Bikkurei Ramaz - Shavuot 2023

BIKKUREI RAMAZ זמר ירוכיב

Torah Insights from Ramaz Upper School Students

Shavuot 2023 ג״פשת תועובש

In Honor of the Yahrzeit on Erev Shavuot of Daniel Schacter and

In Celebration of the Graduation of his

Great-Granddaughter, Sophie Schwartz

Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz

Introduction

JEWISH LAW:

Elijah Goldstein '24

Emy Khodorkovsky '24

Hallie Kopel '24

Alex Ottensoser '24

Aviva Schilowitz '24

Prozbul: An Elegant, Ingenious Solution

To Invite or Not to Invite? That is the Question

Organ Donation: Unjustly Ending a Life or Heroically Saving One?

To Pea or Not to Pea

Lab-Grown Meat: Are Kosher Cheeseburgers on the Horizon

JEWISH THOUGHT:

Raymond Ashkenazie '24

Ashley Behm '24

Romi Chaovat '24

Liam Gomberg '24

Rae Kaplan '24

Adrian Rosenfeld '24

Sarah Silverman '24

Tzadik Vera Lo: The Righteous Person

Who Suffers

Superstitions: Super Necessary?

Judaism: An "Out of This World" Religion?

Beyond Good and Less Good

Tzniut: A Restriction or an Opportunity

Belief in God

Let's Not Beat Around the Bush: Judaism's Idea of Veganism

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 ןילמ תומדקא

We are extremely excited to present this compilation of essays written by Ramaz Upper School students about a wide array of Judaic Studies topics. These writings are the works of our students and they offer a window into the types of learning and thinking in which our students engage each day. There is no unified theme to the publication; each student chose a topic that he or she was interested in researching an discussing. You will see that all of the students took on complex, multifaceted issues that have no clear answer. By engaging in these types of complex issues that contain significant gray areas, our students gain the opportunity to enrich themselves, and us, their reading audience. To paraphrase a quote from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt”l (that is quoted in this publication), God does not want us to know the answers to some of the more important questions in life because he wants to give us the opportunity to struggle with them, and to be enriched, thereby.

If our students would study and debate these questions with skill, critical thinking and passion, dayenu—it would be enough for us to be grateful and proud. We are even more proud that they have taken the time to compose their thoughts in a way that is compelling and accessible, so that we can all benefit from their work. We hope that this publication will enrich your Shavuot, and the celebration of the Torah that we engage in on Shavuot, the anniversary of Matan Torah on Har Sinai.

We wish you a very healthy, enjoyable and enriching Chag Shavuot.

Sincerely,

Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz

Prozbul: An Elegant, Ingenious Solution

Elijah Goldstein '24

The Torah requires that we lend to a poor person. At the time when the Torah was observed in full, Jews who lent to other Jews had to forgive the loan when the Shemitah (Sabbatical) year came along (every seven years). After the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash and the exile, the Shemitah obligations were no longer Biblically required, and they were replaced by Rabbinic Shemitah observance. However, during this time period, Jews stopped lending to poor Jews as the Shemitah year approached as they feared they would not get their money back due to the requirement to forgive the loan. As a result, Hillel the Elder instituted Prozbul, which permitted a lender to collect his loan even though the Shemitah year had arrived and therefore lenders would continue to lend to the poor (Shevi’it 10:3, Gittin 36a/b). Given that Prozbul is a workaround for multiple Torah laws, it is essential to understand what makes Prozbul legitimate. While at first glance the adoption of Prozbul seems to be contrary to the Torah, Prozbul does have a solid halakhic foundation.

The Torah issues a stern warning to the Jewish people regarding lending to a fellow Jew in Devarim (15:9): “Beware lest there be a lawless thought in your heart saying ‘the seventh year approaches, the remission year’ and you will…refuse to give him… and it will be a sin upon you. You shall surely give him…for in return for this matter, Hashem, your God, will bless you.” Connected to this requirement to lend is Hashem’s requirement for a remission of loans from Devarim (15:2): “Every creditor should remit his authority over what he has lent his fellow; he shall not press his fellow or his brother, for He has proclaimed a remission for Hashem.” Jews are required to treat their fellow Jews in a brotherly manner. Giving an interest-free loan to someone in need is the highest level of charity in Maimonides’ Eight Levels of Giving (Mishneh Torah, "Laws of Giving to Poor People" 10:14), as such a loan may allow someone to live without relying on the support of others. People who were in a position to lend and did not and/or pressed for repayment violated one negative and one positive commandment. They also demonstrated a complete lack of faith and understanding that Hashem is their ultimate provider. Pirkei Avot (5:9) attributed Jewish exile “on account of idolatry, sexual immorality, murder and the failure to observe the Shemitah.” The stakes for observing these laws could not be higher.

When all the Jewish people occupied Eretz Yisrael, Sabbatical laws were faithfully observed from Biblical times through the Talmudic era. Under Roman rule, economic conditions got worse and lenders hesitated to give loans, causing panic among the large population of poor people (Brandow, Tablet Magazine, October 6, 2014). Hillel saw that the requirement to observe Shemitah was actually hurting the poor. Hillel recognized the key priority was to incentivize the rich to lend to the poor and therefore created Prozbul. The word Prozbul is a three-word combination/abbreviation: enactment

(proz), for the rich (buli), and for the poor (boti) (Gittin 37b). Even though enabling lenders to circumvent a Torah law seems wrong, he considered it to be justified.

The first pillar supporting Hillel’s Prozbul was that Shemitah and Yovel observance were no longer Torah obligations when the Jews returned from the Babylonian exile. Abaye said in Gittin (36a/b) that Shemitah prohibitions were only by Rabbinic decree, which is in accordance with the opinion of Yehuda HaNasi. (The Sages at the time of the Mishnah did not agree with Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi – they thought Shemitah observance was still Torah based). In Tractate Arachin (32b), the Gemara states that the counting of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years was nullified from the time that the tribes of Reuven, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh were exiled, despite the fact that the majority of Jews lived in Eretz Yisrael (Chronicles 5:26). The reason is that in Vayikra (25:10) it is stated “and you shall proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants, it shall be a Jubilee for you.” The halakha is only in effect when all Jews are in Eretz Yisrael.

The remission of debts by a lender is directly connected to the observance of remission of the land. In Gittin (36a), Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi says that Devarim (15:2) refers to two types of remission: one is the release of land and the other is the release of money. Therefore, it is only when you are required by Torah law to release the land that you must forgive the debts and vice versa - they are tied to one another. Rashi believed the land obligations refer to the Shemitah while Tosafot believed they refer to the Yovel. Either way, since neither of them were practiced by Torah law and the debt release obligation is tied to the release of the land, the debt release obligation was Rabbinic. Since they were Rabbinic, Hillel could issue a Rabbinic decree like Prozbul that overruled the existing Rabbinically instituted Shemitah.

The second pillar of the Prozbul was the mechanism by which it worked. Shemitah laws only apply to loans between individual people as it says in Devarim (15:3): “But that which is yours and now with your brother your hand shall be released.” A Prozbul hands the loan held by a lender to a Jewish court so that the obligation is no longer between two people. The text of the Prozbul reads, “I hand over to you, so-and-so, the judges in such-and-such place, all money that is owed to me so that I may be able to recover it any time I desire” (Shevi’it 10:4). Sifrei says that if the loan is between a public entity and a person, debt forgiveness does not apply and it is based on Biblical verses. Gittin 37a states that the “court seizes the debt for them.” The two interpretations of Sifrei (section 113) of how this works is that the court is either the new creditor or acts as an agent on behalf of the original creditor. In either case, the court collects the loan and gives the money to the original lender.

The most important halakhic discussion takes place when the Gemara in Gittin 36a asks a question that later commentators interpreted in two ways. One interpretation is that the Gemara is asking, “If

there is a Biblical obligation to repay the loan (the Torah requirement for a borrower to repay a loan overrides the Rabbinic Shemitah requirement for the lender to forgive the loan), how can the Rabbis tell the borrower not to pay?” Another way of looking at the Gemara’s question is: “How is Prozbul effective against a Biblical requirement” (to forgive the loan if Shemitah is a Torah obligation)?

In the first interpretation of the question, Prozbul is being used to get around a Rabbinic obligation when there is a more important Torah obligation that needs to be addressed. By not upholding his Biblical obligation to repay, the borrower would be a thief and the lender would lose his money.

Abaye said it would be okay for the borrower not to pay because not paying is a passive thing, like not blowing the shofar (a Torah obligation) on Shabbat. In the second interpretation of the question, the Gemara asks how we allow the lender to get around the Torah requirement to forgive the loan.

Rava said the Rabbis relied on the principle of hefker beit din hefker, which allows a court to allocate money from one person to another. They therefore could allocate the money back to the borrower, eliminating his need to repay. These two approaches addressed the valid concerns raised by Prozbul regardless of whether Shemitah was viewed as a Torah obligation or a Rabbinic obligation. These solutions, combined with a halakhically sound mechanism, allowed Prozbul to stand on solid ground during Hillel’s time.

Rashi and Tosafot learn that Rava’s answer is in response to the second interpretation of the Gemara’s question. Rava believes that Prozbul is effective against a Biblical Shemitah requirement to forgive loans, which the Sages of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s time believed to be the case. This was due to the principle of hefker beit din hefker and that the principle that bonds held by a court are not released is based on Biblical verses. Tosafot in Gittin (36a) say that Prozbul is effective by Torah law because Hillel made into an accepted practice the loophole of the existing law that loans turned over to a court do not get canceled. Rashi believes that Hillel went beyond exploiting the loophole and actually changed Torah law on the basis of hefker beit din hefker (referring back to Rava). Additionally, Rashi believes Rava does not agree with Abaye because Abaye’s response only addresses the issue under the assumption that Shemitah is Rabbinic. However, on Gittin 36b, the Gemara asks whether Prozbul is for all time. The question itself indicates that it is unclear if it is Torah law as if it were Torah law it would of course be for all time. Further, in other places in the Gemara (Makkot 3b, Gittin 32b and Ketubot 89a), Rashi says that “handing over bonds to the court – this is the Prozbul enacted by Hillel.” This indicates there is no Torah law Prozbul is based on as Sifrei and Tosafot believe.

In contrast to Rava, Rambam (Hilkhot Shemitah v’Yovel 9:16) indicated Prozbul only works when Shemitah observance is by Rabbinic law. He bases this on the fact that the Gemara says that Prozbul cannot cancel the Torah mitzvah of Shemitah and that Prozbul is based on Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s view that Shemitah is Rabbinic in nature. Rambam thought Hillel was willing to legislate Prozbul because

Shemitah was only brought back into force by the Rabbis as a reminder. Tosafot agrees with Rambam’s position for a different reason – it would be hard to imagine that the court could use its power to cancel a Torah mitzvah (the Rabbis only did that in rare instances). Said another way, while the Rabbis may in fact have the power to employ hefker beit din hefker, in Rambam’s and Tosafot’s view, using it to cancel Shemitah when it is a Torah requirement would be illegal.

Prozbul is a legitimate way with a strong halakhic foundation to make sure poor people receive loans, which is Hillel’s main concern. It is legitimate because loans do not have to be forgiven if they are not between two people. Further, if Shemitah’s observance is Rabbinic, the Rabbis can legislate a Rabbinic rule to counteract a different Rabbinic rule. If Shemitah observance is a Torah obligation, Prozbul is legitimate based on the principle of hefker beit din hefker.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe thought that Prozbul was a way of strengthening the Torah law which did not allow people to stop lending when Shemitah was approaching (Shabbat drasha Parshat Emor, 5749/1989). On the other hand, while Prozbul has a solid foundation in halakha, it does enable Jewish people to act in a way that is against the spirit of the Torah’s requirement to lend to the poor willingly and forgive the loan if the Shemitah year comes. It gives the Jewish people an “out” whereas Hashem really wants us to strive to a higher level of connection to Him by following all of His Torah laws. For this reason, once Shemitah becomes a Torah obligation again (hopefully soon), the wisdom of whether Prozbul should remain available is an open question.

To Invite or Not to Invite? That is the Question

Emy

Khodorkovsky '24

Shabbat is one of the cornerstone mitzvot of Judaism and it is often the first thing people will think of when talking about Judaism. The key parts of Shabbat for many are the two mandatory meals on Friday night and Saturday afternoon. During these meals, people get together to talk, to share ideas and words of Torah, and to connect more to Judaism. A big part of many outreach programs is to invite less observant Jews to Shabbat meals in order to show them the essence of Judaism with the hope that they will adopt the Jewish traditions for their own. Many families do this in their own homes by inviting non-religious relatives and friends and giving them a taste of what Judaism is all about. However, when inviting non-religious guests for Shabbat meals–especially ones that don’t live in the immediate vicinity and would have to drive/break Shabbat to get to the meal–a major problem arises: Are people allowed to invite their non-observant friends and family members if they know that their guests will drive or break Shabbat in order to get to the beautiful Shabbat dinner?

The basic halakhic principles of inviting non-shomer-Shabbat Jews for Shabbat or Holidays are interesting. The main two problems are the laws of Shabbat, and the prohibition of “lifnei iver,” of “placing a stumbling block before a blind person” (Leviticus 19:14). The laws of Shabbat that are being violated are obvious, driving is a form of kindling (lighting a fire), and definitely not in the spirit of the day. The principle of “lifnei iver” means literally to not put a stumbling block in front of the blind. However, this halakha is extended to mean that we may not trap a person who is metaphorically blind to it, nor may we (mis)lead someone into doing something that violates the Torah. This principle is the main drive for halakhic discussion in regards to inviting non-religious people for Shabbat meals. It is commonly known that asking someone to break Shabbat on Shabbat is a clear violation. So what ramifications does this law have on inviting individuals for Shabbat meals when your intentions are good and to bring your esteemed guest closer to Judaism?

The Mishna (Sheviit 5:6) brings up a case of farm tools that you are and are not allowed to sell during the Shemitah year to other Jews. Selling certain equipment–plow, pickaxe, winnowing fan–can lead the buyer to commit a transgression in regards to the laws of Shemitah. This is based on the principle of “lifnei iver.” However, the Mishnah says, it is okay to sell tools that can be used for prohibited or permissible purposes because one is not necessarily facilitating the sin. While this case doesn’t specifically refer to inviting a non-religious Jew into your home on Shabbat, it uses the same principles that our case does (this will be explored later). Not only is it prohibited to lead someone to do a sin, but we also may not give a person help to facilitate their sin, even with the intention of inspiring a non-observant Jew to become closer to Torah, Mitzvot, and Shabbat.

This issue is discussed by many contemporary rabbis. Rav Moshe Feinstein (the Gadol Hador in America/New York in the 50s) is very strict when it comes to this issue. He says that inviting someone for Shabbat knowing that they will break Shabbat in order to attend the gathering is strictly forbidden. He states that making someone break Shabbat to get to shul or to a meal is not only in violation of “lifnei iver,” but also in violation of convincing someone to sin. Very strangely, Rav Feinstien says in another place in Igrot Moshe that an observant doctor may exchange a shift that falls out on Shabbat or Yom Tov with a non-observant doctor (even if he is Jewish). Rab Feinstein's reasoning is that the non-observant doctor will anyways be violating Shabbat, so it is perfectly okay to ask them to switch the shift. Weirdly, Rab Feinstien does not apply this same reasoning to inviting a non-observant Jew for Shabbat even though one may say, “It is better for that Jew to break Shabbat in order to spend Shabbat morning in Shul rather than doing a different act of melakha!”

Rav Sternbach goes with the complete opposite approach on this issue. He was a rabbi in the 20th century who was involved in many outreach programs in Israel. Therefore, he had a very strong

relation with non-observant Jews, and was involved in this case constantly. Rav Sternbach completely disagrees with Rav Feinstein’s approach, and says that inviting a non-religious Jew (in his specific writing he uses the case of a child inviting a parent) for a Shabbat meal knowing that he/she will drive back home from the meal is totally permissible and should be done. His argument is based upon his interpretation of the prohibition of “lifnei iver.” Rab Sternach interprets the prohibition as putting a stumbling block in front of a blind man in order to harm the person. However, he says, if the action that you are doing is helping the person, then it is allowed to be done. If the goal when inviting a nonobservant Jew over to your home for Shabbat is to bring him/her closer to Judaism and lead him/her to eventually keep Shabbat and other Mitzvot, then Rav Sternbach would say that it is allowed.

Rav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach offers a centrist approach, based on the mishna in Masechet Sheviit. Rav Aurbach says that you can invite a non-observant Jew to your house as long as you offer them a place to stay if they choose to do so (and you must be able to accommodate the person if they choose to stay in order to not break Shabbat). This way of doing things does not violate the prohibition of “lifnei iver” because the person being invited has the option to not break Shabbat. Many notable Rabbis such as Rav Soloveitchik and Rav Adler rule in accordance with Rav Aurbach.

In the analysis of this issue we have two significant concerns that intersect - the restrictions of “lifnei iver” and our desire to reach out to Jews who are not engaged with Jewish practice. We see an array of approaches in navigating this complex but important balance.

Organ Donation: Unjustly Ending a Life or Heroically Saving One?

Hallie Kopel '24

In the past and during the times of the Talmud, death was not particularly hard to define legally or halakhically. Generally, all vital systems of the body would fail simultaneously, as each system depended on the other. However, nowadays, with the major technological breakthroughs in medicine and, most notably, the development of respirators and heart-lung machines, it is entirely possible to keep some bodily systems “operating” after others have failed. Since organs no longer depend on each other in this way, it has become necessary to establish a more precise definition of death. Specifically, which organ systems are indicators of life and which are not. This raises the crucial question of whether brain death, which is legally considered death, is also a signifier of death in terms of our halakha. This is such a significant question because it is an example of halakha applied to modern-day situations. Additionally, with this question, there is so much at stake, as the answer to it determines

whether or not a Jew is halakhically allowed to donate their organs. The answer to this question is the difference between unjustly ending a life or legitimately extracting a dead person’s organs for a worthy cause, saving another life. Although this is a highly disputed topic, and there is no definite answer, this paper will explore organ donation through the significance of brain death and thoroughly analyze many different perspectives and opinions.

Before observing the halakhic side, one must define brain death and briefly understand its history. Brain death was first introduced in 1968 by a special committee of the Harvard Medical School, and in 1985 it was unanimously decided by the Chief Rabbinate of Israel and his appointed committee of rabbis and medical-rabbinic advisors that brain death is, in fact, considered halakhic death. It is described as when a person on an artificial life support machine has completely lost all brain function. Their state is permanent and irreversible, meaning that they will never regain consciousness or be able to breathe without support. One must note, however, that brain death is not the same as being in a coma and does not mean that a person is unresponsive to stimuli. A brain-dead person may even be able to move some of their body parts, but this does necessarily define life.

There are several halakhic sources that are critical to answering this question, most notably the Talmud (Yoma 85a). The Gemara introduces a case where a person is trapped under a building, and a question is raised of until what point must one check to clarify if the victim is dead. Some argue that one must continue uncovering until they reach the victim’s nose, as that will signify if he’s still breathing, while others argue that one must search until they reach the victim’s heart to check for a heartbeat. The Gemara then cites a braita that states, “From what point is the fetus created? It is from its head, as it is stated: ‘You are He Who took me [gozi] out of my mother’s womb’ (Psalms 71:6), and it says: ‘Cut off [gozi] your hair, and cast it away”’ (Jeremiah 7:29). These verses demonstrate that one is created from the head, the place of hair, and that the formation of a fetus starts with its head. Therefore, this evinces that a determination of respiratory failure establishes death and that it is unnecessary to continue to uncover the debris to check for a heartbeat. Here, one could argue that a decapitated brain stem (called physiological decapitation) is equivalent to one that is medically defined as a defective one, as in both cases, the brain stem cannot regain function. Therefore, this Gemara would support the opinion that brain death is an implication of death and would permit the donation of organs.

Another relevant source that seemingly verifies organ donation is the Mishna in Oholot (1:6). It notes, “In the case of cattle or wild animals, they do not defile until they die. If their heads have been cut off, even though they are moving convulsively, they are unclean, like a lizard’s tail, which moves convulsively.” This mishna proves two things: first, that physical decapitation is a valid indicator of

death, and also, that certain movements are irrelevant to death and are only spasms, as a lizard’s tail still moves even after it has been cut off. Similarly, this can be applied to humans. The beating of the heart is also insignificant and only spastic as it is not related to the movement of the brain, “the central root and point of origin,” according to Rambam. This mishna also shows that any reflex movement not associated with the brain is superficial.

Although these sources appear to be adequate evidence that brain death is a signal of death and that organ donation is indeed permitted, opposers of organ donation find flaws in these proofs. They argue against the first source that physiological decapitation is not the equivalent of anatomical decapitation, and therefore the instance from the Talmud cannot be applied to our case. Additionally, they cite Rashi in Yoma, who asserts that the stoppage of respiration is only a definitive sign of death when the person is “comparable to a dead man who does not move his limbs.” Thus, while some movements after death may only be minor spams and would not pass as life-indicating movements, the beating of the heart does not fit into this category as it is life-sustaining and resembles that of a normally functioning individual.

One may also raise a contradiction by pointing to the Gemara in Bava Batra (154a). This Gemara discusses a case where a sale was carried out, and later, the seller passes away and is buried. However, his family then contests that the seller may not have been old enough to legally make the sale and suggests that they dig the seller up in order to determine if he was, in fact, a minor. They asked Rabbi Akiva, who answered that this type of disrespect is prohibited, reflecting the mitzvah of kavod hameit, the dignity of the deceased. This is relevant because, from it, one may then argue that cutting into the body of a dead person for the sake of organ donation is a transgression of this mitzvah and would therefore be a sin. However, kavod hameit is overruled by pikuach nefesh, the preservation of human life, as it overrides all mitzvot besides idolatry, incest, and blood-shedding. Pikuach nefesh would also override any arguments raised about organ donation violating the mitzvot prohibiting the postponement of burial or the benefitting from the dead.

In my own opinion, I believe that it is essential for rabbis to take into account the logical point of view when establishing a ruling on this matter and that brain death “legally” being declared as death does relate to halakha. Firstly, circulatory death is, on average, pronounced only two to ten days after brain death has been diagnosed in patients. This means that highly drastic measures were taken in order to sustain a person who was expected to die in the very near future and that their perfectly healthy organs were put to waste. Additionally, I believe that rabbis must consider the patients’ families and display compassion towards them. Families should be spared the immense and brutal pain of being forced to witness the slow and prolonged deaths of their loved ones. Denying them the option to

donate their partner’s organs strips them of the one comfort they may receive from their situation, the ability to save another life. Lastly, keeping someone on life support is extremely expensive, and “wasting” resources on brain-dead patients may prevent these resources from being used on patients with a real chance of recovery.

The debate over the authority of brain death in halakha and organ donation is incredibly complex. It is a modern-day controversy that has been and will be argued upon for decades. It is clear from these sources that there is no clear-cut answer and that any piece of evidence supporting one side has weaknesses that can be sought out. Additionally, to this day, many of the most relevant rabbis in our communities have contrasting opinions, and to some, organ donation has simply become a matter of which rabbi an individual supports. The distinction between these opinions is incredibly remarkable as it is the difference between being a murderer and a praiseworthy lifesaver.

Sources

https://www.adi.gov.il/en/position-of-the-halacha/?AspxAutoDetectCookieSupport=1 https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/302635.45?lang=bi

https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-brain-death-controversy-in-jewish-law

To Pea or Not to Pea

Alex Ottensoser '24

Kitniyot are a group of foods that are traditionally avoided by Ashkenazi Jews during Pesach. The minhag of avoiding these foods during Pesach has a long history (literally thousands of years) and is based on a variety of factors including the prohibition of eating chametz (leavened grain products) and the idea of avoiding foods that are similar in appearance to chametz. Today, most Ashkenazi Jews continue to follow this minhag, while others have chosen to relax or eliminate the self-imposed rules. What exactly are kitniyot and why are they prohibited for Ashkenazim to eat on Pesach? What exactly is the prohibition? When did this custom start and is there any chance of this prohibition being eliminated in our lifetime? As Jews from all over the world, with different traditions are mixing more than ever, now seems like the perfect time in Jewish history to revisit whether this is one custom that might merit elimination.

At the outset, it’s important to emphasize that Jewish law, as developed over the centuries, has a hierarchy of strictness which incorporates the possibility of flexibility. The most strict rules are from the Torah (diorayta), which does not allow flexibility, except for rare circumstances such as danger to life. The next level are laws are innovated by the Rabbis. There is a certain amount of flexibility

(or workarounds) that is built into these laws. The third level is “minhag”— a custom adopted by communities, possibly with rabbinic endorsement, and sometimes not universally by all Jewish communities. Many of these customs were adopted relatively recently and are not binding on all Jews. The prohibition against kitniyot is an example of a minhag.

To fully understand kitniyot, one must first understand what constitutes chametz. In Pesachim (35a), the Gemara explains that there are five grains from which matza can be made - (“BROWS”) Barley, Rye, Oats Wheat and Spelt. And it is precisely those grains that have the potential to become chametz, as Rambam explains in Mishneh Torah (Laws of Leavened and Unleavened Bread 5:1). The prohibition against chametz applies only to the five species of grain. The Gemara further explains that matza cannot be made from other grains such as rice or millet, because flour from those grains cannot become “leavened” when exposed to water (they spoil when attempted to ferment). The Gemara notes, however, that Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Nuri prohibits eating cooked rice and millet on Passover, due to the fact that they are close to being leavened. And, he maintains, that if one eats rice or millet on Pesach, it is as if he (or she) ate chametz. But his view is a minority position. The Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 453:1) echos the Rambam’s ruling - that only the 5 grains may be used for matza, and that rice and millet cannot be used for matza, and therefore are not chametz and may be eaten/ cooked on Pesach. The Rama (Krakow, 16th century) notes that it is the custom of Ashkenazim not to eat [kitniyot] and one should not change.

The rationale against consuming kitniyot on Pesach seems to based on two concerns: First, many forms of s are grown near wheat fields, and the possibility existed that wheat kernels could be intermingled with the kitniyot, baked together, and the resulting mixture would be chametz. Second, there was a fear that people would see the flour can be made from kitniyot (which resembles wheat flour) become confused, and ultimately forget the prohibition on Pesach against flour made from the five prohibited grains. Accordingly, the restriction against eating bread made from rice and millet expanded to a broad list of restrictions including legumes, corn, peanuts, all of their derivatives, and many more. This leads to the question as to why things have seemed to have become more strict over time. After further digging, it appears that disagreeing views about restrictions of kitniyot have been around for centuries.

Rabbeinu Yerucham, a prominent French/Spanish early authority (1290-1350), in his halakhic work Toldot Adam Ve’Chavah writes, ”Those that have accustomed themselves not to eat rice and varieties of kitniyot that were cooked on Pesach this is a foolish custom except if they are doing it to be stringent on themselves and I do not know why” (Netiv Hey Chelek Gimmel 43a, Bet Yosef on Tur Orach Chaim 493:A). Throughout the centuries there were other Rabbinic authorities who

questioned the custom of kitniyot entirely. In the 18th century, Rabbi Yaakov Emden, the son of the Chacham Tzvi, described his father’s disgust with the kitniyot custom: “If I had the strength I would abolish this terrible custom, a stringency… which causes harm and error… Because types of kitniyot are not available for the masses to eat their fill, they must bake much matzah… because of this they are not as careful with the dough as they should be… . . . And matzot are expensive; not everyone can afford as much as they need… but kitniyot are available cheaply and easily and are permitted, so that they [the restrictive school] come to prevent the joy of the holiday through this stricture that has no reason…” Rabbi Emden further exclaims, “He who cancels this custom of avoiding eating kitniyot, I shall be with him. Hopefully other great scholars in this place will agree with me… All my days I have waited anxiously, when will I have the opportunity to publicize my father’s views to overturn this line of strictures that the public cannot abide… to establish law for [future] generations, to benefit the masses, and to remove a stumbling block from the path of my nation.”

In more recent centuries, while there were other individuals who tried to push back against the custom of not eating kitniyot, the majority of authorities upheld the stringency, not because they thought that kitniyot was chametz; rather they were more focused on upholding minhag. Interestingly, there are modern authorities who have questioned and some have even pushed back on these stringencies. My great grandfather Rabbi Jacob Cohen was a communal and synagogue Rabbi in Spring Valley, NY from the 1930s through the 1980s. He also provided Pesach supervision for some products (including Breakstone products such as Temp-tee cream cheese and Saucy Susan duck sauce), before and even during the time when the OU and others dominated the Hashgacha world. In 1980, he asked Rabbi Moshe Feinstein if he could provide a Kosher for Passover supervision for products made with peanut oil. The position of Rav Moshe was that the list of foods deemed kitniyot was essentially fixed and had not been changed since the Middle Ages (with the exception of corn), and should not be further expanded. Further, derivatives from kitniyot (such as oil made from kitniyot) are not forbidden on Pesach.

In a handwritten letter (that was also included in Igrot Moshe) Rav Moshe allowed the use of peanut oil on Pesach and specifically wrote that peanuts are not kitniyot: “Concerning peanuts, which were called stashkes in Europe—they have been accepted as being permitted on Pesach and are not considered kitniyos … Peanuts are not sown in fields (with grain), and even if they were there is no fear that grain would be mixed together with the peanuts; bread is not baked from peanuts: Therefore you may give certification for peanuts and the oil derived from them, and they will be permissible to the majority of persons.” Rav Moshe Feinstein does highlight, however, that if it is a known custom in some localities, not to eat peanuts on Pesach, then one should not. But if there is a doubt - one should be lenient and allow it.

In 2009, in a psak halakha, Rabbi David Bar Hayim of Machon Shiloh in Israel, rejected the modern stringency of derivatives of kitniyot being forbidden and outright rejected the prohibition of eating kitniyot: “This minhag has further been extended to oil and kitniyot derivatives (e.g. lecithin). This is beyond extreme. HaGaon Rav Dov Lior Sh’litta has published his opinion in writing that kitniyoth derivatives may be consumed on Pesah. Due to all the foregoing, I believe that you and your family may consume qitniyoth on Pesah.”

There have been several changes in the most recent years that seem to warrant rabbinic revisiting the custom of Ashkenazim not eating kitniyot on Pesach. First, the original restriction was limited to rice and millet, primarily because it can be used to make flour, so the added restrictions were a selfimposed stringency. Second, there have been advances in technologies and supervision that could ensure that “mistakes” are not made. Third, dietary habits have been changing, with many more people eating plant-based diets, getting their protein intake from many foods deemed to be kitniyot. This makes observing these rules that much more burdensome (and unenjoyable). Fourth, the rising costs of kosher for Pesach products and rising costs of protein would be mitigated by expanding options to include kitniyot. And last, as the proportion of mixed families are growing, combining traditions from Ashkenaz, Sefarad and Mizrachi backgrounds, its seems inevitable that more and more families will consider no longer observing kitniyot, and if observed, it will be observed at the most lenient level (i.e., not eating rice). These changes are already occurring in Israel and I believe that many communities outside of Israel will not be far behind. After reading all of the laws and history, I for one will be comfortable eating popcorn made with peanut oil on Erev Pesach!

https://boulderjewishnews.org/2012/misery-loves-company-the-untold-story-of-the-custom-ofkitniyot/

https://www.machonshilo.org/post/are-we-bound-to-ashkenazi-custom-concerning-kitniyot https://torah.etzion.org.il/en/kitniyot

Letter from Rabbi Moshe Feinstein to Rabbi Jacob Cohen (my great grandfather) (Included in Igrot Moshe) (Milton Ottensoser, my grandfather, helped locate it)

Mor U’Ketizyah Siman 453

Netiv Hey Chelek Gimmel 43a as brought in Bet Yosef on Tur Orach Chaim 493:A

Rambam, Zemanim (Times). Hametz u-Matza; laws of Passover

Talmud Bavli, Pesachim 35a

Yosef Karo, Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 453:1

Lab-Grown Meat: Are Kosher Cheeseburgers on the Horizon

Aviva Schilowitz '24

What if Orthodox Jews could turn on a light, check Schoology, or drive electric cars on Shabbat within the bounds of halakha? While these may all be far-fetched and extremely unlikely, possible steps are being taken toward one elusive Jewish reality, the kosher cheeseburger. With the increased popularity of meat substitutes, like Impossible Burgers, soy meatballs, and soy-based chicken nuggets, Orthodox Jews have begun to get a taste of why meat and cheese together are so popular. However, as anyone who has tried meat substitutes can tell you, these faux meats don't yet quite live up to the taste or texture of real meat. That could change soon with something that is actually meat but might not be considered halakhic meat. For years, scientists have been working on lab-grown meat, also called “cultured” or “clean” meat, and it’s becoming closer to a commercial reality.

Lab-grown meat uses real animal DNA to grow meat in a lab. It is never part of a whole animal. Instead it is grown in parts (for example, just a leg). As the technology is still emerging, there is a lot of ambiguity surrounding the halakhic implications of this meat. Will it be considered like traditional meat because it shares animal DNA, or will it be considered not like traditional meat because it was never part of a sentient animal? If it’s the latter, kosher cheeseburgers may soon be within reach of kosher consumers.

Background

Lab-grown meat is made by scientists who harvest stem cells from a live animal. The scientists then cultivate the original harvested cells in a petri dish with amino acids and carbohydrates. This creates mock muscle fibers. Once the cells in the petri dish create enough muscle fiber, the scientist then forms them into meat. The meat has the same taste and consistency of meat taken from a traditionally grown animal.

This kind of lab-grown meat is still very new. As a result, it remains too expensive for consumers, with even best case projections assuming a cost of nearly $100 per kilogram even after commercial scaling occurs. However, a number of startups are already in this space, including SuperMeat, Mosa Meat, and Aleph Farms, are betting that the advantages of this kind of meat, including its scalability, environmental friendliness, and lack of disease or contamination concerns, will eventually win over consumers.

This new kind of meat raises many halakhic questions. In this paper, I will analyze sources related to three of the most fundamental questions. (1) Is this meat kosher? (2) What role does shechita play, if any? (3) If this meat is kosher, is it considered pareve or meat?

1. Support in the Gemara for Lab-Grown Meat Being Kosher

While lab-grown meat is a fairly modern concept, there is a story in Sanhedrin (59b) that contemplates the existence of meat not from a natural source. The story involves Rabbi Shimon ben Chalafta who was walking when lions started roaring at him. Rav Shimon explained that according to Tehillim lions roar to Hashem for prey. Suddenly two pieces of meat fell from the heavens and the lions only ate one piece of the meat. Rabbi Shimon took the second piece of meat and asked other rabbis if he could eat this meat that descended from the sky. The rabbis concluded that nothing unfit descends from the heavens and therefore he could eat it.

In Sanhedrin (65b) there is another story of unnatural meat, this time involving man-made meat. The story is about Rabbi Chanina and Rabbi Oshaia and how they would spend every Shabbat studying Sefer Yetzira. Miraculously, as a result of their efforts, somehow a calf was created for them to eat on Shabbat.

From these two sources, we see that meat from an untraditional source, and not from a preexisting sentient animal, either from heaven directly or “created by man” (in some fashion), is at least theoretically kosher.

That this meat is kosher is not a unanimous view. The minority of rabbis argue that this meat would not be considered kosher because of a principle in Chullin (102a). The principle states that one can not take limbs off a living animal, eiver min hachai, a principle so important that it is also one of the seven Noahide laws. Therefore, some worry that taking cell cultures from animals could violate this prohibition. Most rabbis, however, dismiss this claim arguing that the cell that was cultured is too small of an entity to deem the meat not kosher. As discussed below, many rabbis also believe that the animal the cells came from must be halakhically slaughtered anyway, which would nullify concerns about eiver min hachai.

2. For Lab-Grown Meat to be Kosher, It Probably Must Come from Cells Cultures of a Properly Shechted Kosher Animal

Assuming the meat can be consumed in some fashion, there remains the issue of whether this meat needs shechita. There is widespread debate among commentators as to whether this theoretical meat from the heavens would actually need some form of shechita before it can be eaten. Some commentators say the meat would not need to be slaughtered due to the conclusion the rabbis came to in the story of Rabbi Shimon (Kenigsberg). Others say that the meat would need to be slaughtered because of the rabbinical prohibition (Kenigsberg and Zivotofsky; Manning). So far, the predominant view seems to be the latter, that the original cell cultures must come from a kosher animal properly shechted.

We can draw some parallels to the halakhic treatment of animal gelatin. Gelatin is made from the collagen in the skin and bones of various animals. It's then soaked in chemicals to make it into gelatin suitable for using in foods. Many authorities have debated whether or not gelatin from an otherwise kosher animal should be considered kosher or not if the animal was not shechted. Most rabbis have concluded that gelatin must be sourced from a kosher animal and must be slaughtered according to kashrut laws (Kenigsberg). The lab-grown meat can be compared to gelatin due to the similarity of their animal origin. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude (and some authorities who have waded into this issue have concluded) that for lab-grown meat to be kosher the animal the the original cell culture must come from a kosher animal that has been properly shechted.

3. Whether Lab-Grown Meat is Pareve or Meat Is Still Unsettled and Complicated

As discussed, there is at least some support for lab-grown meat being kosher. If that’s the case, is it also considered “meat” in the halakhic sense? Perhaps, since it has never been part of a whole animal it is pareve. If this lab-grown meat is pareve, many Jews would be able to experience their first cheeseburger and butter-soaked steak.

The Malbim writes that based on the story about Rabbi Chanina and Rabbi Oshaiai in Sanhedrin (65b), the meat that they created by learning would, in fact, be pareve. The Malbim brings a proof from Bereishit that man-made meat would be considered pareve. When Avraham hosted the angels in his tent (Bereishit 18), he gave them a meal containing both meat and milk. The Malbim claims that Avraham created meat for the angels that day and that is how they were able to have a meal with both meat and dairy. The Cheshek Shlomo takes the Malbim proof a step further and says that milk from the calf that Rabbi Chanina and Rabbi Oshaia created would also be pareve.

The Malbim’s view is not unanimously held. While some rabbis conclude this meat would be pareve, others conclude the opposite. There's a halakhic principle according to Aruch HaShulchan (Yoreh De'ah 84:36) called batal beshishim that states that something microscopic that is non-kosher in an otherwise kosher entity does not deem the entity non-kosher. Therefore, something such as water is kosher even if there are tiny organisms in the water that are technically not kosher. This is the case because the organisms are too tiny to see or even filter. Some rabbis use this halakha as a logical precedent to argue that lab-grown meat would be considered meat. (Kenigsberg) They argue that while the original cell that was cultured from the animal is microscopic, it multiplies until the cells are transformed into visible meat that mimics the look of actual meat. This meat is now a visible copy of meat cells, such that someone can now identify what animal the original cell was taken from. Therefore, the microscopic became visible and now will be considered meat, just as tap water would be not kosher if the organisms were no longer microscopic.

That said, from a more halakhic point of view, lab-grown meat could also be argued to be pareve using the very same principles from Yoreh De'ah (84:36). Some rabbis argue that due to the fact that the

original cells that were cultured from the animal were microscopic, one would not be able to point out what cell was the original “meat” one. Therefore, the piece of meat can be deemed pareve due to the fact that the rest of the cells are made up of different materials, such as lipids, to create the piece of meat. In effect, they are arguing that the original meat cells are batal beshishim, rendering the meat pareve. Further complicating this issue, there is an exception to batal beshishim for essential ingredients, like animal renet used to make cheese. This is called “davar hamaamid.” Some further ponder whether this would negate this line of argument entirely.

4. The Major Kathrut Organizations Have Thus Far Not Ruled Definitively On This Issue

It is important to note that while many arguments are being made for many different issues regarding lab-grown meat, major kashrut organizations have yet to come out with an official statement on their position for virtually any of the major issues that have been discussed in this paper. Dr. Avrom Pollak of the STAR-K has been quoted saying, “In order to make a definitive statement on whether cellcultured meat would be considered parve or meat, we'd need to see the exact technology and look at the cells used in the original kosher.” OK Kosher’s Rabbi Chaim Folgelman gave a similar statement. “This is a new and very complicated issue and deserves much investigation on our part to determine its kosher status.” As of now, there seems to be no official or consensus ruling on lab-grown meats' halakhic standing, leaving the way Jews may eat for the coming millennia up in the air. Furthermore, some experts are not convinced that lab-grown meat will take off commercially. In an interview I conducted with Professor Joe Regenstein of Cornell’s Department of Food Science, and frequent advisor to kosher and halal organizations, he expressed skepticism that lab-grown meat will truly be the meat of the future. “The plant substitutes are already starting to show market resistance and I am not optimistic that cell-cultured meat will catch on in the marketplace. And if it is ruled to be meat – it has a limited future for kosher.” However, he did acknowledge there is a possibility that consumers will take to lab-grown meat and, if so, it could lead to some interesting options for kosher consumers.

Conclusion

The halakha related to lab-grown meat is extremely dense and filled with many ambiguities. In a sense, it probably resembles the altogether new issues that must have swirled when electricity first became widely available for household use, with little direct precedent in the Gemara.

As it stands, my view is that consensus will emerge that this meat can be kosher if it is derived from a kosher animal (no kosher bacon coming). On the question of shechita, I think authorities will conclude that while, bedieved, there is an argument to be made that the original animal from which the cells are cultured does not need to be shechted, we should play it safe and take them from a shechted animal. That leaves the million-dollar question of whether this meat is halakhic meat (that can’t be eaten together with dairy). I think there is a strong argument to be made, based on the Malbim, that

it is not meat. That said, as a purely practical matter, religious authorities tend to be conservative by nature and the stark departure from thousands of years of kosher eating habits may prove too strong of an obstacle for halakhic authorities to be willing to challenge. I suspect that if lab-grown meat becomes commercially viable and is accepted by consumers, halakhic authorities will, for the most part, resist the idea of giving lab-grown meat a different halakhic status than traditional meat. The kosher cheeseburger will remain a pipe dream.

Bibliography

Garrison, Greg L.; Biermacher, Jon T.; Brorsen, B. Wade. “How much will large-scale production of cellcultured meat cost? Journal of Agriculture and Food Research, Volume 10, December 2022

Kenigsberg, Joel A., and Ari Z. Zivotofsky. “A Jewish Religious Perspective on Cellular Agriculture.” Frontiers, 24 Dec. 2019, https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fsufs.2019.00128/full.

Manning, Avraham. “Synthetic Meat.” Halachic and Hashkafic Issues In Contemporary Society. Summer 2017. https://rabbimanning.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/Synthetic-Meat.pdf

Spritz, Rabbi Yehuda. “Halachic Insights into Genetically Engineered Meat.” Ohr Somayach, https://ohr. edu/5518.

Watson, Elaine. “Orthodox Union: Cell Cultured Meat Could Dramatically Lower the Cost of Kosher Meat in Future.” Foodnavigator, William Reed Ltd, 22 Aug. 2018, https://www.foodnavigator-usa.com/ Article/2018/08/22/Orthodox-Union-Cell-cultured-meat-could-dramatically-lower-the-cost-of-koshermeat-in-future.

Schilowitz, Aviva. “Kosher Cheeseburgers: A Reality or Not?” Fresh Ink for Teens, 15 Oct. 2021, https:// freshinkforteens.com/kosher-cheeseburgers-a-reality-or-not/.

Watson, Elaine. “Orthodox Union: Cell Cultured Meat Could Dramatically Lower the Cost of Kosher Meat in Future.” Foodnavigator, William Reed Ltd, 22 Aug. 2018, https://www.foodnavigator-usa.com/ Article/2018/08/22/Orthodox-Union-Cell-cultured-meat-could-dramatically-lower-the-cost-of-koshermeat-in-future.

ירוכיב

Tzadik Vera Lo : The Righteous Person Who Suffers

Raymond Ashkenazie '24

There is a long discussion in the Gemara about one of the most perplexing philosophical questions, “tzadik vera lo,” why the righteous person suffers. The eleventh principle in the Rambam is that God rewards those who follow the Torah and punishes those who don't. If that's true, why do people who are committed to Torah and mitzvot and their connection with Hashem sometimes have bad fates? Why do people who care about their role in society deal with lives filled with suffering?

This question is crucial in helping Jewish people better understand the nature of God and thus strengthen their connection with Him and with Judaism. This topic is important to me because it seems that the righteous should not suffer and the wicked should not prosper. And if we do indeed believe in this notion, how can we trust and wholeheartedly believe in Hashem who is “merciful” (a term that appears over 85 times in the Tanach)? This crucial topic of why good people suffer seems to contradict the notion that Hashem is a “merciful” God.

This has been discussed since the beginning of time with Avraham Avinu who confronts God and argues for the righteous people of Sdom “it is unjust for you to punish the righteous with the wicked” (Bereshit 18:25). Here, Avraham seems to be angry at Hashem and argues: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” This paper will explore this question and different answers given both in the Tanach, Talmud, and by prominent philosophers and thinkers who commented on this topic.

The Talmud offers a midrash related to the tragic murder of Rabbi Akiva: “The ministering angels said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: This is Torah and this its reward? As it is stated: 'From death, by Your hand, O Lord, from death of the world'” (Psalms 17:14); Your hand, God, kills and does not save. God said the end of the verse to the ministering angels: “Whose portion is in this life.” And then a Divine Voice emerged and said: Happy are you, Rabbi Akiva, as you are destined for life in the World-to-Come, as your portion is already in eternal life (Sefaria, Berakhot 61a).” After Rabbi Akiva is gruesomely murdered, the angels essentially ask how this is happening and state, “God kills and does not save.” According to this Talmud, God replies by saying that Rabbi Akiva is destined for the afterlife. God's “answer” in this midrash is one response to this philosophical question, that it doesn't matter that bad things happen to good people because this life just prepares us for the afterlife. Death to a righteous person is not a problem, rather it is a reward because it leads to the afterlife. This theory can be objected to by philosopher D.Z. Phillips, who asks, “What then are we to say of the child dying from cancer?” Phillips says that a child dying from cancer is suffering enough, but to say that it was done for a purpose (like the afterlife as Berakhot 61a claims), “That is the deepest evil” (Davies, 361). He explains that it is horrifying that many people justify death and suffering with simple answers like the afterlife or that suffering is part of God's plan.

Another explanation of this question is found in Steven Cahn’s book, “Religion Within Reason”. He believes that suffering allows “the opportunity for human beings to develop moral attributes” (Cahn, 12). He argues that humans acquire positive attributes from their suffering. Cahn writes, “If the world were a paradise without hardships and dangers, people would be unable to acquire the strength of character that results from standing firm in the face of difficulties” (Cahn, 13). Hick continues to write that in a world without any struggles, fortitude would not exist. In a world where no one needed help because there was no suffering, what would kindness mean? A world without suffering is bad for the development of kindness and the ability to “Love thy neighbor as thyself” (Proverbs 8:13). According to Hicks, physical suffering contributes to the greater good and to our character development. This source addresses our problem of theodicy by explaining that bad things happen to good people to teach us empathy and kindness. The most prominent biblical text that presents righteous people who suffer is the Book of Job. One of the main themes in the book of Job is unmerited suffering, a theme that encapsulates this issue. The book of Job is problematic because it explicitly states that Job was a man who was “blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil” (Job 1:1). The Tanakh presents a clear description of a righteous man who lived his life in the way of Hashem. Yet, Job is punished by God to test his devotion. However in the end Job is blessed with “twice what he had before” (Job 42:10). How can we explain this seemingly problematic biblical story? Malbim also sees Job's punishment as unjust and asks, “This being so, why indeed does God allow bad things to happen to good people?” It is problematic for a man as righteous as Job to suffer a terrible punishment. Malbim attempts to answer this question and brings an explanation from Bildad’s approach. According to his philosophy, God is helping the righteous person by making him temporarily suffer. God repays the person suffering with “good exchange for the bad, many times over.” By suffering, God is pledging to help the righteous person prosper. This can be explained as a “quid pro quo whereby present adversity brings future bounty.” This message allows the righteous person to succeed over the present adversity in the belief that there will be future success “many times over”. Malbim brings an example of this by comparing the human experience with the experience of a plant. When a plant is growing in an infertile environment, the gardener might decide to uproot it and move it to a more fertile and successful environment. As it is for its own benefit, “It will grow as a noble vine (Jeremiah 2:21)” and be successful in its new environment. However, a plant that needs a lot of material things to live will not be able to grow in its new environment. Rather, it will “wither quicker than any other plant” (Job 8:12) and die. This is a perfect example of human suffering and its effect on humans. A righteous human with strong trust in God will be able to survive the worst and succeed. Hashem will reward that person with good “many times over” to compensate for the suffering he went through. That person will only be able to live through prosperity because of his righteousness and belief in Hashem. According to the Malbim, suffering is a means to an end that will lead for that person to be set “in a firm place” (Isaiah 22:23) which will allow him to “bring forth fruit in old age” (Psalms 92:15). However, Malbim continues, an evil person who focuses on the material aspects of life and does not trust in Hashem will “wither quicker” and not reap the benefits that come after the suffering. The person who only cares about the world's luxuries and material aspects will not be able to adapt to suffering and “will be taken before his time” and therefore not be successful. According to Malbim’s

opinion, “No good comes to the wicked nor does he live very long.” This metaphor attempts to show that there is justice and fairness in this world by believing in a reality where suffering allows the evil to fail and the righteous to prosper. This is a cogent explanation for why people suffer and experience hardships throughout their lives. It allows the righteous to strive to be their best selves when they are in the worst situations, which will eventually, Malbim believes, lead them to a greater good. It allows them to think of the “good exchange for the bad, many times over” and stay positive and committed to Hashem's mitzvot throughout their suffering.

Lastly, Rabbi Sacks said, "God does not want us to understand why bad things happen to good people, because if we understood, we would be forced to accept that bad things happen to good people. And God does not want us to accept those bad things. He wants us not to understand so that we will fight against the bad and the injustices of this world. And that is why there is no answer to that question. Because God has arranged that we shall never have an answer to that question.” (Rabbi Sacks, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”). Rabbi Sacks believed that God does not want us to answer this question; rather, the job of the Jew is to fight evil and injustice in this world. If we understood why bad things happen to good people, we would be less inclined to fight injustice around the world. Rabbi Sacks believes this is why ”you will find Jews disproportionately represented among doctors fighting disease, economists fighting poverty, teachers fighting ignorance, lawyers fighting injustice.” We try to create a more just world. Sometimes faith lies in the question, not in the answer. This is one perspective to answer this philosophical question.

The closest people to God, Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabenu, have questioned why the righteous suffer. This complex question has also been a struggle for me throughout my journey to learn more about God and Judaism. The Talmud and the Tanakh don’t provide a precise answer for why bad things happen to good people. Instead, it provides different perspectives to understand and cope with human suffering. Those perspectives can be applied to spiritual, mental, or physical suffering. I started my exploration with Berakhot 61a and its answer that bad things don't happen to righteous people because they are sent to the afterlife. I did not appreciate this answer because there is no point in living life to the fullest if leaving this earth is a reward. Malbim discussed the idea that suffering allows righteous people to succeed and evil people to fail. However, he does not fully answer the question of why righteous people suffer. Malbim does not acknowledge that there are many righteous people who suffer and don't succeed “many times over” after their time suffering. Malbim explains why this question is important because his answer helps the righteous cope with their suffering. In theory, he presents a logical explanation that righteous people suffer to succeed in the future because of their past failures and harsh suffering. However, it is sadly not a reality in our world with many righteous individuals suffering until their death and evil people thriving and living long lives. Although not coming from a Jewish perspective, I appreciated Steven Cahn's answer to this dilemma. It is logical that hardships allow us to learn kindness and empathy. He answers the question fully and contemplates it in terms of society as a whole which strengthens the question of “tzadik ve-ra lo”. However, throughout my exploration, I most appreciated Rabbi Sacks' opinion on fighting evil and

creating a more just world. Our world is filled with despair and injustice and it is our job to try to fix the world and do Tikkun Olam to prevent unjust things from happening to righteous people around the world.

Works Cited

Bereshit, 18-25 Jeremiah 2:21 Job, 1:1 Job 8:12 Job 42:10 Isaiah 22:23 Proverbs 8:13 Psalms 92:15

Berakhot 61a Malbim to Job 8:6-20 Cahn, Steven M. Religion within Reason, Columbia University Press, 2017, Pages 12-13. Davies, Brian. The Reality of God and the Problem of Evil. Continuum, 2015, Page 361. “FAQ 9: Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?: Video.” Rabbi Sacks, 6 Jan. 2022, https://www.rabbisacks.org/videos/faq-9-why-do-bad-things-happen-to-good-people/.

Superstitions: Super Necessary?

Ashley

Behm '24

If you have been in a Jewish home you have probably seen a hamsa hanging somewhere within. It is a popular Jewish belief that the hamsa will ward off evil and bring good luck. This is one of many superstitions that many Jewish people believe in. Others include wearing a red string, knocking on wood, and wearing an evil eye. Believing in superstitions seems antithetical to Judaism since we believe that Hashem is omnipotent and we should be putting our faith in Hashem rather than objects or irreligious actions. In Sefer Vayikra (18:3), Hashem tells Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael not to copy the practices of the Egyptian people or the people of Cannan. Rashi quotes the opinion of Rabbi Meir who says that this Pasuk refers to their superstitions. Despite this, many Jewish people seem to engage and believe in superstition. Can this be considered Avodah Zarah? Is there any legitimacy in superstitions if we should be looking to Hashem to provide us security?

The Ran, a Talmudic commentator, in the Drashot Haran (12:28-29) outlines the fine line between crediting a physical object with a cure, which is idolatry, and when it is allowed. He says that if we view the cures that these objects may help with as based on phenomenon then it is okay to look towards these things. Phenomena are occurrences that repeatedly happen, despite not having a clear or scientific explanation. The Ran brings the example of drugs in his commentary. It may seem that trusting drugs to cure someone is ignoring the role Hashem plays in curing someone. However, the Ran says that the function of drugs is based on science and some phenomenon and therefore it is allowed to trust them for curing someone. He also says that ascribing meaning to an object for therapeutic purposes is permitted. He brings an example from a Gemara in Masechet Shabbat, which says that one can walk on Shabbat with a coin in their shoe if they think that it will help with an infection. The Ran says that avodah zara becomes an issue when people start to attribute reason to these cures. One must understand that there is no reason, especially not a divine one, for these

curative objects. If one believes that these objects have heavenly powers then they are considered as acting in the ways of the Amorites. The Ran acknowledges the danger in attributing “power” to objects by showing the fine line that could be crossed into avodah zara. The line is not very clear and one may accidentally do something, or believe in something contrary to Torah.

The Rambam, in the Mishneh Torah’s section about foreign worship (11:12) , takes a more narrow approach to the power that we can attribute to physical objects. He writes that it is not allowed to use a holy object or text, such as tefillin or a Torah scroll, and say a charm or recite pesukim with it to try to cure someone or make someone do something. He brings up the example of trying to cure a sick baby or put a baby to sleep. The Rambam says that the Torah is a cure for the soul and using it to reach a physical cure is like sorcery. Someone who does that is essentially rejecting the Torah and saying it has physical powers. The Torah is a means to spiritual well-being, it should not be associated with physical powers. The Rambam does write that one who is healthy can say Torah verses to try to be shielded from future illnesses. We cannot give “extra” powers to things, even the Torah. It is wrong to believe that the Torah is a “lucky charm” that will change things physically. Someone who believes that the Torah has powers like this is misunderstanding the point of the Torah. This can be said about physical, mundane objects, as well. If it is wrong to rely on the Torah for physical healing how can we attribute such powers to a superficial, physical object?

Despite this controversy, there are many physical objects and symbols that Jews wear and hang up in their homes. A very common superstition in Judaism is believing in the power of a physical evil eye. Many Jews wear jewelry or hang up artwork of the evil eye. It is a common belief that wearing or being near an evil eye or a hamsa will ward off evil. Rabbenu Bachya explains that the concept of the evil eye is a very real one, and it is rooted very early on in the Torah. One attracts the evil eye by being jealous of others. If one becomes subject to the evil eye it brings them bad luck. For example, when Leah thanked Hashem for allowing her to have a fourth son the evil eye intervened and caused her not to have another child. This is because it showed she was envious of others. It is a valid belief that the evil eye wields power however once it becomes connected to physical objects, the problem arises. The evil eye is not physical, it is a representation of the power of Hashem. Since Hashem is not a physical being it can be challenging to grasp His actions and thought processes. In order to relate to Hashem more, people try to put His actions in humanlike terms. Connecting the evil eye to a physical object, for example, an evil eye or a hamsa could be considered Avodah Zara since it relates Hashem’s power to something physical. In order to reframe one's view towards these physical symbols, if someone is wearing a hamsa necklace, for example, they should see it as a reminder. A reminder not to be envious of other people and be satisfied with their lot. As opposed to seeing it as a shield that will prevent bad things from happening to someone if they do something wrong. This is true for any physical objects that people may associate with powers.

Another common superstition in Judaism is wearing a red string, commonly known as the red ‘bendel.’ Many people believe that, like the evil eye, red strings ward off evil. People also wear red

strings to bring good luck. For example, some pregnant women wear red strings around their waists during pregnancy or while trying to get pregnant. Since there is no biblical source for wearing a red string, there are different views about its permissibility. Kabbalist Jews are the most prominent advocates of the red string. Kabbalists believe that wearing a red string protects people from thinking mean and envious thoughts. Kabbalists say that the strings have received their power from the tomb of Rachel. They also say to wear it on your left wrist because the left wrist represents desires so wearing it on your left wrist will protect them from envy. While Kabbalists believe in the powers of the red string, others believe that wearing a red string is in the ways of the Amorites. Tosefta Shabbat lists things that are considered “walking in the ways of the Amorites.” The list includes wearing a red thread on one's hand. People who are against wearing a red string use this Tosefta to show that it is not allowed. Since there are differing views and no clear prohibition, many Jews have differing stances on wearing red strings.

There are other rituals in Judaism that can be viewed as superstitious. Many Jews find comfort in doing these rituals despite the lack of biblical sources to back them up. There is a custom called Kvatter where a newborn baby boy is brought to the mohel by a man and woman other than the parents, usually a married couple. It is believed that it will be like blessing them with a child. This is done because a woman who has just given birth is considered impure so she does not carry the baby to the mohel. It is the part about a childless couple bringing the baby that is considered the superstitious part. This is considered a Segulah, an action that could change one’s destiny or future. There are many segulot in Judaism, among the most common of them are ones that women do to find husbands. Although Segulot could be seen as putting faith in somewhere other than Hashem, many people see these actions as going the extra mile to show Hashem how much they cherish their relationship with Him. The idea is not that these actions cause certain things to happen, that would be like idolatry.

My initial assumption was that superstitions may seem like a concept that is antithetical to Judaism. However, since there are no biblical sources for most things people consider superstitions, it can be a gray area, where the lines between right and wrong are unclear. It seems that it is the thought behind them that determines whether or not they are problematic. If one believes that something will bring good luck for no reason or because they attributed godly powers to it then the issue of Avodah Zara is brought up. If one wears a red string or an evil eye as a reminder to do good and not be envious of others they are not committing idolatry or acting in the ways of the Amorites. Superstitions should not be in place of doing mitzvot or praying to Hashem, and they should definitely not be used as an excuse to go against the Torah. We should be conscious of our views on these things and make sure we are consistently praying and thanking Hashem before anything else, as He is the One who holds all the power.

Judaism: An "Out of This World" Religion?

Romi Chaovat '24

One essential question that has divided many different Jewish sects to this day is: Can evolution fall in line with creation as described in the Torah? Since its proposal in 1958, Darwin’s revolutionary theory of evolution, along with changing the way the typical person and the curious scientist think, has also sprouted many philosophical and religious discussions about the most vital moment in the world, its creation. Rav Hirsch, a 19th century Orthodox Jewish thinker, believed that evolution is “a vague hypothesis still unsupported by fact.” Rav Hirsch stated in his essay “The Educational Value of Judaism” that evolution is inaccurate because, “no more than one single, amorphous nucleus, and one single law of ‘adaptation and heredity’ in order to bring forth, from what seemed chaos but was, in fact, a very definite order, the infinite variety of species we know today, each with its unique characteristics that sets it apart from all other creatures.” Here, Rav Hirsch is teaching that certain implications of the theory, such as that everything evolved from the same root, take away from inherent Jewish values such as the individuality of each species, especially humans, and the power God possesses to build the world in this complex way.

On the other hand, many Modern Orthodox rabbis think that the theory of evolution and hold that it can go hand-in-hand with their religious beliefs about life. This raises one vital question: How can evolution span only seven days? In such a short time, it seems impossible for animals to reproduce, evolve, and adapt, so what is the explanation? One idea is that each day is the beginning of that element in the world. On the third day, God created the land and plants, but that was just the start for them. From then on, those plants evolved alongside the other elements created before and after. The trees evolved into the time when animals began to evolve and into the time when humans began to evolve. All the adaptation, evolution, and creation of everything made on those “seven days” will only end at the Earth’s destruction, represented by the day of rest at the end of the creation story. If one follows the opinion that evolution does, in fact, align with the days of creation presented in the Torah, another intriguing question that can be asked is, did all of this creation happen only on planet Earth? Upon first glance, the answer is clearly no: Creation wasn’t contained only to Earth. Scientists have discovered other planets, meaning other lands. They have found other oceans and seas on those planets. They have found other worlds outside of Earth’s bubble, but one thing they have not found is life. Can it be that only parts of Hashem’s miraculous creation, that of the land, seas, and stars, touched other planets but his creation of life did not?

Just like the acceptance of evolution caused a divide in the Jewish community, the reply to this question also brings up differing opinions, from no to maybe to yes. For the former of the three

choices, the Saadiya Gaon brings his belief that there is no other life than on this land. He wrote (Sefer Emunot Vedeot) that he has found no heaven or land, other than this one. If there is no other heaven or land, then that must mean there are no other living things other than those on Earth. Rav Saadiya Gaon explains that this heaven and this land have a purpose, serving God. To back this, he provided direct support from the Torah (Devarim 13:8) that refers to the “edge of the land to the other land to the end of the heaven.” This seems to indicate that the purpose of this land and this heaven only spans between its ends and nowhere else. However, the context of this verse is in reference to someone who entices you to worship other gods, ones only known from one end of the Earth to the other, you should ignore him. Saadiya Gaon recognized this and understood that life on the Earth, especially humans, has a purpose, to fulfill Hashem’s will, and this purpose only spans, like it says, within the ends of this land.

The Talmud (Moed Katan, daf 16a) seems to support the possibility of life on other planets based on the Tanakh. In Shoftim (5:23), it states that the messenger of Hashem said to curse the inhabitants of Meroz because they did not come to help the people of Hashem in their fight. The crucial point to note from this quote is that it says, “the inhabitants of Meroz,” which Rashi explains could be the inhabitants of a star named Meroz, making “the inhabitants” aliens. To back up what Rashi brought in his commentary, the Talmud cites the verse (Shoftim 5:20) that refers to wars among stars. The Talmud brings this as proof that Meroz is, indeed, a star, as it blatantly states that the stars fought against Sisera. With this understanding, it is clear that there is a legitimate and probable chance that Meroz was a star, an out-of-earth, celestial body that had inhabitants. If this star beyond the Earth had inhabitants, then these pesukim mentioned in the Talmud are a direct source proving the Tanakh does support the belief of life on other planets.

The Sefer Habrit, written by Rabbi Pinchas Eliyahu of Vilna, seems to agree with the previous source of the Talmud Moed Katan, but with a slight variation. The Sefer Habrit (1:3-4) shares an idea explaining that God created the world specifically to be inhabited. There shouldn’t be disorder and chaos; instead, there should be creatures throughout the world to maintain it. It also notes that there are an uncountable amount of physical worlds as there are an uncountable amount of spiritual ones. In combination, these two ideas support the idea of life on other planets. If there is an uncountable amount of physical worlds and God made all the worlds to be made inhabited, then every world out there must have life, not only Earth. It would be illogical to say worlds are meant to be inhabited and then deny that other known planets and worlds could not have life. The Sefer Habrit then brings story about the cursing of Meroz and agrees that Meroz is, indeed, a star. Clearly, by bringing this proof and by what he previously stated about the purpose of the uncountable worlds, it is apparent that

Rabbi Eliyahu of Vilna agrees that there is proof in Judaism of life on other planets. The unique input that Rabbi Eliyahu brought about the story Meroz is that although it is clear that the Sefer Habrit agrees there is other life outside of Earth, there will never be another creature capable of free will like humans can.

Should humans even be exploring other planets for life? Should scientists, religious figures, and regular people waste their time looking and hoping for life out in space when they could be learning Torah or contributing to the world in a definite way? When Dr. Velvl Grenne, a microbiologist studying life on Mars for NASA, pondered this question, he enlisted the help of the righteous Lubavitcher Rebbe. He was told, at first, by religious Jews that if he were to follow his line of work with NASA, he would be going against the Torah. The Rebbe had a different view and answered his question with a short but enlightening statement. The Rebbe said, “You should look for life on Mars, and you should keep looking for life on Mars. If you don’t find it, then keep looking elsewhere, and do not stop looking, because to sit here in this world and say there is no life elsewhere is to put a limit on what God can do. And nobody can do that!” The Rebbe understood that there is no limit to Hashem’s power or his reach, and by not searching for life elsewhere, we are accepting that God’s creation could not reach those places, limiting him to only our world.

No one has the answer to the existential question of if there is life on other planets. As much as modern-day scientists learn and explore, there is yet a definite answer to this mind-boggling question. As seen throughout this paper, it is clear that there are uncertainties about the legitimacy of life on other planets throughout Judaic texts. However, regardless of these uncertainties, both religious and scientific, there is still absolutely a possibility. Because of that, as the Rebbe said, it is crucial for us, as humans, to explore this possibility to the fullest extent and learn as much as we can about Hashem’s creations, wherever they might be.

Beyond Good and Less Good

Liam Gomberg '24

God has been described as perfect and completely good. Furthermore, everything in this world is created by God and possesses His essence. If this is true, how can anything in this world be evil if it is an extension of God? A person with a holy soul can sin, and the ability to sin comes from God. How can there be the idea of sin, or an evil person if God essentially facilitates their act? Lastly, there is an idea that everything happens for the best; if this is the case, is what we consider evil fulfilling God's plan?

Before discussing complicated topics like good and evil, it's necessary to define the terms clearly.

The Rambam (More Nevuchim, page 57) eliminates this need by saying that evil doesn’t exist; in fact, “evil is the mere negative of good.” Similar to light and darkness, or heat and cold, good and evil are not separate things. Evil is simply the absence of good. Although this answer may be somewhat unsatisfying, the Rambam fully resolves our first question. Even though everyone is an extension of God, there is no evil. Immediately following this, however, the Rambam seems to contradict himself.

He explains that:

There are three kinds of evils: 1. Evils necessitated by those laws of production and destruction by which the species are perpetuated, 2. Evils which men inflict on each other; they are comparatively few, especially among civilized men, 3. Evils which man brings upon himself, and which comprise the majority of existing evils.

The first evil, which refers to the laws of nature, is neutral and seemingly describes a lack of extra good rather than evil. Similarly, the second kind of evil relates to free will, and the Rambam implies that humans are choosing not to be righteous, rather than deciding to be evil. Yet the third evil, selfinflicted evil, poses an issue. The language of “brings upon himself” has a negative connotation and makes it seem that this form of evil is a punishment. One might extrapolate from this that pure evil exists, which directly contradicts the answer to the first question. However, the words “bring upon himself” actually resolve this issue. For Rambam’s explanation to circumvent this inconsistency, it is necessary to interpret “bring upon himself” as a consequence rather than a punishment. For example, when one touches something that makes them tameh, impure, their impurity is because of the nature of their action, not because God wants to punish them. It is due to a specific action that evil occurs, rather than God seeking divine retribution.

The phrase “bring upon himself” also helps address our second question. Although we have already established that evil doesn’t exist and that sin is better understood as not doing the right thing, rather than doing the wrong thing, one can still argue that God is allowing one’s “not right” act to be done. One might assume that God does play a part in sin, after all, He exists within every one of us and does nothing to stop us from sinning. However, Rambam emphasizes that the most common type of evil is a type that one “brings upon himself” and not one facilitated by God. The Rambam makes it clear that it is a human choice, and God plays no part in this action.

One can still argue that this is insufficient evidence that God is not involved with human sin. Thankfully, Rabbeinu Bechya (Breishit 3:21), addresses this issue more directly. Rabbeinu Bechya

explains the logic that the snake used in Breishit to persuade Adam and Chava to eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. He writes: At this stage, the serpent became even more seductive and said: “Try only a single time to enjoy the fruit of this tree and you will immediately experience its beneficial effects for your eyes will be opened to new vistas. As soon as you will be able to distinguish between good and evil you will turn away from everything which you have recognised as evil and will pursue only what is good.” What the serpent was hoping for, of course, was that once man would know to separate good from evil, he would also choose evil on occasion. This reveals several things about the origin of free will. One can learn from the snake saying that eating from the tree would cause Adam and Chava to “be able to distinguish between good and evil” that beforehand they wouldn’t have had this capability. Initially, humanity was never supposed to be able to choose between good and evil, we were only supposed to do good. Moreover, during the time of Gan Eden there was only one commandment from God: don’t eat from the tree. This teaches us that God never intended to allow humans to have free will. Therefore our question becomes essentially invalid. How can we blame God for allowing us to do evil, when it wasn’t his choice, and instead our fault, to begin with?

With our first two questions resolved, good and evil start to make more sense: evil is simply a lack of good, and God never intended for us to be able to differentiate between them in the first place. However, there is still one unresolved question: How can everything be for the best? Furthermore, it seems ironic, but our answers to our previous questions actually strengthen our final question. Can an absence of good still result in the best outcome?

The Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Chassidus, discusses good and evil in his book Tzvath Harivas. On page 233 he writes:

In the book of Deuteronomy, however, it is written, “Behold, I have set before you life and good, and death and evil” (Deuteronomy 30:15). [This would tend to indicate that evil also comes from God.] The question then arises, from where did evil originate? But the truth is that evil is also [actually] good. It is merely the lowest level of good. This is indicated in the Zohar, where the term “to evil” (MiL’Ra) is used to indicate the downward direction. Therefore, when used for good, evil also becomes good. When it is involved in a sin, however, then it becomes true evil.

Although it might appear that the Baal Shem Tov repeats the Rambam, his approach, I believe, is much more nuanced, and will resolve our final questions. Rather than saying that evil is a lack of

good, The Baal Shem Tov posits “That evil is also [actually] good. It is merely the lowest level of good.” This is supported by the Mishna Berakhot (9:5), which states, “With all your heart” with your two inclinations, with your good inclination and your evil inclination.” This line in the Mishna asserts that when the Shema says that we are commanded to follow God with all our heart, it means both parts of our heart, our yetzer hatov, and yetzer harah. Not only are we able to use evil for good, but we are also obligated to!

The Baal Shem Tov believes that evil can be used for good or bad. This happens regularly, often without realizing it’s happening. A broom is a lowly object, yet if we use it to sweep dirt it serves a good purpose. However, if a broom is used to beat a child then it is evil. The Baal Shem Tov believes that everything has the potential for good and evil, and it is up to us to decide which it becomes. The idea of gam zu letova, this is also for the good, applies more when things occur to us rather than when we are being active. Based on the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov, I think we can better understand this idea. Since everything can be good, nothing should be ruled out as being automatically bad. Therefore, because of our faith in Hashem, we believe that as long as something retains the potential to be good, then it will ultimately be for the best.

The Rambam, Rabbeinu Bechya, and The Baal Shem Tov discuss good and evil in different ways, and from varying approaches. I think that by synthesizing all of their opinions we can have a better understanding of good and evil: Evil is just a lack of good (Rambam), but even a lack of good can be used for good (Baal Shem Tov), and even if we use a lack of good for evil, we can’t hold God accountable because it was as a result of our actions that we obtained this forbidden knowledge in the first place (Rabbeinu Bechya).

Tzniut: A Restriction or an Opportunity

Rae Kaplan '24

Jewish women are constantly being told that they need to be “tzniut,” modest, often referring to modest dressing. However, there is no textual evidence in Tanach that demonstrates that women need to dress this specific way. The first time tzniut is mentioned in Tanach is in Micah perek vav. The pasuk (Michah 6:8) instructs us to follow a path of “hatzneah lechet,” that it is “prudent to serve your God, to walk modestly with your God.” This seems to be saying that we should behave like God and be humble towards God. This pasuk does not mention anything that leads to the idea that women need to have laws about the way in which they dress. In Tanakh, the concept of being tzniut seems to consistently mean to walk modestly with God, and throughout Jewish history, this has become understood as women dressing modestly. There are many explanations as to how this idea of specific clothing developed, but ultimately, tzniut is a path to become closer to God.

Nowadays, many people understand that according to Jewish law, women are obligated to cover their knees, elbows, and collarbone. To many, these laws can take away the freedom of Jewish women as individuals. After all, Jewish women do not have full control in how they dress because they are not allowed to choose the exact style that they might like. It is common to assume that these restrictions are negative towards women because it is clear that they have much less flexibility in how they dress, which leads to them having less room to express themselves in the way they choose. Most people believe that dressing modestly determines how other people think of them. When a woman dresses more modestly, they are perceived as more religious and closer to God, so it is a common misconception that the goal of a woman dressing modestly is to make them look better in the eyes of other people.

Bereshit Rabba says, “Over each and every limb He [God] created in her [Chava], He said to her, ‘Be a modest woman, a modest woman’.” Interestingly, God is telling Chava this even before there was a concept of society or knowledge of good and bad. The fact that God tells Chava to be modest when there was no society to see and judge her demonstrates that the reason for women dressing modestly is clearly not for other people. It was for Chava’s own good to act in a modest way, because it brought her closer to God.

There is another misconception that it is the women’s obligation to dress modestly so that men can have an easier time controlling themselves. In Berachot, Rav Sheshet says that “anyone who gazes even at a woman’s little finger is as if he gazes at her private parts.” One might mistakenly think that according to the opinion of Rav Sheshet, a woman needs to dress modestly so that no one will even look at her pinky finger. However, it is very significant that Rav Sheshet does not state that women are obligated to dress modestly so that this can be prevented; he does not explicitly say that women need to cover their pinky finger. Instead, he says only that men should not even look at a woman's little finger. If he intended to demonstrate that women are obligated to dress modestly, he could have stated it clearly, but he intentionally leaves it out and places this responsibility on men. Men are responsible to refrain from objectifying women, and this is completely in their control. Thus, there must be another purpose for the laws of tzniut.

Tzniut can actually be a way for women to become closer to Judaism. According to Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter, also known as the Sfat Emet, women can benefit from tzniut. He believes that by dressing modestly, women are establishing a barrier between them and the sexual objectification that comes along with them. It is less likely for women to be objectified in the eyes of men or women, if they dress in a more modest manner. By separating the woman and the objectification of the woman, they can now be fully focused on themselves, completely separate from physicality. This disconnection

from the physical world and to the public eye around them, as well as their new awareness of their true selves, gives women the ability to become closer to God. It gives the kedusha a perfect opportunity to enter the women and bring out their inner holiness.

An additional point is made by Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, also known as the Maharal, who uses a relevant analogy to express the value and importance of women. He compares women to the inner parts of the Mishkan. The Maharal brings in the main similarity between them, that they are both incredibly sacred. In the Mishkan, the holiness of the inner contents demands numerous layers of protection, and since women share that same righteous nature, they too demand a sufficient number of layers to bring them security. The righteousness and delicacy of every woman calls for an adequate amount of care, and while the laws of tzniut may seem as though they restrict women, they are actually meant to be a way of protecting this exact essence that's inside each and every woman.

As women, we should look to the Book of Michah to further understand the reason behind the laws of tzniut. Micah (8:6) is told that one of the things God requires him to do is to walk modestly with God. Rabbanit Ilana Fodiman-Silverman, a close family friend of mine, explained to me a very meaningful idea about this pasuk. She points out that the word “lechet” is an active verb, meaning to walk, and the word “Elokecha” signifies that this obligation is meant to be fulfilled before God. We can learn from these two specific words that we are supposed to act in this world as if in the presence of God. Even more so, this pasuk implies that the essence of one’s humility is in the way one lives before God, and that this idea should influence the way in which we see ourselves, treat others, and behave.

Belief in God

Adrian

Rosenfeld

'24

Belief in Hashem as our one God is undoubtedly one of the most important tenets of Judaism. It is what differentiated Avraham from those of his time. It is the message of the Shema. It is the first thing taught to young Jewish children everywhere, and even the subject of Jewish songs. But is belief in God even one of the 613 mitzvot? If so, where in the Torah is it written? If not, is it possible to be a ‘good’ Jew and not believe in God? Can we live a Jewish life not believing in God? What would that look like?

To begin our discovery, we can look at the Rambam’s Sefer Hamitzvot (chapt. 1) quoting a Gemara from Makot (23b), which says that the source for our tradition that there are 613 mitzvot is a gematria. The numerical value of Torah is 611, and the Torah says that “Torah was told by Moshe at Sinai”, and an additional two were commanded directly by Hashem. The first two of the Ten Commandments, “belief in God” and “not worshiping idols,” were taught directly by God. The Rambam continues explaining that even though “Anochi Hashem” is written as a statement, it is

indeed a commandment. He further emphasizes that this is a mitzvah by writing it as the first chapter of his Sefer HaMitzvot. The Rambam also defines the mitzvah by saying that to believe in God is to believe that he is the creator of the world, the cause of everything and that he is all-powerful.

While many commentators agree with the Rambam's analysis, some, including the Ramban, disagree. The Ramban comments on the Sefer HaMitzvot, relaying the opinion of the Baal Halakhot Gedolot. He brings a Mashal of a king who takes over new territory, who first needs to establish that everyone must follow the king. Then, he can enact laws. If the first law is to follow the king, it would create a paradox; how could the people follow the king's laws before realizing that he is the king and they have to follow him. The Ramban relates this to Hashem and B’nei Yisrael at Har Sinai. Hashem could not have made a law to follow him because the people would have no reason to follow him until he established himself. Therefore, according to the Ramban, belief in God isn't a mitzvah but rather a prerequisite to following God’s laws. And, if we follow his laws, it is implied that we believe in him. While the Rambam teaches that belief in God is a mitzvah, albeit an important one, the Ramban describes belief in God as the foundational element for the entire Jewish religion, classifying it in a more important category than just a mitzvah. That being said, the way the Ramban counts his 613 mitzvot contradicts the Gemara, which says that 611 mitzvot were given to us by Moshe through the Torah, and the last two were given directly from God. The Ramban does not offer any resolution to this conflict.

Rav Yitzchak Abarbanel, in his book “Rosh Amanah,” attempts to find a middle ground between the Rambam and Ramban. He starts by agreeing with the Ramban, saying that belief in God must be a prerequisite to the Torah. He goes as far as to say that a fundamental belief in God cannot be a mitzvah because it is obvious that the world has a creator. However, he continues by saying that there is still a mitzvah of “Anochi Hashem”, which is specifically to understand that God is eternal and perfect. The Abarbanel makes it clear that this is independent from a basic belief that Hashem created the world and that he is God. Abarbanel’s view checks all the boxes - it does not contradict the Gemara or the gematria, it keeps the mitzvah of “Anochi”' and it accepts that one must believe that there is a God in order to support the rest of the Torah.

Now that we have defined the mitzvah of belief in God, we can move on to the second question: Is it possible to be a "pretty good" Jew and not believe in God? Meaning, if one observes many of the mitzvot but does not believe, is there any meaning to this practice, or is it all meaningless because of the missing foundation? This seems to depend on which opinion you follow. If you accept that the belief in God is a prerequisite to belief in the Torah as the Ramban and Abarbanel do, it would be extremely difficult to rationalize that you can be a “pretty good Jew” without believing in God because

not believing in God would mean that you cannot believe in the Torah or any of the mitzvot. Further, you would not be living your life through a Jewish lens, so it would be impossible to be a good Jew. However, if you follow the opinion of the Rambam that belief in God is one of the many mitzvot, perhaps there is a way to rationalize not believing in God and still being a good Jew. Meaning, of course there is a deficiency in the omission of this important mitzvah, but the many other mitzvot may remain meaningful.

When Hillel is asked by a non-Jew to teach him the entire Torah on one foot, Hillel responds: “Do not do to others what you would not want for yourself. This is the entire Torah and the rest is commentary. Go study it” (Shabbat, 31a). Hillel seems to be saying that if you are kind to your fellow man and treat him the way you want to be treated, you have succeeded in the central mission of the Torah. The Kli Yakar (Vayikra 19:18) explains that what Hillel is really saying is that loving thy neighbor as themself is the foundation for all mitzvot in the Torah. He is not minimizing any of the other mitzvot, rather he is explaining that this mitzvah is the central value of Judaism. Seemingly, this implies that there is no meaningful form or Judaism without this mitzvah, but perhaps a deficiency in another more tangential mitzvah would not corrode the core of Judaism. Apparently, interpersonal relations are the most central to Judaism.

Another support as to how one can be a good Jew without believing in God comes from a Mishna in Peah, which lists the mitzvot that are so important that they earn reward both in this world, as well a in the world to come: respect for parents, kindness to others, bringing peace among people, and Torah study. (Peah, Mishna 1) Conspicuously, the mitzva of belief is missing from this list. There is also no clause or anything mentioned in this mishna about the need to believe in God for Olam Haba or the need to believe in God in order to reap the benefits of the listed deeds. Perhaps one might respond that many of these mitzvot are between man and God, so how can they be done without believing in God? While it may be rare, people can do the mitzvot between man and God for their own benefit. They can learn Torah as an intellectual pursuit, and perhaps they can daven shacharit and aravit as meditation and mindfulness exercises in the morning and at night. Another potential counterargument is that the source only says that you will benefit in Olam Haba, but it does not guarantee that you will actually make it to Olam Haba. However, the only way to benefit in Olam Haba is to be there, and therefore the Gemara implies that doing these mitzvot will get you into Olam Haba. One contradiction for this, however, is from the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah Hilchot Teshuvah where it says that someone who believes that the world has no God or Controller forfeits a place in the World to Come (Mishna Torah, Hilchot Teshuvah, Halakha 3, pasuk 6-7). Here, the Rambam says that if you do not believe in God, you are immediately barred from Olam Haba, no questions asked. Thus, the Rambam himself believes that belief is a foundational to Judaism, despite the possibilities that we suggested above.

There are many halakhic and Talmudic sources that discuss the complex issue of belief in God. After exploring several of these sources, we’ve captured a better understanding of the mitzvah itself, the implications that it has on our lives, and how our belief in God affects our ability to be a "good" Jew. Perhaps the most important thing you need to be a good Jew is to believe in God and his mitzvot; perhaps it is to be a genuine and kind person. Or, perhaps, it is the belief in God which leads us to become better people and, ultimately, the best Jews that we can possibly be. For me, it is the synthesis of responsibilities toward God and towards people that creates the best version of ourselves because to be the finest Jew, we need both to see the light and to be the light.

Let's Not Beat Around the Bush: Judaism's Idea of Veganism

Sarah Silverman '24

What is meat? The Oxford English dictionary defines it as "the flesh of an animal (especially a mammal) as food." Until a few weeks ago, I thought the Jewish halakhic laws agreed/coincided with this widely held definition. My vegan friend had come over for Shabbat, and we had purchased pareve challah for the meal. Everyone washed their hands, so we were not allowed to talk, and after we had made the bracha and given everyone a piece of bread, she gave me a puzzled look. "Is it vegan?" she mouthed from across the room. I was confused and responded it's pareve. She shook her head, and we stopped the ceremony. That's when I learned that not everything pareve was vegan. From my twelve plus years of Jewish education, I should have inferred that from the laws taught to me, but somehow, up until that moment, it never clicked. Especially since I have been a vegetarian for the last six years and had not given these parameters serious practical consideration in quite a while. Why are fish, eggs, and chicken (Biblically) not considered meat? How does the halakhic view of meat differ from the traditional western idea? Is this distinction merely semantic or is there more to it? What does this reveal about their perspectives on dietary laws and the position animals serve in society?

According to paleoanthropologists, the ancestors of human civilization first consumed meat 2.6 million years ago; this change in eating habits contributed to an increase in their cognitive abilities and enabled them to control their habitats, eventually leading to the evolution of human civilization as we know it. Without this dynamic evolutionary shift, scientists wonder what modern man would have looked like. Would we have progressed psychologically or stayed in the same phylogenetic time capsule as our ancestors? According to the Tanakh a very similar change in human thinking ability occurred before and after the sin of Adam and Eve. In God's original proclamation of how

the world/Gan Eden should be run he says, “See, I give you every seed-bearing plant that is upon all the earth, and every tree that has seed-bearing fruit; they shall be yours for food." Hashem does not mention human beings consuming meat; in fact, he goes out of his way to explicitly detail what they should consume, which seemingly consists of an all-vegan diet. In Sanhedrin (59b), the rabbis debate if people are allowed to eat blood-filled meat as long as the animal is dead, and through this debate, they weave through the origins of humans consuming meat. "Rav says: It is derived God told Adam: Eating vegetation is permitted to people and animals, but eating the animals of the earth is not permitted to you. But when the children of Noah came, God permitted them to eat meat; as it is stated: "Every moving thing that lives shall be for food for you; as the green herb I have given you all" (Genesis 9:3)." So how did this shift happen? According to most religious authorities (particularly Ramban, Rashi, and Ibn Ezra), this change in diet only occurred after the flood. The old world had been washed away, and Hashem was creating a new framework for humankind. The Ramban, using earlier sources found in the Tosefta, lists seven commandments Noach and his descendants would have to follow, which are colloquially known as the Noahide laws. They are (1) to establish courts of justice; (2) to abstain from idolatry; (3) incest; (4) murder; (5) robbery; (6) blasphemy; and (7) eating flesh cut from living animals.

Hashem realized human beings were not righteous enough to both scrap consuming meat, considered almost a carnal desire, and balance their religious duties. Therefore he allowed them to eat animals, within reason. As previously mentioned in Sanhedrin (59), God prohibited eating blood. This is due to blood being directly connected to the lives of both humans and animals. As it says in Vayikra (17:14), "For as to the life of all flesh, the blood thereof is all one with the life thereof; therefore I said unto the Children of Israel: You shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh; for the life of all flesh is the blood thereof; whosoever eateth it shall be cut off." All "flesh," also known as animals, have profound lives, and according to this verse, we learn that Jewish law values the preservation of the souls of these creatures of Hashem. In Shabbat (128b), the rabbis even state, "The duty of relieving the suffering of beasts is a Biblical requirement," and overrides Rabbinic decrees and takanot. During the days of Moshiach, rabbis (particularly the Rambam) say that we will revert to all becoming vegetarian, or at least not give sacrifices in the Beit Hamikdash.

So with all this talk on the Jewish treatment of animals and "flesh," which animals are we practically discussing? On a basic level, the origin of all dietary Jewish restrictions is from the phrase found in Devarim 14, "You shall not boil a kid in its mother's milk." From the start, Judaism highlights the distinction between milk and meat (represented here as the kid) rather than explaining what it means to be considered meat. The rabbis interpret this to mean that the kid symbolizes the flesh of any animal that is slaughtered by kosher laws that stipulate livestock that have split hooves, chew their cud, and have mothers that produce milk (this is following Rabbi Yose HaGelili). This is why

eggs and fish are not considered meat at all, and birds (particularly chickens) are not included in the biblical restriction. The story of how fowl came to be regarded as meat is a fascinating tale of the rabbis seeing the climate around them and adjusting the dietary conditions to help the Jewish people not get confused with which animals are and are not considered fleishig. When there are pieces of chicken, beef, and lamb before you, are you really going to be able to tell which is which? You may end up violating kosher laws if you mistake the lamb slab for the chicken slab and cook it in milk! God forbid! Due to this reasoning, the rabbis made a prohibition against eating birds with dairy. The main takeaway is that the Jewish definition of meat does not coincide with the definition attributed to vegetarianism. So perhaps it comes from a larger western tradition?

Most western religious canon is connected to Judaism. Christianity stemmed from Abraham, after all. During Lent, a time to repent before Easter, meat consumption is prohibited over certain days. It is interesting to note, for this article's sake, that fish and eggs are not considered meat according to Christian stipulations and are ok to consume during this period of repentance. Just as there are regional halakhic differences (Sephardi and Ashkenazi eating habits on Passover), there are different stringencies depending on the church organization one follows (some consider fish and eggs meat, but it is the minority opinion.) So if the idea of vegetarianism is not extracted from any particular culture (for more information on the history of vegetarianism, it is worth looking into the religion of Jainism, there is a treasure-trove of knowledge about this topic there), how does it originate and how does it coincide/conflict with traditional Jewish value of “tzaar baale chayim” prohibiting the suffering of living creatures?

A famous French proverb says, "Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are." Veganism/ vegetarianism is more than just your dietary stipulations. At the heart of the movement is a deep concern for animals. By not eating meat, vegetarians join a group aimed at decreasing the consumer meat drive, thereby inadvertently shrinking the number of livestock slaughtered. In today's day and age, many people who do not subscribe to the plant-only diet are shifting to a more sustainable, eco-friendly lifestyle. This shift is what the Torah means when it advocates for sensitivity towards the pain of animals. God does not expect all of humankind to become vegetarian. As shown in his order to the descendants of Noach, it is simply unrealistic. However, he expects Jews, and larger civilization as a whole, to have basic decency for the animals among us. This attribute is highlighted in the story of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, found in Bava Metzia (85a). There was once a cow that was being led to slaughter. The calf went and hung its head on the corner of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi's garment and wept. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi said to it, "Go, as you were created for this purpose." God punished him for his actions. One day, the maidservant of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was sweeping his house. There were young weasels lying about, and she was in the process of removing them. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi said to her, "Let them be, as it is written: 'The Lord is good to all, and His mercies are over all His works' (Psalms 145:9)."

God realized that the Rabbi had learned from his mistakes and relieved his suffering. Treating animals with respect is key to fostering a better society and love for Hashem. Through the values and morals taught in the Torah, we can learn to recognize our kinship with other living creatures and become more closely connected to Hashem in the way Adam once was.

Top: Ramaz seniors learn torah at Yeshiva Chachmei Lublin as part of their Senior Journey trip to Poland and Israel.

Bottom: Students attend a weekly "Mishmar" Torah study club at Ramaz Upper School.