Welcome to Orot Shalhevet
RABBI DAVID BLOCK ASSOCIATE HEAD OF SCHOOL
Dear Shalhevet Community,
Our avid Orot readers (it’s the fastest-growing fanbase this side of Pico) will immediately notice that this edition of Orot Shalhevet contains, in addition to faculty and student Divrei Torah, Chanukah-themed student artwork. But it would be underselling these masterpieces to simply think of them as “additions” to the publication. No, they do far more than that. The Gemara in Shabbos (133b) quotes a fascinating Braisa: זה אלי ואנוהו התנאה לפניו במצות עשה לפניו סוכה נאה ולולב נאה ושופר נאה ציצית נאה ספר תורה נאה וכתוב בו לשמו בדיו נאה בקולמוס נאה בלבלר אומן וכורכו בשיראין נאין “This is my God and I will glorify Him” - Beautify yourself before God in mitzvot. Make before God a beautiful sukkah, a beautiful lulav, a beautiful shofar, beautiful tzitzit, beautiful Torah scroll, and write in it in His name in beautiful ink, with a beautiful quill by an expert scribe, and wrap the scroll in beautiful silk. This is called hiddur mitzvah, beautifying a mitzvah. A hut with kosher walls and s’chach fulfills the mitzvah of sukkah; making that hut gorgeous is hiddur mitzvah. Lighting one candle each night is enough for the mitzvah of Chanukah; lighting multiple candles is hiddur mitzvah. There’s a fascinating question regarding the nature of this mitzvah (as pointed out by my rebbe, R. Yonassan Sacks). What is the relationship between hiddur mitzvah and the mitzvah itself? The simple approach is that hiddur mitzvah is not essential, but an independent mitzvah. When I sit in a beautiful sukkah, I fulfill two mitzvot: sukkah itself, and that of beautifying the sukkah. But there’s another approach: Hiddur mitzvah is not its own mitzvah, but an enhancement of the first mitzvah. When a mitzvah is made beautiful, it’s a qualitatively different mitzvah. It’s elevated.
Nothing more aptly describes the relationship between the Torah at the core of Orot Shalhevet and the student artwork that brightens its pages. The latter is not just an “addition,” such that it’s Torah plus art. Instead, in the spirit of true hiddur mitzvah, the artwork actually elevates the Torah within. These are not just Divrei Torah, but Divrei Torah written on “beautiful parchment… in beautiful ink… wrapped in beautiful silk.” The Torah itself is elevated. As always, the essence of Orot Shalhevet is the magnificent and diverse array of Torah voices - of faculty and students - that permeate these pages. And now, we celebrate new expressions of ruchnius (spiritual expression) through art, too. As I’ve mentioned before, Orot Shalhevet is the platform in which these different voices come together to create a beautiful tapestry of authentic Talmud Torah (Torah learning). On a holiday that celebrates light and hiddur mitzvah, our teachers and students are the Orot (lights) that come together to form our dazzling Shalhevet (flame). I hope they light up your Chanukah just as they have mine. Chag Urim Sameach, Rabbi David Block
table of contents
MS. MALKIE HAMETZ THE STRANGE WAY LIGHT CAN SPREAD PAGE 3
RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN
CHANUKAH — A MESSAGE OF LIGHT AND MEMORY PAGE 5
ISABELLA SZTUDEN
THE MEZUZAH AND THE MENORAH: PERFECTING OUR JUDAISM INSIDE AND OUT PAGE 7
RABBI DEREK GORMIN TURN OFF JEOPARDY AND COME LIGHT THE MENORAH! PAGE 11
DR. SHEILA KEITER
THE CHALLENGE OF CHANUKAH: MUSINGS OF A CHANUKAH SKEPTIC PAGE 13
UZI MERMELSTEIN YOSEF AND YEHUDA: A MODEL FOR CHANUKA PAGE 17
MS. ILANA WILNER DIFFERENT STROKES FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS PAGE 19
VIVIENNE SCHLUSSEL RAV YITZCHAK ETSHALOM
THE LIGHT OF CHANUKAH PAGE 21
SHLOMO’S JUDGMENT PAGE 24
thank you
TO THE FOLLOWING SUPPORTERS WHO HAVE GENEROUSLY SPONSORED THIS EDITION OF OROT SHALHEVET. WE ARE GRATEFUL TO THEM FOR HELPING TO PROMOTE THE SPREAD OF MEANINGFUL TORAH LEARNING AND SPIRITUAL GROWTH IN OUR COMMUNITY. PLEASE ENJOY THE TORAH YOU WILL FIND WITHIN IN THEIR MERIT.
KAREN AND AVI ASHKENAZI ALIZA AND JEFFREY FISH SHARON AND ALAN GOMPERTS KENDRA HARKHAM MICKEY AND HAIM KAHTAN ROBYN FARBER AND MARC KIRSHBAUM DANIELLE AND DR. STEVEN KUPFERMAN
DEBI POMERANTZ AND MICHAEL MENDELSON NAOMI AND RABBI ARI SCHWARZBERG DRS. TALLY AND ADAM SILBERSTEIN VANESSA AND KENNETH STOFF LESLEE AND ALEX SZTUDEN NATHALIE GUTTMAN AND RICK WIENER
Mashgicha Ruchanit MS. MALKIE HAMETZ
MS. MALKIE HAMETZ IS THE MASHGICHA RUCHANIT, DIRECTOR OF CHESED, AND A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. MALKIE RECEIVED HER BA IN ENGLISH COMMUNICATIONS/PUBLIC RELATIONS FROM STERN COLLEGE FOR WOMEN AND COMPLETED HER MASTER’S DEGREE IN EDUCATION FROM AMERICAN JEWISH UNIVERSITY.
The Strange Way LIGHT CAN SPREAD
Whenever Chanukah season comes around, I start to get excited – I think about the beautiful, flickering candlelight; the house filling with the smell of frying latkes, and the cold air that adds a pep to our steps. I think about the nature of the beautiful candles (or oil) that we light and reflect on how we too can add some of our own light to these long and dark winter nights. I recently came across an idea mentioned in the Gemara in Menachot (86b) that resonated with me, this year more than ever, about spreading light to others. The Gemara quotes a verse from Sefer Melachim about the unusual way that Shlomo HaMelech built the windows in the Beit Hamikdash and the reason behind it. לא לאורה אני צריך, שקופין מבפנים ואטומים מבחוץ: ד( – תנא,ויעש לבית חלוני שקופים אטומים“ )מלכים א ו.” “And he made for the House, windows narrow and broad” (I Kings 6:4). It was taught: [Hashem said: Make the windows of the Beit Hamikdash] narrow within and broad without, as I do not require its illumination. Windows were often constructed to widen toward the inside in order that the light from the outside be dispersed throughout the room. For the Beit Hamikdash, though, G-d commanded to construct the windows as narrow going inside and broad on the outside of the building, in a bit of a strange and unusual fashion. The reason for this is simple though - the light from inside of the Temple is to be radiated outward. Hashem does not require the outside light to shine onto the Beit Hamikdash to make it radiant; instead, the holiness and purity from inside the Temple should radiate outwards to help illuminate the world. The message is that it is not sufficient for the light to stay within the holiest of our dwellings; we need it to spread outward and impact upon others. I have been thinking about this idea frequently since I heard of the passing of Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l. We have lost a luminary, and I personally feel a massive void. Rabbi Sacks was an emissary to the world - he literally sat before kings and queens to offer guidance and words of counsel. Prince Charles wrote a touching eulogy about Rabbi Sacks where he referred to him as a man “whose immense learning spanned the sacred and the secular.” Rabbi Sacks purposefully directed his own personal light outwards to the world, in order to spread knowledge, enhance morality, and create far-reaching change. In a commonly cited letter penned by Rav Yitzchak Hutner (Pachad Yitzchak: Igrot Uketavim, No. 94), a beautiful analogy is offered to one of his students who felt that his secular career was at odds with his religious and spiritual life. Rav Hutner writes that this is an incorrect way to think about the matter: Someone who rents a room in one house to live a residential life and another room in a hotel to live a transient life is certainly someone who lives a double life. But someone who has a home with more than one room has a broad life, not a double life. Rav Hutner was a proponent of living a broad life with many facets, all unified together. I believe that Rabbi Sacks truly embodied this ideal. He lived a life of breadth and depth, but never sacrificed his passion of teaching Torah to the rest of 3
the world to do so. I think one method of spreading one’s inner light outward to others can be gleaned from one of my favorite stories related by Rabbi Sacks in his book Covenant and Conversation (titled “The Kindness of Strangers”): In 1966 an eleven-year-old black boy moved with his parents and family to a white neighbourhood in Washington. Sitting with his two brothers and two sisters on the front step of the house, he waited to see how they would be greeted. They were not. Passers-by turned to look at them but no one gave them a smile or even a glance of recognition. All the fearful stories he had heard about how whites treated blacks seemed to be coming true. Years later, writing about those first days in their new home, he says, “I knew we were not welcome here. I knew we would not be liked here. I knew we would have no friends here. I knew we should not have moved here . . .” As he was thinking those thoughts, a white woman coming home from work passed by on the other side of the road. She turned to the children and with a broad smile said, “Welcome!” Disappearing into the house, she emerged minutes later with a tray laden with drinks and cream-cheese and jelly sandwiches which she brought over to the children, making them feel at home. That moment – the young man later wrote – changed his life. It gave him a sense of belonging where there was none before. It made him realise, at a time when race relations in the United States were still fraught, that a black family could feel at home in a white area and that there could be relationships that were colour-blind. Over the years, he learned to admire much about the woman across the street, but it was that first spontaneous act of greeting that became, for him, a definitive memory. It broke down a wall of separation and turned strangers into friends. The young man, Stephen Carter, eventually became a law professor at Yale and wrote a book about what he learned that day. He called it Civility. The name of the woman, he tells us, was Sara Kestenbaum, and she died all too young. He adds that it was no coincidence that she was a religious Jew. “In the Jewish tradition,” he notes, such civility is called “chesed – the doing of acts of kindness – which is in turn derived from the understanding that human beings are made in the image of God.” Civility, he adds, “itself may be seen as part of chesed: it does indeed require kindnesses toward our fellow citizens, including the ones who are strangers, and even when it is hard.” To this day, he adds, “I can close my eyes and feel on my tongue the smooth, slick sweetness of the cream cheese and jelly sandwiches that I gobbled on that summer afternoon when I discovered how a single act of genuine and unassuming civility can change a life forever.” I believe that acts of chesed, such as those described in the story above, propel our light outwards. Thinking about and caring for others, becoming more empathetic and sensitive towards those around us, and helping to alleviate the suffering of others can help to illuminate the world we live in. It is strange (and remarkable!) how an action so small can have such a far-reaching impact. The notion of spreading our inner light to the world at large is inherent within the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles as well. When we light the candles each night, we have a mitzvah of pirsumei nisa, publicizing the miracle, which means we ideally should light the candles in a location where others outside are able to see them. In this way, we spread the light from within our homes outward, symbolizing the importance we attach to positively impacting upon the outside world. Implementing this goal of sharing our resources with others, paying attention to others, and helping out those in need can enable us to act as the windows in the Beit Hamikdash, radiating light outwards and helping to heal the fractured world in which we live. In doing so, we can join together to further Rabbi Sacks’ vision of unifying many different facets of life, improving the world, and sanctifying Hashem’s name.
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Limudei Kodesh Faculty
RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN IS A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. HE PREVIOUSLY SERVED AS THE HEAD OF SCHOOL AT YULA GIRLS HIGH SCHOOL. RABBI LIEBERMAN LEARNED AT YESHIVA UNIVERSITY AND RECIEVED SEMIKHA FROM EMEK HALAKHA IN BROOKLYN. HE RECIEVED HIS M.A. IN JEWISH HISTORY FROM THE BERNARD REVEL GRADUATE SCHOOL (YU), WHERE HE IS CURRENTLY WORKING TOWARDS HIS DOCTORATE.
Chanukah
A MESSAGE OF LIGHT AND MEMORY Each of the Jewish Holidays celebrates and commemorates a historical event in the past. With each one of the holidays, we use our memory to re-envision the circumstance behind it. To this end, all of the Chagim have at least one Mitzvah or ritual connected to it. For example, on Pesach we eat Matzah to commemorate the haste in which we left Egypt, on Sukkot we live in huts, reminiscent of Bnei Israel living in huts in the desert (or covered by the Clouds of Glory), on Shavuot night we stay up to receive the Torah, and on Purim we read the narrative of the story of Haman’s attempt to destroy the Jews of Persia. Our use of memory thus becomes central to the celebration of the holiday. Chanukah is The Festival of Lights because of the miracle of the oil and our lighting candles in commemoration of that miracle. But why was light the central focus of the Mitzvah instituted by the Sages and not some other method of commemorating the victory over the Greeks? In addition, it is only on Chanukah (and Purim) that we recite the Brachah of שעשה נסים לאבותינו בימים ההם בזמן הזה (who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days, at this time). What is so different about Chanukah that caused the Rabbis to introduce this blessing? The Sefat Emet, (Rabbi Yehuda Arieh Leib Alter, 1847-1905) the famous Hasidic leader and mentor of the Dynasty of Ger, poses these questions and offers a unique philosophical perspective on the understanding of Chanukah. The Torah speaks of darkness ( )חושךat the beginning of Creation, immediately prior to the creation of light (Genesis 1: 2). The Midrash (Midrash Rabbah, Breishit 2:4) comments on the word זה גלות יון, וחשך:חושך, “darkness refers to the Greek Period.” The Sefat Emet connects this statement to two words we recite in the additional paragraph we insert in the Shemoneh Esrei during Chanukah, Al Hanissim, להשכיחם תורתך, “ to make them forget your Torah.” In order to appreciate that connection, the Sefat Emet explains that we must first understand how the Syrian-Greeks tried to cause us to forget the Torah. In fact, the minute someone tells us to forget something, the more we remember it, so their attempt could even have had the opposite effect of what they intended. What, then, did they have in mind? At this point, let us examine how forgetfulness and memory operate. Our memories have stored up huge amounts of all kinds of information. Why do we remember certain things so easily and other things are easily forgotten? What is the secret of memory and forgetting? The Sefat Emet answers the question with one word: Connection. The things in our lives to which we have a deep connection are the ones that we never forget, as they become an integral part of who we are. This is why the Torah uses the word “Zachor,” “remember,” in relation to many Mitzvot, because we want them to become an important part of us. What the Greeks tried to do was to sever and weaken that connection. Hellenism looked at the Torah with great interest, which is the reason they wanted to have it translated into Greek (which was eventually done, and that work is called the Septuagint). But for the Greeks, the Torah was just another great book on par with the great books of Greek wisdom. Their intention was to equate the Torah to an ordinary work of distinguished literature in the eyes of the Jews as well, thereby diluting and lessening the Jews’ connection to it and causing them to easily forget it. 5
Yet to the Jewish People, Torah is more than just a book. It is the medium that connects us to Hashem. Through our learning of the Torah and practicing its Mitzvot, we thereby solidify that connection. The Sefat Emet explains that as a result of this attachment, our memory of Torah became sturdy and stable, since it gave us our identity. The Hellenists wanted us to lose that connection and thereby our uniqueness. The Sefat Emet explains that for this reason, the Rabbis instituted a Mitzvah related to Light on Chanukah, since the Torah is compared to light. As the verse states: ( כי נר מצוה ותורה אורMishlei 6:23), “for a commandment is like a candle and the Torah is like Light.” It is the light of Chanukah that keeps the memory alive and the connection strong. The rich symbolism of light includes illumination of the dark, including not only the physical darkness, but spiritual moments of existential darkness. Light represents hope, warmth, clarity, goodness, holiness, and knowledge, which are all attributes we derive and ascribe to the Torah itself. The Sfat Emet continues that the Chagim mentioned in the Torah are fundamental to the establishment of The Jewish People and are therefore beyond the concept of time. They were part of the Divine Plan before creation. Chanukah (and Purim) arose because a particular miracle was needed at a specific time in history, i.e., they were dependent on time. That is the reason that we recite the Brachah of שעשה נסים. While the miracle occurred “in those days,” we benefit from it “in these days.” May we merit that the lights of Chanukah illuminate our lives in all areas.
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Shalhevet Class of ‘22 ISABELLA SZTUDEN
I S A B EL L A S Z T U D E N IS C U RR E N T L Y A JU N IOR AT S H AL H E V E T H IG H SCHO O L A ND I S A M EM B ER OF T H E AD V AN C E D G E M ARA SH IU R.
The Mezuzah and the Menorah:
PERFECTING OUR JUDAISM INSIDE AND OUT We can’t just place the Chanukah menorah anywhere we want. Although seemingly insignificant, the rules regarding the placement of the menorah can in fact serve as a guide for our spiritual development. The Gemara in Shabbat (22a) poses the following question concerning the proper location for the placement of the menorah: . רב שמואל מדפתי אמר משמאל, והיכא מנח ליה? רב אחא בריה דרבא אמר מימין.נר חנוכה מצוה להניחה בטפח הסמוכה לפתח :אמר רבה Rabba said: It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp within the handbreadth adjacent to the entrance. [The Gemara asks]: And where, on which side, does he place it? [There is a difference of opinion:] Rav Acha, son of Rava, said: On the right side of the entrance. Rav Shmuel from Difti said: On the left. The Gemara then rules that we ultimately follow the opinion of Rav Shmuel and place the menorah on the left side of the doorpost so that one who enters the house is surrounded by mitzvot - namely the mezuzah on one side and the menorah on the other. If we further consider the difference between the nature of these two holy objects, we will realize that their focus is different: A mezuzah looks inward towards the home, while the menorah points its light out into the world. The mezuzah is an emblem of our individual commitment to God. The source for the mitzvah of mezuzah comes from the Shema: “And you shall inscribe them on the doorposts (mezuzot) of your house and on your gates” (Devarim 6:9). Placing a mezuzah on the frame of each door establishes a Jewish atmosphere inside the home and prompts us to put God at the forefront of our mind when entering every room. With all the chaos and activity ensuing in our day-to-day lives, we often forget to focus on our spirituality. While we may be consumed by stress from work or loads of assignments from school, the mezuzah is here to remind us of what we should truly immerse ourselves in: mitzvot and connecting to God. The mezuzah is a reminder of the covenant we made to uphold God’s commandments, an expression of our willingness to create a Jewish household, and a symbol of our love and personal devotion to God. While the mezuzah sets the foundation for our internal Judaism - inside our hearts, minds, and homes - the menorah extends our obligations as Jews outside of the home and beyond ourselves. The halacha specifically requires us to display the menorah in a place that faces the public. In Eretz Yisrael today, it is even customary for many to place the Chanukah menorah outside of the home. The origin of the commandment to publicize the miracle (Pirsumei Nisa) of the menorah is from a Gemara in Shabbat (21b), which states that “it is a mitzvah to place the Chanukah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, [so that all can see it].” By placing the menorah outside (or facing outside), we are not only publicizing the miracle of Chanukah, but also emphasizing our commitment as Jews to the world.
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But what miracle are we really commemorating on Chanukah? The name Chanukah means “dedication,” as we are, first and foremost, celebrating the rededication of the Beit Hamikdash following the Greek desecration. On a deeper level, we are rejoicing over the reclamation of our Judaism and spirituality amidst an era of Hellenism and religious intolerance. It is our mission as Jews to spread that same spirituality, as symbolized by the flames of the menorah, that the Greeks attempted to extinguish many centuries ago. We hold an obligation to carry the light of Judaism we have created in our home into the public realm and approach everyday situations in a manner that embodies Torah values. Not only is our relationship with God essential, but our connection to others and the world at large is also fundamental to Judaism. Avraham, our patriarch, exemplified what it means to extend the Jewish spirit to those around him. He sat in an open tent, waiting to welcome guests and perform the mitzvah of Hachnassat Orchim. Opening ourselves to others should also be a priority of ours as Jews. Although due to the pandemic, we currently cannot invite people into our homes like Avraham, there are certainly other ways to connect to the community and focus on Tikkun Olam. Whether this means buying groceries for your grandparents who are stuck at home, striking up a friendly conversation with your teacher before online class, or simply checking in on your friends, there is always a way to extend ourselves to others. The light spread by the menorah throughout the darkness symbolizes this aspect of Judaism and reaching out to others as well. Moving beyond the circle of our friends and communities, the menorah represents the universal commitment we maintain as the Jewish nation. The light emitted from the flames of the menorah reflects the words of God’s commandment to act as an “ ”אור לגוים- a light unto the nations (Yeshayahu 42:6). We must radiate our inner light, spirituality, and righteousness to the entire world, as symbolized by the menorah. Ultimately, these two mitzvot of the mezuzah and the menorah together embody the dual responsibility we hold as Jews. The presence of the mezuzah reminds us to foster Judaism in our individual homes, and the menorah expresses our obligation to extend our Judaism to the rest of the world. May the mezuzah and menorah surround you and deepen your spirituality this Chanukah!
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ALEX GUETTA
SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23
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TEHILLA FISHMAN SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23
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Limudei Kodesh Faculty Regional Director, West Coast NCSY RABBI DEREK GORMIN
RABBI GORMIN IS PART OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET, WHERE HE TEACHES TALMUD, JEWISH PHILOSOPHY, CHASSIDUT, AND TEFILA (PRAYER). WHEN NOT INSIDE THE HOLY WALLS OF SHALHEVET, RABBI GORMIN IS THE REGIONAL DIRECTOR OF WEST COAST NCSY. RABBI DEREK GORMIN STUDIED POLITICAL SCIENCE, MUSIC AND SOCIOLOGY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, IRVINE, AND RECEIVED A CERTIFICATE OF INTERNATIONAL POLITICS FROM YONSEI UNIVERSITY IN SEOUL, KOREA. UPON GRADUATION, DEREK WAS BLESSED TO SPEND TIME DIVING INTO THE DEPTHS OF HIS JEWISH HERITAGE IN VARIOUS YESHIVOT IN JERUSALEM.
Turn Off Jeopardy
AND COME LIGHT THE MENORAH!
Alex Trebek joined us for dinner every Tuesday night. The distinct line of “this is Jeopardy” and the accompanying jingle stand out as one of the most pronounced songs on the soundtrack of my childhood. Although he was not Jewish, Trebek’s intellectual prowess, clear vocal presentation and international fame topped the long list of expectations that every Jewish mother places upon her children. Growing up with Jeopardy playing on the screen across from our kitchen table sent a clear messaging to us kids: Knowledge is power, education is important, games are fun, making money is great, and Alex Trebek has truly “made it.” Before his untimely passing, Mr. Trebek served those messages during dinner, for much of a generation. A lesser known fact about Alex Trebek is that he hosted many unsuccessful shows before starring on Jeopardy. Between 1963 and 1983, Trebek hosted sixteen different shows, none of which took off in any serious way. After twenty years of attempts and failures, any typical person would understandably give up. Not my Alex. He paused, brushed himself off, put his boots back on, and tried again. It was not until the age of forty-four when he finally landed Jeopardy to launch him into stardom. For this alone, Mr. Trebek deserves a medal. Alex Trebek serves as a tremendous example for all of us to persevere and never give up on our dreams. Rabbi Shmuel Bornsztain was the second Sochatchover Rebbe (1855-1926) and best known as the author of his magnus opus, the Shem Mishmuel. Rabbi Bornsztain writes that the Greeks implemented many harsh decrees against the Jewish people long before the eventual story of Chanukah. The Greeks outlawed major Jewish observances, most notably Shabbat, brit mila, and the celebration of Rosh Chodesh. The Rebbe comments that it is understandable why a foreign culture attempting to cause mass assimilation among the Jews would outlaw Shabbat and brit mila, as they both serve as signs of active Jewish connection. But Rosh Chodesh, questions the Rebbe, does not serve the same fundamental purpose as the other two statutes. Searching for the moon and noting its first appearance every month is something external, almost passive, on the part of the observer. Of all possible acts on which to impose harsh limitations against the Jewish people, why put Rosh Chodesh on the list? To answer this question, the Shem MiShmuel first highlights some fundamental principles about the formation of the Jewish Calendar. The Rebbe explains that through the calendar, we can see how Chazal (our Rabbis) had the ability to change nature. This sounds outlandish, right? How does this work? Today we have a fixed Jewish calendar, but this was not always the case. There was a complicated and exciting process of determining the timing of the new moon each month with celebrations for all participants (see Mishna, Rosh Hashanah 2:5). Rosh Chodesh, the new month, was determined by the Beit Din, a Rabbinic Court of flesh and blood, according to the required halachic procedures. In order to appreciate the far-reaching implications of this capability, let's consider a case where a boy is born on the second of Adar. Thirteen years later, the boy becomes bar mitzvah on the second of Adar. However, Beit Din may need to add an additional month of Adar, which it has permission to do towards the end of Adar to ensure that Pesach occurs in the appropriate time (the spring). This would mean that our boy may have been thirteen years old in objective reality, 11
yet now his bar mitzvah would fall out again, only a few days later, in the Second Adar. The amazing part of this occurrence is not the simple date change needed for the bar mitzvah invitations, but rather the fact that the change makes this young man twelve years old again retroactively. Until his newly determined birth date comes, he is once again twelve. This reality of the calendar thus has serious halachic ramifications, most notably in cases of obligation, such as the case described. In modern parlance, “is he tried as a minor, or not?” The Shem Mishmuel argues that examples such as these illustrate how the Torah-based system of determining the new month provides our people with the ability to change nature, which should certainly give us reason to pause. The Rebbe explains that one approach to answer the question of “why Rosh Chodesh?” lies in this incredible power of the pause to change nature. The Almighty created nature and normally controls it, but in the blueprint of reality, He designed this clause specifically for the Jewish people. The Greeks, and all who assimilated with them, needed to be on top of the world. But this special power to change nature was never in the wheelhouse of the Greeks and the Jewish Hellenists seemed to forget about it. The Greeks had their “gods” that always ruled in their favor, but never gave them the ability to tap into creation and truly change nature. The word for the Jewish month, chodesh, shares a root with the word chadash, new. Each month, the moon renews itself, creating a hitchadshut, or renewal, as we rededicate ourselves to our connection with Hashem in this special observance of Rosh Chodesh. The ability to start anew and to renew commitment, faith and connection lies in the hands of each and every Jew. The Greeks wanted to strip the Jewish people of their ability to partner with Hashem. If the Jewish people would continue to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, the assimilation that the Greeks desired would never have been possible. Sure, times may be dark, but we are reminded month after month of the potential to partner with the Almighty – to pause, change our reality and start anew. When a person is down, the ability to press the restart button is a welcome super- power. When all hope seems lost, the knowledge of good times to come brings hope to one filled with despair. In fact, the moon itself is a beautiful representation of the Jewish people and its history. The Moon waxes and wanes, yet never becomes fully extinguished, and never gives up. While Shabbat and brit mila are certainly the primary signs of Jewish peoplehood, the symbol of our ability to pause, renew our experience, and never give up, is Rosh Chodesh. The moon always returns, constantly reflecting the ultimate source of light. What the Greeks understood is that Jews who celebrate Rosh Chodesh will not give up. Outlawing the observance of Rosh Chodesh brought with it the attempted obliteration of Jewish hope. A stagnant, cold, quick menorah lighting, (or any other mitzvah for that matter) is missing a freshness, a new energy, a renewal, which causes that mitzvah act, on a certain level, to fall right into the hands of the evil Greeks. Chanukah and Rosh Chodesh serve as the reminder to be mechadeish, to renew our Jewish experiences and constantly strengthen our connection to Hashem. Even when we find ourselves delivered into the hands of the Greek army and defeat feels inevitable, Rosh Chodesh reminds us to pause, take stock and never give up. To the mighty Greek army, it is great to see you lost in the annals of history along with Barris & Company, Pick and Choose, Outside/Inside and the thirteen other failed television projects of Alex Trebek. But Alex Trebek himself and the Jews do not give up hope, and therefore ultimately succeed in their goals. Alex, I’ll take Chanukah for $500. Answer: “Jeopardy, Rosh Chodesh and Decrees of the Greeks” Question: “What are items that serve as reminders to pause and commit to renewal?” Now I’d call that a double jeopardy. Best wishes for a Chanukah that is joyous and bright!
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Limudei Kodesh Faculty DR. SHEILA KEITER
DR. SHEILA KEITER TEACHES LIMUDEI KODESH AT SHALHEVET. SHE HAS A B.A. IN HISTORY FROM UCLA, A JD FROM HARVARD LAW SCHOOL, AND RECEIVED HER PHD IN JEWISH STUDIES FROM UCLA, WHERE SHE TAUGHT IN THE DEPARTMENT OF NEAR EASTERN LANGUAGES AND CULTURES.
The Challenge of Chanukah:
MUSINGS OF A CHANUKAH SKEPTIC I must admit that I have an uncomfortable relationship with Chanukah. While as a child, I loved Chanukah, as an adult, I find myself going through the motions of the holiday. Part of the blame lies with the commercialization and secularization of the holiday. Its coinciding with the Christmas season has unintentionally linked Chanukah with Christmas. As Christmas increasingly becomes unmoored from its religious origins in American society, so does Chanukah in popular culture. Consumerism overshadows history and ritual. Americans associate Chanukah more strongly with Adam Sandler than with the Maccabees. And to make matters worse, Chanukah Radio on Sirius XM is insufferable. How can there be that many insipid songs about latkes and dreidels? Of course, the religious personality can tune out secular culture and focus on the historic and religious messages of Chanukah. But even there we run into trouble. While Chanukah celebrates the fight for religious freedom against oppressive Hellenism, it is marred by its immediate and longer-term aftermaths. The Maccabees, also known as the Hasmoneans, used their victory over the Syrian Greeks to seize power, claiming kingship over Judah as well as the high priesthood. They had no historic claim to either. Not long after, the Hasmoneans themselves became increasingly Hellenized and corrupt, thus embracing the very culture that their Maccabean forebears had staked their lives to oppose. For these reasons, rabbinic literature has little nice to say about the Hasmoneans. The Talmud downplays the military and political underpinnings of Chanukah, preferring to focus on the religious and spiritual aspects of the holiday. As is typical for the Talmud, the primary rabbinic concern is for the halakhic considerations of the holiday, how to light the chanukiah, who should light it, and where. However, the Talmud does pause to ask, “What is Chanukah?” While it acknowledges the military victory of the Hasmoneans, the Talmud focuses on the miracle of the oil – a single sealed cruse was found, and it miraculously lasted eight days (b. Shabbat 21b). Thus, the Talmud shifts the focus away from the Hasmoneans, redirecting it to the restoration of the Beit Hamikdash and God’s presence there, as confirmed by the menorah’s miraculous energy efficiency. All well and good, except that even the Beit Hamikdash became corrupted during the Second Temple period that followed. The coveted role of the high priesthood was often sold to the highest bidder. The high priest owed his position to political cronyism rather than piety or spiritual merit. In addition, sectarianism dominated in the later Second Temple period. The Sadducees, who rejected the Oral Torah, were Hellenized and economically elite. They often served as regular priests as well as High Priests and dominated the Temple service. By now, I may have completely disabused you of any notion of enjoying Chanukah. Happily, we still have a few more paragraphs to go, so do not despair just yet. Truth be told, I have overplayed my own cynicism. I do enjoy Chanukah. Not the pressure of buying presents, the guilt of eating donuts, or the three hours spent frying latkes (not including cleanup time). I connect to Chanukah when we light the candles and sing Maoz Tzur. In that moment, the clarity of the Chanukah lights illuminates the meaning of the holiday. It is true that the Hasmoneans unjustly seized power for themselves, fell to corruption, and quickly abandoned themselves to the very Hellenism they had opposed. However, none of these developments alter the fact that from 167-160 BCE they fought a desperate guerilla war against the powerful Seleucid Empire and emerged triumphant against impossible odds. Furthermore, these same Jewish forces were motivated in their fight by the desire to restore freedom to 13
practice Judaism. They were willing to risk their lives to adhere to God’s Torah, which the Syrians had outlawed. Finally, nothing the Hasmoneans did subsequently detracts from the fact that they immediately cleansed the Beit Hamikdash of idolatry and rededicated it to worship of the one true God. The Hasmoneans, like all of us, were human. They sought power, and the power corrupted them. But these failings cannot erase their earlier achievements. Furthermore, Chanukah reminds us of the role God plays in key moments of history. The verses of Maoz Tzur systematically celebrate the times when God interceded in human events on our behalf. He freed us from Egyptian servitude, He allowed the Jews to return from the Babylonian exile, He defeated Haman’s plot to destroy us, and He defeated the aforementioned Syrian Greeks. In contemporary times, we might add the miraculous creation of the State of Israel to the list. God’s intercession in all these events did not bring an end to history. Life always continues with its attendant imperfections. Yet, we can still appreciate all that God has done for us regardless of what has since transpired. Is it any wonder, then, that the rabbinic tradition emphasizes lighting of the chanukiah as the central focus of the Chanukah celebration? Much had been said of bringing light into darkness. After all, Chanukah is often called the Festival of lights. But what kind of light? One can view the lights of the Chanukah menorah as spotlights on the positive. The world can be a dark place, but our celebration of Chanukah asks us to focus on those things that are good and true. Let the failings of the Hasmoneans fade into the darkness. Their fight for religious freedom, their miraculous triumph, and their dedication of the most holy of spaces to God’s presence shine brightly as acts of courage and righteousness. The Chanukah lights advertise God’s presence in human events, regardless of how imperfect humanity may be. These lessons are not reserved solely for history. Chanukah invites us to extend these concepts to our own lives. Nothing in life is perfect. Life is permeated with struggle, injustice, and even suffering. Yet life also offers moments of surpassing beauty and truth, moments when we can celebrate the goodness of mankind, the triumph of justice, and the alleviation of pain. Chanukah encourages us to focus on those transcendent moments and to further recognize the role God plays in blessing us with them. As we light the chanukiah, we can allow cold reality to recede to the background in favor of the warmth of God’s goodness. Chanukah offers one more level of meaning in addition to those discussed above that is apparent from the song that we sing after lighting the Chanukah candles, Maoz Tzur. The final lines of Maoz Tzur call upon God to send His ultimate salvation. This final stanza minces no words in its recognition of the ills of this world: Bare Your holy arm and bring the time of Your redemption close. Avenge the vengeance of your servants from the evil nation. For the time has been lengthy, and there is no end to the days of evil. When we celebrate Chanukah, we not only celebrate what is good in the face of evil, but we aspire to a time when good triumphs finally over evil. We thank God for the times He has redeemed us, acknowledging that the final, complete redemption has yet to come. In the end, Chanukah is not about consumerism or creating a Jewish alternative to Christmas. Nor is it about the disappointments of the Hasmonean dynasty. Rather, Chanukah asks us to rise above the ephemeral and flawed, to appreciate what is good and right in our lives. It further inspires us to work for ultimate goodness. The Chanukah lights illuminate the darkness and light the way for a more complete redemption. To paraphrase the great theologian, Linus van Pelt, that’s what Chanukah is all about, Charlie Brown.
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ISABELLE PLATT
SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘24
EZRA HELFAND
SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘24
Shalhevet Class of ‘22 UZI MERMELSTEIN
UZI MERMELSTEIN IS CURRENTLY JUNIOR AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL AND IS A MEMBER OF THE BEIT MIDRASH TRACK.
Yosef and Yehuda:
A MODEL FOR CHANUKA The theme of the holiday of Chanuka has been understood by many as the victory of the Jews over the Greeks, the few over the many, and the Chashmonaim over Hellenism. However, perhaps the message of the holiday is subtler than that and much closer to home. In this Dvar Torah, we will analyze certain elements of Parshas Vayeshev, which is read this year during Chanuka, and use it to try to illuminate some interesting aspects of this holiday of lights. Parshas Vayeshev is the story of an internal battle between brothers. The narrative follows Yosef being sold into slavery by his brothers, led by Yehuda, who was the leader and representative of the group. The primary complaints against Yosef were that he was a dreamer (Bereishit 37:5) and a seeker of physical beauty (Rashi, Bereishit 37:2). Yehuda was apparently worried that such behavior would lead Yosef to engage in nefarious activities. From his point of view (and that of the other brothers), being practical and conservative were the best option and Yosef ’s behaviors could not continue. After all, since when is flamboyancy a Jewish quality? Yehuda’s concerns and approach would certainly reject Greek culture, its art, and the importance of the physical. This mirrors the approach of the Chashmonaim, who disavowed themselves of these values as well. Indeed, according to many, renouncing these elements of the physical world is part and parcel of the message of Chanuka. But perhaps the similarity between the story of Yosef and Chanuka goes deeper than that. The Torah states that when the brothers were preparing to throw Yosef in a pit and saw him coming, they declared, “behold the Dreamer is arriving” (Bereishit 37:19). According to the Midrash, the brothers’ reference to Yosef as “the Dreamer” stemmed from their fear of the potential impact upon them of Yosef ’s view of life: “Behold, this is the one who will cause us to worship idols.” Sadly, their prediction was correct, for Yosef ’s offspring were in fact the sources of much evil within the Jewish people. For example, Yeravam, a descendant of Yosef and the first king of Yisrael after the kingdom split, caused Yisrael to worship idols (Melachim I 12:28). Furthermore, Achav, another king of Yisrael and also a descendant of Yosef, led Yisrael astray with idolatrous ways (Melachim II 16:33). Nevertheless, the Torah in the continuation of the parsha contrasts the paths of Yosef and Yehuda in a manner that presents a completely different result than what would be expected given the above concerns of Yehuda. On one hand, Yehuda was demoted from being leader… • At that time, Yehuda went down from his brothers (Bereishit 38:1). º He was demoted from being the leader by his brothers. (Rashi) While Yosef became leader of Egypt. • Pharoah said to Yosef, “Behold, I appoint you over the entire land of Egypt” Bereishit 41:41). As Yehuda gave into temptation… • And Yehuda saw her and thought she was a zonah…. So he turned to her on the side of the road… (Bereishit 38:15,16) Yosef withdrew from enticement. • …But he left his garment in her hand and fled and went outside. (Bereishit 39:12) 17
When Yehuda intermarried… • And there Yehuda saw the daughter of a merchant named Shua, and he took her and came to her. (Bereishit 38:2) Yosef married within the tribe. • And Pharaoh… gave him Osenat, the daughter of Poti phera, the governor of On, for a wife. º Asenat was his niece (Tractate Sofrim 21:9) Lastly, Yehuda’s approach of being very careful about influences from the outside world did not always yield righteous children… • Now Er, Yehuda’s firstborn, was evil in the eyes of Hashem, and Hashem put him to death. (Bereishit 38:7) • Now Onan, (Yehuda’s second son) did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem, and He also put him to death. (Bereishit 38:10) Whereas Yosef son’s exceeded expectations. • When Yaakov died he commanded that Ephraim be a tribal head and rosh yeshiva. (Vayikra Rabbah 2:3) Astonishingly, this same complexity can also be found within the story of Chanuka. We discover that the Greeks, awful as they were, are embraced by our Sages with some elements of kedusha (holiness). Rabbi Shimon Ben Gamliel says that the Torah may be translated into one other language, Greek… For it states: …May G-d expand Yafet (father of Greece), and may He dwell in the tents of Shem (father of Yisrael). (Bereishit 9:27) Yafet means the beauty of Greece (its language, Rashi) (Megillah 9b). In addition, it cannot be coincidental that the very essence of the mitzvah of lighting the candles on Chanuka revolves around hiddur mitzvah, beautification of the mitzvah by lighting additional candles throughout the eight days more than the basic requirement of ner ish ubeito, one per household each night. We will not attempt to resolve the dichotomy shown above, as that is beyond the scope of this short dvar Torah. However, we can learn from here that Chanuka teaches that Judaism does not simply embrace the fear of physical pursuits, but rather often encourages the incorporation of all that is beautiful. On the other hand, we must strive not to be concerned only with the physical dimensions of the holiday, such as the appearance of the candles, the candies, and sufganiyot. We must make sure not to lose sight of the spiritual dimensions inherent within the holiday, as those too have the ability to elevate us and infuse our lives with tremendous meaning and joy.
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Director of Student Activities MS. ILANA WILNER
MS. ILANA WILNER IS THE DIRECTOR OF STUDENT ACTIVITIES AND A LIMUDEI KODESH TEACHER AT SHALHEVET. ILANA HAS A MASTERS IN BIBLICAL AND TALMUDIC INTERPRETATION FROM YESHIVA UNIVERSITY’S GRADUATE PROGRAM FOR ADVANCED TALMUDIC STUDIES (GPATS), AS WELL AS A MASTERS DEGREE IN EDUCATION FROM AZRIELI SCHOOL OF EDUCATION AND ADMINISTRATION.
Different Strokes
FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS
Given that one of the main themes of Chanukah is the celebration of the rededication of the Beit HaMikdash, it is only fitting that the Torah reading for all of Chanukah is taken from Parshat Naso, where the Torah recounts the dedication of the original Mishkan in the desert. However, even a cursory glance at these pesukim yields the conclusion that they are highly redundant, as the Torah details how every one of the tribes brought exactly the same offering for the dedication. Why does the Torah repeat the same thing twelve times when it could have easily said: These are the korbanot that were brought by each of the nesi’im on behalf of their shevet? The Ramban explains beautifully that outwardly, each korban was identical – the vessels used were the same, the same type of animals were sacrificed, the " "כף אחתwas the same, and so on. But internally, when looking at what was in each Nasi’s heart and mind, they could not have been more different. Each שבטhas their own destiny and fortune, as evident from Yaakov’s blessing to his twelve sons on his deathbed, which first focused on them as a collective whole and then individually based on their distinctive needs: ". איש אשר כברכתו ברך אתם, וזאת אשר דבר להם אביהם ויברך אותם, שנים עשר,"כל אלה שבטי ישראל “These were all of the twelve tribes of Israel, and this is what their father said to them and he blessed them; he blessed them each one according to his own blessing” (Bereshit 49:28; see also Rashi there). The Torah reading on Chanukah reminds us that even when people are performing the same actions or have the same hobbies, each person has a different inner life, a different identity, and a different relationship with God. This idea is consistent with another theme related to lighting the Chanukah candles, that of “mehadrin.” The Gemara in Shabbat writes: והמהדרין נר לכל אחד ואחד, the better way of lighting the candles is to light one candle for each person in the house. This method of fulfilling the mitzvah is more preferred than the basic level mitzvah of lighting one candle per household because it allows each individual to join in the mitzvah and be recognized on their own. This should remind us that we must recognize and celebrate the uniqueness of every individual, personality, and identity, even if they all live in the same house and are part of one family. Chazal tell us: ""כל המקיים נפש אחת מישראל מעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו קיים עולם מלא, “Anyone who saves (lit. maintains) one Jewish soul is considered as if he upheld an entire world.” I read this teaching not as referring to someone who saves a life, but rather to someone who upholds and strengthens each life, or individual person, or personality, is considered as if they have strengthened the entire world. Chanukah is a time where we highlight the preciousness of each individual, the connection they have to God, and the light they bring to the world.
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TEHILLA FISHMAN SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23
Shalhevet Class of ‘23
VIVIENNE SCHLUSSEL
VIVIENNE SCHLUSSEL IS CURRENTLY A SOPHOMORE AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL AND IS A MEMBER OF THE ADVANCED GEMARA SHIUR.
The Light
OF CHANUKAH
Chanukah is a super fun holiday, and many aspects of Chanukah are also very inspirational, such as the fact that the small group called the Maccabees defeated the large and mighty Greek army, or the fact that Chanukah can be spelled in a million different ways. But personally, I find the miracle of the oil lasting for eight days to be the most significant and incredible miracle related to the holiday. The story goes that due to the Greeks’ ransacking of the Temple and destroying many of the items used for the Temple service, there was only enough pure oil for the Menorah to last for one night. But instead, it miraculously stretched out and lasted for eight nights until they could produce more pure oil. The significance of the miracle is that the light lasted longer than expected. In fact, in a certain sense, the light continues to last until today. We light Chanukah candles every year and still commemorate the miracle that took place long ago. The miracle of Hanukkah is still going, and the memory of G-d’s intervention is still shining. There is something so special about a candle. One measly little flame can light up an entire room and bring light into a place of complete darkness. Perhaps this is why King Solomon stated in Mishlei: “The candle of God is the soul of a person” – just as a small candle illuminates the entire surrounding area, so too a person’s soul can fully illuminate the entire body. I think that this is an important lesson that we all can learn from Chanukah. We should be that flame that brings joy or happiness to help guide someone out of their personal darkness. When we are the ones who use our inner light to fill a room, we do not just give off a spark for one day or for eight days, but rather a light that can last forever. Even just a small act of kindness brings a luminous glow into people’s lives and can impact upon them for the rest of their lives. The following quote, attributed to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, expresses this idea beautifully: “When you reach out with the essence of your soul, then the essence of your soul bonds with the essence of your friend’s soul; when you reach out with love, the Godliness within your soul unites with the Godliness in your friend’s soul. In this way the lamp is lit. This is the true calling of a Jew, to be a lamplighter – Your mission is to light up souls.” There have been some really hard moments over the course of this Pandemic, but I will always remember the moments that my friends or family brought light into my world and made me feel better. Each of us needs to be the candle that burns not just for one day, but for eight days and beyond. We can learn similar messages from two other places in the Torah as well. The first is where the Torah says in Parshat Bereishit: ויהי אור,ויאמר אלוקים יהי אור, “And God said let there be light, and there was light.” God thus brought light into a world of darkness. Since all human beings are made in the image of G-d, we can say that if we spread joy and light, that emulates God, who brought the light into the world. There are additional messages as well that we can derive from the Chanukah candle lighting. Each night of Chanukah we add one candle. That means that each night the light gets brighter and brighter. The more good and the more light that we bring, the longer it will last. Rav Kook is quoted as having written the following (as a poem): . ולהדליקו לאבוקה גדולה ולהאיר את העולם כולו, שעליו לעמול ולגלות את אור הנר ברבים,וצריך שכל איש ידע ויבין “Everyone must know that it is their task to reveal their light to the world to ignite it until it is a great flame and to illuminate the universe.” Let us conclude with a quote from Rabbi Sacks, who also teaches us to bring our light to others in every situation. There always were two ways to live in a world that is often dark and full of tears. We can curse the darkness or we can light a light, and as the Chassidim say, a little light drives out much darkness. May we all help light up the world. May you all have a Chag Sameach and a bright Chanukah!
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ALEX GUETTA
SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘23
10
THE JE AN AND JERRY FRIEDMAN SHALHEVE T HIGH SCHOOL
3rd annual
,17(5*(1(5$7,21$/ :20(1 6 BRUNCH & BOUTIQUE
sunday
J A N U A RY 1 0, 2 02 1
VIRTUAL PROGRAM & BRUNCH 1 1 : 30 AM TO 1 : 00 P M ONLINE SHOPPING BOUTIQUE J A N UA RY 3, 202 1 - J A N UA RY 1 1, 202 1
female staff award recipient MURIEL OHANA
ASSISTANT TO HEAD OF SCHOOL, RABBI ARI SEGAL
special guest speaker
Rosh Beit Midrash
RAV YITZCHAK ETSHALOM
RAV YITZCHAK ESTHALOM IS THE ROSH BEIT MIDRASH AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. RAV ETSHALOM CONTINUES TO DIRECT THE TANACH MASTERS PROGRAM AT YULA BOYS’ HIGH SCHOOL, GIVES SHIURIM THROUGHOUT THE CITY, IS A REGULAR CONTRIBUTOR TO YESHIVAT HAR ETZION'S VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH, AND IS A PUBLISHED AUTHOR ON TANAKH METHODOLOGY AND RABBINIC LITERATURE. HE ATTENDED YESHIVAT KEREM B'YAVNE, RABBI ISAAC ELHANAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, AND YESHIVAT HAR ETZION BEFORE RECEIVING SEMICHA FROM THE CHIEF RABBINATE OF YERUSHALAYIM.
Shlomo’s
JUDGMENT
This coming Shabbat will be a rare occasion - Parashat Mikketz will be read, but Hanukkah will have just ended (on Friday) Since Mikketz is nearly always Shabbat Hanukkah, the special Haftarah for Hanukkah (from the visions of Zekharyah) is read. Once every few years, Mikketz gets the "opportunity" to have its "own" Haftarah read - as is the case this year. The last time this happened was in 2001 – so let’s take this opportunity to study this well-known but rarely-read passage about Shlomo’s wisdom. The Haftarah picks up just after God tells Shlomo that He is pleased with his choice to be granted wisdom, in order to properly judge and lead His people… …Then came there two women, who were harlots, to the king, and stood before him. And one woman said, O my lord, I and this woman live in one house; and I gave birth to a child with her in the house. And it came to pass the third day after I had given birth, that this woman also gave birth; and we were together; there was no stranger with us in the house, only the two of us in the house. And this woman’s child died in the night; because she lay on it. And she arose at midnight, and took my son from my side, while your maidservant slept, and laid it in her bosom, and laid her dead child in my bosom. And when I rose in the morning to nurse my child, behold, it was dead; but when I had looked at it closely in the morning, behold, it was not my son, that I had borne. And the other woman said, No; but the living child is my son, and the dead is your son. And this said, No; but the dead is your son, and the living is my son, and they spoke before the king. Then said the king, One says, This is my son who lives, and your son is the dead; and the other says, No; but your son is the dead, and my son is the living. And the king said, Bring me a sword. And they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, Divide the living child in two, and give half to one, and half to the other. Then the woman, whose son was the living child, spoke to the king, for her love was enkindled towards her son, and she said, O my lord, give her the living child, but do not slay it. But the other said, Let it be neither mine nor yours, but divide it. Then the king answered and said, Give her the living child, and do not slay it; she is its mother. And all Israel heard of the judgment which the king had judged; and they feared the king; for they saw that the wisdom of God was in him, to do judgment. This story, which is as famous as it is misunderstood, clearly serves to highlight the fulfillment of God's promise to imbue Shlomo with great wisdom. The conventional understanding of his wisdom here is that he knew that the real mother would certainly prefer to save her baby's life rather than risk his death in order to maintain possession over him. Most people who are not familiar with the text, but just know the story, seem to recall it in an alternative order: First the faux-mere (pretender) speaks up, accepting the king’s judgment, and then the real mother is overcome with compassion and reveals her blood ties, giving up the child that he may live. The text cannot withstand this approach. Shlomo certainly never intended to rend the child in two; his "compromise" was a bluff. One can never bluff - especially in matters of life and death - unless sure that the bluff will work. In this case, he had to be absolutely certain - not only that the real mother would forgo her rights to the child to spare him, but also that the faux-mere would insist on completing the "split." How could he know such a thing? 24
Moreover, the faux-mere's response is bizarre; if the sequence in the text were like the popular version of the story, it would be tolerable. But the sequence in the text is reversed; first the real mother cedes her rights, and only then does the pretender insist on the "letter of the law". Why didn't she quietly accept her victory - and the child she so desperately wanted? In sum, we have two questions here, which are certainly interrelated: 1. Why didn't the pretender accept her victory in court? 2. How could Shlomo know, with such certainty, that she would react in this odd way?
WHAT IS STATED…AND WHAT IS OMITTED
We'll begin with a point of methodology. There are narratives in the T'nakh which are verbose (e.g. most of the texts relating to the construction and dedication of the Mishkan); in such cases we fully expect such repetition and do not necessarily pay excessive heed to each phrase in the text. There are, on the other hand, succinct passages (such as legal texts), where every phrase, every extra word and sometimes even an extra letter becomes cause for debate, analysis and, ultimately, exegesis. Which type of passage is our Haftarah? Is it a "tight" passage, where every word is teaching some new information, or the opposite? We have a ready answer, in v. 22 – “And this said, No; but the dead is your son, and the living is my son, and they spoke before the king.” These last words "and they spoke before the king", is somewhat of a pregnant phrase (pun intended) what did they say before the king? The two women continued their dispute in front of the king - but we are not told what they said. The text seems to be telling us that only the information that is pertinent to our understanding of the case has been shared - but other statements, irrelevant to us, have been omitted. In other words, everything that the text has told us is relevant and significant - it is a "tight" text. Now, we can look back at the information provided and carefully look for clues therein. We'll begin by pointing out seemingly superfluous or odd words and phrases. A: "Zonot". When first approaching the king, we are told that these are two women, who are harlots (zonot). This last word is absolutely unnecessary for the case itself; so long as we have two women, each claiming to be the birth mother of the living child, the case can proceed. Why mention their "profession"? B: The first woman begins her plea with the words "Bi Adoni" - "beg pardon" - why do we need to hear this? C: In v. 18, the plaintiff repeats her claim that she and the defendant were alone in the house, just the two of them, and there was no stranger in the house. Why the emphasis on this circumstance? If she were trying to explain why there is no witness on her behalf, it would be sufficient to state that it was "only the two of us in the house". Why mention the absence of a stranger at all? D: In vv. 19-20, the plaintiff describes actions taken by the defendant at a time when, by her own admission, she was asleep. How can she testify to any of this? E: When the defendant interrupts her, she states "No; but the living child is my son, and the dead is your son." But when the plaintiff responds to her, she reverses the order: "No; but the dead is your son, and the living is my son", Note that the king adopts this inversion, when he reviews their claims: "One says, This is my son who lives, and your son is the dead; and the other says, No; but your son is the dead, and my son is the living." What are we to make of this?
REASSESSING THE TEXT
As we meet these two women, we are told that they are zonot. What does this add to our understanding of the case? Since the entire case hinges on both women's desire to maintain "motherhood" of the living baby, we have to ask a more fundamental question - what would a prostitute want with a child? One cannot imagine a "livelihood" where having a child around would be a greater hindrance! We are misled - or misdirected - if we imagine these two women fighting tenaciously for the "right" to raise a child; indeed, it is surprising that the women are there at all! We are given support to this perspective in the description of the circumstances of the birth - and death - of the first child. These two women are alone in the house - one need not over-burden his imagination to divine what sort of house this is! Her emphasis about being alone in the house - explaining the lack of witnesses - is augmented by the odd phrase "there was no stranger with us in the house". What she seems to be seeing is that this house, which is usually visited exclusively 25
by strangers - is bereft of them. In other words, the births (and, we may conjecture, the antecedent pregnancies) drove away all of the "customers". This point, we will see, is crucial for understanding Shlomo’s judgment. When the first woman - who, as of yet, is not identified as the birth mother or the faux-mere, begins her argument before the king, she prefaces her words with the appropriate "Bi Adoni" - something the other woman omits. The text includes this to help us identify the real mother - a quick peek at v. 26 shows the properly identified birth mother begins her plea for the child's life with the same introductory formula - "Bi Adoni". Now, we can look back at the opening arguments, fully aware that the plaintiff is the birth mother and the defendant is the would-be usurper. What are we to make of the plaintiff 's testimony of things that took place while she was sleeping? Clearly, this should not be read as testimony - but as her argument. The general perception is that the faux-mere inadvertently smothered her baby and, in a state of hysteria or desperation, switched babies. The plaintiff is claiming nothing of the sort - " because she lay on it". In other words, the defendant intentionally killed her own child - for reasons that are obvious, after our analysis above. The defendant wanted no children in this "house of ill repute", as the immediate result of their presence was "there was no stranger in the house." Hence, she killed her own child and switched the babies in order to kill the second child. This can also be seen in the inverted pleas of the women. When arguing a case before a judge or jury, one always saves his most powerful argument for last; i.e. that which is closest to the heart of the matter is the final statement. Now that we've properly identified the plaintiff as the birth mother, we understand that the defendant, who states "but the living child is my son, and the dead is your son" is focused on the dead son (her own). Her main concern is not the life of the one, rather the death of the other. On the other hand, the birth mother states: "but the dead is your son, and the living is my son". Her main interest and focus is on her own son, whom she desperately wants to save. We also understand why the king repeats the inverted formula - it is the final proof he needed. We can now appreciate the brilliance of Shlomo. He immediately recognized that if a zonah was coming to plead for her child's life, she was likely the real mother - and her description of the circumstances, along with her claim about what the other mother had done, made the picture all too clear. In order to properly execute judgment, however, Shlomo would have to entice the faux-mere to indict herself. To accomplish this, he looked at the case from her perspective. She saw the child as nothing more than a "thing", in this case, an obstacle. In order to get her to convict herself, as it were, he played along, treating the child as an object. If there were an object of value over which two people were fighting, with equal claims, a split of the property would be in order (even though, strictly speaking, the defendant was in possession and would have to relinquish nothing without solid proof). Thus, the defendant was "suckered" into thinking that she had an ally in Shlomo’s. Why did she prefer to have the king kill the child? In order to answer this, we have to ask why she didn't kill the child herself that same night. It would seem reasonable that two children dying under similar conditions in the same house on the same night would raise undue suspicion; she likely wanted to establish her claim of motherhood over the living baby and then, at some later time, find another way to "get rid" of him. Shlomo’s verdict was a perfect solution for her- she wouldn't have to wait, wouldn't have to act in a way to avoid suspicion and wouldn't have any more blood on her hands. When the birth mother heard Shlomo’s ruling, she reasoned that even giving the child over to this murderer is preferable; for as long as there is breath there is hope. She might find some other way to save her child's life. The murderer, on the other hand, had every reason to prefer Shlomo’s solution, as it solved her problem in one fell swoop. Shlomo’s wisdom, as demonstrated here, is multi-faceted: 1. He understood, from the information given, the facts of the case; 2. He was able to "play along" with the guilty party, and then 3. He proposed a solution that would assuredly identify both the real mother and the pretender. His bluff was a "sure thing", for he understood that the faux-mere would think that the king was prepared to do her dirty work. God's promise was, indeed, fulfilled in manner which impressed all of Israel. 26
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