְהַ ּלֹוחֵ ׁש עַ ל הַ ּמַ ּכָ ה וְאֹומֵ ר (שמות טו) ּכָל הַ ּמַ חֲ לָה אֲ ֶׁשר ַׂש ְמ ִּתי ְב ִמצְ ַריִם ל ֹא‬,‫ּקֹורא בַ ְּספָ ִרים הַ ִחיצֹונִ ים‬ ֵ ַ‫ אַ ף ה‬,‫ע ֲִקיבָ א אֹומֵ ר‬ ‫ם‬:‫אֹותּיֹותָ יו‬ ִ ‫ אַ ף הַ הֹוגֶה אֶ ת הַ ֵּׁשם ְּב‬,‫ אַ ּבָ א ָׁשאּול אֹומֵ ר‬.‫אָ ִׂשים עָ לֶיָך ּכִ י אֲ נִ י ה' ר ְֹפאֶ ָך‬ (Sanhedrin 10:1)

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It is stated that if someone does not believe in resurrection they will not get a place in Olam HaBa. Resurrection is mentioned so often that it is even stated that the clothes you are buried in you will be brought back: ‫ ׳ויציצו מעיר כעשב הארץ׳ אלא כשהן עומדין‬, ”‫שאלה קליאופטרא מלכתא את רבי מאיר אמרה ידענא דחיי שכבי דכתיב‬ ‫עומדין ערומין או בלבושיהן עומדין אמר לה קל וחומר מחיטה ומה חיטה שנקברה ערומה יוצאה בכמה לבושין צדיקים‬ ‫שנקברים בלבושיהן על אחת כמה וכמה”ח‬ (Sanhedrin.90b) This is yet another example of what God has planned for us. One of the most basic ideas of an afterlife is heaven and hell. This is an idea in many religions. In Judaism this idea is usually thought of as Gan Eden being “heaven” and Gehinnom being “hell”. There is also a place for your souls to be held when they get purified known as Sheol. Although there is no prime definition of heaven and hell in Judaism these ideas are the closest to the idea of heaven and hell. I also believe that it is easily understood because this idea is the most common. This idea is also the easiest to explain. Many people think that Jews get an automatic ticket to Gan Eden; however, this is not true. All people who are righteous get to go to Gan Eden. However, if you are a terrible person Jewish or not, you will not go to “heaven.”

When going to Gehinnom, it is not immediate; however, if after you are judged, it is said that you are a terrible person, this is where you are sent. Ultimately, heaven and hell are not directly discussed, however, similar concepts are discussed.

We experience events that cause us to think about where we go when we die throughout our lifetime.

A few months ago, my grandfather passed away after a shocking diagnosis of brain cancer. This experience caused me to think about the afterlife in Judaism, ultimately the reason I chose this topic to research. At his funeral, the rabbi mentioned that we must remember that despite the grief we were all feeling, this is not the end. I’ve heard this idea of Olam Ha-Ba and God’s more excellent plan for us, however, it is ultimately complicated to understand. There hasn’t been anyone who has been able to return to this world to justify this. That was always my reasoning for being skeptical. Ultimately I realized that being a Jew, there are many things that we must have faith in, from how we got placed on earth until the very end of our time. Having complete faith in God requires us to have confidence in His plans for us. The longer I thought about this, one thing I knew for sure. Despite my grandfather’s life being cut short in our physical world, I know that God must have had bigger and better plans for such a righteous man.

In conclusion, there are many different interpretations of what an afterlife looks like in Judaism.

Everyone has a different interpretation of what they truly believe will happen after someone passes

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away. Ultimately all sources that I have found have one thing in common: death is not the end. God has a greater plan for all of us far from what we are able to comprehend. Ultimately, having complete trust and faith in God should only reassure us that he has great plans for each of us.

Mourner's Kaddish Rebecca Silber '23 When a person’s parent dies, it is customary for him to say Kaddish three times a day, for one whole year. In saying Kaddish, a person is literally praising and exalting G-d, as well as requesting peace for all of Bnei Yisroel. What is the correlation between praising Hashem and the neshama of one’s parent?

What is the significance and relevance of these particular words? In addition, what is the purpose of even saying Kaddish Yatom? Does something happen to the neshama during this year that requires kaddish to be said for it, or is kaddish similar to shiva in that it serves to the mourner himself? And finally, why must one’s child be the person saying Kaddish? Why not any other immediate relative?

In Brachot (3a), we are introduced to the words of Kaddish for one of the first times. Eliyahu states that when the Jewish people recite the prayer “‫ֹורְך‬ ָ ‫יְהֵ א ְׁשמֵ יּה הַ ּגָדֹול ְמב‬,‫ ״‬Hashem Himself grieves over the destruction of Jerusalem. The words themselves, “May His great name be blessed, the Holy One, Blessed be He,” are clearly words of praise, yet in this context, as well as in the context of Kaddish Yatom, we connect it to the idea of mourning and grief –why? There are three meaningful ideas that can be used to answer this question. To begin with, a person's faith is shaken up the most when something tragic, like a loved one passing away, happens to them. Death is one of those things that gives a person no other choice than to look up towards God. The bereaved one is consumed with thoughts of the afterlife, where the soul of his loved one is destined to go, and how Hashem rules over the Kingdom of Heaven. While the man is consumed with these incomprehensible, existential ideas, his focus is shifted 180 degrees as he utters the words of Kaddish: “‫ּובחַ ּיֵי ְדכָל־ּבֵ ית י ְִׂש ָראֵ ל‬ ְ ‫ּוביֹומֵ יכֹון‬ ְ ‫י־ב ָרא כִ ְרעּותֵ ּה ְוי ְַמלִ יְך מַ לְ כּותֵ ּה ְּבחַ ּיֵיכֹון‬ ְ ‫”ּבעָ ֒ ְל ָ ֽמא ִּד‬ ְ – “..In the world which He created according to His will and may He rule His kingdom, in your lifetime and in your days, and in the lifetime of the entire House of Israel.” The words of Kaddish bring the mourner’s attention to God’s Kingdom on Earth, and His role in our lives in this world. In order to counteract the unpleasant thoughts of death and the afterlife – thoughts that a person simply cannot find solace in – the Kaddish brings one’s attention to a much more comforting reality: that Hashem rules and watches over us in this world. While we recognize that Hashem makes peace in heaven, we focus on the fact that He brings it down to us in this world. We constantly repeat words like “life,” “days,” “this world,” and “peace” in order to bring us comfort in the thought of Hashem’s care for and control over our lives.

Secondly, the fact that the mourner praises God during Kaddish can be understood through the idea 8

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that the prayer itself is a way in which the mourner comforts God. Since we often view God as the all-powerful entity who rules over the entire universe – nature, life, miracles, etc. – we tend to forget that Hashem is also like a father to us: he cares for each and every individual life. When a person dies, God suffers: His Kiddusha is lessened, and His Kingdom feels void. In saying Kaddish, we console God in each aspect of His loss: ”‫ – ”י ְִתּגַּדַ ל ְוי ְִתקַ ּדַ ׁש ְׁשמֵ ּה ַרּבָ א‬May Your name, which was been lowered, be exalted, and may Your holiness, which has been lessened, rise; “‫ – ” ְוי ְַמלִ יְך מַ לְ כּותֵ ּה‬May your kingdom, which was made void, rule on forever. Of course, we know that God does not really need consolation, but in recognizing that God feels the same, if not a higher degree of pain, as himself, the mourner finds comfort. Lastly, in praising God, the mourner elevates the soul of his loved one by helping them continue to achieve their life mission. Everything physical in this world is here in order to help us fulfill our spiritual mission of bringing Godliness into the world. Our mission statement – Tikkun Olam: fixing the world– is achieved by increasing the appreciation for God here in the physical world. When a loved one passes away, their physical body stops working, but their soul is still intact, and therefore its mission still stands. It is just a lot harder for the dead to fulfill Tikkun Olam without being physically present in the world. Kaddish is a prayer all about exalting God, in which the reciter causes an entire congregation to say: ‫ – יְהֵ א ְׁשמֵ ּה ַרּבָ א ְמבָ ַרְך לְ עָ לַם ּולְ עָ ֒ ְלמֵ י עָ ֒ ְלמַ ּיָא‬may God’s name be blessed in this world and forever. In doing this, the mourner causes an entire crowd of people to bless God and bring Him into their lives. Therefore, by reciting the words of Kaddish and praising Hashem, a person helps their loved one fulfill their mission, and in doing so, he elevates their soul.

Throughout the Talmud, there are many hints to the fact that the soul undergoes some degree of suffering during the first 12 months of its passing, and so this can serve to explain why we need to say Kaddish. To begin with, in Kiddushin (31b), the Gemara poses a question: “‫ ּכֵיצַ ד הָ יָה‬,‫”?ּבמֹותֹו‬ ְ – “In his (father’s) death, how does he honor him?” The gemara answers: if he quotes his father on something, he should not say: “‫“ – ”ּכְָך אָ מַ ר אַ ּבָ א‬so said my father.” Rather, he should say: “‫ּכָ ְך אָ מַ ר אַ ּבָ א מָ ִרי הֲ ֵרינִ י‬ ‫“ – ”ּכַּפָ ַרת ִמ ְׁשּכָ בֹו‬So said Father, my teacher, may I be an atonement for his resting soul.” The gemara then adds that one should say this: “‫“ – ּתֹוְך ְׁשנֵים עָ ָׂשר “חֹ דֶ ׁש‬within 12 months of his passing.” Rashi comments on this statement, and explains that atoning for his father’s resting soul means that all the evil that deserves to come upon his father’s soul shall come upon himself. From this, we learn that there is some sort of “evil,” or some form of punishment, that the soul undergoes during the first 12 months of its passing, and therefore, it is possible that Kaddish is said in order to elevate the soul during this difficult time. This idea is also mentioned in Rosh Hashanah (17a), where the Gemara discusses the post-death process of three different groups of people: The righteous, the wicked, and the middle. The righteous goes straight to Olam Habah, the wicked are written and sealed for Gehenom, and “‫ֵיהּנָם‬ ִ ‫יֹור ִדין לְ ג‬ ְ ‫ – ”ּבֵ ינֹונִ ּיִ ים‬the middle will descend to Gehenom to be cleansed and achieve atonement for their sins, but will eventually ascend from Gehenom to Olam Babah. This gemara supports the idea that in saying Kaddish, we are trying to elevate the soul during this harsh time of BIKKUREI RAMAZ

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suffering in Gehenom. Finally, Some believe that the tradition of saying mourner's Kaddish began with the following incident: One time, Rabbi Akiva was walking and encountered a man who had died, and his soul was suffering the torments of Gehenom. He asked Rabbi Akiva to go to his home town and teach his son to recite the Kaddish and Borechu. Rabbi Akiva did this, and the man’s soul was rescued from the terrible punishments. Rabbi Akiva and his Court then instituted the practice of reciting mourner’s Kaddish. Here, we again see the idea that Kaddish is said in an effort to relieve the soul from the afflictions that it undergoes during the first year of death.

Lastly, we know that a child should be the one to say Kaddish for his parent. The Shulchan Aruch (‫ד׳‬:‫)יורה דעה שע״ו‬, states: “ ‫ – ”כשהבן מתפלל ומקדש ברבים פודה אביו ואמו מן הגיהנום‬when the son prays and sanctifies (says Kaddish) in public, he redeems his father and mother from Gehenom. What is the real significance of having the child say Kaddish for his parent? Why not have every immediate relative that is still alive say it? First, we learn the following from Chazal: “A parent brings a child into this world; a child can bring a parent into the world to come.” Chazal is drawing a connection: since a parent has the ability of caring for their child in this world, so too the child has the ability to care for their parent in the next world. In addition, we learn from Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai: “mah zar'o bachayim, af hu bachayim” – “so long as his children live, so long does the parent live.” A person is outlived by his/her child, because by teaching one’s child, and raising them in the right way, one leaves their own legacy behind, both during and after his/her lifetime. Therefore, it is fitting that the child, who has learned everything from his parent, and holds his parent’s legacy for as long as he lives, shall be the one to pray for their soul.

In conclusion, Kaddish is such a powerful prayer in that it unites the dead and the living under the idea that God holds control and ultimate power over all. Death is a time of uncertainty and confusion.

Individuals in this World try to grasp the Godly concepts and existential questions pertaining to the Next World. Therefore, the child – the one who passes on his parent’s true essence into the world – recites Kaddish in order to elevate the soul of his loved one, and to bring G-dliness into this world, all in the merit of his parent. In doing so, he brings comfort, G-dliness, and perspective onto himself, and onto every person around him.

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The Power We Share Eliza Binstock '23 “‫ וְהָ ְרׁשּות נְ תּונָה‬,‫( ”הַ ּכֹל צָ פּוי‬Pirkei Avot 3:15). Everything is foreseen yet freedom of choice is granted.

Our lives are based on the presumption that we have been given free will. In fact, Judaism is so focused on free will that the Torah emphasizes it in the very first scene with human activity: “‫אֱֹלהים ֵ ֤הן ָ ֽהאָ דָ ֙ם הָ י ָ֙ה ּכְ אַ ַ ֣חד ִמּמֶ֔ ּנּו ל ַ ָ֖דעַ ת ֣טֹוב ו ָ ָ֑רע וְעַ ָ ּ֣תה ּפֶ ן־י ְִׁשלַ ֣ח י ָ֗דֹו ְולָקַ ֙ח ֚ ַּגם מֵ ֵ ֣עץ ַ ֽהחַ ֔ ִּיים וְאָ ַכ֖ל ו ַ ָ֥חי‬ ִ֗ ‫ַו ּ֣י ֹאמֶ ר יְהֹ וָ ֣ה‬ ‫( ”לְ ע ָֹלֽם‬Bereshit 3:2). The Torah says that man has the ability and freedom to choose good or bad; man even has the freedom to take an apple from the tree of life, a very forbidden sin. Having been caught sinning by God, however, man is punished for making the wrong choice and ignoring God’s instruction.

Judaism extensively explores punishments for those who do not obey God and rewards for those who do, implying that humans have the autonomy to choose adherence or straying from God’s laws. Indeed, humans have the ability to make choices of all kinds every day throughout their lives. However, Pirkei Avot 3:15 simultaneously maintains that God foresees all our decisions, which must be true if we are to believe in God’s infinite power. Squaring these two presumptive truths is complex, and Judaism grapples extensively with the assumption of free will because its very existence limits God’s power. God cannot control everything in the universe if we humans have control over our actions and their consequences.

Foreseen does not equate predetermined, but it does underscore God’s involvement in our every action.

Did God rescind a measure of His infinite power by granting human beings free will?

One way our texts address this challenge is by questioning whether God ever takes away anyone’s free will. While the Torah strongly implies that humans have free will, God does seem to take it away in certain circumstances. For example, God hardens Paroh’s heart when Moshe pleads with him to lead the Jews out of Egypt: “‫ֹׁשה‬ ֽ ֶ ‫ת־ל֣ב ּפַ ְר ֹ֔עה ְו ֥ל ֹא ָׁש ַ ֖מע אֲ ל ֶ ֵ֑הם ּכַאֲ ֶ ׁ֛שר ִּד ֶ ּ֥בר יְהֹ וָ ֖ה אֶ ל־מ‬ ֵ ֶ‫( ” ַויְחַ ֵּז֤ק יְהֹ ו ָ֙ה א‬Exodus 9:12). God hardens Paroh’s heart and Paroh does not listen to the words of God. Could it be that God punished Paroh with excruciating plagues as a result of decisions Paroh made when God hardened his heart, rendering him incapable of making the right decision to begin with? It would illustrate a most unfair justice system. Nechama Leibowitz offers a unique approach to the puzzling contradiction. At first, before God stiffens his heart, Paroh hardens his own heart and refuses to oblige Moshe, and he does so several times until the pasuk states: “‫ת־לִּבֹו ּגַ ֖ם ּבַ ַ ּ֣פעַ ם הַ ּ֑ז ֹאת ְו ֥ל ֹא ִׁשּלַ ֖ח אֶ ת־הָ ָ ֽעם‬ ֔ ֶ‫( ” ַוּיַכְ ֵ ּ֤בד ּפַ ְרע ֹ֙ה א‬Exodus 8:28).

Paroh hardens his own heart yet again. The pasuk highlights how Paroh develops a habit of stubbornness, causing him to commit a series of bad decisions. Leibowitz seems to liken the bad habit to an addiction of sorts. Like all addictions, after a certain point, Paroh’s addiction conquers his free will. He no longer has the psycological freedom to make choices because his own evil actions caused him to lose that freedom; he is left a slave to his own mistakes. Leibowitz says that “as soon as he has made his first choice, then the opportunities facing him are no longer so evenly balanced. The more he persists in the first path of his choosing, shall we say, the evil path, the harder will it become for him to revert to the good path, even

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though his essential freedom of choice is not affected.” One’s possession of free will remains constant and God never takes it away from us, but each choice we make affects our future ability to make choices.

Other instances also point to God’s apparent intervention in free will, and require further analysis. For example, the Midrash in Shemot Rabbah (1:4-5, d.h “Vayigdal Hayeled”) explains how Moshe got his speech impediment. When he was found drifting down the Nile River in his basket, he was brought before the king. In order to see if the boy had true virtue, the king’s advisors prepared a test. Before Moshe on one side, they set down a collection of shiny gold objects, while on the other side they set down a collection of burning coal. They decided — absurdly — that the boy would be considered virtuous if he chose the burning coal because it would show that he is not greedy for gold. Moshe was naturally attracted to the sparkling gold objects. He reached out toward them but before he could touch them, the invisible angel, Gabriel, pushed his hand in the direction of the coal, causing him to burn his fingers. (He then instinctively brought his burnt fingers to his mouth, which in turn burnt his mouth and caused his lifelong speech impediment.) Did God, or His angel, take away Moshe’s free will in that moment, in order to save him? This key moment propels Moshe’s life in a certain direction, presumably based on a decision of his free will, albeit a faulty test of virtue. He would grow up in the palace of the king, sheltered from slavery; he would eventually become the Jewish people’s leader and savior, all because he passed the test of virtue. The test was rigged against Moshe, so in this case, the angel needed to help Moshe because without him the future Jewish savior would have been killed.

Perhaps God avoids interventions of free will on most occasions, but sends a guiding hand in extreme cases of emergency. Also, an infant cannot possibly be responsible for decisions of his or her own free will in the same way an adult can. God’s angel swooped in to cabosh the Egyptians’ cruel power play, and in doing so, assured Moshe’s safety, even if it did cost Moshe his speech capacity for life and his free will in that moment. The point of the Midrash is mainly to explain Moshe’s speech impediment, and perhaps also to give us the last laugh from the Egyptians cruel power games intended to kill our most vulnerable. But in addition, the Midrash addresses the question of free will, although from an unusual angle, given the infant protagonist. Its message reassures that God maintains the power to intervene in our actions in select situations of His choosing, and He is not completely absent from the realm of human decisions.

In the Gemara in Masechet Brachot, Rabbi Hanina states: “‫ חּוץ ִמּיִ ְראַ ת ָׁשמַ יִם‬,‫( ”הַ ּכֹל ִּבידֵ י ָׁשמַ יִם‬Brachot 33b). Everything is in the hands of God except for our fear of God. We have control over our belief and fear in God. Rabbi Hanina derives his conclusion from a pasuk in the Torah that states: “‫( ”וְעַ ּתָ ה י ְִׂש ָראֵ ל מָ ה ה׳ אֱֹלהֶ יָך ׁשֹואֵ ל מֵ ִעּמָ ְך ּכִ י ִאם לְ י ְִראָ ה‬Deutoronomy 10:12).

Moshe says to Bnei Yisrael: what does God ask of you besides your fear? God asks man to fear Him, that choice being in our hands, and we are to demonstrate that fear by serving him and fulfilling his commandments. But the phrasing of Rabbi Hanina’s statement is noteworthy, conveying God’s control over the whole universe besides our requirement to fear Him. What does it mean that everything

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else is in God’s hands? Does it imply that besides our choice of whether or not to fear, we do not have further choices in life? More likely, Rabbi Hanina’s lesson is that if we fear God, everything else in our lives will fall into place on its own. The general way of life that will naturally follow if we choose to fear God is the one we should strive towards, and the one whose essential prerequisite is fear of God. On the flip side, turning away from God leads a person in the opposite direction in life, and no subsequent life choices will be able to rectify this foundational requirement. Among Moshe’s concluding messages to Bnei Yisrael, in summarizing their responsibilities, he tells them to always remember to fear God; that is the basis of what is asked of them. Rabbi Hanina explains that his message is that if we consciously and willingly choose to fear God, God will take care of the rest.

Another possible interpretation of Rabbi Hanina’s message is that despite our free will, human limitations and circumstances beyond our control affect our ability to employ perfectly fair and balanced decision-making. Our circumstances influence our choices, thus wrestling them from our total control. Picture, for example, a poor child living with a single parent who is on drugs. His only warm meal is lunch at school, and no one is offering him the support and attention he needs in order to develop into a successful, independent adult. Could he really be blamed if he needs to steal to eat once or twice, even though stealing is a clear prohibition? Could he even truly be blamed if he ends up living a life of crime as an adult? He would have to be put in jail to protect society, but would it really have been all his fault, the fault of his free will which he chose to use for evil? Did he have the same ability to make good life choices as another child who has his comforts met, who is taken care of and nurtured and taught? Both children may have been born with the same natural abilities, the same tendency towards goodness, the same God-given free will. But circumstances into which they are born and which they encounter throughout their lives drive their decisions, large and small. While we have the autonomy to make our own decisions, Rabbi Hanina seems to suggest that there is so much beyond our control, so much that is external to us yet can be intertwined with the choices we make. He maintains that there will always be external forces set in motion by God that affect our lives, and therefore, our decisions. Throughout the Talmud, our actions are described as driven by the yetzer hara and yetzer hatov — evil and righteous inclinations that are intrinsic to every human being.

However, outside forces beyond our control also pull us unevenly in the two directions.

Judaism is a religion and a social institution, and all of society is based upon free will. We need to believe that our actions are our own, that our minds have power and that we are not God’s monotonous robots on an endless timeline devoid of meaning. Society also depends upon free will in order to function. The justice system in a society revolves around its members’ choices of behavior.

Without the choice to act, people could not be held responsible for their decisions, and could not be rewarded or punished accordingly. Punishments are intended to teach people a lesson, but that lesson is worthless if they would be unable to control their actions in the future. On the other hand, people build social relationships by choosing to show kindness and trust. Therefore, on the most basic

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human level, we need to know that our decisions have value. Judaism does not exist without free will, because our relationship with both God and each other would be meaningless, rendering our lives meaningless. The whole point is to push ourselves away from the yetzer hara to get closer to God, but if we believe that the path is already paved, we do not push ourselves anywhere. The gift that God has given us is the freedom to live our lives as we choose; we form our own relationships, make our own decisions, pave our own path.

Nechama Leibowitz’s position on habit forming appears to support the notion of: "‫גֹור ֶרת עֲבֵ ָרה‬ ֶ ‫ ַועֲבֵ ָרה‬,‫ּגֹור ֶרת ִמצְ וָה‬ ֶ ‫ּובֹורחַ ִמן הָ עֲבֵ ָרה ֶׁש ִּמצְ וָה‬ ֵ ,‫מּורה‬ ָ ֲ‫ הֱ וֵי ָרץ לְ ִמצְ וָה קַ ּלָה כְ בַ ח‬,‫( "ּבֶ ן עַ ּזַאי אֹומֵ ר‬Pirkei Avot 4:2). This passage teaches that a good choice begets another good choice, and the reverse is true as well. It gives our choices elevated importance, since they do not only affect the moment at hand, but have implications for the future as well. We can work to establish good habits, and we can inspire both ourselves and others to follow our good example with the choices we make. Pushing this idea a step further is the renown secular English poem, “A Smile” by Barbara Hauck (quoted in full below).

Hauck makes the simple yet fascinating point that our free will has the power not only to set ourselves on the right path, but to set others in motion towards the right path as well. Any small, good action has the power to affect the subconscious of those around us. The poem illustrates that every person has the ability, with our daily choice of actions, to influence the whole world profoundly. Our every action causes an invisible ripple effect in the world that we cannot possibly perceive, but that even further elevates the importance of our choices in life. God never rescinds his power so much as shares a modicum of it with us humans, whom He created in His image. free will encapsulates our greatest potential as human beings and is perhaps God’s greatest gift to us: we each have the power to steer ourselves and the whole world in the right direction.

A Smile by Barabra Hauck She smiled at a sorrowful stranger...

The smile seemed to make him feel better...

He remembered past kindnesses of a friend And wrote him a thank you letter...

The friend was so pleased with the thank you That he left a large tip after lunch...

The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip, Bet the whole thing on a hunch...

The next day she picked up her winnings, And gave part to a man on the street...

The man on the street was grateful; For two days he'd had nothing to eat...

After he finished his dinner, He left for his small dingy room...

He didn't know at that moment 14

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That he might be facing his doom...

On the way he picked up a shivering puppy And took him home to get warm...

The puppy was very grateful To be in out of the storm...

That night the house caught on fire...

The puppy barked the alarm...

He barked till he woke the whole household And saved everybody from harm...

One of the boys that he rescued Grew up to be President...

All this because of a simple smile That hadn't cost a cent...

A Rational Belief in God Manie Dweck '23 As an Orthodox Jewish teen who has been attending Yeshivas my entire life, I have accepted the Jewish core value of believing in Hashem without doubting it or any of the ideas surrounding it.

Everyone around me believed in Hashem, so I did too. As I became more exposed to people who did not believe in Hashem, it bothered me that I had difficulty articulating my belief to people who argued against God's existence. I felt that I needed to have the knowledge to be able to prove and understand different sides of the argument in order to strengthen my own beliefs. Therefore, I educated myself on how one can make a sophisticated argument about their belief in Hashem to make sense of it through reason rather than accepting it at face value.

People tend to think that questioning their faith in Hashem is something to be ashamed of and makes them “less religious”, when in fact, grappling with these difficult ideas has the potential to strengthen our faith and connection to Hashem. We see this concept play out in Genesis (15:6) when Avraham, one of our holiest sages, struggled with his own faith. The pasuk says “And because he put his trust in the Lord, He reckoned it to his merit”. This is the first mention of the word emunah in the Tanakh.

Rashi's commentary on the words “‫( ”והאמין בה‬and he believed in the Lord) further proves that Avraham struggled with his faith. He explains that Avraham did not ask Hashem for a sign in regard to his promise that Araham would have many offspring. However, in respect to the promise that Avraaham would possess the land, he did ask for a sign (Bereshit 15:8). Through this commentary, it is clear that even a man as righteous as Avraham needed a tangible sign. Even though Avraham didn't specifically request a sign from Hashem that he would have many offspring, he still received the visual sign of the stars in the sky which made it easier to trust God (Bereshit 15:5). The fact that someone as BIKKUREI RAMAZ

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holy as Avraham questioned his belief while speaking directly with Hashem and in a time where signs were very clear teaches us that it is completely understandable and normal for us to struggle with our faith, especially because we are living in a time where signs aren't nearly as clear. The concept of faith is not clear cut at all, but the idea that even our forefathers struggled with their faith should be comforting to us and remind us that we are encouraged to question our inherent belief in Hashem.

In the book Permission to Believe by Lawrence Kelemen, Kelemen gives four rational approaches to God's existence. He uses deductive reasoning to explain why it makes sense to believe in God. The approach that stood out to me the most was the moral approach. In this approach he explains why morality wouldn’t exist without the existence of God. He introduces this idea by asking the question “Why is murder wrong?” (Page 21). He continues to explain that one would assume that murder is wrong because that is what reason and logic dictate. However, he refutes this proposal by demonstrating that rational thinking could in fact lead one to commit murder. Following the premise that reason is what dictates morality, we should do whatever we need in order to help us achieve our goal most effectively. Our goal in this scenario might be to stop someone from affecting the world, and therefore logically it may make the most sense to murder them. We can do an act that is completely immoral yet very reasonable. Therefore, “Morality and reason might be completely unrelated” and reason does not answer why murder is ethically wrong (Page 22). Kelemen goes on to eliminate any other possible explanations as to what the origins of morality are. Ultimately, this leads him to conclude that believing in a universal moral system, points to God's existence.

While the argument of morality was very compelling, Peter Kreeft, a philosophy professor formulated a convincing argument as well. In a short video called "God Vs. Atheism: Which is More Rational," he explains why he holds the opinion that the belief in God is more rational than Atheism. He proves this idea through the notion that everything has a cause. He explains that logic can prove that there is a God because if “things move”, then something must have caused that movement, and something caused that, and so on. He continues to say that this chain of causes cannot continue forever and there must be a beginning. At this point he brings in the idea of an “unmoved mover” which is the beginning of the chain of all movements. Many people believe the “unmoved mover'' to be God. Some scientists argue against this idea using the multiverse theory, which is the idea that there were many universes before this one with their own big bangs, Peter would reply by saying that that too must have a beginning. Overall, his point is that scientists find the multiverse theory to be more rational than the idea of God even when there is no evidence for this theory. Therefore, “the conclusion that God exists does not require faith, atheism requires faith, it takes faith to believe in everything coming from nothing, it takes only reason to believe in everything coming from God” (4:06).

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Researching this topic has strengthened my understanding and knowledge of a rational belief in God's existence by giving me effective resources. Through this process I have also learned how to accurately convey my faith in Hashem to people who may challenge my ideology. These three sources are just a few of an unlimited amount of research that has been done on this topic that happened to resonate with me. Therefore, I would encourage anyone who struggles with blind faith to further research Jewish philosophy until they find a compelling argument that works for them personally.

What Should Drive One's Belief in God? Noah Libin '23 The most fundamental commandment in the Torah is to believe in God as the creator of the universe.

While at first glance, this commandment may seem simple and straight-forward, in reality, it isn't so easy. We question God when tragic events happen in our lives. What about science? The Big Bang theory? One might thoughtfully argue that science contradicts the Torah. If we are to follow the Torah and believe in God, what should be the driving force behind our belief? Should it be logical? Should it be based on miracles? Should it be based on the beauty found in nature? Or based on blind faith?

No matter the reasoning, we as Jews need to find our own reasons to fulfill this most fundamental of commandments: the belief in the all-mighty God. The first approach to belief in God is through logic. Many scholars including religious Jews and nonJews use this reasoning to suggest that one should believe in God. The first person to suggest this is the Rambam. In an article by Kenneth Seeskin, "God Exists, I’ll Prove It To You", Seeskin translates Rambam's argument in Book Two of The Guide for the Perplexed. "If nothing were permanent, it is conceivable that everything might perish and nothing take its place. The idea of an empty universe is absurd. So a necessary Being is needed to ensure that the universe does not become depleted."

The only problem with Rambam's rationale is that he makes an assumption that the universe can't exist without any life. I think in his argument, Rambam is subconsciously hoping that we don't live in a universe that will ultimately end up in complete emptiness. Though Rambam takes the position to prove God's existence in order to believe, Blaise Pascal, a secular philosopher, provided a reason to believe in God without proving his existence. In Blaise Pascal's first passage of "Pascal's Wager" he writes: "Your reason is no more shocked in choosing one rather than the other, since you must of necessity choose… But your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is… If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is."

Pascal is saying that everyone must make a decision whether to believe in God's existence or not. He argues that one must believe in God's existence because if you believe in God and he does exist you're

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gaining eternal happiness, but if he doesn't exist you're not missing out on anything. However, if you don't choose to believe in God you're either missing out on eternal happiness or you're not gaining anything anyway. Though Rambam and Pascal take positions that are polar opposites, they both conclude that one should believe in the existence of God. The second way one may find a closer connection to God is through one's presence in nature.

According to the Rambam, Abraham discovered the presence of God through nature. Rambam wrote about Abraham: "‫"והיה תמיד היאך אפשר שיהיה הגלגל הזה נוהג תמיד ולא וכו' יהיה לו מנהיג‬ (‫ג‬:‫)משנה תורה הל' עבודת כוכבים ב‬.

This is significant because what drove Abraham to being the first being to discover God's existence was through nature, specifically, how the world revolved perfectly around the sun. Additionally, one's presence in nature helps strengthen our relationship with God through tefilah. In the Likutei Moharan, Rav Nachman of Breslov says: ​ַ‫שׂדֶ ה נ ְָתנּו ֹכּחַ ו ְִסּיּוע‬ ּ ָ ַ‫ ֶשׁכָ ּל ִע ְשׂבֵ י ה‬,‫שׂדֶ ה‬ ּ ָ ַ‫ּשׂדֶ ה – ֶש ְׁת ִּפ ָלּתֹו הָ יְתָ ה ִעם ִסּיּועַ ְוכֹחַ ה‬ ּ ָ ַ‫ ַו ֵיּצֵ א יִצְ חָ ק לָׂשּוחַ ב‬:)‫ְוזֶה ְב ִּחינַת (שם כד‬ ‫א‬.)‫ב׳‬:‫א׳‬:‫(תנינא י״א‬,"‫ִב ְּת ִפ ָלּתֹו ַ ּכ ַנּ"ל‬ When Yitzhak went out to the field, the nature that surrounded him increased the strength of his tefilah. As our tefilah elevates to a higher level one can feel a closer connection to God. If one feels close to God through prayer, the prayer will certainly drive them in their belief in God. Perhaps one's presence in nature should lead us to find God's presence in our life.

Evidence of the existence of God through miracles offers a third alternative basis for faith. The first place in the Torah it says that Bnei Yisrael believed in God as a nation was after he split the Yam Sof. In Shirat Hayam it's written: "‫"וירא ישראל את־היד הגדלה אשר עׂשה ה' ּבמצרים וייראו העם את־ה' ויאמינו ּבה' ובמשה עבדו‬ (‫לא‬:‫)שמות י״ד‬.

The Torah conveys that first Bnei Yisrael saw God's miracles and then, only afterward, they believe in him. Perhaps, like Bnei Yisrael, we too should base our belief in God in his miracles, albeit on a smaller scale (e.g., the modern example of the rapid creation of a Covid vaccine, etc.). The Ramban expands on this argument: ‫ כי בידיעה ובהשגחה ממנו יצאנו‬,‫ כי הוצאתם משם תורה על המציאות ועל החפץ‬,‫ואמר אשר הוצאתיך מארץ מצרים‬ ‫ּב)א‬:‫ ּכ‬,‫ שמות‬:‫ (רמב"ן‬,‫ כי עם קדמות העולם לא ישתנה דבר מטבעו‬,‫וגם תורה על החדוש‬,‫משם‬ Ramban argues that God's hand was visible and obvious in the manner in which he took us out of Egypt. Only the creator of the world is able to alter the set of rules he puts in place. The miracles God performed in setting the Jews free clearly reveal his presence in the world. Like the Jews in Egypt, perhaps we too should seek and recognize the daily miracles in our daily lives as the basis for a deeper connection to, and belief in, God. 18

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Beyond logic, nature and miracles, blind faith also serves as an argument for the belief in God. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein explores the idea that belief should be based on blind faith in an article titled “The Source for Faith is Faith Itself” where he wrote: "Intellectual assent is normative and essential; but, at the personal level, it is generally not the key. In the final analysis, the primary human source of faith is faith itself." Rav Lichtenstein makes a distinction between the intellectual level and the personal level. We can try to believe in God through logic, but the intellectual belief will always cause doubt. By contrast, if one has pure faith in God, that belief will not waiver even through tragic times when there might not be a logical or rational explanation for why something happened. Perhaps one should believe in God regardless of reason.

Personally, the most compelling argument for the belief in God's existence is through his presence in nature. Like Abraham, I believe nature is too perfect to not have a divine creator. To me, it's truly astounding that had the sun been even a meter closer to Earth, we would burn to death. In fact, when I look at the sun rising in the morning or setting in the evening, that is when I feel closest to God. I don't need blind faith because when I look at the world, I find multiple proofs of God's presence.

Everyone can have their own reason to believe in God - miracles, logic, blind faith. Mine can be found through both the beauty and miracles of nature.

God Doesn't Exist Emily Vayner '23 “When you think of God, what is the first thing that comes to mind?” a teacher asked my class in middle school. One student replied, “An old man in the sky watching over us,” and other students nodded in agreement. ”The king of the world!” another exclaimed enthusiastically. I silently raised my hand, and the teacher pointed to me. I answered her question with one word— “Nothing.” The idea of utter nothingness, I thought, was what best resembles God. Students turned around in confusion as the murmurs across the room fell into a loud silence. ”God doesn’t exist,” I continued. “God can’t exist.” Only anger filled the room at this point. “I am. I can be. I exist. Existence was a word people made to describe the inherent ‘being.’ But God cannot be because to be, one must be confined to the constructs of time created by humans. The universal oneness of God transcends and surpasses all of the constructs of human existence.”

For a long time, I struggled with my belief in God. My ideas never fell into the norm of how people around me viewed God. I always had ‘too many’ questions— questions that didn’t have answers.

Fortunately, throughout my life, several Rabbis empathize with my idea of God’s non-existence and BIKKUREI RAMAZ

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guided me to similar ideas brought up in scripture and commentaries. When I brought my opinions to my 8th grade Hashkafa teacher, Rabbi Sommer, he taught me some philosophical and kabbalistic teachings of the Rambam and brought me some books to read. During the summer of ’21, I went on an NCSY program where we had Havura learning on Shabbat and throughout the week. During one of the group learnings, the trip Rabbi, Rabbi Nachbar brought the idea that God is not some being sitting and watching from above, but rather, he is present in the world— reflected through his various creations. Rabbi Nachbar learned most of the ideas from his talk from his Rabbi, Rabbi David Aaron, who wrote The Secret Life of God. These Rabbis constituted major turning points in my life and my faith through their empathy and teachings. I was inspired by my past questions and experiences to write my Judaic Studies paper on the ‘non-existence’ of God. Talking about the existence of God is a category error. People often characterize God with human-like characteristics, using pronouns such as “He,” utilizing physical attributes and emotional descriptions.

Although these notions of anthropomorphism may be used to develop our faith and understanding of God, I believe they do the exact opposite-- they can cause people to doubt God’s transcendence. The purpose of my paper is to explore Jewish sources with varying opinions that talk about God’s “nonexistence” and develop an understanding of the essence of God that is outside the human constructs of space, time, and existence. This notion of God’s “non-existence” can help those struggling with understanding God in that they do not need to have a complete understanding because God transcends human constructs.

Philo was one of the earliest Jewish philosophers from Alexandria, Egypt. He lived around the beginning of the first millennium. Philo wrote about Jewish concepts within a Greek philosophical framework. In his book “On the Unchangeableness of God,” he used a pasuk from Devarim to expand on the purpose of the use of anthropomorphism within the Torah. In Chapter 8, Pasuk 5 of Devarim states, “like a man He shall train His son, so too, Hashem shall teach you.” This pasuk is one of the many instances in the Torah where God is described with human characteristics. This Pasuk is problematic because God transcends all of humankind and human ability. Philo says that this use of anthropomorphism is “for training and admonition, not because God’s nature is such, that these words are used.” Philo specifically picked this pasuk as it is about Hashem teaching his children. But ultimately, Philo explains that the people who understand God best do not use any language to talk about God because they simply can’t. I believe that this idea gives clarity to those who don’t see God physically. It offers an understanding that perhaps they have a higher level of connection to God than those who require anthropomorphism. We can see from Philo that the Torah uses these words to teach us and to make it easier for us to understand God’s nature on a human level. I think that existence isn't immediately thought of as a form of anthropomorphism and therefore isn't mentioned individually by philosophers. I believe that Philo would agree that we use the word existence, even if it 20

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doesn't fit best, because it is the easiest way for God to teach His children.

Rambam, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, played an important role in Jewish philosophy in the Mediterranean area. He wrote commentaries on the Mishnah and lived from approximately 11381204. He wrote Morah Nevuchim, three books explaining his philosophical perspective.

His view of God can be seen in the following passage from Chapter 1: ”It will now be clear that the attribute must be one of two things, either the essence of the object described--in that case it is a mere explanation of a name, and on that account we might admit the attribute in reference to God, but we reject it from another cause as will be shown--or the attribute is something different from the object described, some extraneous superadded element.” Rambam explains that when we describe things, we usually describe their characteristics and not their essence. For example, Oranges are characterized by their color rather than taste and texture. But, “There cannot be any belief in the unity of God except by admitting that He is one simple substance, without any composition or plurality of elements: one from whatever side you view it, and by whatever test you examine it: not divisible into two parts in any way and by any cause, nor capable of any form of plurality either objectively or subjectively, as will be proved in this treatise.” Rambam says that the one exception to the way we describe things is God. Because God is one, and indivisible, we cannot describe God by attributes and characteristics. Anthropomorphism is not limited to the physical attributes such as the “nose” or “eyes,” mentioned in the Torah, but also emotions such as love and mercy can only be felt by humans.

The Torah uses these words, so we can better understand God. Similar to Rambam, I concluded that there are no attributes, physical or emotional, that God can be described by. On the other hand, Rambam does mention that God’s existence is one of the thirteen principles of faith.

Rabbi Nachman was from Breslov, Ukraine, and lived from 1772 to 1810. Rabbi Nachman was a leading Chasidic figure, and his students wrote a book of his philosophical teachings called Likutei Moharan.

Rabbi Nachman, however, had very different teachings from the aforementioned philosophers. In Chapter 33 of Likutei Moharan, Rabbi Nachman quotes Kabbala: “[God’s] glory fills the whole world” (Isaiah 6:3), and there is no place empty of Him (Tikkuney Zohar #57, p.91b). He fills all worlds and surrounds all worlds (Zohar III, 225a). He expands on the concept of Tzimtzum: “Our Sages have already revealed to us that Godliness is to be found in all corporeality and in all the languages of the nations.”

Rabbi Nachman, unlike the other philosophers, explains that Godliness is found in all corporeal forms and that all forms are a lesser portion of God. He disagrees with other philosophers on the very concept of the divisibility of God. I can agree with Rabbi Nachman that, in order to have a universal oneness, it must constitute everything in existence and not in existence, but that simultaneously contradicts the idea of the indivisibility of the one. This ultimate paradox makes perfect sense to me because God is purposefully not a concept that was made for humans to understand.

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Even though I don’t necessarily share an identical view with Philo, Rambam, and Rabbi Nachman, I found ideas in each of their perspectives that I either strongly resonated with or helped me expand my understanding of the concept of existence. I strongly resonated with Philo’s opinion that the people who understand God best do not use any language to talk about Him. I enjoyed reading Rambam’s views on the use of attributes. I came to the realization that we often characterize things by their attributes, and the issue with using attributes to describe God connects to the use of the word existence. Although I have an entirely opposing opinion to Rabbi Nachman, I found that some parts of his perspective strongly supported my opinion and discovered the existence of paradoxes, and learned to appreciate them. I found it ironic that even though my sources were in chronological order, the oldest opinions I found were the more prevalent ideas of philosophy currently.

One idea that Philo, Rambam, Rabbi Nachman, any believer in Hashem, and I share is the idea of God’s transcendence. When we use the word existence, it limits God to our constructs of time— it limits God to the past, present, and future. People often disregard the concept of existence as a form of anthropomorphism which is evident in the definition of the word existence. Existence is defined as “the fact or state of living or having objective reality.” We know Hashem has none of these characteristics. However, the word transcendence in itself is defined as a concept that surpasses our understanding. I strongly believe that in every place in the Torah, God’s existence is mentioned, the word transcendence is a better translation. Just as the word God is differentiated by capitalizing the ‘G’ to show His holiness and greatness, so too there should be a form of differentiation for God’s ‘existence.’ I think being able to see this differentiation visually would act as a reminder of God’s holiness, but also of the fact that we can never fully understand God and that that is precisely how it should be. I think this would provide clarity for those struggling with the simultaneous presence of anthropomorphism and transcendence. I believe that the paradoxes that exist throughout the Torah are meant to be there for us to notice and take as a hint that, precisely because we cannot fully understand them, precisely because God cannot exist and we still believe in Him, we are the strongest and most loyal in our faith.

Creation Noa Itzhaky '23 While our tradition teaches us that the world was created six thousand years ago, scientific evidence proves that the world was created 13.5 billion years ago. Since the beginning of time humans have worked to gain a better understanding of the universe and over time we’ve obtained an accurate depiction of how the universe works through math and science. We have become knowledgeable about concepts such as evolution and dinosaurs. Despite this apparent conflict, we can conclude that the Big Bang Theory and the Six Days Of Creation can coexist and are actually alike in many more ways 22

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than we once thought. Various proofs and commentators throughout the Tanakh can help us gain a clearer picture of time in the Bible that can coexist with scientific evidence.

The first theory is that God created various worlds as he pleased and destroyed each one until he created his ideal world. In Bereshit Rabah (3:7), Rabbi Judah Bar Simon says: ‫ ִמּכָ אן ֶׁשהָ יָה סֵ דֶ ר זְ מַ ּנִ ים קֹ דֶ ם לָכֵ ן‬,‫ אֶ ּלָא ַוי ְִהי עֶ ֶרב‬,‫ י ְִהי עֶ ֶרב אֵ ין ּכְ ִתיב ּכָאן‬, meaning that during the six days of creation it says “and it was evening” rather than “it was evening”. From the word “and'' we can derive that there was another evening before this and therefore there was a time system prior to this one.

The creation of this “evening” was only the beginning of the 6,000 years and does not address the time system prior to this. Rabbi Abahu then adds on “ ‫ אָ מַ ר‬,‫ עַ ד ֶׁשּבָ ָרא אֶ ת אֵ ּלּו‬,‫ּבֹורא עֹולָמֹות ּומַ חֲ ִריבָ ן‬ ֵ ‫ֶׁשהָ יָה‬ ‫ י ְַתהֹון לָא הַ נְ יָן לִ י‬,‫( ”ּדֵ ין הַ נְ יָן לִ י‬Bereshit Rabah 3:7), meaning that Hashem created multiple trial worlds until he was satisfied. This might explain the difference of time, in that each new world is symbolic of the entrance of a new era that left remnants in the forms of our fossils. We know that the world has undergone 5 extinction periods throughout its history. These extinction events ranged from 65 to 440 million years ago. Each of these “trials” or “worlds” could have been its own extinction where Hashem destroyed everything on earth. Rather than destroying the entirety of the world he just destroyed everything living during that era and rebirthed something new afterwords. Rabbi Israel Lipschutz adds to this approach in his book Derush Or Ha Chayim. He states that we should rely on the kabbalists who say that the world was rebuilt multiple times in order to understand the discrepancy of time and the fossils of animals.

Another approach is that we can take the creation story as allegorical and we have to withdraw ourselves from the notion that everything in the Torah must be literal. Evidence such as passages in Isaiah and Ezra provide a clear picture of this approach. In ‫י׳‬:‫ עזרא ז׳‬it says: "‫ּומ ְׁש ָ ּֽפט׃‬ ִ ‫ת־ּתֹור֥ת יְהוָ ֖ה ְו ַל ֲע ׂ֑ש ֹת ּולְ ל ֵ ַּ֥מד ְּבי ְִׂש ָר ֵ ֖אל חֹ֥ ק‬ ַ ֶ‫ּכי עֶ זְ ָר ֙א הֵ ִ ֣כין לְבָ ב֔ ֹו לִ ְד ֛רֹוׁש א‬," ֤ ִ "Ezra dedicated himself to studying the teaching of Torah and to observe it." This proof teaches us that we must delve into the Torah and grasp a deeper meaning of it just as Ezra did. The Torah is suggesting that this deeper meaning you should grasp is accurately assuming whether you can allegorically interpret a certain passage of the Torah. Another passage in Isiah proves this as well: (​​‫י״ד‬:‫" (ישעיהו כ״ט‬.‫ּובינַ ֥ת נְ בֹנָ ֖יו ִּת ְסּתַ ָ ּֽתר‬ ִ ‫ת־העָ ם־הַ ֶּז֖ה הַ ְפלֵ ֣א ו ֶ ָ֑פלֶא ו ָ ְֽא ְבדָ ֙ה חָ כְ ַ ֣מת חֲ כָמָ֔ יו‬ ֽ ָ ֶ‫יֹוסף לְ הַ ְפ ִ ֥ליא א‬ ֛ ִ ‫״ ָל ֵ֗כן ִהנְ ִנ֥י‬ According to this passage, some segments in the Torah are too intricate to comprehend and the original meaning is bound to go beyond our simplistic understanding of the Torah. Therefore, the Torah claims that allegorical interpretation is the solution for breaking down these complex passages.

Although we now know that we must allegorically interpret some passages of the Torah, how does one know which passages fall under that category? We learn in the Talmud Bavli that there are only four reasons where one shouldn’t take the text as literal and rather reinterpret: If the Torah says BIKKUREI RAMAZ

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something that goes against our senses, the text is rejected by reason and obvious logic, a pasuk in the Torah contradicts another, or when the Rabbis clearly state that this text should not be taken literally. The Creation story could fall under reasons one and two. Over time we’ve formulated and accepted scientific theories that provide us with an enhanced understanding of how old the earth is.

The Torah seems to contradict some of those theories and therefore it falls under the second category and we can re-interpret Genesis.

One allegorical interpretation according to Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler says that rather than Genesis being a literal recount of creation, it rather utilizes time as a symbolic time frame in relation to spiritual content. Since time is only a concept that exists when humans are alive to perceive it, creation, by definition, is a non-temporal event since no humans were alive at that time. This means that creation goes against our senses and falls under the first category as well because we cannot perceive creation.

So Rabbi Dessler asks, why is creation described by the Torah as taking 6 days? The answer is because time is used as a symbolic scale relative to the spiritual content of creation itself in order to convey the little spiritual content creation had. Six days, compared to 13.7 billion years, is a miniscule amount of time so we can assume the Torah is expressing the little spiritual content that creation had. In regards to the discrepancy of time between Science and the Torah, we learn that both creation stories don't contradict each other, rather they are able to coexist with one another. We can view science as a method of interpreting the Torah.

Adoption in Halacha Jacqueline Landy '23 God first gave us the commandment to have children when he told Adam and Eve, “‫ּומלְ ֥אּו אֶ ת־‬ ִ ‫ְפ ּ֥רּו ְּור ֛בּו‬ ‫( ”הָ ָ ֖א ֶרץ‬Genesis, 1:28). This translates to “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it”. At first glance, this commandment seems to be asking couples to reproduce naturally. However, many couples struggle with infertility and are unable to bear their own children, while others may choose to adopt over having biological children. After a couple formally adopts a child they consider that child to be their own just as they would with their own biological kid. This raises the question, how does adoption fit into the mitzvah of having children?

In this paper, I sought out to show how the mitzvah of having children is in fact the same whether it’s through giving birth or adoption. I utilize sources in the Tanakh and draw upon the similarities in instances of a biological birth in comparison to an adoption. I also bring several examples of a family member adopting their orphaned relatives in both the Tanakh and Gemara. Additionally, I look at the Gemara to understand how adopted children are considered equivalent to biological children from a Jewish legal standpoint. With the help of all of these sources, it will become evidently clear that adopting a child is no different than having one biologically in terms of fulfilling the mitzvah to have children.

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Although there was no formal adoption in Biblical times in the sense we think of the word today, it is clear that adoption still took place in a number of instances throughout the Tanakh. In looking at the sources, I find that adoption in biblical times often fell into three categories: adoption for the purpose of inheritance when there were no other heirs, adopting an orphaned relative, and adopting a child with no relation in need.

One way adoption was used in the Tanakh was to allow for people with no heirs to pass off their inheritance on to a trusted servant. In the Torah, Avraham is seen to consider this with his trusted servant Eliezer, long before he had Yishmael or Yitzchak. Worried that he will remain childless, he tells God: ‫יעזֶר׃‬ ֽ ֶ ִ‫יתי ֖הּוא ּדַ ֶ ּ֥מ ֶׂשק אֱל‬ ִ ֔ ֵ‫ן־מ ֶׁשק ּב‬ ֣ ֶ ֶ‫ן־לי וְאָ נ ִ ֹ֖כי הֹולֵ ְ֣ך ע ֲִר ִ ֑ירי ּוב‬ ִ ֔ ֶ‫ה־ּתּת‬ ִ ַ‫ַו ּ֣י ֹאמֶ ר אַ ְב ָ ֗רם אֲ דֹנָ ֤י י ֱהֹ ו ִ֙ה מ‬ ‫יֹורׁש א ִ ֹֽתי׃‬ ֥ ֵ ‫יתי‬ ֖ ִ ֵ‫ַו ּ֣י ֹאמֶ ר אַ ְב ָ ֔רם ֵ ֣הן ֔ ִלי ֥ל ֹא נ ַ ָ֖תּתָ ה זָ ַ�֑רע ו ְִהּנֵ ֥ה בֶ ן־ּב‬ (Genesis, 15:2-3) Although he does end up having children and does not end up making Eliezer his inheritor, the idea of adoption is relevant here as Avraham is concerned about having someone to carry out his legacy when he is gone, similar to the way one might be with their children.

The Tanakh depicts an additional example of adoption, this time that of an orphaned family member.

In Megillat Esther, Mordechai is the guardian of an orphaned Esther. The text says, “‫לְבת‬ ֽ ַ ‫יה ו ְִאּמָ֔ ּה לְ קָ ָ ֧חּה מָ ְרּד ֳַכ֛י ל֖ ֹו‬ ָ ֙ ‫ּוב ֤מֹות אָ ִ֨ב‬ ְ ‫ְטֹובת מַ ְראֶ֔ ה‬ ֣ ַ ‫ת־ּתֹאַ ר֙ ו‬ ֨ ַ‫( ”אֶ ְסּתֵ ר֙ ּבַ ת־ּד ֹ֔דֹו ִ ּ֛כי ֵ ֥אין לָ ּ֖ה ָ ֣אב ו ֵ ָ֑אם וְהַ ַ ּֽנע ֲָר֤ה יְפ‬Megillat Esther, 2:7). Esther is first introduced as being a daughter of her uncle. Even though Mordechai is her uncle, her identity as his child comes before their niece-uncle blood relationship. Then, the text goes into the reasoning for Esther being Mordechai’s child: she doesn’t have a father or a mother. The sentence goes on to describe Esther’s physical appearance before saying that because her parents are dead, Mordechai took her as his child. By discussing Esther’s physical appearance before explaining the death of her parents and Mordechai’s adoption of her, the most important fact becomes how Esther is the child of Mordechai first and foremost.

In terms of adopting relatives, the Gemara brings another example of a child being adopted by a relative. Shaul had two daughters— Michal and Meirav. In the Gemara, the question arises why the Tanakh says that Michal has five children with Adriel, when it was in fact her sister Meirav who had these children but died before she had the chance to raise her children with Adriel. Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Korcha argues that whoever raises an orphan in their home is given credit as if they gave birth to them as he says, “‫”מירב ילדה ומיכל גידלה לפיכך נקראו על שמה ללמדך שכל המגדל יתום בתוך ביתו מעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו ילדו‬ (Sanhedrin 19b:13). This teaches you that anyone who raises an orphan in his house gets the credit as if they were giving birth to them. Therefore, Meirav’s children were considered Michal’s children and can be applied to other adoptive parents and their children.

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While adopting a relative is definitely easier than a complete stranger, there is an example of a stranger raising a child as their own in the Torah. This occurred when Bat Pharaoh found Moshe in the Nile River. It says in the Torah, “‫לְבן‬ ֑ ֵ ‫( ”וַ�ֽי ְִהי־לָ ּ֖ה‬Exodus, 2:10). As soon as she took him out of the Nile River, not only did she think of him as a son, he became her son as it says she had a son. It is interesting to compare this with Moshe’s biological birth and his identity as Yocheved’s child, or lack thereof. When Moshe is first introduced the Torah says, “‫ּי־טֹוב ֔הּוא‬ ֣ ִ‫שה ו ַ֣תֵ ּלֶד ֑בֵ ּן ו ַ֤תֵ ּ ֶרא אֹתֹו֙ כ‬ ּׁ ָ ֖ ‫”ו ַ֥תַ ּהַ ר ָ ֽה ִא‬ (Exodus, 2:2). Yocheved is not mentioned by name, which makes her identity ambiguous, as a birth mother’s identity might be in a case of adoption. More importantly, the quote describes how the woman gave birth to a boy but he is never called her son the way he is in the Bat Pharaoh quote. This shows how in an adoption situation, the child’s guardian is the adoptive parent, not the birth parent, allowing for the adoptive parent to fulfill the mitzvah.

The Shulchan Aruch’s perspective is in line with the previously mentioned sources and contributes further. It says, “A person who raises an orphan in his home and writes on a contract 'my son' or the orphan wrote 'my father or mother', it is not considered fake, it is kosher since they raised him” (Rama, Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat, 42:19). In the biblical examples there was never any kind of legal way to show or verify an adoption. This text recognizes that an adoption can become “real” (considered parent/ child in Jewish Halacha) such that the adopted child can legally refer to the parent as “my father” or “my mother.” Out of all of the sources so far, this is comes closest to the legal systems that a majority of Jews are used to today where they will have to sign a document in order to become legal guardians of an adopted child as well as having to sign documents for their children up until they reach the age of eighteen.

Through my research, I learned that adoption in biblical times is not the same institution of adoption we have today. It’s much more of a legal structure, and the importance of an inheritor is not as prevalent as it was back then. I also found it interesting that two of the types of children people would adopt were an orphaned relative or a stranger to whom there is no relationship who may or may not have a parent.

These are unfortunately the most common situations that will lead to a child being adopted, even today, thousands of years later. My most surprising and relevant find was a situation adoptive parents might find themselves in, which was the example of Moshe and his adoption. I had learned the story of Moshe’s birth and his subsequent hiding but I had never noticed how Moshe was never referred to as his mother’s child and how the birth was characterized by a very detached relationship between mother and child. I thought about how this might be similar to a mother who gives up her child for adoption because they know they cannot take care of it and want to give it a better chance at life, just like Yocheved. When Bat Pharaoh finds Moshe, he is immediately her child, and grows up in her house. Just as other sources confirmed, by growing up in one’s house you are that person’s child. I feel that this is most applicable to how a Jewish couple would go about adoption, by adopting a baby they are probably not related to 26

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and raising the child in their home. By looking at the various sources of Jewish texts, I find that they have proven that adoption, even as we see it today, is the same as having a biological child and a person is, therefore, able to fulfill the mitzvah of having a child.

Brain Death:

Is it Considered Halachic Death?

Racheli Moskowitz '23 Death is something that is unknown for many and raises countless questions. It is extremely unclear what happens after a person's time in this world ends. Even when someone is considered dead isn't a set fact. Is it when someone's heart is not beating anymore? Or when all the activity in the brain stops working (brain death)? It used to be clear when someone was considered dead: their bodily organs all shut down in a close time span to one another. Yet as technology has evolved, it has allowed vital organs to function separately from the rest and organs to be extracted and donated to others.

Because of this, a definition of death that was agreed between all had to be made. For the past couple of centuries, rabbis have been discussing and even arguing if brain death is halachically considered death.

The first question that arises in the discussion is: what even is brain death? According to the Harvard medical school, it is an “Irreversible cessation of all functions of the entire brain, including the brain stem.” In simpler terms that is when, after a severe incident, where the brain dies and cannot be revived. So now the newer definition of death is not only when someone’s heart and respiration is irreversibly stopped, but also when all brain activity has permanently ceased. In regards to the cessation of brain stem activity and breathing, the heart is like all other organs by needing oxygen to survive. Once the brain stem is not functioning anymore then there will be no oxygen to go to the heart which will lead to cardiac arrest. To declare brain death there are usually four main steps: 1) Making sure the patient is completely unresponsive. 2) The absence of brain stem reflexes like gagging, coughing, sighing, and hiccuping. 3) Seeing that there is no more spontaneous respiration which is done by an apnea test (that the patient cannot breathe without a respirator). 4) Lastly, a variety of tests to test the brain stems responsiveness. Once the patient's brain-stem dies, in most cases, they are already connected to a ventilator so their heart can continue to beat from two to ten days before it will stop. Since most vital organs need to be removed before the heart stops beating for transplantation, it needs to be known if a heart beating is a signal of life. If it is not, then it is halachically permissible to donate organs while someone is brain dead. However, if the patient is still considered to be legally alive, then organ donation (regarding a patient who is brain dead) would be considered to be killing the donor according to Jewish law.

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The Torah does not speak specifically about a person who is brain dead, but it does address the moment of death. The Mishna in Oholot 1:6 establishes two things. First, that physical decapitation of an animal is an indicator of death, and, secondly, that if there is sudden movement (after death), that doesn't mean that they are alive. Such morevement can just be spastic (pirchus be’alma), like the twitching of a “severed tail of a lizard” as it says in Oholot. Many questions arise from this source, including the question of whether humans are equal to animals in this regard. Another source where it speaks about this is the Talmud in Yoma (85a) that presents a scenario during shabbat where someone has debris fall on them and then it is asked (because it will be violating shabbat to pick the debris off of them) what to do? It is said that even if it is Shabbat, you should pick up the debris just until you check their nose to see if they are breathing or not. This establishes that the indicator of death is when the person is not breathing anymore. It even says in Yoma “And some say: One clears until the victim’s heart to check for a heartbeat.” It is not even agreed upon that you just have to check if someone is still breathing. This shows that even with texts that supposedly explain parts of death, there was not a clear understanding that everyone agreed on. For example, Rashi comments that when someone stops breathing it is only an indicator of death if they are “comparable to a dead man who does not move his limbs” (Rashi Yoma 85a.) This has to be done to see if the person has any movement compared to someone who was declared dead already. In accordance with Rashi’s commentary, he adds something to what the Talmud says: that it's not enough to just check their nose but they really have to examine to see if their heart could still be beating.

The opinion of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein is a great asset to this discussion but his view is ambiguous.

Many, like his son in law Rabbi Dr. Moshe Tendler, argue that Rabbi M. Fienstein held the opinion fully accepting of brain death, based on what it states in Mishnah Oholot 1:6. Other views disagree with this. They claim That Rabbi M. Feinstein stated twice that the removal of an organ for transplantation is killing the donor. Rabbi Tendler responds to this saying: “Both of these teshuvot refer to a comatose patients in a persistent vegitative state who are capable of spontaneous respiration and are very much alive and not to those who are respiration dependent.” It seems that these two views aren't even arguing about the same thing. Rabbi Tendler was referring to a patient who is respiration-dependent and the opposing views speak about patients who are in a coma. This distinction is also extremely important. Many think that if one is just in a deep coma they are brain dead, but that is clearly not correct. That is why there is a multi step process to determine that someone is brain dead.

Another view on this is the Israeli Chief Rabbinate Council. They not only view brain death as halachic death and approve the criteria to meet the declaration of brain death, but also support organ donation. What they base their decision on is slightly different then other views. They believe that to be brain dead “a patient be like a stone without movement.” (Bleich, Time of death 167-168) They

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base this off of their belief that death is an irreversible cessation of respiration and that a brain dead patient would have no movement. As a result of their view, Hadassah Hospital, in Jerusalem, Israel is authorized to perform heart transplants.

On the other hand, Rabbi J. David Bleich believes that brain death is not considered halachic death. His basis is the concept of pikuach nefesh, the importance of the preservation of one's life. Because of this, many halachot would be overridden to save someone's life. In Bleich’s view, every moment of someone's life is so precious that “it must be preserved, since it is of infinite value” (Jewish Medical Culture, Rabbi Bleich, 76.) He also believes that life is defined by the heart, not the brain. So even if the brain would die as long as the heart is beating the patient is alive. Finally he says that one who would refuse resuscitation is committing homicide/suidice because resuscitation is necessary. Rabbi Bleich holds a very strong view on brain death that still causes disagreement.

I am not a medical or halachic expert, but through my research for this paper I have learned that the position that considers brain death to be death is a more practical and humane approach in a number of ways. Firstly, if someone is being sustained only by a ventilator, keeping that person on a ventilator can not only be extremely expensive but can also cause trauma to the family of the patient. They are watching and hoping that their loved one will wake up and return to them just to be let down. Instead of prolonging that process, they should come to the realization that the patient will not wake up and start mourning. This also allows the idea of organ donation which I think is a beautiful thing. The fact that one person can save so many people's lives is amazing to me and should be done if possible. I also think that we can learn something very powerful from this analysis, other than the definition of death, which is to really appreciate each second that we have. We don't know what comes after our life so we should savor what we have and not take anything for granted. Life is really too short to worry about such miniscule problems, so instead of putting our energy into stressing about that, it should go to being grateful for what we have and what Hashem does for us.

Sanhedrin in Modern Times Tova Solomons '23 True rabbinic ordination, or “smicha”, can no longer be obtained. An important ramification of this nuance is that an authentic Beit Din -- a court of law -- cannot exist, as the individuals on the Beit Din were legally required to have been ordained. As such, judges in Jewish courts of law can only rule on commonly occurring cases, presently. What are the consequences of being unable to strictly enforce all of the Torah’s laws, and what are the implications of that on the authenticity of modern Judaism?

Smicha is reliant on a direct connection to Moses, per a portion of Numbers (27:15-23), that detailed how Moses requested for Hashem to “appoint a man over the congregation… who will lead them out BIKKUREI RAMAZ

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and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord will not be like a sheep without a shepherd’ -- a description that is reminiscent of a Rabbi’s role, both in historical and contemporary contexts. In response, Hashem instructed Moses to “bestow some of your [Moses’] majesty upon him [Joshua] so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed,” so Moses “laid his hands upon him [Joshua] and commissioned him.” In the Mishneh Torah Hilchot Sanhedrin (4:1), Ramban further explains these laws of ordination: In order to act as a judge in the supreme court or in a small Sanhedrin or in a court-of-three, one must be ordained by someone who has been ordained. Our teacher Moses ordained Joshua by placing his hands upon him… He also ordained the seventy elders, and the Divine Presence rested upon them. The elders ordained others, who in turn ordained others.

In other words, true ordination is seemingly marked by some “Divine Presence,” which, evidently, can only be acquired by a transference of that presence from one by whom it is already possessed to another. Moses was the initial source, and his original transmission of authority endured for hundreds of years, until it was allegedly severed early in the common era, presumably as a result of Roman prohibitions against the Sanhedrin and ordination, as discussed in Sanhedrin 14a: This is because at one time the wicked kingdom of Rome issued decrees of religious persecution against the Jewish people with the aim of abolishing the chain of ordination and the authority of the Sages. They said that anyone who ordains judges will be killed, and anyone who is ordained will be killed, and the city in which they ordain the judges will be destroyed.

Due to the absence of an authentic Sanhedrin, modern Jewish courts of law only have the authority to rule on cases that have often been ruled upon prior by a legitimate Sanhedrin and that involve a loss, such as monetary cases -- an area where an easily applicable standard has already been established -according to The Handbook of Jewish Thought, Volume 2 by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan. Given this, a portion of the original question can be returned to; what are the implications of this inability to judge on such a significant number of cases?

In Halakhah: The Rabbinic Idea of Law, Chaim N. Saiman describes the notable development of Jewish law in exile -- to an extent of such expansive intricacy and detail -- as a reaction to the need to adapt Jewish law to fit a system in which the authority of a Sanhedrin was rendered largely obsolete. As he puts it, since “the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE by the Romans… Jewish religious and political life has been in a holding pattern, suspended between the ideal of the biblical past and the anticipated salvation of the messianic future. It is in this context that halakhah as we know it developed.” Partly as a means to fill the vacuum created by the lack of a Sanhedrin, Jews have nurtured an elaborate system of laws and traditions -- spanning hundreds of years and countless commentaries -- that are regarded as part of the Oral Torah. This notion causes the question to evolve;

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BIKKUREI RAMAZ

‫ביכורי רמז‬

if the original intention, as stated in the Torah, was for a Sanhderin to exist but it has, instead, been veritably replaced by a complex legal tradition, is it not also true that authentic Judaism has been corroded in the modern era?

On the Kavvanah Blog, Rabbi Aryeh Klapper’s assessment of originalism -- the belief that the text should be followed according to how it was intended to be understood at its inception -- can be utilized as a potential answer to this question. He argues that in his “experience, originalism tends to weaken rather than strengthen contemporary commitment to observance,” that “originalist rationales… tend to make mitzvot feel obsolete.” As stated, one could assert that a system without a Sanhedrin is not degraded, because it is imperative that Jewish law is approached through the lense of each specific time period, to ensure its continued relevance to newer generations of Jews. Once that has been established, the issue of there being myriad cases outside of the authority of modern Jewish courts still remains.

Given the amount of hardship that the Jewish people had to endure even before receiving the Torah, coupled with the uncertainty intrinsic in the nature of the world, it could be reasonably surmised that they would, in the future, experience circumstances that could make adherence to Torah law difficult.

In this case, as indicated previously, the loss of the Sanhedrin was seemingly inevitable in the wake of numerous foes and exile. Accordingly, one could argue that the Torah was given to the Jewish people with the expectation -- or at least allowing for the possibility -- that the Sanhedrin could lose much of its authority. The idea that the Torah should be interpreted to reflect each time period, coupled with the chance that the Sanhedrin could lose its potency, could be reason to deem the inability to judge many cases inconsequential. In the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (182:16), it is stated that “The law of the existing government must be recognized as the law.” Due to the existence of secular courts that deal with a contingent of the cases upon which Jewish courts are not able to rule, Jews can still be held accountable for various infractions, even without a Sanhedrin, because we are subject to the governments of the lands in which we live.

As a result of rabbinic ordination’s reliance on a direct connection to Moses, the Jewish legal system involving a Sanhedrin was not infallible; the transference of authority was disrupted -- as could be expected -- and the Jews were forced to adapt accordingly. We may not be able to enforce all of the Torah’s laws strictly, but modern courts are reminiscent of said laws in many ways, so Jews are still held accountable in a way that is consistent with the Torah. As for the implications of this difference on modern Jewry, it seems as if there was an understanding that changes in the world could necessitate future interpretation of the Torah, thereby making it reasonable to claim that modern Judaism is as authentic as the past forms that more clearly reflected the original intentions of the Torah, even without the existence of a Sanhedrin.

BIKKUREI RAMAZ

‫ביכורי רמז‬

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